Constance rises, nods to Clovis, and prepares to depart the ghastly place.
‘Mrs Fitzgerald.’
Constance pauses.
‘I hope you and your sister continue to sleep well.’
‘And you, Mrs Fowler.’
Constance leaves through the door designated for visitors and breathes a huge sigh once it is closed and the prisoner is behind her. She is led through the inner gate by an assistant warder, then to the gravelled outer yard, and finally to her great relief, to the carriage that awaits her.
‘I have never been happier to see you, Verity.’
‘Was it awful? Were you convincing?’
‘I do not know. I believe so. But, sister, she has been in that place of hell for two years and has not changed. Not at all.’
‘Saints preserve us.’
As soon as Constance Fitzgerald is out of her sight Clovis kicks the iron bars.
‘Calm down there, 1089,’ the warder warns her.
She throws him a fuming glance. He leads her to the waiting matron who is in no mood herself for privileged prisoners and hurriedly escorts her back to her cell.
‘There you are, mistress. How was your visit, then?’ Willa looks up from her sewing.
Clovis waits until the fat matron has waddled away before she turns on Willa.
‘Shut up. Do not say another word to me today.’ She picks up her hairbrush and throws it at Willa. The handle cracks on the girl’s skull and she cries out.
‘Be quiet, or that onion-breath matron will have you for dinner.’ Clovis retrieves the brush from the floor and places it back on the shelving, recovering calm. ‘I should not have thrown it. It was wrong of me. It is this place.’
Willa chooses a long strand from a cord of threads that hangs around her neck. Squinting, she ties a knot, then changes the thread in her needle.
‘Perhaps you could speak to the governor again, mistress? You are much calmer after you receive his good advice.’
‘Why, Willa. You are a very clever, girl. The governor’s wisdom is exactly what I need tonight.’
Clovis fits the red-tipped end of the wooden wand through the inspection hole, signalling that she would like to speak to the matron. It is not the heavy-footed woman who comes, but the older spinster matron who prefers night duty.
The governor comes right away.
‘Ah. Prisoner 1089. What troubles you that you would take me from my visits on the other wards?’
‘Sir. I apologize for my impudence. I … I seem to be on the edge of some great awakening, a stirring, if you will, sir, that I would like to discuss with you.’
Willa is quite in awe of her mistress, that as bold as she has known her to be, she would speak to the governor so freely.
‘Indeed? Then you must come to me at once, 1089. Matron, bring this prisoner to my room in one half hour.’
It had begun over a year ago. Clovis chose her moment to approach him when he could not conceal that he suffered from a violent pain in his head. She made some pretence to see him privately when he attended their cell on one of his regular visits.
The curtain in the governor’s room was drawn that day, a clear sign that he was ill. His writing desk was strewn with papers, the General Order Book was left open to a page, figures scrawled in the margins, and a cup and saucer thick with brown stains teetered on the edge of a pile of journals.
Clovis stood on a worn spot on a small, but expensive carpet. The governor did not bother with the rope of separation. His eyes followed the lines of her body from the tips of her prison boots to her neck until he reached her face.
He was distracted by the curves that refused to be hidden under her drab skirts and homely apron. Two urges coursed through him; a desire to point a revolver to the pain that pierced his head, and to relieve his untameable lust.
‘Please sir, may I speak freely?’
‘Yes.’ He whispered.
‘I know a technique that will help your distress … your headache.’
‘Go on.’
‘I will need cold water, a sponge, and a clean strip of cloth.’
He rang a bell which summoned a mouse of an assistant warder who regularly attends his needs. In quick measure, the items were placed on the writing desk. Clovis positioned a chair to face the governor. He watched her, wondering at her ease and her lack of intimidation.
She placed another chair by the writing desk and arranged the two to face each other.
‘Would you please sit here?’
He rose, gave his jacket a tug, and then did as she asked.Clovis wet the sponge, wrung it, and gently placed it on the governor’s forehead.
He closed his eyes. The damp coolness felt unimaginably refreshing.
She removed the sponge and sat in the chair opposite him.
‘Sir, may I have your permission to touch you to perform the New Science.’
He nodded.
Clovis placed her hands on his knees and drew them closer together. She spread her legs and placed his between hers so that he sat cradled by her thighs. He winced with pleasure. Then she leaned forward until he was enveloped in her warmth. She raised her hands above his head, her breasts so near him that she pulled back slightly. Just shy of touch, she made several passes over his head. She leaned back, paused, and then began again so that he felt a pattern of her energy. Her body plunged in towards him and then she receded, and the heat above his head came and went as over and over again she tirelessly gave him her attention.
Clovis monitored the changes in his face: his fluttering lids, a raised brow, his twitching mouth.
‘Where is your pain now, sir?’
The pain had moved from his temples to the back of his head. He felt it transfer again to possess his shoulders until, after a few minutes more, it passed completely out of his body. He described these sensations
