Theirs to Train: A Victorian Menage Romance

by Samantha Madisen

  The household servants who had remained at the residence made a good show of not appearing entirely displeased to see the new family, though Lina thought personally the staff must have been somewhat dismayed, for with their master away in Europe, they had enjoyed free rein of the home and only had the duty to maintain it in proper order until his return. Their faces were stiff and revealed no trace of welcome, nor disdain.

  “London servants are ever so much cooler,” Evangeline had confided to Lina. “It’s the way of their profession.”

  Each girl had been given her own private quarters, a luxury that Lina imagined she might have appreciated had she not been so very overwhelmed. Anna appeared almost immediately at her door looking very much like a dour little child who was attempting to put on a good face.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Lina asked her. “Don’t you like your room?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Anna had replied. “It’s just... so very far away...”

  So they had agreed between the two of them that Anna could come to sleep with Lina in her bed, at least until the wedding.

  “After that,” Anna had pondered, “Shall you have your own room or shall you have to share?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Anna,” Evangeline said, entering the room at precisely that moment to survey Lina’s quarters and, undoubtedly, determine just how much better they were than her own so she would know how much to scowl. “Mr. Blackstone is incredibly wealthy and everyone will sleep in their own room. Do not ask such silly questions in polite company, either, lest the entire city of London be made aware that we share a room.”

  Anna looked at her sister strangely. “But I like—”

  “Sharing a room is low-class, and you shan’t speak of it again!” Evangeline hissed.

  Lina was no longer listening to the two of them, but rather, tapping her fingers to her lips and looking blankly at the wall, thinking. She did wonder about such things. She knew that when a woman was married, she had certain responsibilities to her husband, and that they occurred at night, and she vaguely understood that they revolved around things Mrs. Harlowe considered “very naughty,” which meant intimate parts of the body and nakedness.

  How very strange, she mused, it must be to see a naked man.

  She wondered if the same would be expected of her. And why, precisely, it had to be so.

  But not much more wondering could be done, for visitors arrived at that moment, and there would be, from then on, and endless stream of visitors and functions, and Lina would not be able to think her own thoughts except at night.

  * * *

  The first visitors to arrive were distant cousins, who, like the staff at the home, appeared none too pleased at the arrival of the Harlowes, for all they managed to smile. There was the portly Mrs. Myrna Tilton, whose hair was a peculiar purple color, and whose sharp tongue lashed out upon her arrival. “Why, you must be absolutely bewildered as to what to do with yourselves, having come from... your estate. The first thing we must do, dears, is visit the dressmaker. A new frock can provide a girl with just the confidence she needs to pretend she has proper etiquette and upbringing.” Her eyes searched the drawing room like those of a hawk as the girls presented themselves. She glanced up and down Lina’s figure and muttered, “Well. Yes. Very lovely. I suppose we can see what has caught the imagination of the man.”

  And then she breathed a haughty snort through her nostrils, and made a face that indicated she did not approve of such a thing, before sitting down.

  Her daughters were named Elizabeth and Charlotte. Charlotte was quite plain, but had a warm and friendly smile that made her seem more becoming than she really was, and Lina liked her right away.

  Elizabeth was a dark-haired girl with a pretty face ruined by the scowl that she seemed to have inherited directly from her mother. Elizabeth gave Lina the same quick up-and-down of the eyes that Mrs. Tilton had, and stiffly told her she was very pleased to make her acquaintance, though anybody could see she was not.

  “I am so glad you’ve come,” Charlotte gushed effusively. “Although we live in London, we see only the same people day in and day out and they ever so—”

  “Charlotte!” Mrs. Tilton snapped, much like a lapdog might. Her jowls were still wobbling beneath her chin after she snapped her mouth closed when she smiled most disingenuously around the room. “Shall we have some refreshments?”

  And so the conversation turned incredibly dull, with Lina and Charlotte meeting each other’s eyes as they sat politely through it. Lina knew, then, that when Charlotte asked the room if anyone might be up for a stroll to take in some air, that she wanted Lina to volunteer.

