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About the Author
Hailing from the mid north coast of NSW at Valla Beach, author Douglas Wakeling combines his passion for the written word, history and family ancestry in his first book. Since the late 1980s he has pondered over his family lineage, particularly the story of John Joseph Layburn, his great-grandfather, and his passage from Otley, England to the small country town of Carcoar in NSW, Australia. While writing the book Doug lived in Maleny, Queensland, noted for its excellence in the arts, which he puts down to the quality of the mountain air in the beautiful Blackall Ranges. An active member of the Lions Club, he is the recipient of the Melvin Jones Fellowship award. He is a keen rail enthusiast and gardener and his venture into the literary world is sure to continue for years to come. PrologueSir William de Leybourne was the last of that family name to live at the castle Leybourne outside the small town of Leybourne in Kent. His son Thomas had died in a duel and so all his lands passed onto Sir William’s granddaughter Juliana de Leybourne who owned so much land in Kent that she was called the ‘The Infanta of Kent,’ but when she married the Earl of Huntington all her estates passed on to his family. With the death of the last male heir of Sir William, the King of England, Edward I (1274-1307), gave the manor of Leybourne to the Abbey of St. Mary Graces monasteries. However in the reign of Henry V111 (1509-1547), he was responsible for the dissolution of all monasteries and so over the next century it gradually fell into ruins. The Earl and his lovely lady had many fine estates to live in around Kent but life was about to change. The year was 1687 when three of Juliana’s distant relatives turned up unannounced at the Huntington Manor House. The three brothers had been touring the French region near the city of Libourne. They had been away for nearly twelve months, attending to business in France. Calling on distant relatives, they learnt that the history of the Libourne Family went back to the Crusades. They further learnt that the Knights of the family had been involved in the War at Cresse in 1343, and how they had been overpowered by the English who were using a superior longbow. Finally in 1565 the English were forced from Calais and their foothold on the continent was over. Presently the three young noblemen found themselves in a compromising situation from which they had to leave France in what can only be described as haste. Young Jon was banging on the door. “Open up or we will ram the door down.” Finally the footman opened the door. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” All in chorus they said, “We demand to see the Lady Juliana.” “And who will I say is calling?” Manfred left them standing at the door and retreated to talk to the lady of the house. He advised her that there were three young gentlemen at the door. “They say they’re related and have just returned from France.” “Show them in,” said Lady Juliana. Manfred directed them into the games room which was filled with stag and other wild animal trophies collected by his Lordship. They slumped into the large chairs. The three brothers were Roger, Basil and Jon who had escaped from the French gendarmes in La Havre and crossed the channel. Roger, who was the eldest, had rescued his two younger brothers from a seaside brothel. With the authorities smashing in the front door the brothers escaped out the back window, crashing to the cobbled laneway. With no time to spare they jumped on a ship with some of their band of followers, all somehow related. The ship arrived in the early hours at a sleepy inlet near Folkestone. Basil arranged to buy some horses and a wagon. The merry cavaliers set out and by mid afternoon they were riding west to their distant relative at Castle Leybourne. They had left the rest of their supporters in an old deserted farmhouse on the outskirts of Canterbury twelve months earlier before adventuring off to France. The brothers had never been to the castle before but Roger had learnt from his father of its location when he was a child. He was uncertain of the way except that after leaving Canterbury and going through Maidstone, the Castle of Leybourne was not much further after passing through the village of Ditton. They rode through the night and all the next day, finally arriving at the castle late in the afternoon. As they rode up the weed-infested pathway to the drawbridge, they saw that the castle was in ruins. They were about to turn around when from behind a broken-down wall a bedraggled beggar emerged. “What you be wanting, my Lords?” Roger’s horse reared up and finally he said, “We’re looking for Lady Juliana and the Earl of Huntington. She is a distant relative of our family.” “Don’t live here any more, haven’t lived here for years.” “Well, my good man, do you know where we can find the good lady?” “My Lords, I am a poor man; how much will you give me?” Jon being quick tempered drew his