Keeping Katerina (The Victorians)

by Simone Beaudelaire

  Christopher was oblivious to the message, but Alessandro was not. Neither were most of his guests. It was a heavy blow to be dealt in such a public venue, and made him powerfully angry. Unaware, focused on undermining her rival’s confidence, she continued to flirt with the young man through song, naughtily promising everything but her heart. It was a superior performance as always, but the applause was tepid. Many disapproved of her manner.

  At last it was time for Katerina’s final song. She walked slowly from the harpsichord to the pianoforte. Once again she chose to give him the pure emotion of a desperate love song. This time it was ‘Per la Gloira d’Adorarvi’ by Bononcini from the opera Griselda. It was a heartbreaking song of unrequited love, and as she understood every word, she nearly decimated herself with it. The emotion, the adoration of this young girl towards her husband was palpable in the room. She pleaded with him in song to ignore her rival and give his attention to his wife, to her heart, which she was offering, unreservedly. Unfortunately, he had no idea… or maybe it was fortunate. She would be embarrassed if he understood. She had actually forgotten there were other people in their room, until, after a delicately shimmering high note, the song ended and the room erupted with applause, startling her. Red faced and trembling she slunk back to her seat beside her husband. He took her hand and held it indiscreetly. Many people nodded with approval. Of course he ought to prefer his wife.

  Alessandro swallowed his rage and rose from his seat.

  "Thank you, ladies, for those lovely performances. We will give our answer after dinner. And now, friends, shall we adjourn to the dining room?"

  There was a general exodus, and it wasn’t until later that the guests noticed their host had not joined them.

  ******

  As Aimée moved towards the door, Alessandro caught her arm in a hard grip, pulling her back.

  "What exactly was that?" he asked her, his expression thunderous.

  "Music, cheri."

  "No. You know what I mean. Why were you throwing yourself at my granddaughter’s husband?"

  "I was only playing. I don’t care in the slightest about Mr. Bennett." She twined her arms around Alessandro’s neck, desperately trying to distract him from his anger.

  "Then why the hell were you flirting with him? You embarrassed me. Everyone knows I’m your lover, Aimée."

  "No, don’t be angry, cheri. I didn’t mean anything by it."

  "If you aren’t attempting to seduce him, what were you trying to accomplish? Were you hoping to upset Katerina by undermining her relationship with her husband?" He removed her arms from him.

  "No, it was a joke."

  "Well I for one am not amused. I’m sure Katerina isn’t either. You know, I think I’ve had about enough of you. Go pack up your possessions and leave. I don’t want to see you again. Goodbye, Aimée."

  He turned and left.

  The beautiful soprano stared after him in shock. She had not stopped to consider the consequences of her actions, determined as she had been to see her perceived rival humiliated. She hadn’t given a moment’s thought to how her behavior would reflect on Alessandro. And now he was furious… and he was gone.

  She had gone too far. She realized it. And she deserved his anger. No part of her behavior had been acceptable. She had been cruel to Katerina, and ridiculous towards her husband. How stupid. Tears streaming down her face, she walked slowly to the room she’d been sharing with him. She wasn’t ready to leave him. Perhaps she never would be, but it would be a miracle if he would forgive her now.

  ******

  At the table, Katerina was seated between Christopher and an Italian gentleman in his middle thirties, whose name she could not remember.

  "Excellent performance," he told her, his dark eyes shining.

  "Thank you. I’m sorry, sir, but what was your name?"

  "Me? I’m Carlo Bianchi."

  "A relative?"

  "Your uncle. Your mother was my twin sister."

  "Oh," she blushed, "Sorry."

  "Not to worry my dear. You met many people today."

  "True."

  "At any rate, you remind me a great deal of her. She loved music, though she didn’t have your… skill. I’ve missed her terribly. We were very close. Did she ever… mention me?"

  "Sorry. Our life was not one to encourage idle conversation."

  "I suppose not. I hated that she married him. Did he ever… soften?"

