Wicked Pleasures (86 page)

‘How old were you then?’

‘Sixteen.’ He looked at her, smiled shakily. ‘Very young. She was a village girl, of course –’

‘Oh of course.’ She sounded bitter. ‘That’s the aristocratic way, isn’t it? In England? Christ. A village girl.’

He met her gaze steadily. ‘Maybe. But I liked her, I was very fond of her, and I had known her for years, her mother worked for us. We played together as children. I had found the homosexual activity at school disgusting, terribly upsetting. But I did feel sexual desire. I keep coming back to that, Virginia, to wanting you to understand. And I wanted to – experience it.’

‘But?’

‘Well – I found it impossible. I failed. Failed totally.’

‘And –’

‘Well, I tried again. With another girl. It was the same. I began to worry. But
I thought it was inexperience, not knowing quite what I was doing. Oh Christ.’ He looked away from her.

‘So when did you try to get help? Did you talk to your – no, I suppose not, not your parents, your father –’

‘My father! Dear Christ, Virginia, had it not been for my father, I would be making love to you now. Or so they have told me, the shrinks. Or many of them. He – oh God, I don’t want, I can’t talk about that, not now –’

His eyes looking at her had tears in them again. She put her hand on his. For the first time she felt pity. ‘It’s all right. Another time.’

‘Perhaps.’ There was another silence. ‘So – I started on this long, terrible path. I saw our GP. He was bluff, foolishly optimistic, told me to relax, that it would be all right. Then he sent me to a specialist. He gave me some bloody silly exercises to do before I attempted to make love. The shame, the absurdity of it made me worse. I tried again, with a girl at Oxford. But I was beginning to be very afraid, that word would get round. So I would dodge the issue, draw back. Literally.’ He laughed briefly, savagely. It was an ugly sound. Virginia pulled the covers further up around her.

‘Well, I don’t think I need to go on. I’ve done the rounds, that’s all I can say. Tried everything. They say it’s hopeless.’

‘And have you never, ever –’ She kept failing to say what she wanted to; the words were too ugly, too frightening.

‘Oh, like all impotent men, or most, I’ve achieved something with a few prostitutes. A doctor suggested that, and it worked. I was astonished, elated even. But with someone I care about at all, it’s no use. I’m a classic case, they tell me. Absolutely classic. If I dislike, despise someone, I can make love to them. You might,’ he said, with a slight smile, ‘you might take some comfort from that.’

Virginia lay and looked again out of the window. So many emotions were raging in her, she was incapable of feeling any of them clearly. Disgust, fear, anger, shock; they all merged into a kind of wild panic, in which she trod, almost submerged, battling to maintain some kind of sanity.

She was silent for a long time; then she said, ‘But Alexander, I can understand that you are – impotent. That you are capable of feeling love, desire even. What I can’t understand is how you could do what you have done to me. Tricked me. Trapped me. When you say you love me.’

‘Well,’ he said, and there was a great softness and tenderness in his eyes, and an odd humour as well, ‘well you see, I wanted a wife. Very badly. For many reasons. And I fell in love with you. And I chose you.’

‘But that’s – that’s horrible.’

‘Why? I have much to offer. As you know. You wanted it. Quite badly, I suspect.’

‘Alexander, this is absurd. Whatever I wanted, had I known about this, about you, I would never, ever have married you.’

‘No,’ he said with a sigh, ‘no, I realize that. Although I do flatter myself that you wanted me along with the rest. You were in love with me, weren’t you, Virginia? It wasn’t just the house, the title, and all that?’

‘Alexander, of course it wasn’t. Of course I fell in love with you. It wasn’t the house and the title at all.’

‘Ah, now here you are beginning to depart from the truth a little. And I begin to feel just slightly less guilty. Of course you wanted the title, the status – and of course you will want the house.’

‘Alexander, I don’t intend ever to see the house. I’m going home.’

‘Well, we shall see.’

‘There is nothing to see,’ she said, and her face was shocked at his words. ‘Of course I am going.’

‘So,’ he said, ‘so I was wrong. You didn’t – you don’t love me.’

‘Alexander, I can’t love you. Not now.’

‘Why not? Nothing has changed.’

‘Well of course it’s changed,’ she cried out in an agony of frustration. ‘You’ve tricked me. You are not who – what – I thought you were.’

