‘Stop it!’ she cried, as his hands dragged her legs apart
again. ‘Stop! You can’t make me …’
‘Oh, but I can,’ he said. ‘You are my wife now,
remember?’ And grabbing her wrists in one hand, he pinned
her arms above her head and pushed his legs between hers.
‘No!’ she cried. ‘No! Let me go!’
He pressed his mouth hard against hers, drowning her
screams, then using his free hand, he drew her hips towards
him and entered her.
The struggle was useless, he was far too strong for her,
but nevertheless she managed to wrench her mouth away
and sank her teeth into his arm. He only laughed, and
squeezing her jaw between his fingers, he turned her face
back to his.
‘I warned you, Claudine,’ he snarled, ‘but you wouldn’t
listen, would you?’
‘Get off of me!’ she hissed. ‘Get your hands off me!’
‘All in good time,’ he sneered, thrusting himself in and
out of her.
‘Let go of me now!’ she seethed. ‘Let go or I’ll scream!’
His only response was to tighten his grip on her jaw and
slam into her even harder. She writhed and kicked and
scratched, but all to no avail, she was trapped beneath him,
there was no escape. She lay rigid, eyes closed, lips
compressed and fists clenched. Dimly, she was aware that
his breathing had quickened, that he was moving even
deeper inside her; then she gasped as her whole being
seemed suddenly to turn inside out.
It was as though she was alive with him; she could smell
him, feel him, taste him, she was submerged in him. She
could hear herself sobbing, then she almost screamed as she
felt sensation in her start to build to an excruciating pitch.
He took her thighs in his hands and pushed them up so that
her legs were around his waist, and she clutched at his
shoulders, curled her fingers savagely through his hair,
feeling that at any moment she was going to explode. His
pumping grew harder and harder, then he was touching her
so deep inside, filling her so full of himself that she cried out
his name. Then suddenly he withdrew.
Her senses reeled with the shock of it, her whole body
screamed in protest. She looked up at him, then recoiled as
she saw the sadistic smile that curved his lips.
‘You’re sick!’ she cried, wiping the back of her trembling
hand across her mouth. ‘You’re sick, and disgusting!’
‘I gave you what you wanted,’ he replied, as he rolled off
her and sat on the edge of the bed.
‘How dare you say that…’
‘I gave you what you wanted,’ he repeated, ‘and you know
it’
‘You raped me!’ she seethed.
‘No.’ he said, standing up as he pulled on his under
shorts. ‘I merely showed you what a ridiculous woman you
are.’ He was glaring down at her, a vile expression in his
eyes. ‘I warned you not to marry me, but you had to have
your own way, didn’t you? And you were prepared to go to
any lengths to get it. But have you ever asked yourself why,
Claudine? Have you ever stopped to wonder why you were
so determined to marry me?’
When she didn’t answer, he gave a harsh laugh. ‘No, I
thought not. Then I’ll tell you why. It was because I didn’t
want you, and you just couldn’t face up to that. Your
pathetic vanity couldn’t accept that there was someone in
this world not ready to fall at your feet. That’s why you
married me. Well, perhaps you can see now what blinkering
yourself to get your own way can bring. Marrying me has
changed nothing -I still don’t want you. All I want is an heir,
and as my wife you will make it your business to give me one.
And now, since I believe I have cleared your head of any
false illusions regarding our union, I shall bid you goodnight.’
For
a long time after the door had closed behind him,
Claudine lay on the bed staring sightlessly at the place
where he had stood, too stunned even to think. Eventually
she became aware of how cold she was, and as she glanced
down at the bare skin of her legs, a tiny flicker of life ignited
somewhere very deep inside her.
At first she moved slowly, pulling herself from the bed
into the bathroom. Once there, she turned on the taps and
began to wash herself, with little energy, but a dim hope that
she could cleanse herself of his venom. Once or twice she
glanced at herself in the mirror, but she barely recognized
the ashen face that looked back at her.
Mechanically she lowered the straps of her nightgown and
let it fall to the floor. Her nakedness embarrassed her, and she
turned from the mirror. Slowly she began to pull on her
clothes. Soon, she told herself, the numbness would leave her
mind and she would be able to decide what she should do.
She opened her vanity-case and began packing her
toiletries. She had no idea how she was going to get out of
the hotel, but there was no question that somehow she must.
Then she would take a train to Chinon, and from there a taxi
to Montvisse. Her father would still be there, he wasn’t
leaving for Berlin until the following week. She wouldn’t
allow herself to think how he would view her sudden return;
once he knew the circumstances, surely he would agree that
she had done the right thing?
Closing her vanity-case, she picked up her hat and
walked back into the bedroom. From the chink of light
under the door she guessed that Francois was still in the
sitting-room, but she couldn’t run the risk of opening the
door to find out. She walked over to the window. It was a
struggle to get it open, for it was imperative she make no
sound, but eventually the heavy wooden frame responded
and she pushed it gently upwards until there was enough
room for her to climb through.
First she leaned out to see how she was going to get down,
knowing that if it was necessary she would jump. But her
painfully thudding heart flooded with relief as she saw the
rusty fire-escape only a few feet below the windowledge.
Once she was outside, she eased the window closed, then
carefully picked her way down the steps to the moonlit
courtyard. Now all she had to do was find the railway station
- and again she was in luck, for almost at once she saw a sign
in the trees opposite, Centre Ville. The station was sure to be
somewhere near the centre of the town; not too long a walk,
she hoped, because though she doubted that Francois
would go into the bedroom again that night, if he did, there
was every chance he would come looking for her.
