She moved her chair back a few inches and stood, plucked his handkerchief from his pocket, and fanned his face to wake him.
The governor opened his eyes. His countenance had changed completely. Clovis fastened her gaze on his lips, which appeared much fuller. His face had relaxed and colour had returned to it. Dark lashes curled around his softened eyes that were previously slits of torment, and from the corner of one, a tear ran down.
‘It often occurs; it is a release,’ she offered in a whisper.
The pain was gone, yet he still struggled. Ever so slowly, he became sorely aware that Clovis perused him, following a trail from his mouth to his crotch. Her gaze moved up again to his mouth. She rose – he would remember her floating towards him – and before he could inhale again, her mouth met his and she kissed him in a way he had never before been kissed. She grasped his cock and he let out a groan.
Clovis replaced the chair giving him a moment to cover his wet trousers with his coat before he faced her.When men fall ill they have little power to conceal their desires.
‘You will come again?’ he asked. There was no demand, no insistence, no threat.
‘Oh, yes. I shall come.’
Over the following months Clovis earned privileges for the four of them. They were so grateful that they did not question how. They relished and devoured even better food, more comfortable, warmer clothing, extra soap and candles, special books, and Clovis was given ointments to keep her skin soft, an entirely selfish privilege meted out by the governor.
Clovis considers these privileges a trifling, a pittance. She desires much more and tonight she begins her campaign.
It is during the supper hour that he summons her while the staff concentrates on monotonous tasks, and the prisoners fill their bellies with thick gruel, sweetened with treacle.
The governor has grown handsome. He does not know how changed he is, for when he peers into the looking-glass to trim his sideburns, it still captures the image of his sickness. He prepares for her as he would for a woman with a spotless reputation he would court. With a drop or two of unguent he coaxes a sheen into his hair. He recently purchased a new toothbrush and tooth powder, and keeps anise comfits in his pocket. He bites into one now.
The matron knocks and he buttons his coat to conceal his erection. There the beauty stands, one hand clutching her Bible. He almost laughs but catches himself.
‘Thank you, matron. Now, 1089, what is this about a revelation? Perhaps you should be speaking to the chaplain.’
The matron closes the door and clomps away to her supper.
Clovis puts her finger to her lips for silence and locks the door. The curtains are drawn. The governor sits in his leather chair. The scrolled arms are open-shaped, the seat deep.
Theirs have been rushed, frenetic couplings. She had allowed him his quick pleasure, but they are finished with that. Now she lingers, like smoke trapped in a room.
He has given her permission to let her hair grow again, provided she keeps her florid locks under her cap during the day. She removes it now. When her hair falls loose he catches the scent of rose water. Her ugly, prison dress buttons at the front, and he knows this is the reason she chose it tonight. His eyebrows lift when she deftly unbuttons it, unsure of what will happen next. He has never seen her naked. The petticoat, the stays, the chemise, in which she stands, are her own. As she peels off the layers, the linens and cottons form a cloth halo at her feet.
This creature in his room inches closer to him. Her breasts spill out of her stays and he thinks he may be close to death with the sight of her; surely his heart thumps out of his chest. Then she lifts her chemise and she is naked. She is more than perfect. He groans.
When he lurches forward, Clovis gently pushes him back into his chair and climbs on top of him. She guides his hands to her quim to stroke, and his head to her breasts to suck. She allows him in now and insists he moves slowly, and it is easy, she is wet, slippery. She clenches. When he is near to climax she reaches underneath him and massages his anus with her fingers. He gasps. But he does not miss a thrust. Just as she feels him tensing for the end, she slips a finger deep into his anus. His head falls back and he erupts with a shudder. She kisses his mouth to inhibit his cry.
Clovis, still wrapped around him, nestles her head near his and whispers. Her tongue rims his ear as she tells him what she wants and needs. He nods. God help him, she can have the keys to the whole, damned, stinking prison. Clovis Fowler can have anything she wants from him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
1837
In Camden Town the days hammer to the clamorous arms of industry that encroach upon Lawless House from all sides. The sisters need only to step out of the front door to feel the full force of the destruction lurking around the corner. Though the meadows and nursery gardens still border the canal’s edge, Camden Town is the designated location of the terminus of the London and Birmingham Railway and the construction of its depot, which consumes the suburb.
The London Zoological Society overtakes more and more of their pretty little village. Several thousand people visit each day. A long parade of carriages waits ceremoniously to enter the gates, bringing astounding congestion on the Outer Circle.
In the haven of Lawless House the boy sits on the floor, a safe distance from the fireguard, where all around him lies Verity’s collection of
