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Mr. Allen must have sent letters to his friends to inform them of when he would arrive in London, because the very day after their arrival, Mary was visited by four different ladies, each of whom claimed to be wives of Mr. Allen’s friends.

The day after that, she received two more callers of the same nature.

All six ladies were much older than Mary, even older than her own mother. They seemed to be in their late forties or early fifties. Despite the age gap, however, they eagerly welcomed her to their little circle and immediately claimed friendship with her.

What surprised Mary the most, however, was that her husband’s friends were not just simple landowners like her father. Of the six ladies, Mary had actually read of four of them in the newspaper.

The two Mary had never heard of were wives of city landlords, Mrs. Carlton and Mrs. Peabody.

Mr. Carlton owned a great deal of property in Manchester which he rented out, and Mr. Peabody owned quite a bit in London.

One of the ladies she had heard of was wife to one of the wealthiest industrialists in the country, Mrs. Littleton.

Another was the granddaughter of a marquess, Mrs. Turner.

Though Mr. Turner was untitled, he was owner of a very large estate near Bath, at least twice the size of Braydon Hall.

The two biggest surprises were Lady Matlock and Lady Ustbridge. The first was a countess and the second was a baroness.

Mary was beginning to think that, as wealthy as her husband was compared to the other residents around Meryton, he was likely the least wealthy of all his friends. She wondered how he had become friends with such men.

She decided to ask her husband just that at dinner. “Mr. Allen, your friends’ wives have all called on me since our arrival. They were very welcoming.”

“I am glad,” he said. “I don’t usually write ahead before coming to London, but I did this year, so they could be informed of your arrival and welcome you.”

“They are…much higher ranked than I expected,” said Mary, diplomatically.

Mr. Allen chuckled. Given that he hardly ever smiled, a chuckle from him was like an outright guffaw from others. “That is an interesting way to phrase it. I suppose you are wondering how we all became friends.”

“I would love to hear about it, if you don’t mind sharing the story,” said Mary.

“Not at all,” he said. “It is a simple enough tale.

We are all the same age and attended school at the same time, both Eton and Cambridge.

Back then, going to Cambridge had little to do with the learning of facts.

Rather, it was simply an excuse to make friends with others of a similar social class and discuss revolutionary ideas in coffee shops.

“My friends and I formed out little group because we have a mutual abhorrence for politics, which was the main topic of conversation among almost everyone else,” he said. Then after a pause, he added with a quirk of his lips, “Well, that and ladies, of course.”

Mr. Allen gave Mary an odd look that she couldn’t interpret.

She thought, perhaps, he was expecting her to react to his comment, but there was nothing to react to.

She was well-aware by then that men, especially young men, were particularly interested in those acts that were supposed to be limited between husband and wife.

In truth, she was learning that in a society where marriages were arranged based on power and wealth, such restrictions were rather loosely enforced, if at all.

She had learned all of this, because as a married woman, she had been party to much more salacious gossip at home than she had known before, including many little tidbits from the London society pages, which she had not been allowed to read at Longbourn.

Mary didn’t approve of such wanton behavior, either before or after marriage, because it contradicted the holy vows that were spoken to create the marriage.

It seemed wrong to make a vow that one knew one would not keep.

At the same time, however, she had become resigned to the fact that not everyone did as they ought all the time.

“Have you ever had a mistress before?” Mary asked.

Mr. Allen had just taken a bite of food, but he almost spit it out due to shock at her question. Once he had cleared his throat and swallowed his food, he asked, “Why would you ask such a thing?”

Mary gave him a curious look. “Why would I not ask such a thing?” she said, calmly. “If anyone should know about it, it should be me, should it not?”

Again, he gave her a strange look. “I suppose you are right,” he conceded.

“I never took a mistress while I was married,” he answered.

“Though I am not particularly affectionate, I do take marriage vows seriously. I did have one mistress before I was married. About a year after my previous wife died, I took another one here in London, though she didn’t last long.

