I retired to bed and my nightmares returned when I tried to sleep. Hours later I sensed Adam’s presence. I felt no surprise at seeing him there. He was leaning against the bed post watching me. The moonlight silhouetted his form. Adam was sober and elegantly attired as a gentleman; his cambric shirt was loose at his throat and he’d shaved his sideburns into two sharp horizontal points across his cheeks. His fitted buff trousers were encased in long black riding boots. I was startled when I glimpsed a lean stiletto blade in his hand.
In a leisurely manner he kissed me until I was breathless. ‘It’s remarkably easy to break in here, Sasha. Just a quick clamber up the drainpipe and a jab at the balcony door lock with a blade. You should be more careful, my love.’
I discreetly smelt his hair but there was no trace of Marietta’s perfume. ‘In the social circles I move in, Adam, it’s customary for gentlemen to knock on the lady’s front door.’
‘We both know I’m not a gentleman. More to the point, I was not too confident of a late-night welcome from your ferocious guard dog.’
‘Snuff is suspicious of you simply because you’re Roger’s younger brother.’
‘Alleged brother. My mother told me that we had different fathers. Apparently once she’d successfully produced two heirs for the Dasher dynasty, she spread her charms widely in bohemian circles. Clare’s not sure which of her lovers got her pregnant, but she cheerfully informed me that I was the love child she’d always wanted. My birth was also a poke in the eye for the philandering husband who’d publicly neglected her. Clare knew he wouldn’t have the balls to deny my legitimacy as his son.’
I couldn’t help but smile. I’ve always admired Lady Dasher’s essential toughness.
‘Sasha, do you know why your Mr Rogers is called Snuff?’
‘No.’
‘The first mate of the Eagle told me he fought alongside Snuff Rogers as a mercenary in Europe. Snuff is a brave soldier who easily outguns the last man standing. When they ran out of ammunition he took to killing men with his bare hands. He’s a master of pressure point strangulation and can impart death just by pressing two fingers to a bloke’s neck. He kills them just as easily as you might snuff out a candle.’
‘Ah, interesting.’
‘Let’s not waste time. I’ve got to leave on the next tide and will be gone before first light.’
‘How long for?’
‘Let’s see now . . . probably about two or three months.’
I tried not to look disappointed and failed. ‘Oh. I’d rather hoped you might be in town for at least a week.’
Adam sighed heavily. ‘I wish it could be that way, Sasha, but it can’t be done. We have to run on schedule.’
He stroked the knife. His hands looked strong and powerful and I knew that the same knife had killed quite a few marauding pirates. How did I know? Snuff had told me that very morning. I got the impression that they’d established a wary mutual admiration society.
Adam’s jaw was tense. ‘Sasha, I appreciated your honesty in telling me about my lecherous brother but I wasn’t able to master my jealousy. All day I was obsessed with thoughts of kneecapping him or drilling holes into his scheming brain.’
‘Good grief.’
‘Then common sense prevailed. After all, he’s still my brother and I’ve never believed in an eye for an eye. So instead I’ve decided to mark you for ever. From now on you will be filled with such longing for me that no other man will be able to fully claim you. No matter if I’m dead or alive, I shall always be a part of you.’
His voice was cool and detached but I couldn’t see his eyes as he was in shadow. I shrank away from him. ‘Are you trying to scare me, Adam? Put the goddamned knife down!’
I could see his face by the light of the moon but I couldn’t interpret his smile. He lightly stroked the tip of the blade under my chin.
‘Sasha, I’m simply going to create a blood connection that can never be broken and saturate you with more desire than you ever thought possible.’
As Adam spoke, he turned and flicked his knife across the room. It bit deeply into the door and remained there. He then whipped back the sheet and deftly removed my silk nightgown. He placed both hands over my heart and held them there so I could feel the heat of his being moving into me. ‘Don’t be frightened, I only want to pleasure you.’
