'Four men to search an entire country and maybe even half a continent?' Hacklebury snorted. 'How in the name of hell does the fool expect to find them like that? Finding a needle in a haystack would be easier, I venture. He needs twenty or thirty men out there looking, or he'll never find them.'
'And for twenty or thirty men, he would also need six or seven times as much money,' Megan said. 'I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the perilous state of your finances?'
'Damn it! Of course not!' Hacklebury slammed the palm of his hand down onto the inlaid leather surface of the desk. 'And d'you think it doesn't grind on me that there is so much money just a fingertip away and I cannot touch it yet?'
'Of course I do understand.' Megan nodded, her tone almost sympathetic suddenly. 'But patience, my dearest one, patience. There is not long to go now. Her birthday is just before Christmas, and then the balance of the inheritance passes to her, and through her to you. Then we can afford to hire an entire army to find the other little bitch and that treacherous bastard Erik.'
'Yes, Erik.' Hacklebury's features formed themselves into a thoughtful arrangement, his eyebrows beetling together. 'Yes, when we get our hands on him, I think we shall have to find a special way of punishing him.' He looked up and smiled, but there was no true mirth in the expression. 'To begin with,' he hissed, 'I shall take the greatest pleasure in castrating the great ox and feeding his genitalia to the girl without telling her what she's eating. We'll save that information until she's cleared her plate, I think.'
'Revenge is generally regarded as a dish best served cold,' Megan chuckled, 'but in this case, perhaps the dish should be served piping hot!'
Despite having apparently dozed off in the car, I was feeling completely exhausted by the time we got to Anne-Marie's, but if I was expecting to strip, shower and sleep, I was quickly disillusioned. Before I could even think of trying to remove my doll exterior, Anne-Marie had grabbed me and cuffed my wrists behind my back.
'What—?' I started, but she held a hand up to my open mouth to silence me.
'I like the pair of you like this,' she said, 'though I don't think the image really suits me, so while I have myself a bath and find something more suitable, you two can just wait down here for me. Andrea! Get yourself back in here, you little slut!'
Andrea, who had headed in the general direction of the toilet, reappeared looking somewhat sheepish, the bulging artificial phallus plainly visible beneath her tight skirt.
'Get the top clothes off and come here,' Anne-Marie ordered. 'You two are staying as dollies for a while longer yet. By the way, were you able to pee through that thing?'
Morosely, Andrea nodded and began to comply with the instructions. Doubtless she was as tired as I was, and the prospect of now having to suffer further at Anne-Marie's hands was not as appealing as it might have been on some other occasions.
Within a few minutes we were sitting side-by-side on the long sofa, hands cuffed behind our backs, our attire as it had been during our extended performances in the crypt. The only difference now was that the centre sections of our gags had not been replaced, so that although outwardly our faces looked the same, behind the rigid O-shaped openings we were still able to use our mouths as normal.
'She's taking this too far this time,' I grumbled.
Andrea nodded. 'Yes, but she has to,' she said. 'It's her way of re-establishing the pecking order; her mistress, we slaves. Ergo, we have to play dollies longer; otherwise she's no different from us. At Carmen's, because she was daft enough to accept that silly bet, she ended up being as much a part of the entertainment as we were. Now, I think, we get to entertain her.'
'But none of that was our fault,' I protested. 'She took us there in a helpless condition and then used us as part of her daft wager. We had no say in anything.'
'Huh,' Andrea shrugged expressively. 'No change there then, is there? Our darling mistress doesn't expect us to have opinions, not when we're playing games, anyway.'
'I can accept the role-play rules,' I sighed, 'but I don't want to play any more games tonight. I'm shagged out, literally as it happens. All I wanted was to clean up and collapse, and maybe cuddle up with you for what's left of the night.'
'And you think she doesn't know that? No, think again, Teenie. We're in for it, and however and whenever we do get any sleep, it ain't going to be all nicely snuggled up together.'
