Wilde, Jennifer (73 page)

The
hands crept slowly around the clock and the hours passed. Roseclay was silent,
and even thought it was warm outside, the walls seemed to emanate an icy chill.
Twelve o'clock, one, two, and he did not come with food, and I began to grow
weak with hunger. I drank water from the pitcher behind the screen, thankful I
hadn't used it all. Three o'clock, four, five. I paced the room, fearing that
if I stretched out on the bed lethargy and despair would claim me. Shadows
began to lengthen across the floor at six, and the sky was a darker blue, the
sunlight paling.

At
six-thirty he unlocked the door and came inside. His cheeks were slightly
flushed, and I could smell the liquor on his breath. He brought no tray.

"Hungry,
my dear?"

I
refused
to reply. He smiled.

"I'd
like to oblige, but the cook left, too, with Lelia and the rest. I'm afraid
you'll have to do without for a while longer."

"I
can manage."

"So
very heroic," he remarked. "Still haughty and proud, full of disdain.
We'll soon mend that. We're going to take a little trip together tonight, my
dear."

"Indeed?"

He
stepped over to the wardrobe and began to examine my dresses. He had left the
bedroom door unlocked. I looked at it and then looked at his back, but Helmut
turned around.

"I
shouldn't,
my dear. I'd have to come after you, and I'd catch you, and I would be very,
very angry. You know what I'm like when I'm angry. I might really hurt you the
next time."

"And
you'd enjoy it immensely."

"Mustn't
get too cheeky, my dear. I'm in a very mellow mood, but I wouldn't go too far
if I were you." He turned back to the wardrobe, going through the dresses,
discarding first one, then another. "Ah, yes, this should do nicely.
Tonight shall be very special, and I want you to look your best."

He
pulled the dress down and flung it onto the bed. "Tart yourself up a bit,
my dear. Use some more of your paint. I'll be back in an hour or so. I trust
you'll be ready."

"Where
are we going?"

"That
needn't concern you now," he replied.

He
left the room again, turning the key loudly in the lock. I was upset and
apprehensive, just as he had planned, but I was optimistic as well. Once I was
out of this room and away from Roseclay there was bound to be some opportunity
to escape. I refused to speculate about our destination. That could only make
things worse. Obviously we would be with other people or else he wouldn't want
me to wear such an elaborate dress.

Lighting
the lamps, I sat down at the dressing table again and arranged my hair, forcing
myself to concentrate. I cleaned my face and applied powder and lip rouge
sparingly, and when I had finished there was no sign of the tears I had shed,
no sign of the bruise. My blue eyes were dark with emotion, but my hand was
steady as I applied a touch of coral rouge to each cheekbone, rubbing it in
until there was only a suggestion of natural color.

I
removed the robe and crumpled petticoat I had been wearing all day and dressed
slowly. Twenty minutes later I was ready. The dress Helmut had chosen was a
brown-and-orange-striped taffeta. It was a bold garment, and I was pleased with
the total effect. I might be trembling inside, but on the surface I looked
composed and attractive. That helped considerably.

It
had already begun to grow dark before Helmut returned. I could see that he had
been drinking even more; his cheeks were ruddy, his hair damp with
perspiration.

"Ready,
my dear?" he inquired.

"Quite,"
I retorted.

"You
look ravishing. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"They?"

"I've
arranged a little surprise for you. Come, the carriage is waiting. Oh, by the
way, I think I should warn you not to try anything. If you do, if you try to
break away and run or do anything foolish like that, then I'd be forced to act
accordingly. I've no desire to damage the goods, but I wouldn't hesitate."

"I
believe you," I said coldly.

"Just
thought I'd warn you, my dear."

He
took my arm and led me out of the room and down the hall. He seemed charged
with energy, and his eyes were alight with perverse anticipation. I tried to
maintain the surface calm, but it was growing more and more difficult. His hand
gripped my arm tightly as we went downstairs and outside. A closed carriage was
waiting. The black coachman sat on his high perch in front; four horses stamped
restlessly between the shafts. Helmut opened the door and thrust me roughly
inside. He said something harsh to the coachman and then climbed in himself,
pulling the door shut with a loud bang. He settled beside me, his arm around my
shoulders, and a moment later we were off.