The captain was adept at his task. He began by stroking me all over, gentling me the way one might calm a nervy mare. I’m pleased to say that I didn’t neigh or whinny. But in truth, my moans set off the stray dogs in the street below. It was surprising the patrolling night men didn’t kick down my front door. Then just when I thought I was going to die from an excess of sensuality he took me further. Adam slid his hands under my buttocks and raised the lower half of my body onto a pile of pillows. He eased his hands over my thighs and purposefully parted my legs.
‘Adam, no. Stop.’
‘Shhhhh, this is just for you.’
It was more amazing than anything I had experienced under the influence of the Pharaoh’s elixir. He gently stroked my quim, then bent his head. My hands clutched his hair and when it became excruciatingly pleasurable, I tried to push him away but he was steadfast in his intent. My acute embarrassment turned into molten lust, as I coiled and recoiled with the most exquisite tension before exploding into light. The ripple effect lasted for much longer than was decent but he stayed with me until I was done. Only when it was over, did he tear off his clothes.
I watched Adam through half closed eyes and he held my gaze so intently, it made me want to cry. I probed the ridged scar that ran across his shoulder and down under his ribs. My fingertips skimmed the compacted muscle of his belly. Burnished by the sun he was a creature of beauty and tautly wound masculinity. When Adam moved over me his shoulder muscles tightened and I could feel the strong pounding of his heart against my chest. In a leisurely rocking motion he built the tension back up and branded me as his. Together we both peaked and fell back fully satiated.
By making love to me this way, Adam wiped all fear and loathing of his brother from my mind. And for this reason alone, I’ve never sought revenge against Roger for having stolen my maidenhood. Hatred is too close to love; if you truly want to get over someone who has wronged you, aim for indifference. Because if you hate someone – they will have you forever.
I could hardly bear to watch Adam’s ship, the Marietta, depart the next morning. I retreated to the kitchen pantry, flung myself on the flour sacks and wept. How sad I felt at his departure. How cross to discover that sly little bitch had succeeded in having his ship named in her honour. Jealousy was a new emotion for me but having indulged myself with a first-rate tantrum, I felt surprisingly refreshed. I then dried my tears, splashed my face with cold water and took care of business in the patisserie.
Dolores and Maggie exchanged glances but refrained from comment. Snuff prepared creamy coffee, doused liberally with Irish whisky. ‘Drink this, Sasha, it’s an old Irish remedy for the broken hearted. Gives pathos to the pen and soothes painful emotional states. Trust me, it will fix you up in no time at all.’
Snuff was right. I felt no pain.
On the morning that Adam sailed, I worked like a fiend and this got me through to midday. Just as we were about to sit down for luncheon in the kitchen, a sailor appeared with a package for me. Wrapped in layers of white muslin was a magnificent pink conch seashell. I turned the large shell over, admiring the creamy peach colour on the outside and the vivid blush on the inside. There was a note attached.
Sasha, my love,
A Polynesian shell, so you can listen to the siren song of the sea.
Thinking of you only.
Your captain,
A.D.
I held the conch up to my ear and a sumptuous pearl necklace fell out. It was Elizabethan in design with lustrous dark pearls. The pearls were linked with rubies, embellished with gold filigree and finished with an ornate gold clasp.
Snuff carefully examined it and held it up
to the light. ‘Sasha, these pearls are of the finest quality and extremely rare. I’m pretty sure that they’re black Bora Bora pearls. You know, Bora Bora is the most bewitching island I’ve ever seen.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Roughly about one hundred and sixty miles from Tahiti in the South Pacific.’
‘Ah.’
Snuff held the necklace up to the light. ‘It seems Captain Dasher is a man of discernment and taste after all. Are you familiar with the legend of Bora Bora?’
‘No.’
‘Well, according to the fable, the black pearl oyster was offered to the ravishing princess of Bora Bora by Ono the god of peace and fertility. He came to earth on a rainbow to declare his love. These black pearls are considered to be a symbol of eternal love. I think we can safely assume Captain Dasher has stated his intentions.’
Dolores passed stealthily behind me and hissed in my ear, ‘Did you hear that? The god of fertility. Listen, you don’t want to end up pregnant and barefoot on fucking Bora Bora. So let’s have ourselves a private talk later. I certainly wouldn’t be trusting no Captain Dasher with matters of fertility. A lovelorn girl could get herself up the duff just by glancing at the likes of him.’
