Slave of Darkness

by Francesca Lewis

‘Okay, let’s just go to sleep then.’

  Marianne felt guilty, because he was being so considerate. She wondered if it was really possible to be unfaithful to someone with a man who’d died over a hundred years previously. If anyone had suggested such an outrageous thing could happen before they’d moved to Yorkshire, she’d have had them carted off to the nearest loony bin! But now she was here, and it was happening!

  Steve quickly fell asleep and started snoring quietly, but for Marianne it was different. What Sandra had told her about Judith Wells preyed on her mind. She was terrified of losing control of her sanity. In some ways she had an advantage over her aunt’s predecessor. With Steve around most weekends and Sandra and Graham as friends she wasn’t alone all the time. If she had been, then, like Judith, she assumed she would in all probability spend more time in the past until the present became not just boring and irritating but of total insignificance. Clearly, for the second Judith there had come a time when the modern world ceased to exist, and it was this Marianne feared the most. She didn’t always want to come back, but when she did she wanted to be herself and not Marianne Clifford.

  She was afraid that when she did finally fall asleep she’d have nightmares but, when she dropped off she slept soundly and didn’t wake until the rays of the sun shone through the gap in their bedroom curtains and she saw from the bedside clock it was half-past eight.

  ‘I’ve been watching you sleep,’ said Steve, running his hands up inside the long T-shirt she wore to bed, caressing her urgently. ‘I don’t think I tell you often enough how beautiful you are.’

  ‘You never tell me,’ said Marianne.

  ‘I’m sure I did when I first met you.’

  ‘Perhaps then,’ she conceded. ‘But not since.’

  ‘Well, I’m telling you now.’ With that he began to kiss her, and soon the T-shirt had been thrown to the floor. ‘Shall we use the cuffs again?’ he whispered.

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve already told you, we should indulge sparingly.’

  ‘Is there anything else you’d like to do?’ he asked.

  She would have liked to say that all she really wanted was get up, have breakfast and go for a walk on the moors, but as Steve was leaving that afternoon she felt it would be too unkind. ‘Let’s just do what we usually do,’ she said softly.

  ‘You’re sure that’s enough for you?’

  ‘Absolutely sure,’ she lied.

  Unfortunately her body was not so willing to lie and Steve, with his new-found awareness of her capabilities, was quick to spot this. He tried everything he could think of, but still her stubborn flesh refused to respond until she started to wish that he’d just get on with it.

  ‘I know,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ll give you a massage. Sit on the end of the bed and watch in the mirror.’

  Marianne did as he suggested and sat gazing into the mirror on the wardrobe door, while Steve knelt behind her, his hands working on her shoulders and back, occasionally gliding round to caress her breasts and nipples. The sensation was very agreeable and she felt herself start to relax. Her eyes closed a little and her reflection became blurred. Then the mirror images changed, and instead of her own reflection she was suddenly watching a scene from the past.

  The room was Tabitha’s, and she was once more standing on the stool where Marianne had first seen her, but this time there were two men with her. One was Sir Edward, but the other was a stranger. He was a little shorter than Sir Edward. The two of them were examining Tabitha closely and she was trembling from head to toe, obviously trying to suppress her fear.

  ‘She’s deliciously tempting,’ the new man said, after he’d studied her for a few moments. ‘You’re a lucky devil, Edward.’

  ‘You just wait until you examine Miss Marianne, my dear doctor,’ replied the master of the house.

  Watching and listening to this scene, Marianne felt her excitement rising. The implication was that at some time Marianne Clifford would be examined by the doctor friend of Sir Edward’s, and the thought both aroused and unsettled her. She longed to be there, to become the original Marianne when that happened, and wondered if it would ever come about.

  ‘This seems to be working,’ said Steve, his voice threatening to break the spell.

  ‘Don’t stop, it’s gorgeous,’ murmured Marianne, her gaze still fixed on the mirror.

  Suddenly Sir Edward picked up a flexible cane and handed it to his friend. ‘Why don’t you use this on her?’ he suggested. ‘She loves it.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ cried Tabitha. ‘Please, doctor, don’t hit me again.’

