The Initiation of Phoebe

by Regina Green

  I assumed Edward was a bit of a sissy, whatever that meant. But at school he was steely and disciplined, quite the bookish sort yet athletic too. Capable of odd little bursts of dry humor. I began to admire him as I knew him longer. We were not exactly fast friends or bosom pals, but I noticed that we kept aloof from others in the same way. Nor were we picked on. There was something about both of us that protected us from that.

  At first, for years, I would call him by his surname, Webster. Later on, we were Edward and Jake to each other, and our friendship deepened to the point that we asked to room together in our last two years of school.

  This unexpected close cohabitation with Edward was probably the best part of my life up to that point. Time seemed to quicken and speed up. I couldn’t get enough of each day. There was a fullness to it all, and yet still a great innocence. It all felt very safe, for what that was worth. We had the structure of school around us, and we trusted each other with our secrets, up to a point at least. I confided that my father was “a brute” and he said that his own parents put up a false front as well. He just said that, without much elaboration. It’s remarkable now, looking back, how little we understood each other, or even ourselves.

  I found that I just needed a little bit of understanding and support, which he gave me. Edward seemed totally self-reliant, a loner. Neither of us were sure what we wanted to do after school, although he was clever enough for university, but we both wanted to back away from our parents’ exceedingly dull, overly religious, patriotic, hunting and fishing type of life. (Edward’s father was a wealthy merchant in the city who no longer took much part in the day-to-day affairs of his shop.) We didn’t want to be mere country squires, we told each other. It was amusing to share all this with someone who understood.

  We turned 16. Edward had started idly calling me “J,” so when I took up a book of his one day and a piece of paper fell out addressed to “Darling J,” I thought it was a joke and read on.

  Darling J,

  You can’t believe how dull this term has been. I suppose the only bright spot has been rooming with Jake, you know, my lordly Burling Abbey friend. I should like you to meet him some day but you must keep things very proper. I haven’t told him about us, never fear. He likes to tell me things, though. I think he has a bit of a pash on me, but not to worry.

  I paused, blushing violently red. Then I continued:

  I miss you, darling. I miss your kisses and your ... well, you know. I never know if these letters might be read, so I’ll leave it at that. You know what I miss.

  Your Edward.

  The first love letter I had ever read, and quite clearly not addressed to me. I had thrown myself into an armchair and was staring at Edward’s scrawl until it started to blur. This put a different light on things! Suddenly there was a timid knock on the door and a young boy, our “fag,” came in to do the fire. I let him do his job, watching his slim body mechanically. There were a lot of dirty jokes about the sexual availability of the younger boys (especially as you got older), but Edward and I were loftily above all that. Or so I had thought. He clearly was up to something much worse, at least in the eyes of society. I wondered if I could have misunderstood the letter somehow. As for my “pash” on Edward, it humiliated me that he had read me so well. I thought I’d been so subtle! I prided myself on being hard to make out, but Edward took the cake. He’d barely mentioned his sister. It was a protective silence; I realized that now.

  The boy poked the fire, seeming pleased as it flared red. He had removed our ashes from the previous day. All was as it should be.

  He looked at me enquiringly, and I fished around in my pocket and gave him a small coin. You weren’t supposed to tip them, but I liked doing it.

  He smiled. “Thanks, Burlington. Should I stick around till Webster gets back? He might have something more for me to do.”

  “No, no,” I said, preoccupied. As the boy exited, Edward came in, his cheeks mildly flushed from whatever sport he’d been doing. Cricket, probably. Yes, he was in flannels. He was medium height and quite strong, despite being slight in build.

  Our eyes met, and I could tell that he immediately saw that something was different. He shut the door gently.

  I raised the letter without saying a word.

  “Oh, damn it, Jake, you weren’t supposed to read that.”

  He said it with the most intensity I’d ever heard from him.

  He was in front of me now. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

  I was surprised. I thought he’d be frightened that I knew his secret. I stared at him.

  He held out his hand for the letter.

  I knew he would snatch it soon; I could foresee a fight, even. He was trembling. I didn’t enjoy the moment, yet found myself drawing it out for some reason, not really understanding why.

  “You didn’t say anything all that bad about me, Edward,” I said coolly. He waited. “It must be terribly awkward, though, this pash I appear to have on you.”