I was fortunate to be advised by Dolores in matters of birth control. She introduced me to precautions such as vinegar douching and recommended pessaries of quinine or zinc sulphate. I’d only just become familiar with prophylactics because Captain Dasher used them.
Adam had told me the night before, ‘Those who call themselves respectable, tend to shun prophylactics because in the past they were used to prevent sexual disease as well as pregnancy. Casanova apparently used sheaths made from sheep guts or linen, tied at the top with satin ribbon.’
Dolores further enlightened me, ‘Them advertisements you see in the gazettes are for quickie abortions. You know them Towle’s Pennyroyal and Steel Pills that used to be real popular? They didn’t always work. How do you reckon poor Mrs Pinkerton ended up with fifteen brats, eh? Real desperate she was, so she went to a quack in Hobart and got the knitting needle fix. Trust me, Sasha, you don’t want to know the rest.’
Dolores was quite right. At that stage of my life I had no desire to join the stampede up the aisle so I paid close attention to her advice.
I knew that Adam was the man I’d been destined to love, yet already I was plotting my next move. Why? It was twofold. I was desperate to obtain a consistent supply of the Pharaoh’s elixir and also my appreciation of life’s offerings had expanded. Having never been domesticated I yearned for tempestuous seas. I didn’t have the same dreams as other girls – of domestic stability, home life or babies of my own.
Thanks to Adam I’d developed a perception of the world beyond Tasmania and just like Lily and Rose before me I began to yearn for far-off shores.
It’s the right time to mention that there was another reason too. Matrimony terrified me. From what I’d experienced, family life was fraught with disaster, and what if I turned out to be as unsuited to marriage as Rose had been?
In retrospect I can see that I was at the mercy of the elixir. For not only did I require the elixir to function, I was needing more and more of it to get the same result. Anxiety gnawed at me because even though Roger had given me his last few bottles, it was running out. Then what would I do?
Instead of admitting I was losing my grip on reality, I decided that the problem was simply that I needed to travel and see more of life before settling into domesticity.
Dear reader, I was lying to myself. For what I really, really wanted was more of the Pharaoh’s elixir.
17
BASTING THE GOOSE
One morning about two months later, Maggie gave the signal that Roger was dismounting from his horse. I stayed in the kitchen and waited for him to leave. While I waited I attempted to detail the next day’s baking requirements. I had the kitchen all to myself as Snuff, Charlie and Dolores were down at the market but my concentration was lax. Naturally I ended up peeping through the spyhole.
Maggie said, ‘Good Morning, Mr Dasher. Miss Torte popped out about half an hour ago. I don’t know when she’ll be back.’
‘Maggie, I shall bide my time with strong black coffee and a couple of Gruyère puffs. Ah excellent timing, here comes young Basil with the carriage.’
Basil entered the shop, staggering under the weight of a Spanish orange tree. He put the tub down and left.
Maggie examined the orange tree and was unable to conceal her mirth. Roger snapped, ‘Maggie, I know better than anyone what Miss Torte desires. And when we are betrothed I shall make damned sure that you treat me with the utmost respect.’
Maggie went about making his coffee. She maintained a composed face but Roger was adept at social nuance and he’d probably already ascertained what she was thinking. A hostile silence ensued.
She placed a cup of coffee in front of Roger. He took a big gulp and choked. Maggie must have made it scalding hot. ‘It’s high time Miss Torte learnt to treat you as menials, rather than as trusted friends. And when I become your master, I will make it my business that all our servants know their place. I will not tolerate my wife hobnobbing with her social inferiors.’
Maggie’s facial expression remained sanguine as she pointedly stared out the window.
Roger blew on his coffee before taking a tentative sip. ‘Ah, Maggie, you’ve no idea how much I look forward to redressing the balance. You won’t escape me this time, my pretty, pretty.’
Maggie seemed absorbed in carefully wiping down the counter. He glared at her but she neither responded nor glanced up. She hummed a popular vaudeville tune thereby giving the impression that she was oblivious to Roger’s displeasure.