  ‘But it was so wonderful last time,’ the doctor stated firmly, tapping her breasts with the end of the cane. ‘I don’t think I can resist. Besides, they’re such a wonderful target, aren’t they, Edward?’

  ‘Indeed they are,’ Sir Edward concurred.

  Then the doctor raised the cane and it swept viciously down across the upper slopes of her breasts, leaving a thin red line in its wake. Tabitha jerked, but was unable to avoid the second stinging blow of the supple cane, a blow that fell precisely below the first to leave two vivid stripes upon her flesh.

  Then the doctor set about his task with increased gusto, striking her belly and buttocks, but to Marianne’s frustration, as tears rolled down Tabitha’s flushed cheeks, the hypnotic image began to fade. Suddenly, all Marianne could see was her own reflection once again.

  ‘Oh no...’

  ‘Shouldn’t I have stopped?’ asked Steve.

  Marianne was desperate. She’d been incredibly excited by what she’d seen and she needed to know more, but she sensed that for now it wasn’t to be. So she lay back on the bed, pulling Steve on top of her. ‘Take me,’ she begged him. ‘Quickly... quickly!’

  Steve eagerly covered her and she pulled his hands over her breasts. Her skin was burning. It was as though it was she and not Tabitha who’d been caned, and she pressed hard on Steve’s fingers so that delicious pleasure-pain swamped her swelling tissue. ‘I want you inside me,’ she gasped.

  Her urgency spurred Steve on and he began to rut against her. Within a few seconds she convulsed in an ecstasy of release as the dreadful sexual tension caused by the scene she’d witnessed in the mirror was relieved.

  ‘There, I read that a massage was a good prelude to sex,’ gasped Steve once he’d come too. ‘All you needed was a little time.’

  Time, thought Marianne dreamily. Yes, time was giving her pleasure – though not a little of it, but a hundred and seventy years...

  Chapter 7

  Marianne glanced at her watch. It was nearly four o’clock and Steve had said earlier that he had to be away by then. She wondered what on earth he could be doing upstairs. Because he travelled so much he was used to packing, and normally it didn’t take him more than ten minutes. She’d spent most of the day in a dream, her mind constantly recalling the sensations she’d experienced when she and Steve had been joined by Sir Edward.

  There were, she realised, very few occasions now when the man didn’t manage to make his presence felt in some way or another. Certainly over this weekend he’d hardly left her and Steve alone. She sensed he was jealous, not wanting her and Steve to have pleasure. Yet that was strange, because she couldn’t imagine him being a jealous man. Perhaps, she thought, it was more a question of control.

  Marianne Clifford had been his employee, paid by him to keep his sister company, and it appeared that since she had no living relatives there was never any danger of her having a life outside Moorhead House. If this had been what he’d liked, if he’d grown used to total possession of the girl, then her own life with Steve must present itself as a threat to him.

  She wondered whether he had ever felt any genuine affection for his sister’s companion, whether his desire was for the young woman herself or simply lust for any attractive female who was helpless. Perhaps the real Marianne hadn’t known e
ither, she thought, and then stopped abruptly.

  Why was she thinking of Marianne Clifford as real and herself, by extension, as unreal? She was just as real as the first Marianne, she simply lived in a different time, but already her own life seemed lacking in substance. ‘Be careful,’ she whispered to herself. ‘That way lies madness. Remember Judith Wells.’

  At that moment Steve burst into the room. Marianne had never seen him look so angry. He was clutching a sheaf of paper in his fist. ‘I’ve been looking at your manuscript,’ he shouted. ‘It’s disgusting. I can’t believe you’ve written it.’

  Marianne stood up. ‘You’ve no right to go snooping around in my study,’ she said angrily. ‘I told you I didn’t want you reading it yet.’

  ‘And I’m not surprised. It’s nothing but filth, absolute filth. It’s not a novel, it’s pure pornography. You must be sick to think of things like that.’

  Marianne glared at him. ‘You don’t know anything about writing,’ she shouted back. ‘It’s all different these days. Anything goes; you’ve only got to visit a book shop to see that.’

