Then one day in a carriage, I amused myself by revealing to Julie that Walter Bramsby was involved with another woman.
Julie was shocked. “I don't believe it.”
“But it's true, darling.”
“Oh Edward.”
I told her that for her sake I'd bothered to hire a detective to investigate Walter. “It's always better to be cautious, isn't it?”
Julie seemed in a daze. When she asked who the woman was, I offered a false name. I did not tell her about Claire.
Then Julie asked if I thought she still ought to marry Bramsby. “It's not as if we're engaged. At the moment he's completely free. But do you think I ought to go on with it?”
I considered the matter. I finally shrugged and said why not? I said Walter's dalliance with another woman was only temporary. I reminded Julie that she herself was in the midst of an affair. “With your sister's husband.”
Julie laughed. She said she was more and more inclined to accept Walter's proposal of marriage. She said she felt he would make an adequate husband. “He's quite proper, isn't he?”
But then soon after that day Walter announced to Julie that he would not marry her. Julie was stunned. Walter refused to give any reason for his change of heart. Julie came to me in tears and told me everything. She reported that Walter seemed angry at her. He acted as if she had deceived him.
I comforted her. I said she would soon forget Walter Bramsby. “He's too boring, darling. You need a man with more vigor.”
Then Mr. Cutter revealed to me that Claire had recently visited Bedford Way with the same man whose rooms she so often frequented. Mr. Walter Bramsby. “They went in and out. I'd say they were in no more than an hour. If that's of any interest to you, sir.”
Interest, indeed. Now I was astonished again. How devilish Claire was. Now I understood that Claire had brought Walter to spy upon myself and Julie. She wanted Walter to see us together. Walter's response was to cancel his plans to marry Julie. The man was a mere pawn in Claire's hands. Claire had deliberately manipulated the termination of Walter's courtship to her sister. Poor Walter had played the clown for Claire's amusement.
But Julie's gaiety was soon restored. She quickly ceased to talk of Walter Bramsby. She continued to meet me in Bedford Way. Her hedonism was rampant again. We continued our games in the flat. I played the puppeteer. Now I knew that often Claire was watching us. And Claire did not know that I knew it. What a lark it was. Julie and myself on the bed while Claire watched us from the other side of that wall. On occasion I could hear Claire's movements, a scraping sound, a minor collision of a knee against the woodwork. There was never any sign of her spying when we were all together in the evening.
In Bedford Way Julie became more and more aggressive. She demanded her pleasures. She amused herself with me. And why not? It was clear to me that we all preyed upon each other. I found myself more and more obsessed with Julie. She aroused me more than Claire did. I suppose Claire was aware of that as a result of her spying. Julie teased me constantly, dominated me sexually now. I yielded to her demands. I always yielded to her demands.
And did Claire watch it all? I had no love for Julie. We used each other, exhausted each other without respite. I soon realized I disliked her intensely. I told myself she was as evil as Claire. I decided I hated both sisters. The two Fontan sisters were a pair of witches. They both enjoyed using me. I told myself I was a victim. I told myself I had to find a way to get even. I wanted vindication. I wanted revenge.
Chapter Seventeen
What I did was talk to Simon Ruddle, an old acquaintance, a music hall manager, a man who looked his best in a boater and plus-fours. I said I wanted an introduction to an actress named Lily Graham. Did he know her? Yes of course he knew her, whatever did I want that one for? “She's not reliable,” he said. I told him I had no concern about her reliability, I wanted the introduction as soon as possible.
And so the meeting with Lily Graham was adequately arranged by Simon Ruddle. I was determined now to have my vengeance against Claire and Julie. I went to Lily's dressing room one evening, carried my hat and cane in my hand and entered a cloud of perfume thick enough to choke a rhino. And there she was, a perfect little tart, a typical actress, blonde and pink and laughing blue eyes and delicious rosebud lips. Not much of an actress really, but a complete cocotte. “So pleased to meet you, Mr. Ransom. Shall I call you Edward? Yes, I think I shall. It's a nice name, isn't it?”
Lovely ankles in dark silk. She was amused when she learned I was Claire's husband. The laughing blue eyes moved up and down as she flirted with me. She was one of those women who flirt with men as a matter of policy. She agreed to dine with me. “Provided it's a decent place, of course. I don't like the ordinary places. I like a bit of polish, if you know what I mean.”
Yes, I did know. I was overwhelmed by the perfume and her complete femininity. As was Claire, I suppose. How amusing it was. Lily's sexuality was so intense it filled the room. My mind was in a fever as I imagined her with Claire. Hot imaginings. I thought of their bodies entwined. Claire kissing her breasts, sucking her nipples, nuzzling in her nest. Claire would treat her as an hors d'oeuvre. Lily would be a delicate hors d'oeuvre for Claire. How completely clever of Claire to amuse herself with this tropical bird.
I took Lily Graham to the Ritz and she was delighted. She clapped her hands and settled her feathers. I ordered champagne. I offered a toast to her ravishing beauty. I told her every eye in the room was upon her and the blue eyes danced in response.
But it was true. The eyes of all the men were upon her. She was certainly something to look at. She flaunted her beauty at them, gazed at one and then the other, a hint of promise, a smile. She knew precisely what she had and she knew precisely what the men around her wanted.
Then she looked at me. “And you?”
“Me?”
“What do you want with me, Mr. Edward Ransom?”
“I thought we decided you would call me Edward.”
“Such a nice name. And wanting what?”
She was not stupid. So often one thinks such a woman less than clever, but usually the case is otherwise. They don't go far without cleverness. Lord knows where she came from, but she now had a life of sorts. A name in the music halls, pleasant evenings with moneyed men in attendance. I could she her breasts, the glow of her skin. I wondered what she looked like naked. I sipped my champagne and lit a cigar and said I wanted to buy her.
She laughed. That sparkling music hall laugh, the blue eyes now burning. Her laughter rippled across the table. She was delighted. She sipped her champagne. She said it was lovely to find a man so honest. “You say it right out, don't you? Well, I like that. I think it's lovely. And what will you do with me after you buy me?”
How amusing she was. She knew the world. I told her I would surround her with flowers. “And then make passionate love to you. We'll make love in a bed of white roses.”
Her teeth glistened as she smiled. “Now that's a fancy, isn't it? What did Claire tell you about me?”
“Nothing at all. She has no knowledge of this and I'd rather you wouldn't tell her.”
“A bit of intrigue, isn't it?”
“Yes, quite.”
“You're not what I imagined. Not Claire's husband. You're different.”
I suppose she thought I'd be a species of poodle, combed and beribboned and quick to the beckoning. Fiery images filled my brain. I imagined Lily in my arms. That deep cleft between her breasts looked so delicious, a place to nuzzle, a place where the warm scent of her body would be intoxicating. Then I imagined her in Claire's arms. What did they do with each other? I imagined Claire making love to Lily. I imagined Lily's breasts in Claire's hands, Claire's mouth on Lily's sex. Claire would be the aggressor. My dear Claire. She would lose herself with a toy like Lily. I pictured the two women together in a feverish embrace, their mouths pulling at each other's flesh.