‘Nonsense. I am precisely what you thought I was. In all respects but one. One which I suggest we can overcome. Together.’

‘You mean –’her eyes were hopeful, eager even –‘you mean, you think I can help you to – to be better?’

‘No, I fear you cannot do that. I know you cannot. I have to tell you that in all informed opinion – from several countries, including your own – you are doomed to failure. And because I find the failure so very painful, heartbreaking, I would prefer it that you did not attempt to go that particular route.’

‘Then I don’t know what you mean. And I can’t consider staying. I want to go home. I want to go home now.’ Suddenly her icy calm cracked; tears rose in her throat, choked her, welled into her eyes. She began to cry and then to sob hysterically. She lay back, beating the bed with her fists, lashing out at Alexander as he tried to get near her, to comfort her. He looked at her first with pity and infinite regret and then, as her hysteria increased, almost with fear.

‘Please,’ he said, ‘please don’t.’

‘Get away!’ screamed Virginia. ‘Get away. Get out of my sight. You’re disgusting. I loathe you. It’s terrible what you’ve done, terrible.’

‘Don’t,’ he said, ‘don’t say that. It’s not so terrible.’

She was so shocked, she stopped crying.

‘Of course it’s terrible. How can you say that?’

‘Because it’s true. Listen to me. Please listen.’

She sat silent again, great tears rolling silently down her face.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I do love you. I really do love you. I loved you straight away, and then I loved you more. And more. I loved your gentleness, your vulnerability, your great honesty. I loved your beauty and your charm. I thought you were a perfect perfect wife for me. And I wanted you. I wanted you so much. And I knew we could be happy together.’

‘Alexander, this is –’

‘Please bear with me. Virginia, I do have a lot to offer. Be honest. Forget the sex thing.’

‘But –’

‘Forget it,’ he said, and his eyes were pleading, and oddly sad. ‘I know you
wanted the rest, Virginia. I know you did. I know you were dazzled by the thought of being a countess, the mistress of Hartest. Be honest, isn’t it true?’

‘Well –’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘I – I suppose so.’

‘You were. I know you began actually to want that as much as you wanted me. I found that hurtful initially, but – well, it helped me make my decision. It was success for you. You’ve been so put down by your father, in the shadow of your brother, always slightly mocked in the family, discounted however gently by the circle your parents move in, and I came along with this great glittering prize and all your family, all your friends, the press, everyone, was suddenly admiring, impressed, in awe of you. Virginia Praeger, her family’s second best, was to be the Countess of Caterham, mistress of one of the most beautiful houses in England, mother of the future earl. It was a dazzling prospect, wasn’t it, Virginia? Admit it?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and for the first time there was a coolness in her eyes. ‘Yes it was. But –’

‘And there were days, lots of days, more and more of them recently, when you weren’t quite quite sure about me. I saw you looking at me, consideringly, sometimes, and I knew what you were thinking, and I knew you were stifling it. But I never ever felt for a single moment that I was not quite sure about you. I loved you on that very first day and I never felt so much as a flicker of doubt.’

‘You have a very strange way of showing it,’ she said. She felt calmer again. ‘May I have some more champagne?’

‘The bottle’s empty. Shall we have some more?’

‘Yes. Call room service.’ Looking back she was to see her alcohol dependence began at that moment.

‘Shall I get some more strawberries?’

‘No, I hate strawberries. Get some raspberries.’ Suddenly for some reason she felt light-headed, almost happy. She knew it wouldn’t last, that the horror would return, but just for that moment, she felt good: indulged, greedy, powerful.

‘Very well.’

He ordered; then returned to the bed.

‘Are you still cold?’

‘No. No, I’m not.’

‘It’s a beautiful day.’

‘Yes.’ She got out of bed, walked over to the window. The water of the Canale di San Marco stretched below and beyond her, an incredible shimmering blue; on either side of her stood the golden buildings of Venice, etched into the sky, echoed in the water below them. She tried to feel wretched, harmed – and failed; the beauty drove away the darkness. Alexander looked at her. ‘Do you like it? Do you like Venice?’