"I
suppose
you're curious," he remarked.

"A
little."

"I
couldn't quite decide what to do with you," he said, speaking in a casual,
chatty voice. "I wanted to kill you, of course. I could have done it the
other morning—what pleasure it would have been to take your throat between my
hands and squeeze the life out of you—but that would have been too quick, too
final. I want you to suffer, my dear. I want you to suffer for a long, long
time."

He
was insane. He was as deranged as those gibbering madmen they kept in cells
deep in the bowels of Newgate, even if his madness took another form. I
shuddered in spite of myself. His arm tightened around my shoulders, drawing me
closer.

"You've
been wanting a lover," he continued in that same chatty tone. "I've
arranged for you to have one—to have several, in fact. Madame Rose recently
lost one of her girls. Seems one of the sailors was a bit rough. The poor thing
died of her injuries. Rose has been begging me to get a replacement. She's
wretchedly understaffed."

I
felt I was listening to something in a nightmare. The clopping of horse hooves,
the shaking of the carriage, the man beside me in the dark interior, his voice
so smooth... None of it was real. I began to tremble, all my strength and
resolution melting away. Helmut drew me even closer, turning his head so that
his lips almost brushed my ear. He seemed to croon.

"I've
arranged a room for you. You'll begin tonight. I've no doubt you'll take to it
with relish. You'll work in the house for three or four days, and then I've
arranged for you to take a little trip. There's a ship leaving for Rio de
Janeiro—a fine city, became the capital of Brazil only twelve years ago. I have
property there, including a house even more understaffed than Rose's
establishment—"

"I'm
your wife," I whispered. "You—you can't—people will—"

"People
will ask questions, yes. I shall inform them that you've taken a trip to
England to visit your people. A little later I shall inform them that, alas,
you've died of the fever. I shall be the disconsolate widower. I shall go
around with a very long face. I've no doubt they'll feel a great deal of
sympathy."

The
horse hooves pounded. The carriage shook. The man beside me chuckled quietly to
himself. I could tell that we were moving downhill now. I could smell the
river. A few moments later, I began to hear loud music and raucous laughter.
Through the window of the carriage I could see brightly lighted buildings, the
verandahs filled with drunken men and brassy, vividly dressed women. Two men
were fighting on the steps of one of the houses. A group of shrieking women
cheered them on. Helmut gave my shoulder another squeeze.

The
carriage stopped. Helmut opened the door and climbed out, reaching in to help
me get out. I drew back, shaking my head. He clamped his fingers around my
wrist in a brutal grip and jerked me forward. I stumbled out of the carriage. I
fought then. I slammed my free hand against the side of his face. I kicked. He
swung my arm out, gave it a vicious twist, and wrenched it up between my
shoulder blades, slinging his other arm around my throat. People on the
verandah applauded and shouted encouragement, and he jerked my arm up even
higher, forcing me ahead of him up the steps and into the hall of the building.

An
enormously fat woman in a green velvet dress rushed from one of the side rooms
to meet us. Her hair was the color of brass. Her lips were a bright pink. She
wore dangling jet earrings. Her small black eyes were wide with alarm.

"Christ,
Helmut! You said you were bringin' a new girl, but you didn't tell me she was a
bleedin'—"

"Shut
up!" he thundered.

I
tried to break free. He tightened his hold, his forearm crushing my throat. I
gasped, fighting for air, and the woman in green velvet began to quiver like
jelly from fright. Several women in peignoirs crowded into the doorway of the
side parlor, arching their necks to see what was happening. I could feel the
blood rushing to my head. I could feel my throat begin to collapse beneath that
brutal pressure.

"You're
chokin' her!" Rose shrieked.

"Is
the room ready?" he barked.

