Mr. Swift greeted Justine at the door and invited her inside. They sat at his dining room table and worked on the elements of writing style. At eight o'clock, Justine thanked Mr. Swift and went home.
Bibi invited Juliette into her house and invited her downstairs to the sauna. However, when Juliette discovered that Bibi proposed they disrobe, she suddenly "remembered" something she needed to do at home, and beat a hasty retreat.
At eight fifteen, Justine and Juliette sang duets for Grandma and Grandpa until they fell asleep, then they tucked themselves in.
Meanwhile, Catherine curled up in bed with Mr. Fuzzums; Margaret lay awake in bed, thinking about matrix algebra; Mary lay on her side and fingered her "V" necklace; and Molly played a little Beethoven on the Bosendorfer. Roderick read a translation of Thucydides; Bibi and Jock sprawled in the hot tub; Megan wrote in her secret detailed journal; Amanda Dennis updated her blog, Cries and Whispers; and Betsy Flapper forwarded an iPhone picture of some guy's butt.
The moon rose. A cat wandered along the alley behind the Smith's home, seeking mice. She found none, but had a most pleasant prowl nevertheless.
At home, Mr. Swift logged in to his story blog, Tales of Wragby Hall, and wrote:
Miss Pilkingham had seduced him, there could be no doubt about that. The "accidental" meeting in the garden, at the gazebo; the soulful and pathetic pleading for assistance with her studies; the prearranged meeting in his room above the conservatory, under the pretext of understanding "Mr. Darwin's latest tract".Mr. Swift paused. That last line sounded rather fey. What sort of sport might appeal to a man like Cameron? He made a note to himself to research manly activities in Wikipedia.
Cameron had not discouraged these overtures, though he understood the risk. His master, Lord Butterworth, esteemed the maidenly virtue of his wards above all else, a virtue which he apparently did not value so much among the young maidens of the village, as his deflowerings therein were legendary and numerous.
In truth, the outcome was inevitable when Miss Pilkingham stepped into his room, an extraordinarily daring venture for such a vulnerable and attractive young girl. There were, of course, the necessary formalities: the exchange of pleasantries; the offer and acceptance of tea and biscuits; the brief discussion of Mr. Darwin; and the review, at the table, of her school journal. But when Miss Pilkingham's blouse fell slightly open, revealing her delicate neck, the raging forces of nature overwhelmed modesty, and he was compelled to tender an expression of endearment from his lips to her lips, in a manner that would be considered most indelicate by a woman of manners.
But Miss Pilkingham was no woman of manners. "Oh, ravish me, sir, ravish me!" she cried, grasping at his shirt and ripping the buttons therefrom. And ravish her he did, with the relish and athleticism he ordinarily reserved for the badminton court.
He continued:
There was, of course, an implied bargain: Miss Pilkingham would make herself available to Cameron for the satisfaction of his lustful manly urges, and he, in return, would admire her pathetic scribblings and render a positive report about her schooling to Lord Butterworth. He did not stop to weigh the proposition but, like a trader on the Corn Exchange, waded in.In school the next day, Mr. Swift returned the homework papers from the night before. Mary Bloom looked at her paper and smiled. An 'A-plus'. Though too young to prostitute herself for cash, she was learning that there are other types of currency.
The entry of Miss Blythe, however, complicated the matter. Miss Blythe, a recent arrival at Wragby Hall from Wessex, was a lovely and modest young maiden, much given to her studies. Cameron, the seduced, now wished to become Cameron, the seducer; toward this end, he plotted.
A chance encounter in the library. Perhaps Miss Blythe wishes to review the latest writings of Bishop Wilburforce? Indeed. The invitation was extended, the bait tendered. The wolf retreated to his lair and waited for his stray lamb.
Cameron was not disappointed; Miss Blythe's country upbringing ill-prepared her for life at Wragby Hall, where no respectable woman would enter a gentleman's chamber without a chaperone. She knocked; he opened; there were the necessary formalities; they sat at his table and reviewed Bishop Wilburforce's turgid prose. But despite the compromising position in which the lass had placed herself, nothing happened; they read to the end of the chapter, at which time she took her leave unmolested.
What had happened? Cameron pondered. She was within his grasp, and yet he held back. What had restrained him? Was it virtue? Love? Respect for her maidenly innocence? No, he thought. Mostly it was out of concern she would scream, and expose him as a cad and a mountebank, an identification certain to result in his expulsion from Wragby Hall.
He resolved to persevere in his pursuit, for having dined at Miss Pilkington's table, he was determined to gorge at Miss Blythe's.
Perhaps, he thought, the maid requires some motivation.
Justine looked at her paper and turned slightly pale. It was covered with red marks, and at the bottom of the page a note: see me after school.