As she lifted her arm into the light and looked at her
watch, she was shivering, and fighting hard against tears. It
was one thirty in the morning, just three and a half hours
after she had left Lorvoire. With an overpowering sense of
sadness, she realized that her wedding party was probably
still going on.
Collecting herself, and trying not to be daunted by the
looming shadows of the trees, she walked out into the dark,
deserted country road.
At about the time Claudine was leaving the hotel in Poitiers,
Beavis and Celine were arriving back at Montvisse. All the
way home they had sat silently staring in opposite directions,
while Celine’s chauffeur drove them through the night.
Both were acutely aware of the dull red stain of Lorvoire
wine on the front of Beavis’s shirt. Celine had spilt it just
before they left the party, and had been careful to make it
look like an accident.
The staff at Montvisse were still up, waiting to attend to
Celine’s guests as they returned from the wedding. Celine
and Beavis were the first to arrive home; they passed
through the hall, bidding the servants goodnight, then
walked up the stairs together, parting company on the
landing outside Celine’s room.
When Celine went inside she found Brigitte dozing in a
chair, but the maid managed to pull herself to her feet as she
heard the door open.
‘Go to bed, Brigitte,’ Celine said, throwing her purse on
the dressing-table.
‘But I must brush your hair, madame, and…’
‘Go to bed, Brigitte,’ Celine repeated.
Had she not been so tired, Brigitte might have been
quicker to understand, but as she made to protest again
Celine shot her a look, and this time, in no doubt about what
was on her mistress’s mind, Brigitte bobbed a swift curtesy
and did as she was told.
Celine waited, glancing about the room, pleased with the
subtle yellow glow from the lamps beside the bed and the
position of the cheval mirror in the corner between two
occasional chairs. Then she heard footsteps outside the
door. Her heart started to pound and her breathing
quickened. She spun round as Beavis walked in, without
knocking. When she saw the angry look on his face she
turned away, lowering her head as if in shame.
He closed the door behind him. ‘On countless occasions,’
he said harshly, ‘I have had to speak to you about your
clumsiness.’
Her lips parted and her chest began to heave as he took a
step towards her, but she didn’t look up.
‘My shirt is ruined,’ he continued. ‘I could have you
dismissed for such carelessness, you do realize that?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she whispered.
‘Is that what you want?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then you know what must happen?’
‘Yes, sir.’
He walked past her, then picking up one of the chairs and
placing it in front of the mirror, he said, ‘It gives me no
pleasure to punish you, but you leave me no alternative.
Come over here.’
Keeping her eyes lowered, Celine walked across the
room. When she was standing beside him, he sat down on
the chair, resting his hands on his knees. ‘Pull up your
dress,’ he said.
Obediently Celine gathered the skirts of her short
Molyneux evening dress and pulled them to her waist. Over
her white lace suspender-belt she was wearing a pair of pink
satin French knickers.
‘All right,’ he said, watching her reflection in the mirror.
‘Have you anything to say for yourself before I begin?’
‘Only that I am very sorry, sir. And that I will try not to do
it again.’
‘Well, we’ll just have to see that you don’t,’ he said, and
lifting a hand, he pulled her across his lap. Then arranging
her dress so that the hem fell around her shoulders, he I
slipped his fingers under the elastic of her knickers and
pulled them down over her thighs.
By now Celine’s breathing was so rapid that she was
beginning to shake. As she cast her eyes towards the mirror
she could see the reflection of her naked buttocks and the
grim determination on Beavis’ face. Then, as his hand rose,
she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the first blow. When
it came, the pain that shot through her body was almost
unbearable, but she sank her teeth into her lips to stop from
crying out. He lifted his hand again, but this time, as the
sharp, stinging slap hit her naked flesh, she could do
nothing to stop the moan of pure ecstasy.
He spanked her again and again, until she was bound in a
knot of such overpowering arousal she could no longer
breathe. But the exquisite torture continued as his long,
gentle fingers started to soothe her smarting skin, moving in
gentle circles over her buttocks and thighs, caressing and
stroking. Then at last, just as she thought she could bear it
no longer, his hand came down in one final excruciating
slap.
‘Mon Dieu,’ she choked.
He caught her about the waist and pushed her back to her
feet. Her dress fell around her knees and her knickers
slipped to her ankles. ‘Now let that be a lesson to you,’ he
said.
‘Yes, sir,’ she murmured, as she stooped to retrieve her
knickers.
‘Did I give you permission to do that?’ he barked.
‘No, sir.’
‘Then leave them where they are.’
She let her knickers go, and allowed her arms to hang
loosely at her sides as she stood before him.
At last he stood up, and putting his hands on his hips he
said in a dark voice, ‘Unfasten my trousers.’
As she fumbled with his fly, her hands were shaking so
badly that in the end he pushed her away. ‘Take off your
dress,’ he said, tugging at his tie.
‘But, sir …’
‘I said take it off!’
Obediently she peeled the ruched bodice from her
shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor. Now she was
wearing only her white lace brassiere, suspender-belt and
pale silk stockings.
Turn round and face the bed,’ he told her.
- As she did as she was told, he ran two fingers down the
crease in her buttocks, then pushing them between her legs,
he buried them deep inside her. ‘In future,’ he said, rotating
his fingers as he bent her over, ‘you will make it your
business never to come into my presence unless you are
dressed as you are now.’ And withdrawing his fingers, he
lowered his trousers and undershorts.