  ‘I do visit book shops,’ he snapped, ‘and you might be surprised to learn that I’ve never seen anything like this in my whole life.’

  ‘Then all I can say is you must lead a very narrow life.’

  ‘You know that’s not true. What’s Angela going to think when she sees this? Besides, no one’s going to publish such filth.’

  ‘This wasn’t quite your attitude to the new, sexually liberated me on Friday night, or this morning,’ Marianne reminded him scornfully.

  ‘We didn’t do anything like this.’ He waved the manuscript at her. ‘All this business with candles. And you were thinking of our outhouse when you wrote it, weren’t you? There’s no point in denying it, the description’s too good.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of denying it,’ said Marianne, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘I’ve always used places I know in my books.’

  Steve shook his head. ‘I don’t want you doing this any more. There’s something nasty about it. Get rid of it. You’re sick. If you want my opinion you should see a doctor.’ With that, he stormed out of the house.

  When the sounds of his car had died away Marianne sank back in her chair and closed her eyes. She’d meant to hide the manuscript, but had forgotten to. Despite her show of bravado, his words worried her: ‘You should see a doctor’ had an ominous and strangely familiar ring to it.

  Even as she was turning the words over in her mind the by now familiar darkness started to creep into the room. The furniture began to fade, its edges blurring, and it seemed as though a mist was filling the room. Then the mist cleared and Marianne found herself sitting in the dining room as it had been in the nineteenth century. Seated at the table with her was Judith Fullick.

  The meal in front of Marianne looked distinctly unappetising. The meat was probably boiled beef and the vegetables just potatoes and turnips. Although not hungry she felt strangely compelled to eat, but the meat was tough and she found herself chewing and chewing, not daring to put it back on the plate.

  ‘Are you not hungry?’ asked Judith.

  ‘Indeed yes, ma’am,’ Marianne said politely between chews. ‘The meat seems a little tough today, that’s all.’

  ‘I trust you’re not going to have trouble with your teeth,’ said Judith. ‘It’s tiresome and expensive.’

  ‘My teeth are in excellent condition,’ Marianne assured her.

  Judith sighed. ‘I suppose it’s of no importance. My brother keeps saying that you should eat less since you’re gaining weight. Perhaps once you’ve eaten a little more of Tabitha’s food the weight will fall off you anyway. Poor Tabitha is not the most accomplished cook I’ve ever had the good fortune to employ, but she’s been with me a long time and she understands our ways, don’t you, Tabitha?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Tabitha, bobbing a swift curtsy.

  ‘You do look a little pale,’ Judith continued, looking closely at her companion. ‘I really think you should see the doctor, Marianne.’

  So that had been the trigger, Marianne thought, remembering Steve’s angry parting words. Then she remembered Dr Francis Proctor and suddenly she was very afraid. ‘I have no need of a doctor,’ she said hastily. ‘I feel very well.’

  ‘Nonsense. It’s my duty to make sure that nothing ails you. He will be here tonight and is due to see Tabitha. I think he should examine you at the same time. Once you’ve eaten it would be best if you and Tabitha rested quietly until tonight. Anxiety can cause fluctuations in the blood and confuse Dr Proctor.’

  ‘I don’t need the doctor, ma’am,’ said Tabitha hastily, and Marianne could see the girl was terrified at the prospect. ‘He only saw me the other day. I feel very well.’

  ‘The choice is not yours to make, Tabitha,’ Judith said coldly.

  ‘Might I not at least take a little air before retiring to my room, ma’am?’ Marianne asked, not wanting to be cooped up for any length of time.

  Judith shook her head. ‘I can tell you’ve been hearing stories about Dr Proctor, Marianne. You look anxious, but there’s no need to be. He’s an excellent physician.’

  When the meal was over, Marianne and her employer drank tea and then, much to Marianne’s surprise, John was summoned from the garden. ‘John,’ said Judith briskly. ‘Take Tabitha and Miss Marianne to Tabitha’s room. Move the extra truckle-bed in there and lock the door after you. Neither of them is to leave the room until my brother and his visitor arrive tonight. Do you understand?’

