I laughed. “This time yesterday I saw you for the first time. I wish to God I never had.”
“I do not think that is exactly true.” He laid a hand on my wrist. “I can feel your heart beating fast, Carlotta. Oh, it is going to be wonderful between us. I know it. But I want you to stop comparing me with Beaumont Granville.”
“I did nothing of the sort …”
“You should keep to the truth, Carlotta. The truth is so much more interesting than lies.”
“Oh, let me out of here. I promise I will not say a word of what I have seen. Give me a horse. Let me go. I will find my way to Eyot Abbass. I will say I lost my way. I will make up some plausible tale. I promise you, you and your band shall not be the worse for anything I shall say.”
“Too late,” he said. “You are here, Carlotta, in the trap. A most delightful trap, I promise you.”
“With death at the end …?” I asked.
“It will depend on you. You will entertain me and each night I shall look forward to more shared joys. Have you heard of Scheherazade? She told stories and for her skill was allowed to live through another day. You are a Scheherazade of sorts, Carlotta, and I am your sultan.”
I put my hands over my face. I did not want him to see my expression. His talk of Beau had brought back so many memories of the room in Enderby Hall. This room was not unlike it. He reminded me more and more of Beau. I was afraid of myself. I felt that if this man touched me I should not be able to fight off the fantasy. I should let myself slip into the dream.
“Stop regretting Beaumont Granville,” he was saying. “You would have been wretched with him. Your people were right to try to stop the marriage. Beaumont could never be faithful to one woman for more than a week. He was completely cynical about them. He talked of them to me … to others too, I don’t doubt. He talked of you, Carlotta.”
I repeated blankly: “He talked of me!”
“He was going to marry you because of your fortune. Solely because of your fortune, Carlotta. He wasn’t in the least reluctant, though. A nice fortune and a loving little wife. He told me how it was with you. He described those times you spent together in Enderby Hall, wasn’t it? He talked about women like that. He used to talk about Naturals. They were born for it, he said. Lovely passionate creatures. They are as eager as you are. Carlotta, he said, is like that. He was glad, he said. One grew tired of the shrinking kind who had no heart in the romp.”
“Be silent,” I cried. “How can you? I hate you. I hate you. If I could I would …”
“I know. If you had a sword here you’d run it through me as Durrell would have run it through you this morning. You owe me your life, Carlotta.”
I could not explain my feelings. There was shame there, shame for what Beau had said of me. I never wanted to see that room at Enderby again. My mother had done everything she could to stop me and she had been right. I could not bear to think of him—discussing me and my emotions and my reactions to this … disciple of his.
His fingers were on my coat. “Come, dear Carlotta,” he said. “Forget him. He is past. Perhaps he lies mouldering in some grave. Perhaps he is at this moment lying with someone who can give him more than you could. Forget him. I know you and love you already. You are no stranger to me, Carlotta.”
He had taken off my coat. He was undressing me with unexpectedly tender hands.
I wrenched myself free suddenly. I looked about the room. He took my face in his hands and said: “Caught. Trapped, like a little bird in a net. Sweet Carlotta, life is fleeting. Who knows, perhaps this very night men will come to this place and take me. Perhaps in a week, a month, my head and shoulders will have parted. Life is short. It has always been my motto. Enjoy it while we can. That should be yours, too. Who shall say what tomorrow shall bring to either of us? But there is tonight.”
Then he picked me up and carried me to the bed.
He laid me there and I closed my eyes.
Resistance was useless. I was completely in his power. I knew the sort of man he was. Beau’s sort. He was moving about the room. Then he blew out the candle and was beside me.
I wanted to cry out in protest. But cries, as he had pointed out, were useless. I was in his power.
I heard him laugh in the darkness. I think he knew me better than I knew myself.
It is difficult to understand myself. I suppose I should have felt degraded and humiliated; and in a way I did, and yet … It is hard to explain except to say that I am a woman who was meant to experience physical passion and I was beginning to understand that it was not so much Beau himself that I had missed as the opportunity to match my physical needs with one with whom I was in complete bodily harmony. This was how it was with Hessenfield. We were as one flesh; I forgot the reason for my being where I was and although I brought out all my pride—and that was considerable in ordinary circumstances—I could not hide the fact that I found pleasure in this encounter.
Hessenfield knew it; he exulted in it, and he was by no means a rough or uncouth lover as might have been expected in the circumstances. He behaved as though his great desire was to please me and he made no secret of his delight in me.
He told me that I was wonderful; that he had never enjoyed such an experience as much as he had with me.
In the darkness he whispered to me: “I could so easily fall in love with you.”
I did not jeer at him; I remained silent. I was overcome by a mixture of shame and ecstasy.
We were as suited as lovers as Beau and I had been. There was an overpowering sensuality in us both which gave us a rare appreciation of the sensations we could evoke in each other. Whatever happened to me, I could not wholeheartedly regret this adventure.
He knew it even as I did. He certainly behaved like a lover after that first onslaught. It was as though he was telling me that he was sorry it had happened in this way.
When the first streaks of light were in the sky he was at the window. He was looking for the ship.
“There is nothing there,” he said; and there was almost a relief in his voice.
Another day passed. A long day it seemed. They were all watching for the arrival of the ship. I dressed the General’s wound. I seemed to be more adept at nursing than any of the others and they let me do it. They seemed glad that I could.
The General was not quite sure where he was, so he did not question my presence. I was glad of that. Later I went down to the kitchen and prepared the food for them. It was only a matter of setting it out on the table for whoever this house belonged to had left it well stocked with food.
I was embarrassed to meet Hessenfield’s gaze during that morning. He was so knowledgeable; he would know exactly how I was feeling, and I could scarcely pretend to be as outraged as I should be. He had been fully aware of the passion in me which had matched his own. He was too experienced not to understand my nature. At one time he came up behind me, caught me and held me against him; I felt his lips on my ear. He was behaving as a true lover might. It was disconcerting.
I felt ashamed to face the others, for they all knew what had happened. Hessenfield undoubtedly had a reputation for his amorous adventures. Beau’s pupil, I thought.
He had taught me something. It was that it was not so much Beau whom I wanted but a man who could satisfy me in the way Beau had.
The night came and we were alone again. As he held me tightly against him he said: “I am glad the ship did not come today.”
“You are a fool,” I said. “Every day your danger grows.”
“It’s worth it,” he answered, “for a night with you.”
We lay together in the big four-poster bed just as I had lain in that other with Beau.
He said: “I believe you love me a little.”