The Dominafuhrer - THE GODMOTHER

Episode 10 - The Sage Of Southcote

We got out of my car and had been gazing upwards in silent admiration for a few minutes when the front door opened and an elderly man in a morning coat, striped trousers and a grey waistcoat and tie tottered down the steps. A few wisps of white hair fringed his bald pate but he had full set of shaggy white eyebrows over the most piercing blue eyes that I had ever seen.

“You cannot be Spalding“, Miss Spiteful said, giving him a puzzled look.

“I am indeed My Lady”, he replied. “And you must be Miss Spiteful. We meet at last. The late Sir Hartley spoke most warmly of you.”

“Oh he couldn’t have”, she simpered and Kelly and I looked at each in surprise as we lit up our cigarettes.

“Indeed he did, My Lady.” Spalding was trying to stand to attention in front of Miss Spiteful but he had a distinct lean to the left and was swaying slightly. “Sir Hartley was the kindest gentleman that it has been my privilege to meet and serve. He would never deliberately speak ill of or be rude to anyone but when his wife, the present Dowager Lady Southcote, was enjoying one of her frequent spells of bad health he informed her that Gordon Richards won races on nags in worse condition than her. If she really was dying, then would she please hurry up as he did not want to be too old to be able to marry again. He said that he would need all his strength to keep up with a red-headed German girl, whom he considered to be the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Miss Spiteful pouted her lips in our direction with a ‘I told you so’ expression on her face and then frowned at the elderly retainer.  

“That Dowager whatever is not here, is she?”

“Oh no, My Lady!” The wisps of white hair rose up as he shook his head. “In fact, I only saw in this morning’s Daily Express that she cruising off the Antibes on Lord and Lady Dockers’s yacht. Furthermore, Sir Geoffrey told his Mother and his Wife, the present Lady Southcote, that if either of them ever turned up here again, the only accommodation that they would be given would be to share the pigsty on the Home Farm with their namesakes; the prize sows Phileda and Harriet.”

This time Miss Spiteful threw back her head and laughed.

“Sir Hartley was right, My Lady. He said that when you smiled, the Sun itself was made redundant.” I detected a twinkle in the old boy’s blue eyes as he laid the flattery on thick but Miss Spiteful was still laughing too much to care. She flicked at his lapels with tips of her gloved fingers. “Keep it up, Spalding. I might even marry you after that.”

“Well I am free, My Lady and quite willing. Indeed, the late Mrs Spalding said on her deathbed that, sorry as she was to leave me and our eight children, she was hoping that there was no sex in heaven because she would at last have a good nights sleep.”

Kelly and I coughed and choked on our cigarette smoke which drew Spalding’s attention to us and I realised that he was appraising us both sexually. Spalding must have been well over seventy which accounted for Miss Spiteful’s surprise at seeing him still working but age had done nothing to weaken his libido. “What charming and beautiful young companions you have, My Lady. If neither of them is married, I have five unmarried Grandsons working here who would be happy to take them off your hands.”

Miss Spiteful did not care to be no longer the centre of attention and started towards the steps. “Shall we go in?” she snapped.

“Of course, My Lady”, Spalding nodded. “My son David will drive the car around to the stables and your cases will be delivered to your bedrooms and unpacked for you. You are in the Dashwood Room and the two young ladies are sharing the Rochester Room, as requested.”

Spalding turned and swaying dangerously as he tried to lift his foot onto the first step when Miss Spiteful seized his arms and pulled herself closer to him. “I think that I might be a little too unsteady in these high heels. Would you help me inside?”

Spalding nodded gratefully at this preservation of his dignity and leant his full weight against her. We followed their slow progress up the stairs, making wagers as to whether Spalding would manage to grope Miss Spiteful’s breast or her bottom; with all bets off if he succeeded in both.

When they paused between the pillars to give the septuagenarian a moment to get his breath back, I looked up at underside of the pediment and then along the full frontage of the mansion on either side.

“Spalding, this house is not as big as it looks, is it?”

The shaggy eyebrows rose and wagged at me. “That is very perceptive of you, my young Lady.”  

He clumsily detached himself from Miss Spiteful’s arm and pushed the front door wide open, motioning us to precede him inside. I was making a mental note that Kelly owed me a pound note for Spalding’s stroke of our Mistress’s left breast when I felt his claw like fingers touch my bottom. I leapt forward and turned round to confront him but he was securing the front door with an innocent look on his face.

We were standing in a high wood panelled entrance hall. It was almost too much to take in: to the right, a magnificently carved wooden staircase ascended to a balustraded gallery at the upper storey; four carved archways with polished oak doors, a huge stone fireplace on the left, beautiful old furniture and paintings hanging on the walls. I felt that I was standing in history. Kelly’s jaw had dropped and even Miss Spiteful looked a little stunned, perhaps speculating on what might have been hers.

“As you can see,” Spalding shuffled into the centre of the room and flung his arm upwards. “The core of the house is still the original Jacobean Mansion. The Southcotes have never been a big family and there have rarely been more than two children in a generation. Also, being hereditary royal bum-boys or pimps it was unlikely that society would come flocking here to be entertained and especially to this remote headland. Saying that, three Princes’ of Wales have come here on private visits. So, in the early eighteenth century, when the second Sir Jeremy got the builders in it was just to put the extra large portico on the front and add the wings to keep up with fashion. The original rooms on this floor and the twelve bedrooms upstairs have always been adequate for the family’s needs. The new wings were for built for a gallery and a library but the Southcotes’ taste in art and literature has always been towards pornography and erotica, so neither has ever been properly used. New servants’ quarters, a kitchen and stables have been added at the back but this part of the house has been virtually unchanged over three hundred years.”

I gasped at Spalding’s frankness but there was not a hint of malice or disdain in his voice.

“There is a telephone in the kiosk under the stairs,” he indicated a glass pained door, “and another one in Sir Geoffrey’s study. There are two bathrooms upstairs but I suggest that, if you want hot water, you get up early or leave it till later in the day because the boiler is even older than me.”

With that he raised his eye brows speculatively as if expecting questions but, when we remained silent, shuffled towards one of the arched doorways on either side of a passage that disappeared into the gloom at the rear of the house.

“Sir Geoffrey is with the other guests in the Drawing Room, if you would care to join them?” 

He opened the door for Miss Spiteful to lead us through but she had taken no more than a few paces into the room when she stopped dead and both Kelly and I collided with her back.

“Hello Spiteful,” I heard a voice say which I seemed to recognize but my speculation as to its owner ended when Miss Spiteful hissed “Kurt!”

To continue this story, click Der Rittmeister

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