  John nodded.

  Marianne couldn’t understand why his presence was necessary and she wondered, too, why she had to go to Tabitha’s room rather than her own. But her thoughts were interrupted as Tabitha gave a little wail and ran from the room.

  ‘Search all the usual places,’ Judith told John, showing little surprise at the girl’s flight. ‘If you don’t find her you’ll take her place tonight.’

  ‘I’ll find her,’ the young man said, hastily following Tabitha’s exit.

  ‘Why is Tabitha so afraid?’ Marianne asked, not sure that she wanted to know.

  Judith’s smile only increased her nervousness. ‘Some of the things Dr Proctor has had to do to Tabitha in order to keep her well seem to cause her some distress,’ she explained calmly. ‘In any case, the wretched girl is far too highly-strung and forever running off. Sometimes I think it would have been better for us if we’d left her in the workhouse.’

  Marianne felt her palms dampen. ‘I trust he won’t hurt me,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve no idea what he’ll need to do to you,’ replied Judith. ‘However, whatever he does it will be for your own good. Now, please, go to Tabitha’s room and wait there.’

  ‘Why can’t I use my own room?’

  ‘Because there is no lock on the door,’ explained Judith, her tone brooking no argument.

  Although Marianne went straight to Tabitha’s room, it was nearly half an hour before John finally dragged the sobbing servant girl in to join her, pushing her roughly over the threshold and then slamming the door as she fell to the floor, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.

  She looked up at Marianne despairingly. ‘Oh, miss, I never thought he’d examine me again so quickly. I don’t think I can bear it a second time.’

  ‘Bear what?’ asked Marianne. Although the scene she’d witnessed had plainly made Tabitha uncomfortable it scarcely seemed to warrant this kind of distress.

  ‘I can’t say,’ muttered Tabitha. ‘I’m too ashamed.’

  ‘I think you must be exaggerating,’ responded Marianne, hoping against hope that she was right but already filled with a terrible sense of foreboding.

  ‘You don’t know nothing,’ cried the servant girl, before flinging herself on her bed, where she lay face down and weeping, the sound driving Marianne to d
istraction.

  Time passed very slowly. Marianne walked restlessly around the tiny room, wondering what it must be like for Tabitha to have nowhere else that she could count as her own. Even here, the girl had no true privacy, for Sir Edward and his sister could enter at any time.

  A little later and Marianne was starting to feel annoyed. ‘I don’t see why we have to stay here,’ she said to Tabitha, who’d thankfully ceased her crying. ‘Why can’t we carry on with our normal duties until we see the doctor?’

  ‘Mrs Fullick knows I’d run off,’ explained Tabitha.

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ Marianne retorted indignantly.

  ‘It’s not just that,’ Tabitha said slowly.

  ‘What is it then?’

  Tabitha looked around anxiously, as though checking to see if anyone was listening. ‘You’ll find out,’ she eventually said.

  ‘Why are you so afraid?’ Marianne asked. ‘Does Dr Proctor hurt you more than Sir Edward?’

  Tabitha pushed her hair back off her face. ‘They won’t leave me alone,’ she whined pitifully. ‘It’s my breasts, you see; they fascinate them. The doctor’s given me exercises so they don’t sag, but I don’t think that’s the truth. I think they just like tormenting me. It’s not my fault I’m so big; I grew a lot when I got to fifteen.’

  ‘You’ve been beaten before. Why is it worse when the doctor does it?’

  Tabitha shook her head. ‘It’s not the beatings I mind, it’s the other things the doctor does.’

  ‘Like what?’ Marianne’s heart was beginning to race.

  ‘He says I’m full of germs or something, things that have to be got rid of if I’m to be clean for him. It’s that I don’t like.’

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ said Marianne.

  ‘You’ll find out,’ muttered Tabitha. ‘It won’t be no different for you just because you’re a sort of lady.’

  Another hour passed and Marianne realised she was becoming uncomfortable. ‘Do you have a chamber-pot under your bed?’ she asked Tabitha, deciding that she couldn’t stand it any longer.