sword. “I’ll run you through if you don’t tell us where we will find Lady Juliana.” Jon moved his horse as if to run him down. “I’ll tell you, don’t hurt me,” as he fell backwards into the gravel. Manfred entered the room. “My good Lords, I have instructed the stable hands to show your men where to bed down and they are being fed.” “Thank you,” said Roger and with that Lady Juliana entered the room. “Gentlemen, or should I say cousins. Welcome to Huntington. Would you care for some refreshments?” and with that a lovely young maiden entered the room. “Angelina, these fine young men are our distant cousins.” The three brothers were quick to kiss the Lady’s hands. “I am sorry but my husband is in London, he has an audience with the King.” Over a meal, Lady Juliana told the three brothers of all the family history including where in the Chapel of Leybourne in 1271 they had placed Sir Roger’s heart in a lead casket. She went on to tell her cousins that Sir William De Leybourne that same year received land grants from the King. He had fought with the Barons against King John and helped gain the Magna Carta and he received two iron crowns that were left by King Edward 1 and his Queen for service to the realm. He was given the title of Admiral de la Mer du Roi d’Angleterre. There was much drinking and feasting that night and some of the serving wenches soon disappeared with the men out to the stables. Juliana excused herself and climbed the stairs to her room. Jon had been mesmerised by the good lady – she was indeed a striking woman and so when his brothers were occupied, he left the house unnoticed and went around the side of the building where he had worked out the good lady Juliana’s room was situated. He scaled the vine which was clinging to the outer wall and climbed in through her window. The room was in darkness but he could make out the bed and the sleeping princess. He unbuckled his sword and quietly disrobed, gently pulling back the silk sheets and climbing into the bed. The fair maiden stirred and Jon slowly placed his hand on her leg, allowing it to rise up to her mound. Her body arched and she let out a moan. He kissed the lady on the breast and slowly worked his way up to kiss her on her beautiful mouth. Then she sat upright and screamed. Roger placed his hand over her mouth and muffled her screams. The room was still in darkness. She lay back down and gradually started to relax and as he entered her she let out a cry of ecstasy and brought her legs up and trapped him in her grasp. She pulled her nightgown over her head and her naked body glistened as the moonlight filtered in through the window. Jon left the lady’s room in the early hours of the morning leaving her with a smile on her face. Jon visited the fair lady’s bedchamber every night that week. The young lady eagerly looked forward to her nightly visitor. Finally on the last night, much to his dismay, she revealed herself as the lovely young Angelina as she pulled the virile knight down on to her arching body to continue their passionate lovemaking. He thought he had been making love to the Lady Juliana. When the sun streamed through the window in the morning they were lying in each other’s arms exhausted when the door flung open and the Earl entered. “Well, Jon Leybourne, this is how you repay my hospitality,” the Earl of Huntington raged. Angelina sat upright with a start pulling up the bed covers to hide her nakedness. “Father, when did you return from London?” the fair lady nervously uttered. “Young lady, dress yourself and go to your mother’s room. I want to talk to this young cad.” Quickly she threw a robe on and left the bedroom. Jon just lay there stretching his arms and finally he said, “Well, Sir, my brothers and I must be off; it looks like we have overstayed our welcome.” The Earl quickly shut the door as some of the servants had started to mill around and were peering in. “Not so fast, my young man; before you leave, there will be a wedding. You will take my daughter’s hand and you will look after her, love her, cherish her and give me fine grandsons, or I will seek you out and skin you alive and if you are still breathing, have you drawn and quartered.” The Earl left the room in a rage but also with a smile on his face. He went to seek out Jon’s brothers. So everything was arranged for the hasty service the next afternoon in the chapel at the Huntington Church. The three brothers were in the side chapel waiting for the priest to start the service. Roger had to hold Jon as he wanted to be off. He had no love for the Roman Church. He had been told the story from his relatives in France how their ancestors in the 12th century had been persecuted by the Pope from Rome because they practised Cartharism in the city of Beziers in the south of France. It was while passing through the village of Albi that the three brothers, who were staying at a local inn, got talking to some young Carthar priests who explained to Jon that to practise their true religion they had to be strict vegetarians and