Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Mills and Swoon Daily number two. The Caged Bird and
the Stable Boy by Sannia de la Maree. Lady i
sold Ravenshaw entered the stables. She was a reluctant horsewoman,
but had made the effort because of him. Thomas the
stable Boy was not strictly speaking a boy. At twenty two.
He was marked with the attributes of maleness and beauty
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that were worthy of an adonis. His muscular forearms and
chiseled torso glowed in sun browned competence. Once she had
seen him swimming on a hot summer afternoon, having taken
a wrong turn in the grounds of the estate. She
had watched longingly his naked body as it basked in
sun and water, in a simple celebration of movement, nakedness,
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and life itself. One did not normally encounter such thrilling
attributes at London, soires Issould had had enough of pot
bellies and bad breath to last a lifetime. Thomas had
flicked a switch, and she understood passion and desire. At
last morning, my lady, he said with a sideways smile.
He had seen her watching him, but hadn't let on.
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He enjoyed being watched by a beautiful and socially untouchable woman.
Careful of your shoes in here, he murmured, floors still
damp from the morning's rain. I have other shoes, she
said lightly, I do not have another of you. He
turned at that, startled into a grin. The horses snorted
softly in their stalls, as if deeply invested in the
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developments of the afternoon. She watched Thomas hang up a bridle,
his shirt sleeves rolled hay dust caught in dark, unkempt hair.
On the work bench. Beside him lay a scrap of
parchment ink, still glistening in a ray of sun. What
are you sketching, she asked. He moved too quickly, trying
to cover it with his hand. Nothing just notes. Her
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curiosity sharpened. Do you truly think I shall faint at
your notes? Slowly he lifted his hand. It was a map,
not of any gentleman's lands, she recognized, but of the
estate grounds, as only someone who lived amongst them would
see hidden footpaths, fallen walls, the place where the river narrowed,
and in one corner a small cross inked with unusual care.
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What is this? She asked, finger tip hovering over the cross,
he swallowed that, my lady, is where the fence breaks.
Should some one wish for freedom and adventure, they could
slip out unseen. His eyes flicked up testing her. A
soldier felt a slow, wicked warmth pour through her, and
if I were the sort, he hesitated, then stepped closer,
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voice low, there were almost touching. A separation of propriety
was paper thin. She could feel his breath, now almost
panting on her cheek as he looked down upon her,
making love to her with his wanton gaze. Then I'd
meet you there at dusk with a lamp and two
sound horses, and I'd show you the rest of the map.
She looked back down at the parchment beyond the fence.
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He'd drawn all the places a lady of her station
was not supposed to know existed. The ruined folly, the
secluded glade, a little screw by the river bend that
simply read perfect for swimming. You've quite the talent for cartography,
she murmured. I know these grounds better than the Lord himself,
he said, been escaping them since I was a lad,
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and now you offer escape to me. She met his
gaze fully. Why his jaw tightened, Because I've watched you
walk that terrace every day like a bird, pretending its
cage as a choice. And because, here, his voice dipped,
I'd like to see what you're like when nobody else
is watching. There it was the treasonous invitation. She hadn't
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known she'd been waiting for a sold folded the map, carefully,
tucking it into the bodice of her gown with deliberate
slowness at dusk. Then she said, if you're brave enough
to free a caged bird. As she turned to go,
he added, follow the map exactly, and if you get lost,
I shall call your name, she cut in, glancing over
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her shoulder, and trust that you will find me. The
horses snorted again, as if in approval of the clandestine plot.
That evening, when the sky went molten gold over the fields,
a figure in a dark riding cloak slipped through the
broken fence and found a lantern already waiting on the
other side. Thomas lifted it, the light, catching his smile.
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Welcome to the rest of the map, my lady, he said,
Shall we redraw your boarders to night? She held out
her gloved hand for thirty years, she replied, men have
told me where I may and may not go. I
think it's time some one let me choose my own roots.
He took her hand, steady and sure. Behind them, the
great House loomed, full of strict corridors and polite rooms.
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Before them, the night opened like a secret promise, and
the Countess Ravenshaw stepped into it with the stable boy
at her side, following a map she now realized she'd
been searching for all her life. Finally, happiness and thrill
would collide in the bodies of those who dared