  Which was fine because Evangeline was not one to engage in sport of any kind. Lina squeezed Anna’s arm to give her the secret message they shared when they could not speak: she wanted to go alone, but she promised to tell her everything.

  Anna understood.

  Elizabeth very nearly rolled her eyes as her sister—making Lina second-guess her own instincts—when Charlotte practically begged her to go with them.

  “In this heat, absolutely not,” Elizabeth sighed. “I have a fair disposition and fair skin, and I shall swoon.”

  And so, they were free to go together.

  “I do hope you aren’t put off by my beastly sister,” Charlotte said to Lina, as soon as they were outside. She had linked her arm around Lina’s as soon as they reached the street.

  “I thought you wanted her to come,” Lina said dubiously.

  “She’s a mule. You must always tell her the opposite of what you wish her to do, and she shall do as you wish. I do hope you don’t think poorly of me speaking about her like this, but she is quite the beast. Stay away from her, and you shall have a lovely time in London.”

  Lina smiled, still unsure of how much to trust Charlotte, as she seemed one of those people simply too nice to be true.

  “They say you’ve come from Paris,” Charlotte said. “This way, to the promenade, where there is some shade. Is it true? Do you remember it at all, or have you forgotten? They say you speak French perfectly. I do hope you might tutor me if that’s the case; mine is pitiful and my tutor is at her wits’ end, perhaps you can meet her. Is your name really Caroline?”

  Lina smiled, trying to keep track of the dizzying questions, for the girl really did seem to want to know the answers. She was quite endearing, and Lina was so happy to have a possibility of friendship with someone likable, that she felt she was flying.

  “My name is Carolina,” she said, “But the people I like call me Lina.”

  “Then I shall call you Lina, for I know we’ve only just met but I am a very good judge of character and I know that I want to be dear friends with you,” Charlotte cried.

  “Just don’t call me Lina in front of Mrs. Harlowe.”

  “Or, I imagine, in the presence of any stodgy, purple-haired ladies. They are so silly. The French are having ever so much more fun, and I think they’re jealous.”

  Lina had never heard anyone talk like this, and she could tell that she would very much enjoy Charlotte as a friend and ally.

  They went on a very long stroll, round and round the park, talking excitedly about every aspect of their lives that they could think of. Charlotte wanted to know everything she could about Paris, for she wanted to visit someday. She tried out her French, but it was, unfortunately, so poor that Lina was relieved when she gave up and began to speak English again. Lina, for her part, had endless questions about London, and society there, and so much more.

  But, a very annoyed driver, wiping sweat from his brow, appeared before them. “Miss. Tilton. Miss Blanchet. I have been... looking for you everywhere. Your mother, Miss Tilton, wishes to remind you that a stroll is no longer than one hour and that anything more is a hike, and unseemly for two young ladies lest someone get the wrong idea.”

  “I suppose these are her words, not yours, Mr. Pratchett?”

  The driver stood up, straightening his collar, and did not answer.<
br />
  “We shall return forthwith,” Charlotte told him, in a mocking tone. “We have only twice more around the square until we have walked four miles.”

  The man began to draw in a breath, when Charlotte swatted at him playfully. “I say so in jest, Mr. Pratchett. Surely you know that.”

  Mr. Pratchett did not seem to know anything of the sort, and he did not turn to leave them until Charlotte promised to return, truly, that moment.

  And that was how Lina met Charlotte, and felt much better about her time in London for it.

  Chapter Eight

  Lamentably, the two girls were rarely alone together from that moment on, for there were so many events to go to and people to call upon, and shopkeepers and tailors and florists and the like to see, that even though Charlotte’s presence was requested everywhere and Mrs. Harlowe seemed quite happy to comply, the two were never alone.

  Lina wished, nearly every day, that she had managed to ask the one question that was burning on her mind since her arrival.

  At long last, the two managed to get ahead when Mrs. Tilton stopped to introduce the family at the turn of a corner, where Charlotte grabbed her elbow and encouraged her to walk very quickly, so that they might gain a bit of space between themselves and the horde of angry sisters and fussy mothers.