'And we're not even doing it for charity this time,' I added darkly, glancing sideways at my companion. There was a moment's silence, and then we both began giggling helplessly.
I was a little surprised Erik had chosen a large hotel in the centre of Chichester rather than a slightly more discreet establishment, but when he explained his reasoning I couldn't fault it. To turn up anywhere in a party of five attractive women with a male escort who was clearly some sort of bodyguard, as well as the driver of the coach, and then to book into a cheap hotel would arouse more than just passing interest. The girls were supposed to be my maids, so it stood to reason I must be wealthy, therefore, if I was wealthy - as befits a countess - then I would want to stay somewhere with a bit of style. As I've mentioned earlier, my opinion of Erik was going up almost by the hour.
He had even given more than passing attention to our coach, which of course had originally belonged to Hacklebury, driving it to a village between Arundel and Brighton where he found a craftsman who not only made a few exterior changes to it, but who was also able to repaint it in cream and black and even add a small crest on each door complete with a convincing looking coat of arms. When Erik drove the coach back to the old mill house, it was even drawn by different horses, far lighter in colour than the originals and completely in keeping with the new style of the vehicle they were harnessed to. When we drew up outside our Chichester hotel we must have presented quite a sight, and anyone searching for a couple of runaways trying to keep a low profile would have been hard-pressed to make any connection between them and our splendid looking party.
Milly, Molly and Mandy were dressed smartly, but not ostentatiously, as might befit three lady's personal maids, and their training sessions seemed to have helped in their general behaviour as well as in preparing them for their main role, which would be behaviour of a totally different nature from that which was required of them in public. Indira, of course, looked and acted as serene as ever, adding just the right touch of the exotic at one end of the scale that made a perfect counterbalance to my character and appearance.
To be honest, until Erik returned with Archibald Hendrick's deposit, I had begun to wonder about our finances, for although we had been comfortably placed even after buying the mill house, we had since been spending quite heavily, not least on several outfits for me, which included a splendid collection of fake jewellery. The paste diamanté cost only a fraction of what the genuine article would have done, but still represented quite a heavy investment. However, if a job was worth doing, I reflected, it was worth doing well.
We occupied a suite of four rooms on the top floor, and all the windows afforded us a splendid view across rooftops to the rolling countryside beyond. Under different circumstances I might have been tempted to take a walk in the late afternoon sun, just to see whether or not I could recognise any landmarks from my own era. However, there was work to be done in the form of a final briefing for the girls, followed by dinner, and then a meeting with Simeon Marsh, who had written to say he had a whole sheaf of notes I would find interesting. A knock at the door of my sitting room at precisely nine- thirty announced his arrival.
The dapper investigator accepted my offer of a large brandy, seated himself comfortably in an armchair that made him look more like a little boy, and opened a case from which he extracted a large, stiff folder. He opened it, flicked quickly through the contents, and produced a single piece of paper, which he passed to me. I scanned the neatly written page and nodded approvingly. Simeon Marsh had been very busy, I could see.
'You will notice I have underlined several names there,' he explained. 'These are the,
um, gentlemen who I now know share Gregory Hacklebury's particular tastes, and the underlined names that have that small star shape over them are also men who have extended hospitality to him on a regular basis. These fellows also do business with the man Pottinger, who apparently has something of a reputation.' He coughed nervously, as if trying to clear his throat, but I could sense his embarrassment.
I smiled disarmingly. 'I know all about Mr Pottinger and his artistic creativity,' I said quietly. 'I would like the opportunity to meet him in the right circumstances, but that is another matter altogether. For the moment it would be wiser to concentrate on Hacklebury and Megan. Have you found out anything more about her, by the way?'
Marsh shook his head. 'I'm afraid I haven't had the resources to devote too much time to the lady,' he confessed, 'but I fear that even if I had, we should not get too far. I have, of course, instigated some general enquiries, but it is almost as if the woman never existed. Of course, Megan Crowthorne might not be her real name, or else it might be and she has spent some years using another.' He spread his hands apologetically. 'I'm afraid I really don't know,' he finished.