  "No."

  Carlo closed his eyes.

  "Did he kill her?"

  "More or less."

  Carlo cursed softly. "My fault."

  "How?"

  "He took her away because of me. I saw her, after the wedding, so thin, so distressed, covered in bruises. We were only sixteen, you know. I went to him and showed him what it felt like to be beaten. He left the next day."

  Katerina shook her head. "It’s a tragedy. I’m so sorry."

  "Was she a good mother?"

  "The best. I miss her so terribly. But she’s at peace now, uncle. She’s finally free of him."

  "And you, Katerina? Are you also free of him?"

  "I am, thanks to my husband."

  "He seems like a good man."

  "Yes," she replied, "I owe him my life."

  "Don’t think that way, Cara. You owe him your heart."

  "He has it."

  "Buono. You have his too."

  She smiled. It was a pleasing sentiment even though there was no way it could be true.

  After dinner, the guests returned to the parlor. The instruments had been removed. Alessandro was still there, looking out the window onto his estate, his expression sad. Aimée was nowhere to be seen. Several of the guests approached the master and talked to him privately. At last he shook them all off and approached his granddaughter.

  "Cara, why did you agree to that competition?"

  "What do you mean, Nonno?"

  "You didn’t want it. I could tell."

  "No."

  "Then why?"

  "It was the pianoforte. I wanted to play it. She refused to let me. She said the winner of the competition could have the rights to the music room. I didn’t want it all to myself. I just wanted to use it sometimes."

  "Dio mio. You mean all this was over the piano?"

  "Sì."

  "Cara, you should have talked to me. It’s my piano. Of course you could use it."

  "I wasn’t sure. I can see she has some influence over you."

  "So do you."

  Katerina smiled.

  "She’s been tormenting you, hasn’t she?"

  Silence.

  "Well don’t worry. She won’t be here anymore. After her scandalous behavior tonight, I’ve sent her away."

  "Oh, don’t do that."

  "Why not?"

  "I know you care for her. Don’t make her leave on my account."

  "I’m not. She made me look like a fool."

  "Oh. Well, maybe it was a mistake. You know, things got a little out of hand. I would hate to see you unhappy."

  "She tried to steal your husband."

  "She couldn’t." Of that Katerina was absolutely certain.

  "Doesn’t it matter that she tried?"

  "I don’t know if she was really trying. More likely, she was only attempting to upset me."

  "What a bully."

  "True. But still."

  "Well, it’s between Aimée and me. As for you, you may use my instruments any time you like."

  "Thank you, Nonno."

  He hugged her gently. She slid her arms around his neck. She really liked her grandfather very much.

  Then he released her and turned, addressing the room again.

  "Well, I’ve heard from many of you, and I believe we are all in agreement. Choosing between two such superior musicians would be impossible. One has more training and experience, the other more sweetness and passion. Therefore, I declare the competition to be a draw. No one loses, and we all win because we all had the privilege of hearing such a fine
concert."

  There were nods of approval around the room, and a round of applause that had Katerina’s cheeks glowing. Then her uncle scooped her up and took her to meet his wife and their children.

  Alessandro approached Christopher, who was conversing sedately with a middle-aged British couple.

  "Signor, signora," he addressed the couple, "may I borrow my grandson-in-law for a moment?"

  The couple acquiesced and Alessandro escorted Christopher to a quiet corner.

  "Is everything all right?"

  "Yes. I just wanted to thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For Katerina. For rescuing her, keeping her safe. I often wished to do the same. I feared for her, especially after her mother’s passing."

  "You had cause."

  "It must be very gratifying that what began as a good deed turned into such a deep love."

  "It is. Perhaps some day she will heal enough to love me back. I look forward to that day."

  "No. She already does."

  "What? Why do you say so?" Christopher appeared thunderstruck.

  "Because of her last song. Could you understand any of it?"

  "No, what did it say?"

  "Ask her. I could tell she meant every word."

