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Subject: {ASSM} An Unfortunate Event at Deddington Manor Part 3
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Date: Fri, 29 Sep 2006 21:10:02 -0400
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    {ASSM} An Unfortunate Event at Deddington Manor ~
     A Holmes & Hove mystery story) [Yotna El'toub]
       (MM,MF,MC,NC,magic.) Part three of twelve.

****************************************************************
WARNING: This story will contain situations and explicit language
of an adult nature and should be read only by those of a legal
age to do so. If you are a minor or object to stories of an adult
nature, LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY. Legal age local to the author is
18+ please abide to your own local laws.

Please note and understand the content codes for this story. The
characters portrayed in this story are just that, characters in
my story. Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental
and unintentional. The characters and situations portrayed are
pure fantasy; the author is keen to state that in reality adult
sexuality should remain only in the adult world.

Please do not allow or cause this story to fall in to the hands
of minors.
________________________________________________________________



Chapter three:


Ned awoke with a start. His eyes although still bleary with
sleep hunted the room as if looking for a hidden assailant.
Quickly his senses returned as did the sense of panic. He
vaulted out of his chair ignoring the protestations of his
cramped body and rifled through his clothes.

At last he found the object of his interest, and he plunged his
aquiline nose into its folds. Memories flooded back, flashing
through his mind like a rapier - Daphne! He had last seen Lady
Daphne racing away with the professor from his Oxfordshire haunt.
But she was here! This was her scent. Jane! They were after Jane,
trying to tear her away from hin and his protection.

"Cads! Bounders! I will tear them..." Holmes paused, Brighton!
Hove would know what to do. Dressed only in his nightgown as
yet still unshaven Ned rushed from his dim bedroom and hurtled
down the corridor. He managed to resist the urge to scream; but
only just and purely due to his military training.


--------------------------


He yawned lustily as he wandered down the darkened passage. "Why
me?" he thought, "Why is it always me?" He uttered a curse and
kicked at the dank mossy wall. Bertie was not happy. Not happy at
all. He had not slept well. He had imbibed too much from the
cellar so to endure the boredom of the previous evening. And now
this - he had to feed these things; Burgabiter's failures were so
very repulsive. Bertie swore once more and swung the bucket into
the wall.

The clanging sound set of a chorus of grunts, whoops and howls
that almost deafened Bertie. The scientist in him wondered about
this; were they expecting him? Did the clang of the bucket mean
food to them? What did it matter, he would never be able to
publish now. Besides which what sort of scientist could make a
name for himself from something as simple as a conditioned
response? His mood darkened; a lifetime of feeding misfits, not
exactly what he thought Alphonso had been offering. No in his own
mind that had all been wine, women and song. Now it was regret,
hard work and these blessed oaf's.

Cautiously he slid back a panel in an iron reinforced door.
Bertie tipped some of the slop in his bucket through the gap; he
did not even aim at the rancid receptacle. No that would have
brought the slithering mass of monstrosity in to his view;
something he would fight hard to avoid.

Religiously he worked his way along the damp corridor feeding
each inmate. Bertie tried hard not to notice the unappealing
stench of offal and whatever it was that these things excreted.
Wearily he turned the corner and stopped dead. "Damn and blast
not again!" Nervously her peered into the darkness, hoping,
praying that it had gone.

The reassuring sound of a forced window swinging in the early
morning breeze was welcome music to his ears, he sighed. Then
Bertie gazed at the shattered door and spoke to the vacant cell.
"Well beastie it will not be me you feed on, and I hope in god's
name it is not yet another ruddy shepherd."

Bertie frowned. He would have to tell Daphne. Ah well, that could
wait. For now came the only pleasant part of his duties. He
opened the only door that remained unlocked at all times.
"Morning Raymond! Excellent - I see you are prepared."

A tall being of athletic build stood and approached Bertie. As he
walked his regal erection bobbed, at each step a globule of
secretion formed and dripped to the cell floor. Finally his moist
lips met Bertie's. The young lord bucked as the sweet aphrodisiac
Raymond's golden skin perspired swept over him. No female had
ever brought Bertie such pleasure. Indeed, no human. But of
course Raymond, he was not human.


--------------------------


Brighton was crawling along a sandy ditch, his stomach pressed
hard into the desert dust. He was sure he could hear the
Mahdist's approaching; the devil's never were subtle. Suddenly he
was grasped by the shoulders! The Sudanese shook him violently.

"Brighton, Brighton... Come on Hove"!

Now here was a turn up for the book. The devil did not only speak
in English, but he knew his name!

"Brighton, wake up! It is I!"

"Wha.. Who the dev... Holmes is that you?"