'No need to apologise,' I assured him. I tapped the sheet he had given me. 'This is the important part of the job, at least for the moment, and what you have done is truly excellent. With these names I am now ready to move on to the crucial stage of my plan, once I have established my credentials in the right field.'
'Which I presume is the main reason for your being here in Chichester?' Marsh queried, his eyes twinkling. A shrewd man, Simeon Marsh.
I nodded. 'Yes, indeed,' I confirmed. 'We have an appointment with a certain gentleman, whose name I notice is also on your list. These small arrows I presume indicate some sort of links between the different names?'
He nodded.
I grinned a very wolfish and unladylike grin. 'Aha!' I exclaimed. 'Yes indeed. Our man here seems to have a strong connection with two fellows, here and here, who are obviously thick as thieves with friend Gregory. There's our way into the heart of the matter, I think. All we need to do now is impress our host tomorrow.'
Even with the leather outer skin as added protection, Maudie was beginning to find her underground prison very cold, especially at night. In fact, the temperature drops were her only real way of marking the passage of one day into the next, for with the heavy doors closed and bolted, her only light came from the small lantern her keeper kept hanging in one corner, the wick turned down low to conserve the oil between his twice daily visits.
To her surprise - although it had taken her many days to even realise it and even longer before she could bring herself to admit to it - those interludes during which she would be taken above ground to exercise her cramped limbs, trotting dutifully before him on her four limbs, and then given a little food and some water, became the highlight of her miserable existence. And although at first she found the rest of Burrows' treatment of her too terrible to even think about between times, eventually Maudie grew to enjoy the release that accompanied his vigorous sating of his carnality. Curiously, however, although he removed her mask head to feed and water her, and was even beginning to exchange a few words with her during his more affable moods, the head went back on and the canine identity was reinforced before he had his way with her, after which, having given her a final drink through her muzzle with the long-necked flask, he would return her to what he described as her 'kennel' and depart without another word.
What Maudie dreaded most of all was those mornings and afternoons when Miss Crowthorne came to check on her instead, for the woman never removed the head, insisting on feeding her by poking chunks of meat through the dog mouth. She was also given to fits of sheer spite, whipping Maudie's scarcely protected rump as she walked her to the accompaniment of a stream of most vile invective. Tears clouding her eyes, Maudie understood that, as far as this evil woman was concerned, she was in fact no better than a dog. Worse still, it seemed Megan had forgotten that the creature beneath the ruin was, or ever had been, human at all.
'How long am I to be kept like this?' she finally asked Burrows during one of her brief periods of respite.
Will Burrows simply gave a deep chuckle and patted her rump. 'As long as it takes,' he replied.
Maudie sniffed. 'As long as what takes?' she wailed.
'Whatever it is that sir and madame have in mind,' he replied evasively.
'And then I suppose she'll kill me? She's told me I ought to be put down, just like you would a sick hound.'
'T'ain't for me to say,' Burrows sighed. 'I just do as I'm told and you'd be advised to do the same. You ain't opened that silly mouth when she's been here, have you?' Maudie shook her head. 'And you'd better keep it that way, else she'll have your tongue cut out and that'll be an end to your silly prattling.'
'But would you kill me just because she said so? That'd be murder!'
Burrows snorted. 'I've killed before,' he said. 'Orders is orders and it's the same here as it was when I was in the army.'
'But that was war!' Maudie protested in horror.
'We wasn't always at war,' he retorted darkly. 'And when you've served as long as me, you learns to do as you're told, keep your mouth shut and draw your money on payday. That's all there is to it.'
'But I'm not your enemy,' she persisted desperately. 'I've never done anything to hurt you. I've never done anything to hurt no one, in fact.' She paused, thinking hard. 'Don't you feel even the smallest thing for me?' she went on eventually. 'I think I could quite like you, you know.'
