close together at the top, waiting for him to leave. 'I'll dust your room out, Miss, when you have changed'. 'Yes, Mary, do.
James-help her with that basket, if you call yourself a gendeman. The poor girl has too much to do'. 'All right', he said and slouched away to take the linen basket from her hands while Mary and I exchanged such small quick looks of warm complicity as only women can.
James in any case was not defeated- only quashed. I gave him a hesitation of a smile, a nod, as I closed my door. James was impetuous-no more than that. A woman learns to fend away obsessiveness, for love that is obsessive spoils itself, and she who allows herself to be smothered by a single male loses her freshness, her alertness, her elan-loses the challenge of the meeting of new eyes, new lips, new minds. The cock knows no conscience, it is said-but neither does the quim when the veins throb. Esmeralda had not said that we would meet again, and yet I had imbibed the simple wisdom of her words despite my seeming mulishness at times, and which she well understood as a defense to my desires. Perhaps I was different now, I told myself, and peeled my clothes off-looked down at my bed and saw the ghosts, the recent ghosts, of love, saw myself lying with my legs apart, my mind afloat the while my body warmed to tickling fingers, lips that pressed upon my own and underneath my slit. Perhaps it was more furry now? Such foolish, errant thoughts invaded me. Were my breasts larger-was my bottom plump? A knock sounded and I snatched my dress up. It was only Jane. 'Jane, is my bottom fat?', I asked. I dropped my gown and stood all droopy in her sight. 'You know it's not; you seek for flattery, my pet. Its rondeurs are exquisite. Are you in a broody mood again? James has been naughty with Eveline, you know'. 'I guessed he would be-and with Mary, too, I think. He had his arm around her on the stairs', I fibbed, and then as if to cover up my sins asked her to help me dress.
I would not bathe, I said, until the night. I felt too lazy; so did she, she said, and we whispered once again what we would tell Papa. Or I said 'we', at least. She would not have it so. 'No, dear, you must tell him on your own. I will divert Mama, just tell him firmly what you wish to say. He will be pleased, I think. You never know'.
'Perhaps', said I. I felt more doubtful then, and wondered how I might begin and how my sentences would form, and what I should say first, and ever on. 'Don't pout', said Jane, and helped me do my hair. She had changed already and looked fresh and sweet, but then pleased me by telling me I also did. I put my wedding ring on once again. Jane said it would be a sure sign to Papa. I thought her right. -if he notices', I said, and licked my finger to smooth my eyebrows down, then put my tongue out at my own reflection which Jane said was the best of signs that I had my spirit up. 'Hmmm…', I said doubtfully. I felt all tremulous at the thought of my forthcoming 'interview'. I had stood in Papa's study several times before when he had lectured me. I swallowed bravely, though, and went down to the drawing room with her where James sat quietly, said Jane had on the nicer dress, but that was just to spite me, so I thought. Jane told him to be quiet-was on my side. I had a wicked thought of seeing him between her legs, to wreak his vengeance. Even so, it would be quite a luxurious and naughty sight-but I kept that to myself and veiled my eyes. I was still young then, after all. I had such thoughts as all young females do of trying to appear mysterious when in reality one merely simpers or looks quiet, and not at all as one would wish to look. The wished-for image in one's mirror fades and is replaced by everyday reality… 'I do not wish to be ordinary, Papa'. Those, to my vague astonishment, were the first words I uttered to him when late towards the evening he appeared and I had inveigled him into the garden by my side, with Jane's quick-bustling help as she and a complicitous Eveline took all Mama's attention. 'You were never that, my dear', said Papa. Then we both spoke at once and I said, 'Sorry, Papa', and I held my tongue, the birds of my intended words all flown. 'I have decided, my pet, that there shall be a dissolution of your marriage', I then heard. 'A d… d… d…?', I stammered. In my ignorance I had not known that such a thing was possible. 'A separation of the parts-the condition of casting loose from due restraint. I have spoken with clergy in high places.
Such is possible-and shall be done. The hearing will be quiet, discreet. I alone shall attend with you. Such matters can arrange themselves by force of influence. You have no need to see your husband ever more. You will be free, my dear, be free. The ring you wear upon your finger may be cast off as an old glove is, and laid aside and never to be worn again'. The brisk, bright table-talk of Lumley, Esmeralda, Mark, had vanished on the wind. The grass beneath our feet assumed a darker shade of green as dusk fell. On we walked. The gate to the paddock swung and jarred. A rough turf came beneath my feet, caused me to stumble. Papa placed his arm around my shoulders while my questions twittered, nervous and excited as they were. The matter would be over in a month, he said. Mama was pleased. Was I not, too? 'Ecstatic, Papa! I cannot believe it yet! I thought I would have to go and live with him again, and that life would be horrid. Oh, how wonderful!' 'I who was the cause of all the grievous happenings, Emily, have now at least resolved my sin'. The ground rose slightly. To one side, a small and darkling clump of trees. Before us stood the stable. Its door yawned. Two crows flew-long complaining- then were gone. 'How happy Jane will be as well, Papa. I must go and tell her. May I not?' I made to turn. His arm still held me firm. The stable loomed before us. Glimmering within, an oil lamp shone. A labourer appeared and made me start. 'I tidied up, sir.
Will you need me more tonight?' 'No, Smithers. I will douse the lamp'. 'Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir-and you, too, Miss Emily. A lovely night it is-a fair old night'. 'Goodnight', I said, and knew a quaver in my voice. The floor within was rough, straw-covered.
Papa closed the doors and barred them and I stood all of a sudden trembling, then felt his hands upon my shoulders and leaned back to him. 'A fair night, Emily, and one to celebrate', he said with gentle quietness in his tone. His hands sleeked to my hips and held me thus. And I said yes, said yes, and closed my eyes. Before me, underneath the hanging lamp that slowly swung, was a huge bale of straw-a piece of sacking cast across its width. Nearby was a trestle, and across it hung a thin, black whip.
