Sentence The Twohundredandfortythird
Which is how, after Dominic Doubleday, His Man, had set of at a swift pace, chasing the blonde curls of the little servant girl who had been observed bobbing down the High Street on an errand for her Laird, the learned Maister of Kilquhenny, an old reprobate and lecher, weel-kent aboot the Toon as they say, for his appreciation of young girls still, and being something of a xenophile, his particular liking was for girls of a Nordic colouring combined with an Italianate petiteness and with the tongue skills of the Portuguese whose women are especially prized in whore-hoose and bordello for their dexterity in such matters; now, despite his recent Marriage to the beautiful and bounteously endowed Lady Griselda of Longformacus, as noble and well-born a Maid as ever strapped on armour and fought in the Lists with aplomb and innate skill; and indeed, she it was who, perhaps saddened by her new Husbandman's lack of interest in consummating their marriage had, indeed, moved the Marriage Bed to a Garret Room at the back third floor of the tall and narrow house he shared with his Library and his 'Seven Dwarves' as his coterie of tiny Slaveys were affectionately described in the neighbourhood – why, the Cook was just 12 years of age, the eldest of the Household, with the others ranging from 11 down to 7 – and all directly under the instruction of The Maister, feared as a fussbudget who examined every piece of plate for smears and totted up the cost of every dish served to him; indeed, his new Lady did not even have her own Maid, rather having to make do with the youngest of The Dwarves, a tiny redhead whose height barely reached her Mistress's waist, which meant that when assisting with the dressing of Lady Griselda's hair, she had to stand upon a stool beside the chair on which the Lady sat! and Griselda eyed the schmatte in which she was obliged to dress her body - no silks or satins here, instead cheap wool which made her itch and required such linen undergarments as she had brought with her to protect her delicate skin, and the lack of good candles, those used here burned too quickly and smoked rancidly and in doing so forced her to repair early to her tiny chamber at the top of the rear quarter of the house – a house in dire need of plastering and painting, of having it's draughts stopped up; she started to hum 'The wee Cooper o Fife', absently matching her own situation with that of the Cooper's poor, maltreated and abused Gentlewife; but tonight! yes, she reflected, tonight may be different, for the handsome and illustrious Sir Parlane MacFarlane, who lived just across The High, had made eye contact with her this morning, when she had gone out for a stroll with her maid - their eyes had met and the sensation in her loins was of such an intensity that she almost squealed, possibly would have, were it not for the fact that she was listening intently to Lawyer Elginbrod's Goodwife, lamenting the lack of fresh fish in the market; but later, as she was returning to the House, a passing servant woman had slipped a note into her hand, so quickly, so discreetly that she never truly saw who, or where she went, but the note,
when she unfolded and read it in the privacy of her closet, was from He, Sir Parlane, proposing to visit her tonight, having, apparently a duplicate key to the outside door which opened onto the tiny staircase leading in a corkscrew fashion to her very chamber – but how? from where? pshaw! it mattered not, it only mattered that he would come soon after the candles were lit, and that time was almost upon the Toon, she heard below - her Husbandman ordering the Hoose to be lit – albeit meanly – and also calling for Goldilocks, his name for his favourite pet who seemed to have failed to return from an errand, she heard him call for his cape and his walking stick, shouting out orders to the remaining six Dwarves before hastily leaving the House and she heard the door slam behind him; and she wondered if this was the work of Sir Parlane MacFarlane and if it meant he would soon come, so she sent the littlest dwarf down into the House and waited and shortly, saw the handle of the door at the head of that spiral begin to turn and her beating heart beat faster in excited expectation!
Which is how, after Dominic Doubleday, His Man, had set of at a swift pace, chasing the blonde curls of the little servant girl who had been observed bobbing down the High Street on an errand for her Laird, the learned Maister of Kilquhenny, an old reprobate and lecher, weel-kent aboot the Toon as they say, for his appreciation of young girls still, and being something of a xenophile, his particular liking was for girls of a Nordic colouring combined with an Italianate petiteness and with the tongue skills of the Portuguese whose women are especially prized in whore-hoose and bordello for their dexterity in such matters; now, despite his recent Marriage to the beautiful and bounteously endowed Lady Griselda of Longformacus, as noble and well-born a Maid as ever strapped on armour and fought in the Lists with aplomb and innate skill; and indeed, she it was who, perhaps saddened by her new Husbandman's lack of interest in consummating their marriage had, indeed, moved the Marriage Bed to a Garret Room at the back third floor of the tall and narrow house he shared with his Library and his 'Seven Dwarves' as his coterie of tiny Slaveys were affectionately described in the neighbourhood – why, the Cook was just 12 years of age, the eldest of the Household, with the others ranging from 11 down to 7 – and all directly under the instruction of The Maister, feared as a fussbudget who examined every piece of plate for smears and totted up the cost of every dish served to him; indeed, his new Lady did not even have her own Maid, rather having to make do with the youngest of The Dwarves, a tiny redhead whose height barely reached her Mistress's waist, which meant that when assisting with the dressing of Lady Griselda's hair, she had to stand upon a stool beside the chair on which the Lady sat! and Griselda eyed the schmatte in which she was obliged to dress her body - no silks or satins here, instead cheap wool which made her itch and required such linen undergarments as she had brought with her to protect her delicate skin, and the lack of good candles, those used here burned too quickly and smoked rancidly and in doing so forced her to repair early to her tiny chamber at the top of the rear quarter of the house – a house in dire need of plastering and painting, of having it's draughts stopped up; she started to hum 'The wee Cooper o Fife', absently matching her own situation with that of the Cooper's poor, maltreated and abused Gentlewife; but tonight! yes, she reflected, tonight may be different, for the handsome and illustrious Sir Parlane MacFarlane, who lived just across The High, had made eye contact with her this morning, when she had gone out for a stroll with her maid - their eyes had met and the sensation in her loins was of such an intensity that she almost squealed, possibly would have, were it not for the fact that she was listening intently to Lawyer Elginbrod's Goodwife, lamenting the lack of fresh fish in the market; but later, as she was returning to the House, a passing servant woman had slipped a note into her hand, so quickly, so discreetly that she never truly saw who, or where she went, but the note, when she unfolded and read it in the privacy of her closet, was from He, Sir Parlane, proposing to visit her tonight, having, apparently a duplicate key to the outside door which opened onto the tiny staircase leading in a corkscrew fashion to her very chamber – but how? from where? pshaw! it mattered not, it only mattered that he would come soon after the candles were lit, and that time was almost upon the Toon, she heard below - her Husbandman ordering the Hoose to be lit – albeit meanly – and also calling for Goldilocks, his name for his favourite pet who seemed to have failed to return from an errand, she heard him call for his cape and his walking stick, shouting out orders to the remaining six Dwarves before hastily leaving the House and she heard the door slam behind him; and she wondered if this was the work of Sir Parlane MacFarlane and if it meant he would soon come, so she sent the littlest dwarf down into the House and waited and shortly, saw the handle of the door at the head of that spiral begin to turn and her beating heart beat faster in excited expectation!
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