  He said nothing, biting his lip. He appeared to be quite torn as to what to do or say next. Finally I handed him the letter. Immediately, he flung it in the fire, raking it hard with the poker.

  It was an unpleasant moment. I found myself re-assessing a lot of things. I’d grown to care for him, and perhaps I had become a little obsessed with him. I wasn’t sure if he would hate me now. Threaten me, perhaps. I understood that I had something “on him” but I hadn’t wanted this knowledge, and I knew I ought to reassure him that his secret was safe with me. Yet I couldn’t quite find the words.

  He turned around and went out.

  * * *

  For a few days, we barely spoke. I was worried that he would shun me forever, but looking back at it now from the vantage point of the age I am, it took a very short time, maybe a week, for an understanding to form between us. He began gradually to tell me about his sister Jane, how much she meant to him; he described how they had grown from being extremely close as children to innocently exploring as young teens, and then, in the last year or two, they’d crossed the line into what they both knew very well was a forbidden passion. But they didn’t care. That’s what Edward told me, and I was impressed by that, moved by it. And I believed it.

  As if to apologize for his words about me, he tried to tell me haltingly that he had never “gone wrong” with other boys (our language was very antiquated, but this was 1868 after all, and we were extremely inexperienced). But he also admitted that he liked me more than any other chap he had known. So what he was trying to tell me, I slowly realized, was that since I knew about him and his sister, he would permit me certain intimacies. For a while I backed away, because it embarrassed me to think that he was offering to do it only because I knew his secret. But as time went on I realized that he would be willing to be my teacher, of a sort. So he would come to my bed for a short time after lights out. He taught me how to kiss. Then we graduated to stroking each other, and that was extremely exciting. Then eventually we would use our mouths to bring each other off. It was an entirely new world to me, and a dazzling one.

  I loved Edward, I felt. I wasn’t sure that he ever loved me, but there was no need for him to say so. And so things went on; I never met Jane while we were in school. The family all traveled in the summer and there was always some excuse as to why I couldn’t visit. I accepted it, but I was very curious.

  Then, just after I left school, my parents died within days of each other. It was unexpected and a terrible time. Flo came into my life and I was preoccupied with her for a while. I dismissed all the other servants and lived a frugal lifestyle. My father had left many debts, I found. The money I received from tenants’ rents was small, but I lived on that, and I put any savings I had into a velvet bag and stored it in a niche behind a large, somber portrait of my parents in the drawing room that I had always hated. I wanted to live differently going forward, but I was not sure what that meant yet.

  Then I met Jane at a garden party in Crawford Hall. The whole village was invited: they co
uldn’t not invite me. I was about 20, growing in to my adult body and my looks now. Edward looked much the same as he had at school.

  But Jane was a revelation. She was stunningly pretty in white, drifting here and there with a parasol. She had Edward’s gray eyes, but her coloring seemed warmer and her personality more charming. She was vivacious, welcoming, laughing. It was hard to believe that there was anything sordid behind this innocent façade. Sometimes I wondered if Edward had made it all up. Or perhaps they had stopped it now. Jane seemed so normal! Nobody had anything bad to say about them in the village.

  And so, once every week or so, I began to get an invitation to dine there. Soon I would just drive over there every Friday night; it became a routine. The coachman would wait for me and I would leave late, happy and drunk. Jane flattered me and flirted with me, and Edward seemed tolerant, almost pleased about it. Soon I realized that Jane knew that Edward and I had been lovers. They kept no secrets between them.

  And then one late summer night Edward told me that I could let the coachman come back for me in the morning. They showed me into a bedchamber next to theirs (yes, they shared one; somehow they got away with it). I undressed. I expected to hear giggling and noise, but there was nothing. Of course I had a hard time sleeping: I stared at the ceiling, an owl hooted outside. Then there was a rustle and Jane slipped into my room. She landed on the bed beside me, light as a feather, really. She put her finger to my lips.

  I understood it must all be a game, so I was very cautious about what happened next, but Jane wasn’t. She pulled me on top of her and wrapped herself around me in a way that certainly suggested that she’d had plenty of practice. My mind was all in a whirl because she was so absolutely luscious—but I feared that Edward would come bursting into the room in a rage...