celibate (although many of the ordinary believers were married). They worshipped Yahweh, a Hebrew God of the Old Testament, and were a peace-loving sect of the Christian faith. The Catholic Church over time demanded they cease this devil worshipping and finally the Pope sent an army and had 20,000 followers of the faith – men, women and children – slain. Some escaped and the remnants were scattered all over France. Jon’s ancestors who had fought gallantly in the Crusades finally settled in the area now called Libourne near the city of Bordeaux. Jon suffered in silence as the Catholic priest preformed the ceremony. After the service, they all returned to the Huntington Manor where the Earl had prepared a huge ox on a spit. The wine flowed and there was much feasting with musicians strolling through the garden. The Earl had told Roger when they were in a quiet corner that he was glad that his daughter was finally off his hands. Angelina had retired to her room and told her new husband not to be too long. Jon was quite drunk as he ascended the stairs. On the first landing he fell over his brother Basil, who was struggling with a young lady’s clothing and was trying to rape her. There was shouting and fists started to fly and finally Roger broke the pair up. The commotion brought Angelina out onto the landing to see her new husband in a state of undress. She quickly returned to her room and locked the door. Jon spent the night asleep in front of her door. The bride when calmed down slowly opened the door and dragged Jon into the room, undressed him as he stirred, finally making it to the bed. He did a quick retreat to the window and was violently ill. After composing himself he washed his face and flopped onto the bed. The next morning they had all assembled around the front door. Roger and his men were heading west to settle in Cardiff, Wales. Basil and his group were settling in the south around Brighton. The three brothers would part that morning never to set eyes on one another ever again. Jon looked magnificent as he rode around the corner of the manor in all his finery. His manservant had polished his boots and his sword glistened in the morning sunlight. He had a spectacular black hat with flowing feathers, his beard had been trimmed and on the front of his tunic was the Leyburn Arms of an eagle with expanded wings and a crest of six azure lions rampant. Jon raised his hat and bowed his head to the lovely Lady Juliana. The good lady felt a tingle all over and felt herself blush as she thought to herself what a fine looking man he was. “So where are you taking my lovely daughter, young Jon? called out the Earl. “We will be heading north, your Lordship. I’ve heard about land up in the Yorkshire Dales,” replied Jon as his horse reared up, eager to be on its way. The Earl and Lady Juliana bid their daughter and new son-in-law farewell. As the group rode along in silence, Jon looked at his new wife with her beautiful blond hair blowing in the breeze and wondered what he had done. He had avoided matrimony all these years. The rest of the group had ridden on ahead to arrange lodging for the night in the village of Fawkham Green. Angelina had gone to the room at the top of the stairs. She told Jon not to be too long and changed into her silk night attire and lay on the bed waiting for her husband to appear. Jon was in quite a sombre mood as he drank ale with his followers. Finally he bid them good night and ascended the stairs to his new bride. As he entered the room it was a new caring Jon. He had promised himself that he would turn over a new leaf; gone were the wild bachelor days drinking usually until the sun was rising with a new wench every night. He had changed into his nightshirt, washed his face and as he entered the candlelit bedchamber Angelina was standing by the window. The sheer nightgown let the moonlight shine through the fabric and he could see the outline of her naked body. He took his new wife in his arms and kissed her. He was soon overcome with mad passion and took no time in disrobing his beautiful wife. Slowly massaging his hands up her beautiful slender body Jon sent the girl into rhapsody. She fell onto the bed and pulled him eagerly onto her arched body. Finally he entered her as they both reached a magnificent climax. Exhausted they lay in each other’s arms in a lather of sweat. Finally Angelina said, “Husband, if it’s a boy I want our son to be called John.” So as the story goes, the three brothers split up, each travelling in separate directions. Jon and his band of followers finally settled in and around Beverley in Yorkshire. Over the following years they spread out into the surrounding district to townships of Guiseley, Yeadon, Rawdon, Hawkworth and Otley. Because of the illiteracy of the period, many variations of the Leybourne family name gradually emerged – Layburn, Leyburn, Leyborn, Ley borne, Leybourne, Le Burn, La Burn, Leebourn, Layborn, and the list goes on. Our story continues in the village of Otley ... the year is 1839 ...