I found that, now that I am older and more jaded, she was more trouble than she was worth. ”

“I see,” said Mary as she went back to eating her meal.

“You are taking this discussion rather calmly for one as adamantly religious and as young as you,” Mr. Allen said. “I expected shock or censure. At the very least surprise. But you are as calm as always.”

“It has not escaped my notice that our joining fulfills a far greater need than simply that of creating an heir for you. I am also aware that the profession of prostitute is as old as humanity. Though I have not experienced it myself, there must be a driving need behind such behavior for it to continue despite all the social and religious pressure that has been brought to bear against it for centuries, if not millennia. Therefore, I can only conclude that there must be something there I do not understand, which is why I asked the question. I still do not understand, but since I don’t know enough even to know what questions to ask, I simply accepted what you said in the hopes that someday I will understand. ”

When Mary finished her explanation, she looked at her husband. His eyes were glowing in a way she had only seen when they were in her bedroom. “Would you like to understand?” he asked, his voice huskier than usual.

“If it will not lead me into immoral behavior, yes, I would like to understand,” said Mary.

Mr. Allen then shocked Mary by standing up from the dinner table. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet then led her quickly up the stairs to her room.

What followed was a joining unlike any she had experienced.

Through his touch, she learned just what kind of pleasure someone can have in such an act.

She realized that, if men experienced the same level of pleasure she had, it made a small measure of sense as to why someone might cross all bounds of propriety to experience it again.

Still, however, it was not something she would ever even imagine doing outside of her marriage.

In the days, weeks, and months that followed, Mary’s husband was more enthusiastic about the marriage bed than he had been before.

He even became a bit more affectionate in their daily life, occasionally touching her cheek or taking her hand when they were alone.

It was all a bit mystifying to Mary, but she could not deny that she enjoyed the attention.

A week after the Allens arrived in London, they hosted a dinner party for their circle of friends. Not only were Mr. Allen’s six particular friends invited, but their wives and even a few of their relations, most of whom were closer to Mary’s age than Mr. Allen’s, were invited.

Since their townhome was on the smaller side, Mary had to scramble a bit to find seating for all of the eighteen guests plus herself and Mr. Allen. In the end, she had to open the folding wall that separated the dining room from the drawing room, where she set up a second long table.

Since the drawing room would be occupied by the gentlemen even after dinner, Mary prepared the parlor to receive the ladies during the separation of the sexes.

When the gentlemen were done with their port and cigars, the servants would take down the extra table and close the wall, and the ladies would then join the gentlemen in the drawing room for conversation and perhaps some cards.

Mary was happy to finally meet the gentlemen that meant so much to her husband. She was surprised, however, that of the relations that came, only one of them was female.

Miss Carlton was the oldest child of Mr. and Mrs. Carlton.

She was in her mid-twenties and had the kind of looks that Mary could sympathize with.

Her complexion was pale, but it was not brightened by rosy cheeks.

Instead, she looked almost as though she were perpetually ill.

The freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose stood out rather starkly on her pale skin.

Her hair, though brown, had a reddish tint to it that was not particularly popular.

At first, Mary thought she might have found a kindred spirit, a young lady who had lost all hope of love due to less than stellar looks.

She quickly learned her error and chastised herself for judging someone on their looks alone.

Miss Carlton was single by choice. Her parents had provided her with an independent fortune, and she had no intention of handing over her money to a man.

Additionally, she was fascinated by engineering and machinery, and she claimed that marrying would limit or eliminate her ability to continue to tinker and learn.

Of the younger gentlemen, the only one that stood out was Mrs. Turner’s cousin.

When Mrs. Turner introduced him to Mary, she called him, Mr. Gregory Worsley.

The young man seemed surprised, though not displeased, to be addressed by that name, leading Mary to believe he usually went by a different moniker.

She couldn’t imagine why such a subterfuge would be deemed necessary, but she let it slide.