  “There,” Charlotte whispered. “When they turn the corner, they shall simply think that we have continued on our way, unaware that they have stopped following us. I have so many unfinished questions from the other day.” She laughed. “Dear me, they seem to have all flown out of my mind... oh, yes: how did you meet your Mr. Blackstone? He’s ever such a recluse. What is he like?”

  “Oh, Charlotte,” Lina said, gripping her arm fiercely. Tears, unexpectedly, welled up in her eyes. “If only I knew! But I know nothing of Mr. Blackstone, nor why he... it was all so unexpected and... and... I haven’t even seen him.”

  Charlotte stopped dead in her tracks, concern on her face. “You mean to say that you haven’t met him?”

  She looked, for the first time, utterly horrified. Her mouth was slack, and she had gone quite pale.

  “I thought,” she said quietly, to Lina’s disbelieving silence, “I mean, I had assumed that because you seemed so... so, calm... that the rumors were all false, as they almost always are, and that you had... you had...” her voice trailed off.

  “What?” Lina said desperately, just as they heard Mrs. Tilton’s high-pitched voice call out to them. “I beg of you, Charlotte, tell me what you mean.”

  Charlotte gave a furtive glance back at Mrs. Tilton, and clutched Lina’s arm tightly. It was too late for the girls to pretend that they had not seen Mrs. Tilton bustling along the sidewalk toward them, and both girls wished to avoid her sharp tongue and torment.

  “I shall speak to you as soon as it is possible, I promise,” Charlotte whispered. “But it must be... a very private conversation.”

  Lina nodded, and though she wished desperately to hear what Charlotte had to say that instant, turned bravely toward Mrs. Tilton and the other girls, with the same bright, false smile as Charlotte.

  “My apologies, Mother!” Charlotte said. “We were so caught up in our discussions about the historical landmarks at the park... for Caroline is ever so interested... that we did not realize we had left you behind.”

  “It is most,” Mrs. Tilton huffed, dotting at her sweating brow, “Unseemly!”

  “Of course, Mother,” Charlotte said sweetly, though Mrs. Tilton never specified what, precisely, was so unseemly.

  “I feel I am about to faint,” Evangeline complained. “It is ever so hot, and almost noon.”

  Mrs. Tilton looked approvingly upon Evangeline, while Lina and Charlotte laughed quietly, without smiling, but linked together by the arms, so that each of them could feel the bubbling laughter trapped in their bodies.

  Mrs. Tilton called for a carriage, and they were all sent home immediately.

  * * *

  The opportunity to speak to Charlotte alone did not come for several days, for it seemed to Lina that Mrs. Tilton reckoned with Charlotte’s plan to divulge a secret to Lina, and accordingly, glued her hawk-like eyes upon the two girls wherever they traveled. In both subtle and not-so-subtle ways, she inserted herself into every plan, conversation, and stroll, or sat herself between the two girls at any dinner or tea they attended, so that they never had a chance to speak.

  But just as Lina was beginning to despair, she was surprised by Charlotte’s resourcefulness when she slipped a piece of paper into her hand at dinner, which read simply:

  Tell them you wish to retire early and I shall meet you.

  Lina’s heart soared, for Charlotte had become such a dear friend in such a short time, and possessed the same cleverness and curiosity as she herself did. Most importantly, Charlotte possessed a secret that Lina desperately needed to know.

  Charlotte had a difficult time containing herself when Lina, very theatrically, pretended to swoon as they made for the drawing room with the ladies after dinner.

  “Caroline,” Charlotte cried, taking her by the arm with an admiring smile that only Lina could see. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “I feel a bit unwell,” Lina said, holding her hand to her forehead as she had seen Evangeline do on so many occasions, though it nearly made her burst into laughter.

  “You must be exhausted,” Charlotte had said, with false bravado.

  “I think I shall retire early,” Lina said, eliciting a glare from Mrs. Tilton, whose sharp eyes missed nothing and whose suspicion seemed to know no bounds.

  “Shall someone accompany you?” Charlotte asked, giving Lina a sharp look and a small shake of the head. She was ever so clever, Lina thought. They needed to throw the terrible Mrs. Tilton off the scent.