Rose
nodded, her jet earrings shaking, and then I closed my eyes and saw black and
orange shadows on the backs of my lids. I was swimming in darkness, but the
nightmare went on and on. I was half conscious of being carried, half heard the
loud, excited voices and the sound of doors slamming. As darkness claimed me. I
prayed that it was over. I prayed that I was dead.

He
was talking to me. His voice was loud. I opened my eyes. I was in a small room
done all in shades of red, lying on a large brass bed with a scarlet covering.
A gilt mirror ran along the wall opposite. I could see my pale face, my
disheveled hair, my crumpled gown. The bodice had slipped down until my breasts
were almost exposed. I wasn't dead. It wasn't over. He was talking to me,
calmly now, and I turned to see him standing by the door, his blue eyes
gleaming.

"—in
just a few minutes," he was saying. "I'll be sure he's a strong,
husky fellow, one of these rough chaps who work on the docks, perhaps. He'll be
delighted to discover such an attractive whore awaiting his pleasure. You can
fight him if you wish, my dear. He'll probably like that, though he might be
less than gentle. Enjoy yourself, whore. I shall. I'll probably come up and
watch after a while."

"You're
insane," I whispered hoarsely.

Helmut
curled his lips in that familiar sardonic smile, and then he stepped out of the
room and closed the door and locked it. My head seemed to spin, and black wings
flapped viciously, threatening to close over me. I sat up, rubbing my arm. The
pain still shot through it, but I could tell it wasn't broken. Every muscle in
my throat ached. But after a few minutes I was able to get off the bed and
stumble over to the table beneath the mirror. I poured a glass of water and
drank it, my hand trembling violently. I set the glass down and closed my eyes,
holding onto the edge of the table for support.

Several
minutes passed before I was able to control the panic, though I was still far
from calm. I began to look for Some kind of weapon. Stumbling footsteps came
down the hall. I heard a gruff voice calling merrily to someone downstairs, and
then a key was inserted in the lock and the doorknob began to turn. I seized
the water pitcher and backed against the red wall, as far away from the door as
it was possible to be. The door opened. The man stepped inside. He gave a raucous
whoop of delight and slammed the door shut.

"Tonight's
my lucky night!" he roared.

He
lifted his index finger to his lips, motioning me to be silent; his blue eyes
urged me to play along. I felt every bone in my body dissolve, and I began to
slip down the wall as the black wings closed in. He caught me before I reached
the floor. Wrapping his arms around me, he held me close, and I seemed to be
spinning in darkness. I heard hoarse, tormented sobs and wondered who could be
sobbing like that. He drew my head against his shoulder and stroked my hair,
and eventually the dizziness subsided. I gave one last sob and raised my head
to look into his eyes.

"Oh,
God," I whispered. "Oh, dear God—"

"Hush
now. It's all right. I'm here."

"I'm
not dreaming. Tell me I'm not."

"You're
not dreamin'," he said in that rough, amiable voice. "I saw 'im bring
you in 'ere. I 'ad an idea what was goin' on. I 'urried inside an' Rose was
sayin' she 'ad a new girl and it'd cost th' lucky fellow twenty bleedin'
pounds—"

"Jack—"

"I
didn't 'ave that much. One o' my mates was gettin' ready to come upstairs with
Tessie. I made 'im loan me enough to make up th' twenty, told 'im I'd kick 'is
bleedin' teeth in if 'e didn't 'and it over. Your 'usband came down then. I
wanted to fly at 'is throat, but I figured it'd be smarter to get you outta
'ere before I kill 'im."

"It—it's
like a nightmare—"

"It's
over now—almost over. There's a back stairs. I'll sneak you down 'em and take
you to my place."

"I've
got to—I can't stay in Natchez. He—he was going to—"

"There's
a boat leavin' first thing in th' mornin'. I'll take you to New Orleans myself.
Don't you worry about anything. I'm gonna get you outta 'ere, an' then I'm
comin' back to kill him."