  "Yes, she seemed very sincere."

  "Definitely. You’re a lucky man, Christopher Bennett."

  "I know it. Thank you."

  ******

  Despite her concerns, Katerina actually enjoyed the party once she found her husband and took his arm. Being close to Christopher made anything seem possible, even conversing comfortably with strangers in a foreign country. She stood as near as she was able, until she could feel the heat from his body. Tonight, she was sure, she would feel that heat from even closer, crushed naked in his arms. She could hardly wait. In the meanwhile she tried to act like a normal woman. She was not a mouse, not a rabbit. She had stood up to a bully, challenged her, and won. Not the contest. She had never cared about winning that. She had won the battle of wills, had been braver than ever before, and was faintly proud of herself. Aimée, she was sure, would never bother her husband again, and if she did, Katerina would give her a piece of her mind the other woman would not soon forget.

  The hours went by, neither flying nor dragging, just passing until at last it was late. The guests who lived nearby returned home, and those from farther away retired to guest rooms. Finally, Katerina pleaded exhaustion, kissed her grandfather goodnight, and led her husband to their room.

  ******

  Alessandro waited for the last lingering attendees to depart before finally heading off to bed. He was upset about ending things with Aimée. Her behavior had been unconscionable, and he was still angry, but damn it, he still loved the wench.

  He undressed and slid between the sheets, knowing full well sleep would be difficult. He drew an unsteady breath. The bed felt cold and empty without his warm vital woman filling it.

  The mattress sagged. Warm familiar arms slipped around him.

  "Alessandro, my love," the sweetly accented voice washed over him, "I’m so sorry. So very sorry. It was so bad of me. But please, please forgive me. Please don’t throw me out. I never meant to hurt or embarrass you."

  "Aimée, why was it so important for you to subject my granddaughter to all of that and claim my piano?"

  "Why do you think? You have so little for me. That is one place where I have always been able to please you, where you’ve always been proud of me. Without that, I’m just the putain you’re sleeping with. If she replaces me, what am I but a whore?"

  "You’re an artist, not a whore."

  "I know. I also know what you and everyone else thinks of me. Do you honestly believe I lay with you because I have no morals? Do you know how many other men I’ve had in my bed?"

  "How many?"

  "Only one. Only my husband."

  "So there really was a Monsieur St. Jean?"

  "There really was. We married young, and he died young, but he left me a little money, and I used it to study music."

  "I never knew."

  "You never asked."

  "But if that’s true, then why me? I’m old enough to be your father. Why are you here, Aimée?"

  "I don’t exactly know. When we started, you were so… comforting, so safe. Life is hard and frightening and in order to survive alone a woman has to be so strong. But with you I could be soft again, be a woman. I wanted you, and then, after we came together and you still cared for and respected me, I never wanted to leave. But I’m afraid Alessandro."

  "Of what?"

  "Of what comes next. If we separate, my heart will be broken, but if we don’t… I’ve already buried one husband…"

  "And I’ve already buried one wife. No matter what, life is hard, Aimée. Tell me what you want."

  "What I can’t have. You. All to myself, always. I would…"

  "You would what?"

  "I would marry you if you would have me. I wish we could. It would be so much better."

  "Better for whom? As you’ve said, there’s a very real impediment to us being together."

  "There is, but I think I would still choose you, even knowing exactly what’s coming. I would rather have you while I can." There was an odd note in her voice that gave him pause.

  "What are you not telling me, love?"

  "You’ve given me more than a piano, Alessandro." She looked at him intently, urging him to understand.

  "Dio Mio, are you joking?"

  "No."

  "But…" he sputtered. "Is this some kind of ploy to force me to forgive you?"

  "Not at all. Look at me and see for yourself."

  He pulled back the covers and she was nude, and sure enough rounder than ever, her breasts massively swollen, her belly full.

  "How long?"

  "Nearly five months, I think."

  "Why didn’t you say anything?"

  "What good would it have done?"

