Rupert Mountjoy - The Intimate Memoirs of an Edwardian Dandy, vol.I

That's right, young man, Fred Nolan at your service, all the way from the USA. And who may you be?' 'I'm Rupert Mountjoy, sir, the Colonel's son. And this is my friend, Frank Folkestone.' 'Glad to meet you, Frank,' said the genial stranger, beckoning to his driver to unload the cart which contained his luggage and two large chests which no doubt contained all his cinematographic equipment. 'I'll have someone bring in all your cases, sir,' I said. 'Well, thank you, my boy, but I'll supervise the operation, if you don't mind. My cameras must be handled very carefully.' After we had helped Mr.

Nolan to settle in, he gratefully accepted the offer of some refreshment. Goldhill brought in a large whisky and soda and Mrs.

Randall provided a platter of cold roast beef sandwiches and a pot of hot black coffee. I apologised for my parents' absence but Mr. Nolan waved aside my words: 'No need to apologise, you've done me proud, young man, though I look forward to meeting your parents. Now before they come I'd very much like to take a walk around your estate whilst the rain holds off.' 'Are you planning the scenario for a film?'

I asked. 'Yup, that's the idea. My boy, motion pictures are in their infancy and the three-minute film will, I predict, soon be overtaken by full-length plays which will be shown in special movie theatres,' he replied. We must have looked dubious for Mr. Nolan continued: 'I see you doubt me. Well, boys, I'll go further, I will go so far as to predict that motion pictures will in your lifetime be seen in colour and you'll be able to hear the spoken word coming out from the screen! Ah, I see you smile-well, we shall see, we shall see.

Just remember that people laughed at Mr. Edison's idea for a phonograph. 'But that probably won't happen until the dawn of the new century. Right now, how would you like to come out with me to look for a suitable location for my film?' 'I should say,' said Frank with alacrity, 'especially if we could later watch you make your film.' 'Of course, of course,' said Mr. Nolan cordially. 'If you like, you may even appear in it!' The promise of such a treat was more than enough to get us out of doors and we tramped round our garden until Mr. Nolan stopped and said: This looks like the perfect spot. I want to take* a shot of the house before pointing the camera at a tea-party taking place on the lawn. If the weather is good enough and your parents are amenable, we will made a start directly after breakfast.' My parents arrived home soon afterwards and, like Frank and myself, they thoroughly enjoyed the company of the gregarious American who regaled us with a flood of anecdotes about his fascinating life. Mr. and Mrs. Harbottle and their daughter Katie had also been invited to dine with us and I could see that Katie, a slim, attractive girl of twenty-one, who was sitting next to Mr. Nolan, was especially taken with his recounting of his adventures. It seemed that Mr. Nolan's late father was one of the railway magnates back in America and being the sole heir to a very considerable fortune had enabled his son to travel the world at his leisure. 'You must find it very dull here after New York, Rome, Paris and London, Mr.

Nolan,' sighed my Mama who unlike Papa, enjoyed the bustle of town life, having been brought up in London. He shook his head. 'Dull?

Not a bit of it, ma'am, it's a real pleasure to be able to enjoy the peace and quiet of the country. Why, in New York, or in any great city, I don't think it is possible to secure even six hours of undisturbed sleep. I certainly never achieved this last week in London. I can't blame anyone for the choir of cats that decided to hold a concert on the roof of my hotel but I could have cheerfully strangled the two cabbies who careered down Marylebone High Street shouting imprecations to each other that I cannot repeat here!'

As he paused to take a glass of champagne from Goldhill, I bent under the table to retrieve my napkin which had fallen to the floor.