Chapter 1 (part sample)
t was John’s eighteenth birthday. The date, 26 March 1839. His proud father had arranged a celebration in honour of the event, holding a party for his brothers and sisters and a small number of his friends. John had grown into a strapping six-foot youth. His looks were not those of an Adonis, but he had a rugged handsomeness that caught the eye. The most prominent feature were his striking blue eyes, which women had a tendency to lose themselves in whilst talking to him. He had a strong physique, with broad strong shoulders, the result of the heavy work he undertook at Chippendales, and his hands were work worn and rugged. John had the advantage of having an appeal regardless of whether he had worked sixteen hours at the factory finishing an urgent order, or was dressed in the latest fashion from London. He had soft blond curly hair. Attending church or preparing for the church dances, he exuded a sense of fitness and strength. The combination of all this made him irresistible to the ladies and there was a lovable mischievous twinkle in his eye. Yet there was a sense of integrity to John’s character. He had an honest look about him and sincerity in his manner which made him instantly likeable to all who crossed his path. The hamlet of Otley had been blessed with a wonderful spring day to hold the celebration of John’s eighteenth year, for the cold chill of the English winter had passed and the lucid warmth of the sun illuminated the event such that it made people smile, laugh and relax. The sounds of merriment wafted clearly down the street, down the narrow cobblestone roads, along the lush green meadows and over the rolling hills. All the village had been invited, all his old school friends and a joyous day was had by all in attendance. Young John was taking the fullest advantage of being the man of the moment and enjoying his day immensely. He laughed and smiled and relaxed more than anyone and his father smiled with a warmth and pride of how his son had grown into such a wonderful young man. John’s father was deep in conversation with two of John’s school friends, Connie Draper and Agnes Coppell, who had just returned from London. They had been at finishing school and were telling him how they were both in love with John but they had decided they would wait for John to make up his mind. Out of the corner of John senior’s eye, he saw John depart from the party and sneak around the back of the hotel. Young John’s weakness however was for the ale, which John consumed in copious amounts. Living in a tavern all of his life, he had ready access to the amber nectar and had indulged his thirst at the age of fifteen, been drunk by the time he was sixteen and, despite his father’s protests, drank regularly with people in the tavern from the time he was seventeen. This particular day was no exception. With the tankards that he drank like water and the warmth of the day, it was not long before he found himself somewhat overly imbibed. He wobbled away discreetly from the merriment in his honour, found his way into the barn and up the ladder to the loft, where he toppled face first into the relative safety of a soft clump of new hay. John had spent an hour sleeping off this heavy drinking session when he was roused by the sound of someone climbing the ladder up to him in the loft. His head ached as he rose slightly to view the source of the noise, and his blurred eyes peeled open ever so slightly to observe who the intruder might be. It was Mary, a pretty young thing who worked in the tavern from time to time when the need arose. John’s father had hired her personally, much to the objection of John’s elder sister Jane who had taken control over raising her younger brothers and sisters since their mother had died. Mary was a buxom, mildly attractive, brown-haired, brown-eyed girl, with fresh features and a warm, almost innocent smile that hid well the wealth of carnal experience she really had under her belt. She was also a bit older than John. “Mary, what are you doing?” John asked blearily as he slowly awoke from his ale-sodden slumber. “Oh John,” she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye, “I’ve come to give you your birthday present. Don’t look so surprised, John, I have seen you lusting after me. John,” she paused, meeting his eyes and watching them widen in disbelief, “put your hand here.” John’s mind was blank with terror. He had talked with the boys down at the factory on several occasions about girls, and about ‘those’ kind of girls that would give themselves freely to a man outside of the marriage union. He had somewhat of an idea of what he was to do, but before this time, he had never seen a woman naked, not even his sisters. His head spun. “Wha … what’s that,” he stammered, naively pointing below Mary’s dress. Instantly he realised it was a stupid thing to say and he blushed slightly at his obvious inexperience. “It’s my mound, John, or some of the boys like to call it my honey pot! Want some honey, Johnny-boy?” Sensing he had better take some action lest the opportunity pass him by, John fumbled clumsily with his britches, succeeding only in getting them down to his knees before Mary pounced on him. She giggled. John made a sound he had never heard himself make before. Thankfully, Mary took control of the situation and guided John in the right direction. She had already sensed, such was her wisdom in the subject, that John was a virgin, and proceeded to direct his actions to their mutual satisfaction. It was all over before it had started. He apologised profusely for his inexperience, explaining honestly to her that he had never been intimate with a woman before, but he had certainly enjoyed the experience and wanted to learn more. She willingly agreed. “I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Johnny-boy,” she whispered into his ear, which made him tingle all over again. Mary straightened her undergarment and tucked her bosom back into the bodice. She kissed John passionately, slapped his naked backside and proceeded to descend the ladder from the loft. “See you back at the party,” she said as her head disappeared below. She walked out of the barn and rejoined the crowd of merry makers in the back yard of ‘the Fleece’. Mary looked across the twenty or so people still laughing and drinking and caught the eye of John’s father. She winked; he smiled. The transaction was complete. Over the next six months, John and Mary met in the loft many times a week, and slowly yet ever so surely, John became experienced in the subtle art of women. For the first few months Mary coached and encouraged him, showed him what to do. However there came a day when, after their encounter, as Mary lay breathless in the hay, totally overcome, she knew that he was no longer in need of any tuition. John viewed the relationship as the perfect arrangement. Mary did not seem altogether keen on marriage, and neither was he. Yet there was an affection and fondness and obvious physicality between the two that made them more than just acquaintances. It all seemed too good to be true. And indeed, as many things appear too good to be true. Click on the cart below to purchase this book: |
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