  "Then why tell me now?"

  "Because I made such a terrible mistake. I don’t want to lose you. Despite my bad behavior, I want you, only you. I love you Alessandro. Can’t you please forgive me?"

  "Perhaps. But first you’re going to have to do something for me."

  "Anything."

  "Apologize to Katerina and her husband. You made their visit uncomfortable."

  "Yes. I’ll do it first thing."

  "And no more flirting. We look odd enough together. If you appear dissatisfied, I look like an old fool."

  "You’re right. I didn’t think." She was deeply contrite, not meeting his eyes.

  "You’re a very bad girl Aimée."

  "Are you going to punish me?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  "How?"

  "Let’s see how loudly I can make you scream."

  Very loudly, it turned out. She had to put the pillow over her face to muffle the noise of her massive, earth-shattering orgasm.

  ***Chapter 18***

  Aimée and Alessandro weren’t the only ones who were being intimate that night. In the guest bedroom, Christopher was tenderly undressing his wife in preparation for some very sweet lovemaking. She was more than willing. She was eagerly opening his clothing at the same time. Despite contending with complicated party clothing with its multiple layers, they were nude in no time, and Katerina stepped close to Christopher, pulling his head down for an endless kiss. His arms encircled her lower back pressing their bodies together. He released her mouth.

  "Love, what did the last song say?"

  "The Italian one?"

  "Yes."

  She blushed, not wanting to answer.

  "Tell me, Kat. You know you can trust me. You do know that, don’t you?"

  "I’ve never wanted to trust anyone before."

  "And now?"

  "This is the safest place on earth, here in your arms. Yes, Christopher. I trust you."

  "I’m so glad. Please, love, tell me what the song said."

  "It speaks of one who is so wonderful,
so perfect, that he is worth loving even though there is no hope of reciprocation, that even the pain of unrequited adoration is a kind of glory."

  "Were you… singing to me? It looked as though you were."

  "Yes." Her cheeks grew even pinker, but her voice was sincere, steady.

  He nodded and lowered his mouth to hers again, stroking his fingers over the uneven flesh along her spine. She squirmed, tried to pull away, but he held her fast, pleasuring her mouth with deep thrusts of his tongue while following the scarred lines up and down. Finally he released her and spoke, his voice rough with emotion.

  "Do you really think, foolish girl, that your love is unrequited? It’s not. I love you, Katerina. I love your beautiful face, your tender heart, your lovely body, even your scars."

  She didn’t reply at all. She was stunned to silence and then, as the long moments passed, a tear trailed down her cheek, and then another. Her breathing grew ragged. He placed his hands on her arms and turned her, sweeping her long dark hair over her shoulder, giving himself full view of the ruined flesh. Now that all the injuries were healed, he was able to see the jigsaw puzzle effect of overlapping whip marks burned indelibly into her skin from her shoulder blades to her knees.

  "My God, Kat. How did you survive?"

  "I don’t know. I’m very glad I did."

  "So am I. Poor darling."

  "Don’t pity me, Christopher. Please don’t."

  "No. I admire you. You’re so strong, so brave."

  "You make me brave."

  "You chose courage so you could come away with me, be my wife. I’m honored."

  "You chose me to rescue out of the sea of battered women. I’m the one who’s blessed."

  "Did you know the French word for wounded is blessé?"

  "Yes. I’ve always found that ironic."

  "It fits you."

  "Yes, I suppose it does."

  "Come here, love." He led her over to a little table and urged her forward so her hands rested on the wood, supporting her weight. She gasped and went utterly still. Christopher had no way of knowing how deeply ingrained this posture was for her, how many hundreds of time she had been bent over a hard surface in preparation for a brutal beating. Nearly every mark on her body had been received in such a position. The only way to keep the onslaught from turning even more violent was to submit in silence to each blow. The instant her hands touched the table, Italy faded, Christopher faded, and Katerina was back in her father’s home, trembling, waiting for the whip to fall.