Name: Mrs Lucy McBrien
Eye Colour: Green, Hair Colour: Red
Head, Bust: Ample, Waist: Tiny
Origin: Upstart Manners: 1 Charm: 3 Wits: 3 Spite: 5 Performance: 2 Prowess: 4
Good At: Spreading Rumours, Blackmail,
Pleasuring Women Legend: 5 Reputation: 5 Wealth: 0 Infl uence: 2 Scandal: 3
Born Lucy O’Neil in County Kerry Ireland to a pair of dedicated and devout farmers Lucy has always been a foul-mouthed tearaway. Though her Catholic faith is genuine she suspects that it’s just been beaten into her.
About that, Lucy always was a naughty girl and her father believed the scripture when it said ‘spare the rod: spoil the child’ . Lucy became so accustomed to violence she began to welcome it, taking pleasure in her own suffering. This wasn’t her only deviation. Though she was one of the best looking girls in the village she wasn’t interested in the boys. Even when all her friends were going on about which fellow they would marry she would remain silent. At age 13 she freaked out her best friend Ashley and ruined their friendship forever. It was a beautiful summer’s day and they were chatting in the fi elds. As always they were playing with each other’s hair and making idle chatter.
“So are you in love Lucy?” Asked Ashley. “Yes” replied Lucy, blushing.
“Really?” Squealed Ashley surprised “You never even hinted! Who’s the lucky boy then?” Lucy sighed and stroked her friend’s face, looking into her eyes longingly. “She’s not a boy Ashley, she’s you.”
Ashley stood astonished as her friend leaned in to kiss her before fi nally breaking into a scream. The beating Lucy’s father infl icted on her that night broke bones. But it was worth it to touch another girl’s lips. Ashley never spoke to her again: That was one of Lucy’s few regrets.
Father Donavan the local priest wasn’t a worldly man and found Lucy and her passion most perplexing. In the end he came to the conclusion that Lucy must fi nd a husband to cure this affl iction. He was about to take her to see her parents and give them the advice when the local landowner Seamus McBrien came riding into town with his son Finnegan.
“Ah good day to you vicar” called the landlord dismounting, his son followed suit. Father Donavan winced at the use of the Protestant term.
“Good day sir. Tell me, what business have you in this village this day?” The priest asked.
“My boy here is of age and I was wondering if there any fi ne young wenches who would...” The landlord turned to his son who sat on his horse staring at Lucy’s fi ne form. “It seems he has a favourite.” chuckled the Landlord. He turned to Lucy who curtseyed respectfully. “Tell me young maid what is your name?”
“Lucy sir” she said in a tone that was almost mocking.
“Tell me Miss” asked the Landlord “how would you like to be the Mistress of that son of mine?” “Mistress!” Cried the son “I want to marry the girl!” The Landlord laughed “don’t be foolish, she’s just a peasant.”No offence dear”.
“Father I shall marry Lucy whether you like it or not” said the young man with determination. “Confound your impudence!” Cried the landlord raising his cane and advancing on his son. “Stay your hand!” Called the Priest with courage. “Now it seems to me we have something of a love match here.”
“Yes but...”
“I know her station is lowly but she’s a good Christian girl and shouldn’t frolick unmarried.” “Are you saying you approve of this match vicar?” Asked the astonished landlord.
“I’m saying I’d happily marry them sir.” “But confound it vicar!” The landlord paused as he looked into his son’s eyes. He could see a passion that he had longed for. “Damn and blast it!” He cried.
The couple were married twice as their
denominations couldn’t decide who would conduct the service. Lucy’s husband was probably the sweetest man she had ever met. He had defi ed his father by marrying her and now he continued to defy him by refusing to force her to convert. He was still a man though and that just wouldn’t do for Lucy. She hit the Irish gentry like a whirlwind. Rather than rejecting her as beneath them the Ladies of property of Ireland embraced her. Some a little too closely.
Finnegan disappeared a few weeks ago. It is rumoured around the Town that he’s at the bottom of the Irish Sea after a conspiracy involving Lucy and her new Lady friend the Courtesan Martha O’Driscal.
O’Driscal took this peasant girl turned Lady muck and transformed her into one of the Empire’s fi nest Courtesans. They parted amiably when O’Driscal quickly realised that Lucy was above the limits of the Irish Demi Monde and packed her off to the new House.
Unlike the Bella and Hattie, Lucy is a Lady’s Lady and is perfectly comfortable with that. Strangely even her Catholic faith sits easy with this preference. As she reasons ‘God is love so why should he care about the arrangement of the anatomy of who I choose to love?’ She takes male lovers from time to time for appearance sake but those on the Town know her preferences.
Relationships
Lilly: “Oooooooh look at me I’m Lilly LaVonte! I’m
a serious Actress doncha know? Grow the fuck up sweetheart! You’re just as much of a whore as the rest of us. Oh yes and you don’t like boy on boy or girl on girl because of what happened with your arsehole of a husband getting himself strung up by the law. I fucking get it already! Sweet Jesus you don’t need to remind me of your personal prejudices every time you fucking speak to me! You’ve got your way I’ve got mine let’s just leave it at that alright? Still got to admit you’re quite pretty. If you like fl at-chested, skinny, uber-bitches. Not my type but you never know Hattie maybe up for it and Bella certainly will.”
Bella: “And they call me common? At least I don’t
sleep with anything that makes a pleasing enough noise when I mount it. A nice enough girl though. Doesn’t pretend to be anything she’s not and her tales are always a good giggle. They say she killed her Pimp. I can relate to that. Her child disturbs me. Reminds me of a niece back home. I want nothing to do with her.”
Jessica: “It’s ironic, here I am Catholic peasant
girl from Ireland and the Sister that is nicest to me is the posh English proddy. Is she playing with me or is she really that ditzy? I heard she called my marriage “an idyllic Cinderella story” the other day hah! She hasn’t cottoned on to the fact more Ladies than gents visit my boudoir. Or as I said is she playing with me? Shame she’s so straight laced. A tumble with her could be most entertaining. Mercy on us is she playing me on that front too? And they call Nora the Schemer!”
Nora: “Nora is, most likely, straight as a die.
However the way she lounges about in nothing but a smile showing off that gorgeous body of hers makes me think twice. She defi nitely knows I prefer the Ladies I heard Lilly screaming it at her in one of their arguments about her “decency.” So why then does she tease me so? I guess she gets a kick out of the thought of me running to my room to pleasure myself with the image on my mind. One of these days I’ll give her more than just that little satisfaction.”
Hattie: “She’s a heathen proddy but that doesn’t
stop me respecting her clearly evident and remarkable faith in Our Lord Jesus. Doesn’t stop me fancying the drawers off her neither. Perhaps one of these days we’ll pray together. Then I’ll reacquaint her some other uses for hands and lips and get her to admit her very obvious sexuality. Well within reason of course. We don’t want a repeat of what happened to poor Irene now do we?”