"Yes it is I, and you are in England, not Khartoum." Replied Ned.

"Well that is a relief. But what in the blue blazes is wrong?"
Yawned Hove.

"They are going after her - they are here, Daphne... Do you
understand."

"Not a blessed word old chap. Now calm down and start at the
beginning."

Brighton listened incredulously at Holmes excited patter; he
spoke of his love for Jane, his fear of her kidnapping, and all
manner of speculation. Hove frowned and let out a low whistle
when Ned finally ended his jumbled tirade of words.

"Well old chap it has certainly got you upset. A bad dream I
expect, never did like to eat so richly; it toys with all manner
of emotions. Now go back to bed get some much needed sleep and we
will discuss this in the morrow."

"No you fool! Have you heard nothing!" Holmes virtually screamed.

"Shhh, you will wake someone soon. Can we not discuss this at a
more godly hour?"

"No and the discussion is over, as you are leaving!" Snapped Ned.

"Leaving?" Hove cocked an eyebrow. Surely Ned was not losing his
mind? "Have you been smoking that blessed pipe?"

"I have not, nor have I been dreaming. Look it is all here." Ned
thrust the scribbled notes into Brighton's unwilling hands,
"See?"

"Yes, I see" Hove coughed, "and this is why I must leave?"

"Finally you see! Yes you must take this to Sherlock, his
mind will unlock the secret. I know it will."

"Ah, and Sherlock is here?" Asked Brighton.

"Of course not! He's in London, Baker Street. Sometimes I wonder
about your sanity Hove."

Brighton looked down at the sheets of scrawl, and then back at
Ned; the detectives face ran with perspiration.

"I have cause to sometimes as well." Muttered Hove.

"Well, up with you then, it's a long ride to London..." Prompted
Holmes.

Hove sighed, he had never seen Ned in such a state, and he had
seen him in some very tight spots. Maybe Sherlock could shed some
light on all of this after all.

"Very well, but first I must dress and shave. As should you my
friend."

Ned merely nodded beneath his unkempt hair, his eyes still wild.


--------------------------


Sir Richard had not slept, he had simply gazed out of his bedroom
window all night just waiting for the light. He knew, of course,
that soon the most fateful day of all would soon dawn. What's
more he knew that for all his assumed power, he was completely
out manoeuvred. His attention was dragged away from the window by
the insistent pulsing of his manhood. He gazed at his erection
with undisguised repugnance.

Never had he been so virile; never had he felt so impotent. Just
then a mad thought gripped him, he could be free of it. Of her!
He knew what he must do. He extended a shaking lordly hand and
grasped the ivory handle of his Kindjal. Today it would not
simply open correspondence. Today it would taste flesh and blood
once more. The tapering blade glinted; one swift slash of the
steel and it would be done. He would be severed from this
madness.

"Now why would you do that, when I am here to relieve you in such
a more pleasant way?"

Richard turned his head and his damp eyes met her stunning
beauty. Daphne stood just a little to his rear and left. "K-keep
away from me. I am about to regain my life, my self-respect." The
knife flashed, slicing through the air and towards its turgid
target.

His wrist was caught by Daphne's much more delicate hand. Her
strength surprised him, try as he might he could nor complete his
purpose. Slowly the resolve in his eyes softened and then died.
He wept. Daphne moved pressing her naked mons against the
nobleman's wet cheek. Soon she felt him stop sobbing. He moved. A
complicit tongue burrowed between her splayed thighs, searching
for the source of her femininity. Daphne sighed and pressed her
overflowing grotto hard against Richard's suckling mouth. His
body shook, it trembled with delight at the discovery of her
sweet hidden pearl; His tongue toyed with the prized
possession.

"Now is that not better Dickie? See, Daphne knows what you need."
So saying she raised her right leg, swung it across his lap and
mounted him. In a single fluid motion his considerable length was
swallowed. He grimaced as his rude member prodded the very mouth
of Daphne's womb. "Ah, now that is good, keep it up and I may let
you play with those nasty daughters of yours again later. Would
you like that Dickie?"

Against the will of every fibre in his body and every pure ounce
of his soul his muscular neck moved. Sir Richard Grey's head
nodded meekly - in the affirmative.

--------------------------


Ralph walked along the country lane on the way to another days
work at the telegraph office. He actually hated being confined
for twelve hours a day. The fact that the office was based at a
railway station simply added to his claustrophobia. All day long
and all around him people went to and fro starting or completing
their journeys across the country. How he longed for that
freedom.

His melancholy was interrupted by the sight of a man emerging
from the Alfredson's farmhouse. This was odd. Nobody to his
knowledge had lived there in the past fifteen years. Ever since
that night; that awful fateful night. His expression of surprise
changed into amazement once he realised the man's identity.