And what a shock I had as I looked across to see that Katie Harbottle, who was sitting opposite Mr. Nolan, and who was a most pleasant but quiet and shy girl in company, had taken off her right shoe and was running her stockinged toes up and down Mr. Nolan's left leg! Yet the American continued this little tale as if nothing untoward was happening even though Katie's foot, hidden from general view, was now caressing his inner thigh and was rising higher towards his groin with every stroke! I could hardly remain under the table but, as I straightened up, Mr. Nolan continued as if nothing untoward was happening: “Then one has to cope with the rumbling thunder made by the dustmen's carts, to say nothing of the infernal row made by drunken revellers pouring out of the clubs. Oh, I could think of a hundred other sleep-preventers as well.' 'I can think of a better sleep-preventer than all that-Sally the parlourmaid sucking my cock!' muttered Frank, who was sitting besides me. I dropped my napkin, deliberately this time, and when I bent down to pick it up, I drew a sharp breath to prevent an exclamation of amazement escape from my lips. Katie was still rubbing one foot down Mr. Nolan's leg, but now he had brazenly opened the buttons of his flies, and this was allowing Katie to wriggle the toes of her other foot inside his trousers, stroking them against his naked rampant penis which stood up stiffly out of his under-shorts. With difficulty I suppressed the urge to succumb to hysterics, though I wondered wildly how the two of them would extricate themselves from this compromising situation.

Surprisingly enough, it proved far less awkward than I envisaged for when the time came for the ladies to retire, Katie simply slipped her shoes back on and left the room together with the two older ladies.

Mr. Nolan did not rise fully as the ladies left the table but crouched over his chair, hastily buttoning his trousers as Goldhill came in with a tray of liqueurs. 'Do you belong to any clubs here in England, Mr. Nolan?' asked my father, as Goldhill poured out cognac for us all (Frank and I were allowed a small measure as a special treat) and Mr. Nolan nodded his head. 'Yes, I belong to the Reform and the Travellers and my club in Washington, D.C., the Beesknees, has connections with the Jim Jam in London.' 'The Jim Jam,' said my father thoughtfully. 'I don't think I've ever heard of that establishment.' Mr. Nolan looked quickly at Frank and myself and hurriedly changed the subject: 'I don't get there very often, Colonel.

Tell me now, how do you occupy your time since you left the Indian Army?' 'I'm enjoying the life of an English country gentleman,' replied my father. 'Plenty of hunting, shooting and fishing, you know.' 'Are you keen on country pursuits, Mr. Nolan?' asked George Harbottle, Katie's father and the local squire who was perhaps the best shot in the entire county, a fact that was best kept from Mr.

Nolan whose only pursuit this evening was fucking the squire's daughter! 'As an American I'm always at ease in the great outdoors, sir, and have always been extremely fond of the country,' said Frederick Nolan with a smile. 'Well, it's true that he's extremely fond of cunt!' I said softly to Frank. 'Why, what are you talking about?' my friend whispered back. I quietly explained what I had seen going on underneath the table, which made Frank choke with laughter. 'Let us all in on the joke, boys,' said my father genially. Frank again showed his uncanny ability to manoeuvre his way out of a tight corner by explaining that the cognac had 'gone down the wrong way* and we sat quietly whilst the others finished their liqueurs. 'Shall we join the ladies?' said my father, rising from his seat and as neither guest had taken up my father's previous offer of a cigar, we trooped into the drawing room. Not surprisingly the conversation came round to Mr. Nolan's films and Frank and I exchanged a knowing glance when Katie Harbottle said: 'I'd very much like to see your equipment, Mr. Nolan.' 'Ah, that creates a slight problem,' said the cunning cinematographer, “You see, I have set everything up in my room and it would be rather difficult to bring it all downstairs.' Katie looked disappointed but Mrs. Harbottle said: 'I don't see why you could not go up to Mr. Nolan's room and see his equipment there.' 'I say, Enid-' spluttered her husband, but she imperiously waved away his protest. 'Really, George, by refusing Katie permission to go with Mr. Nolan you are, unwittingly of course, insulting them both! Do you feel that Mr. Nolan or your daughter would behave improperly just because they would be alone for fifteen minutes?' I wondered who was silently cheering Mrs. Harbottle's progressive views-my Mama, who had persuaded Mrs. Harbottle of the justice of the Suffragette cause (much to the squire's disgust!), or Katie and Frederick Nolan who I knew would like nothing better than to find themselves together in a private place and especially a bedroom!