He clicked his fingers. ‘Bring me a large glass of Cognac. Then leave me in peace. My hangover is excruciating.’
Maggie headed out to the kitchen and deliberately slammed the door shut. Roger winced.
Quite clearly I had to deal with him. I untied my apron. ‘I’m going out there. Roger’s behaviour is unacceptable.’
Maggie grinned. ‘Nah, don’t you be going out there. We all knows you won’t be marrying that tosser. Roger don’t bother me none. He’s pissed off because her Ladyship protected me from him when I was her personal maid.’ She poured out a tumbler of our cheapest cooking brandy. ‘Roger’s always trying to slip his member into his social inferiors. You should see what he gets up to with the servants. With any luck the fucker’s hangover might kill him.’
If only it had.
Maggie crashed out of the kitchen, banging the door with gusto. I took a few more drops of the elixir and busied myself with the next batch of chocolat bouchons. Grisly fantasies played havoc with my concentration. Increasingly while under the influence of the elixir, I found I was experiencing strange hallucinations. Frequently I had the ghastly sensation that large black spiders were crawling all over my body. And sometimes at night there were rats crossing the bedroom ceiling, usually upside down. Such illusions are not conducive to optimal mental health.
Roger didn’t leave when he finished his coffee and brandy, instead he ordered more. This really annoyed the hell out of me and I pictured him getting his comeuppance in Murderers’ Alley. If only the Scags would drag Roger Dasher Esquire into the shadows, steal his valuables and force him to run buck naked down Main Street. The prospect of Roger coming to a sticky end cheered me no end and soon I was humming happily.
Several customers came and went and Maggie served them. Roger managed to avoid their pleasantries by hiding behind the Wolfftown Chronicle. I waited for him to shove off but instead he lingered on, taking frequent glances at his gold fob watch. He was the only person in the patisserie when the door crashed open to admit someone else. I heard heavy boots striding across the marble floor and even before he spoke, I knew it was Captain Dasher.
I stayed in the kitchen because I didn’t want Roger to see Adam and I together. Jealousy would ignite Roger’s temper and things could get ugly. I also had an
ulterior motive. The Dasher brothers were like chalk and cheese and I was curious to see how they related to each other. I dropped what I was doing and hastened over to the spyhole.
‘So what brings you to Miss Torte’s patisserie today, Roger? Perhaps you’re after some leg openers for a potential conquest?’
‘Leg openers?’
‘Hazel Decadents. I’ve been told that’s how you seduce young virgins. Not in the same league as the costly baubles you give to sophisticated women, but quite successful nonetheless.’
Roger avoided eye contact and turned the pages of the newspaper. ‘Keep your voice down, here comes Maggie. When did you make port, Adam?’
‘I just docked. Miss Willow, where is Sasha?’
‘Ah, she’s having a gown fitted at Mrs O’Shea’s. She’ll be back soon. Maybe.’
‘Right then, I’ll drop by Mrs O’Shea’s.’
He turned to leave but Maggie grabbed his arm. ‘That’s not a good idea, Captain. Gentlemen are not welcome. You don’t want them naked ladies thinking you’re a peeping Tom.’
I could tell by Adam’s perplexed expression that he was on to her, but he couldn’t work out why she was lying. ‘All right, Maggie. Please get me a black coffee and I’ll wait for a bit.’
Maggie poured Adam’s coffee and then joined me at the spyhole in the kitchen.
Adam ripped the newspaper out of his brother’s hands and dumped it on the marble counter. ‘So tell me, Roger, what the fuck are you doing here?’
‘Seeking a cure for a filthy hangover. Look, rather than wasting time hanging around here, why don’t you go and pay your respects to Mama?’
‘No point. Last time Clare called me the devil incarnate and told me never to darken her doorstep again.’
‘So? You deserved it. I’m delighted you’re no longer the apple of her eye. Perhaps the old cheese will give me the chance of redeeming myself. I’m sick of her threatening to cut me out of her will.’
The Scandalous Life of Sasha Torte Page 24