I could feel the color leaving my face. My body seemed to go limp. I caught hold of the wardrobe.
“Someone you know?” Helmut inquired.
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. Helmut shook his head in mock sadness.
“I’m afraid the chap is out of luck,” he told me. “Even if by some wild chance he manages to track you down, it’s highly unlikely you’ll be around to greet him with open arms.”
He smiled, blue eyes alight with pleasure, and then he sauntered out of the room, locking the door behind him. I stepped over to the bedside table and picked up the news sheet he had left folded on the tray. I sat down on the bed, trembling inside, my hands shaking as I turned the pages searching for the advertisement. There it was, just as he had said. Derek was in New Orleans. He was looking for me. That could only mean … The paper rattled as I gripped it tightly. I put it down, awash with emotions I could no longer control. I cried.
I cried for a long time, giving in to all of the feelings that overwhelmed me—panic and fear, wild elation that Derek had come, crushing despair that he had come too late, remorse and recrimination that I had ever married Helmut in the first place. Finally, when all the tumult was spent, when the last tear had slipped down my cheek, I felt better. I was glad that I had broken down, for now that I had given some release to my emotions I could concentrate on escape. I took several deep breaths and looked around.
There was no way I could get out of the room. The windows were unlocked, but it was a sheer drop to the ground far below. In my weakened state, I would probably break my neck if I tried to tie bedsheets together and climb down. Both doors were securely locked, impossible to open. I could not overcome Helmut physically, but if I used my head, if I remained calm, I was bound to find an opportunity to escape. Above all, I must put on a bold front. I must not let Helmut suspect my fear.
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, clamly 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.”
“He’s insane. He’s—”
“Hush,” he said. “Stop your tremblin’. Jack Reed is ’ere, and there’s no man gonna lay a finger on you while I’m around. Pull yourself together now. Ya ’ear me?”
I nodded, and Jack held me until the trembling finally stopped. He let go of me than and stepped to the door. Opening it cautiously, he peered up and down the hall. He closed the door quickly. There were footsteps; a man muttered something unintelligible; a woman laughed boisterously. After a few moments passed, Jack opened the door again, again surveyed the hall, and then motioned for me to join him.
“We gotta be quick,” he said, “an’ we gotta be fast. No tellin’ when one of them doors might open. Think you’re up to it?”
I nodded. Jack took my hand and we hurried down the hall, down a dark, narrow flight of enclosed stairs. As he opened a heavy wooden door the fresh night air rushed in, sweeping away the dreadful fumes of alcohol and cheap perfume and sweat. Jack peered out, and when he was satisfied that the coast was clear he gave my hand a tug and we stepped outside. The music was still blaring. The shrill voices and laughter spilled out into the night, but here in the back there was very little light. All the houses were built only a few yards from the steep bluff that rose directly behind them, forming a natural alley-way which was littered with
garbage.
We moved quickly past house after a house. A dog barked. Jack scooped up a rock and hurled it at the animal. We hurried on. I stumbled and almost fell. My heart was beating rapidly. I was still in a state of shock, and this seemed as unreal, as dream-like as that hideous red room and all that had gone before. Clearing the last house, we turned and moved toward the river, and then on toward the docks, leaving Natchez-under-the-hill behind us. I was panting now, almost out of breath, and Jack deemed it safe to slow down a bit. I could see the warehouses ahead in the moonlight, see the dark silhouettes of ships and a moving yellow light as someone walked along the docks with a lantern.
“We’re almost there,” Jack told me. “You all right?”
“I—I think so—”
“The docks’ll be alive with activity in a little while. The last boat from New Orleans is due to arrive in less than an hour. That’s the one we’ll be takin’ in th’ mornin’.”
We were moving past the warehouses when we heard the carriage rumbling down the road behind us. Jack let go of my hand. I whirled around, instinct telling me who it was. I don’t know what had happened to the coachman, for Helmut was driving himself, his pale blond hair gleaming in the moonlight. I screamed. The horses seemed to be charging directly toward us, and then they reared, hooves waving in air. The carriage almost toppled over.
Helmut leaped off the driver’s seat. A horrifying roar emerged from his throat, an inhuman bellow of rage. He propelled himself toward us, his face distorted in the moonlight, the face of a madman. Jack shoved me back against the warehouse wall, and then Helmut was upon him. They began a bizarre, murderous dance, locked together, staggering, reeling, finally crashing to the ground to become a tangle of thrashing limbs. The horses stamped and neighed in terror, and I could hear the terrible grunts and groans and the sound of flesh pounding flesh as the two men rolled out of a patch of moonlight and into the shadows.
I could barely see them. Two dark silhouettes grappled in the darkness. I was unable to tell which was which. One was shoved aside and the other reached down and picked up a piece of lumber that looked like a club and slammed it against his adversary’s skull. There was a hideous crunching noise, and the piece of lumber snapped in two. The man who had been hit sank slowly to his knees and then fell face forward on the ground. The other stood there for a long time, breathing heavily, chest heaving, and at last he turned, stepping out into the moonlight.
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