'Until it came to a magistrate, you mean,' Will Burrows chuckled. 'Then it'd be a different story. I'd swing on a rope for sure, though I reckon those two would probably get off scot-free. Money and rank talks, and I'm just a humble soldier in the line.' He slapped her across the buttocks again, this time much harder, and she let out a surprised yelp. 'Well, let's get your bitch head back on and finish off your exercise,' he said, stooping to pick up the mask. He jerked on her leash, turning her around to face him. 'Then we'll attend to my exercise,' he added as he began pulling the hood over her smooth head.
Archibald Hendrick's temporary residence was less than half a mile from the hotel, an imposing, brick and sandstone Georgian edifice that stood within its own walled grounds near what was then the edge of the city. Tall iron gates opened onto a short driveway, which ran around and in front of an entrance flanked by two carved pillars. I wondered how much it had cost its owners, and also how much it would be worth in my own time, assuming it was still standing, which was more than likely.
The door was opened as Erik reined the horses to a halt, and two uniformed male flunkeys stepped out. Inside the carriage I adjusted my mask, making sure the eye openings were correctly aligned and that my elaborate wig, which was my latest acquisition, was properly in place. The mask, a carefully crafted piece of paper maché that had been studiously painted and then stiffened further with layers of clear lacquer, was a nice final touch and saved me having to mess about with a leather mask in order to hide my true identity. Of course, I had not worn this disguise at the hotel, but having arrived there behind a lace veil, and not having spent more than a few seconds at close quarters with either staff or other guests, I was prepared to bet no one there could have described me beyond what I was wearing.
In fact, if I had chosen to wear this new mask in public, it was doubtful whether it would have elicited much interest. Throughout the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries there were all sorts of disfiguring illnesses that were endemic, especially on the continent, with smallpox and certain venereal diseases to the fore, diseases that could leave features scarred or pockmarked, so it became a commonplace sight to see masked females at the theatre or opera house. These masks were made from a variety of materials, including kid leather, carved bone and, like my own, paper maché, and I find it surprising that so few have survived into our own time. But I digress...
We were shown through into a lavishly furnished rear room overlooking a
garden that made up for in style what it lacked in size, with an ornamental stone fountain in the middle of a pond forming the focal point. It was all very predictable, but nonetheless elegant. A third uniformed footman appeared and served drinks to Erik and myself, and I waved him away when he made to approach the girls. I had allowed them a relaxant brandy before we left the hotel, but I didn't want them drunk for what was to come.
Hardly had I sipped at my wine - not an easy feat, given the rigid nature of the lip opening in my mask - than the door opened again and Archibald himself appeared. He was dressed conservatively, but I could see the flush of anticipation in his cheeks and his eyes darted over the girls as he approached me and bowed.
'Everything is ready, your ladyship,' he announced. Whether or not he believed I was nobility I neither knew nor cared, but if he guessed at my deception, he gave no sign of it.
I nodded to Indira, who ushered the girls towards the door. As if at a given signal, one of the original footmen appeared and bowed them through.
'Now then, Mr Henderbrick,' I began in what I hoped was a passable 'noblewoman's voice, just to make sure there are no misunderstandings concerning our arrangement...'
He blinked, but nodded.
'Good,' I said. 'Well, my assistant here, Mr Johannson, is sworn to protect my person at all times and will shoot anyone he considers to be endangering my safety. That is, he will shoot to kill, you understand?'
I saw Henderbrick swallow heavily as he again nodded.
'We are also expected back at our hotel by a certain time in the morning and, if we fail to arrive for whatever reason, word will immediately be given to the rest of my men, who are staying nearby. They know precisely where we are, and if we do not return safely they will come straight here and make quite a nasty mess, both of you and your friend and of this house.'
'I understand,' Henderbrick said, blinking faster now. 'But I assure you, Madame, you will be perfectly safe. You are my guest here and no one will harm you in any way.'
Teena: A House of Ill Repute Page 17