‘It’s a little hard to say,’ she said, and moved onto the balcony. The sun was warm; she heard the sounds of Venice, the endless cacophony of voices, the shouts of the gondoliers, the cries of the gulls, the sound of the water itself,
mellowing, softening everything, soothing her despair. Alexander came out behind her. He held a glass of champagne in his hand, gave it to her.

‘Here. Promise me –’

‘Alexander, don’t be ridiculous. I can’t promise you anything. Of course I can’t.’

‘You can. You can promise me just to come and see St Mark’s with me. Please.’

‘I –’

‘Yes, we will go later. You have to see it. Then you can leave. If that is really what you want.’

‘Yes, Alexander, it is. It is what I want. Well, not what I want, but what I have to do. You have to see that.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Not perhaps. You must.’

‘Well. Here, take your raspberries.’

‘Thank you.’ She sat down, stretched her long legs out onto the ledge of the balcony. The sun felt hot, comforting on her face. She drank her champagne, picked the raspberries out of the basket. Suddenly she turned to him. ‘Alexander?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alexander, what did you think – plan for us? I really would be intrigued to know.’

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘a working arrangement.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I cannot imagine how such a thing could be.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘clearly I need an heir. I must have an heir. If I don’t, Hartest and the title will go.’

‘Well, somewhere there must be a taker for it,’ she said. ‘Some deserving distant relative. Living perhaps in a humble croft. A village person, maybe.’ Her face was contemptuous.

‘Virginia, you know how I feel about Hartest. I could not even consider letting it go to someone else other than my son. Other than someone who had been reared in it, fashioned by it. Someone who had been taught to love it, to value it, by me. I would rather demolish it stone by stone.’

‘You really mean that, don’t you?’ she said, looking at him curiously.

‘Of course I do. I really mean it. Hartest is what I love most in the world. I would do anything in the world to save it for myself and my children. Anything.’

‘Why does it matter so much to you?’ she said. ‘Do you know?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I think I know. I love it because of its beauty, its history, its grace, of course, I feel it is part of me, it is somehow in the fabric of myself. But more even than those things is that it has saved me. Kept me sane. I would leave my father after some ghastly scene, be forced to listen to my parents fighting, quarrelling, or worse –’

‘Worse? What?’

‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ he said quickly, ‘just try to understand. Whatever ugliness, whatever pain I had endured, I would walk into the house, or simply stand outside and look at it, and feel healed, comforted. It was like
some calm, beautiful womb I could retreat into, where I was safe and at peace. It is all the world to me, Virginia. Does that answer your question?’

‘I suppose it does.’ Her voice was very distant and cool.

‘Drink your champagne. Let me refill your glass.’

‘I’m getting drunk,’ she said and giggled suddenly.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘I suppose not. So you need an heir. I suppose I am to go and get one for you.’

‘Yes.’

The simplicity of his answer, the calm assurance with which he said it, stunned her; she turned towards him, stared at him, her eyes wide with horror. ‘Alexander, you can’t –’

‘Yes I can. I have thought about this very carefully. Very carefully indeed. You shall have whatever you want. Whatever. You have only to ask. I – want you to be happy. You may have lovers, as many as you like. Of course you must be very discreet. But I won’t –’

Virginia suddenly started to laugh, half-hysterical, wild laughter. ‘Don’t,’ he said, ‘please don’t. I can’t bear it.’

‘
You
can’t bear it. Alexander, do try to imagine how I’m feeling. This is like being trapped in some nightmare. Some dreadful sick nightmare.
You
can’t bear it!’

The scorn, the disgust in her voice was harsh, heavy. He stood up, looked down at her, and his face was white.

‘I think I should go out for a while,’ he said, ‘we can talk more later.’

‘Alexander, there’s nothing to talk about. Please understand that.’

‘No. No, maybe not.’

‘Not maybe. There isn’t.’

‘Very well. But I would still like to go out. Promise me –’

‘Yes?’

‘Promise me you won’t go while I’m not here. Please. I would want to say goodbye.’

‘Very well,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I won’t go.’

When he came back she was asleep, back in the great bed; the shutters were still open, and the room was filled with the late afternoon light, darker, more intensely gold. Her dark hair was splayed across the pillow, her face was peaceful, like a child’s. He bent and kissed her, and she woke, smiling up at him, reaching her arms to him; then he watched reality come back to her, hostility to her eyes, hardness to her face.