"Mornin' Lord Bertie, how are you sir?"

"Oh, um yes - morning." Said Bertie sheepishly.

"Has his Lordship bought the old place then?" Asked Ralph.

"No, no I'm just checking, err, that is confirming all's well."

"Yes we all have the jitters after what happened to poor old
Jack."

"Jack, yes well. I had nothing to do with that." Bertie blinked
and then blurted out, "Sorry - what I meant to say was is there
any news?"

Ralph eyed the young noble for just a second longer than usual.
Then he responded." Well you probably know they found his dog.
Spilt from gullet to groin so they say. No news of the man
himself though."

"Damned shame. Still I must away. Lady Daphne awaits..." Bertie
grimaced.

"Oh, I had the pleasure of meeting her Ladyship yesterday." Ralph
smiled.

Bertie quickly checked his stride, he turned and walked up to
Ralph. He stood close. So close he barely had to whisper to
communicate. "Listen old chap, you are a decent sort, so a word
to the wise," Bertie tapped the side of his nose with a grimy
finger, "Keep well away from Daphne, and this place. You
understand? It will be for the best." Without uttering a further
word, the heir to the Grey estate turned and rushed away.

Ralph stood staring at the hurrying form until it finally
disappeared over the rise behind the farmhouse. His appetite was
whetted. Just what was going on? Why would the lord's son be
checking anything? Let alone a deserted farm. What would he be
searching for with such an intensity that he blackened his hands
and broke his nails? And just what did it have to do with Lady
Daphne? This was a mystery, a real mystery and here of all
places! Ralph made an instant decision; he was going to read
those telegrams. He still had his copy of the transcripts and
confidential or not he was going to read them.

He had uncovered something odd here and for the first time in his
five years of service at the office he walked on whistling.
Actually looking forward to the day ahead. He had not a care in
the world this morning. Naturally had he been aware of the eyes
that followed his every move, he would have been slightly less
self assured. Once he rounded the bend and was out of sight the
creature moved. It crossed the road and headed for its lair, the
only home it had ever known. In its wake it left a trail - of
fresh blood.


--------------------------


An hour or so later Brighton stepped down from the carriage and
made his way to the station platform. He had neither the time,
patience or inclination to endure another bone displacing coach
journey. He wondered about Holmes, why should such a free thinker
be so set in his ways over certain things? As much as he liked,
admired and even held a brotherly love for Ned, he never expected
to fully understand him. He sighed gently.

Hove smiled when he saw the small telegraph office, at least he
could pre-warn Sherlock of his unanticipated arrival. Brighton
entered the room with a cheery "Hello, is anyone here." To his
surprise a young man virtually leapt out of his skin as he
appeared from beneath the low desk. "Oh, I am sorry I did not
mean to startle you."

"You didn't... I was just tying my shoelace that was all." The
man replied, a bit nonplussed.

"Surely that would be easier if you had let go of the papers you
have in your hand? Never mind, I need to send a telegram."

"I thought that was likely." Chirped the clerk, who had regained
his composure. He duly handed Hove a form.

Although Brighton was very literate, he never did let go of his
nursery habit of speaking as he wrote."

"My dear Sherlock, at the behest of Ned I am returning to London
with some information he wishes you to peruse."

The clerk interrupted " You do know we charge by the word sir. It
is best to be concise."

Brighton ignored the interruption.

"I myself have some concerns about Ned's health at the moment.
Recent events have taken a severe toll. He seems to be completely
bowled over by Lady Jane Grey. He is now convinced that she is to
be kidnapped by Lady Daphne. I know he suspects Burgabiter of
involvement. I'm afraid he is close to having and obsession with
the disreputable Professor. I am about to leave, and I hope to
present myself by mid morning tomorrow. Your humble servant
Brighton Hove."

"Begging your pardon sir, but that would not be Lady Daphne
Warlock, currently residing at the manor?"

"Why yes it could be, but I have not myself seen her. Why do you
ask?"

"I think I have something you need to see." Unblinking Ralph
passed the crumpled papers he had been hiding to Hove, "She's up
to no good I'll wager."


--------------------------


To be continued...

________________________________________________________________


Foot Notes (C) Yotna El'toub September 2006
________________________________________________________________

I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my
only payment for my work.

Please address comments to yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com

This story is copyrighted by the author and as such may not be
published, posted or archived on any newsgroup, website, or
server, other than ASSM and ASSTR, without the EXPRESS PERMISSION
of the author. Any reader may archive a copy of this story,
provided the warnings and copyright information is attached in
full.

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