  “I’m quite all right. No, no, do carry on, I think it has just been all a bit too much,” Lina said. “I shall take my leave.”

  Mrs. Tilton remained suspicious, but accepted a tea when Charlotte returned to be seated next to her on a chair after kissing Lina good night.

  She did not know how Charlotte planned to break away from the group, but it mattered not: she was a clever girl and Lina had faith that she would see her soon.

  * * *

  The knock came almost an hour later, and Charlotte was quite flushed when Lina opened the door.

  “How did you—”

  Charlotte brought a finger to her lips to silence Lina, and pushed into the bedroom hurriedly. When the door was closed, she turned to face Lina, and smiled. “I said I was using the water closet, which as you know, can take a great deal of time. I locked the door from the outside,” she said, giggling with mirth, and unfolding her hand, palm-up, to reveal the key to the water closet.

  Lina smiled, and then her face fell as she remembered the reason for this clandestine meeting, and it was not all fun.

  Charlotte pursed her lips, seemingly understanding the dismay on Lina’s face. She flounced onto Lina’s bed, careful to keep her skirts spread so they wouldn’t wrinkle. She extended a hand to Lina, and pulled Lina toward her when she took it. She clasped Lina’s hand in both of hers.

  “I shall tell you what I’ve heard about Mr. Blackstone,” she whispered. “But you must promise not tell another soul that you have heard this from me. It is quite... inappropriate. So much so,” she said, with one of the quick, spontaneous smiles that interrupted nearly every one of her sentences, “that I can scarcely bring myself to say it.”

  Lina cocked her head. She put a hand on Charlotte’s arm and squeezed. “Charlotte, I should be forever grateful if you will tell me what you have heard.”

  “They say,” Charlotte said, leaning close to whisper, her pulse throbbing rapidly in the hollow of her throat, “that Mr. Blackstone is never seen in public because he is hideously disfigured.”

  Lina leaned back, her lips pressed together. She tried to image a hideously disfigured man, but because she had never seen one, she could not conjure a picture that made the idea of a m
an so repellent that she might risk her opportunity at security and fortune for it.

  “I suppose that is unfortunate,” Lina said quietly. “Is that what they mean by ‘monster’?” She looked at the ceiling. “Oh, but how terrible could it be?”

  Charlotte leaned toward her again and pressed her arm. “But that isn’t why they call him a monster, at least not... not the only reason.”

  Lina met Charlotte’s eyes, which had grown dark and troubled, and her mouth, forever forming smiles that seemed beyond her control, was serious and trembling. “They say also that... that...”

  Lina leaned in closer.

  “That he is... this is quite indiscreet, Lina, you must promise not to utter word of it...”

  “I promise,” Lina said hastily, squeezing Charlotte’s arm again, lest she never reveal the secret.

  “They say that he is a man who... who subscribes to... to... depravity.”

  “Depravity?” Lina repeated.

  Truth be told, she did not honestly know what the word meant, for examples of “depravity” were never provided. She suspected, naturally, that it had something to do with the very naughty acts performed by a married couple in order to procure children.

  “Sexual,” Charlotte said, her whisper so soft it was barely audible. “Depravity.”

  Lina’s lips moved soundlessly, attempting to form the beginnings of several words, until she at last settled on, “But... but... but... whatever... whatever does that mean?”

  Charlotte’s lips trembled. “It’s... not discussed, Lina, in great detail. But do you know of those very wicked books, the books that...” her voice disappeared into a whisper. “I am only telling you this for your own good, please understand I would never speak of such... depravity, and filth, if not...”

  “Charlotte, do tell me,” Lina begged.

  Charlotte’s eyes were on her skirts. She shifted uncomfortably, twisting her hands in her lap. “I know not how to describe it, exactly...” she said. “I was doing a terribly naughty thing and listening in on the conversations of my cousins, who are older and married... I am quite uncertain if I should, or even if I am able to, repeat what they have said.” She looked up at Lina imploringly. “I think I am unable to go on.”