  But she whispered to me that even though we must be quiet, Edward didn’t mind. I did make love to her that night and there was a delicious sense of familiarity about it. After Flo Hendrick, Jane was like a light, sweet dessert wine... effervescent. And yet she brought out all the passion in me, that first time and subsequent times. I pounded against her and she withstood it, laughing quietly, moaning softly. Her whole body flushed when she climaxed, rather like Edward.

  And then, other times, I was permitted to share their bed and things got a little wilder. But I was so happy and so convinced that this was a long-term arrangement that I never questioned the practicality of it.

  * * *

  Flo Hendrick didn’t like them. She was dismayed, and certainly noticed before I did that I was falling in love with Jane. She tried to tell me it was a bad idea. But I really heard nothing that anyone said. I was absolutely wrapped up in Jane.

  Even as sometimes I watched them in bed together, totally immersed in each other, I didn’t feel any sense of disquiet. That they would allow me to watch... what a privilege, I thought proudly.

  These violent delights have violent ends... I think things only got confused about a year or so into it, when I was alone with Edward one day—we were out pigeon shooting, lying on the cold ground together—and I suddenly blurted out that I wanted to marry Jane. Looking back, I can see why he reacted the way he did. First of all, he put the gun down at his side with a sort of controlled rage. Then he said quietly, “You have to be out of your bloody mind.”

  I stared at him.

  “Of course you can’t marry Jane. What are you thinking? Jane’s mine.”

  “But you let me sleep with her...”

  “Exactly,” he said. The contempt in his voice frightened me. “I let you sleep with her. I let a lot of people sleep with her, come to that.”

  “What people?” I whispered. (I still can’t believe my own naivete. In my own defense, I really grew up in a very sheltered world.)

  “Up in London. We do have a house there, you know.”

  I shook my head. “But she’s never mentioned anyone...”

  “Of course she hasn’t!” Edward snapped. “She’s a woman. What do you think she’s going to do, tell you about all her other lovers? Have some sense, Jake!”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said, staring at the dark earth. “How could you let her?”

  After a long silence, he said, “She’s free to do what she wants, as long as she stays with me.” His tone was curt.

  “That’s not freedom at all,” I answered after a moment.

  And suddenly he stood up, grabbed his gun, and when I stood up, walloped me across the face with it. I put out my hand, stunned. There would be a terrible bruise on my cheek, I thought dazedly.

  “Jake, you’ve outstepped your bounds,” Edward said. “I don’t want to see you here again.”

  He knew me well enough to know that I would not give away their secret in the village. That wasn’t my style. And his tone of voice was completely final. His eyes were flat, cold.

  “Does Jane care for me?” I asked.

  I could tell he was close to hitting me again, but he restrained himself.

  “Perhaps, a little,” he said coldly. “Clearly, you want something from her that she’s not prepared to give. And don’t try meeting her alone. She will give you the same answer.”

  “Edward, marriage isn’t...” I stopped. “It’s never been something I even wanted. It’s just, with her, I could imagine it. And we all understand each other so well. She could have plenty of time to see you if she wants.”

  He grimaced. “Jake, it’s not time that I want from her. She’s my sister. She’s my life. I’m not going to have another man doling out little bits of her ‘time’ to me. She and I agreed a long time ago that we wouldn’t marry anyone else. I thought I told you this!”

  He had, but I had forgotten.

  He was completely fearless. I had a gun too, and I could have hit him equally hard, or shot him, and pretended it was an accident. But we were on his land and I understood. I understood that I had made a terrible mistake about their feelings for me. Perhaps the misunderstanding was that they had any!

  I flashed back to what he had once said about his parents and their “false front.” I wished I had listened more closely. It would be something I would think about in the years ahead. I would see them occasionally in the village and we would give each other polite smiles and nods, because that was the thing to do. But Jane was the only woman I’d let myself love, and I mourned her. There was a long, empty period after that. I traveled aimlessly up to town, I slept with prostitutes; I slept with Flo; I kept up appearances. Life didn’t seem much worth living, but I pretended it was.

  Dear Edward,

  It has been a long time since we properly spoke.

  I wonder if you would be interested in meeting a young woman whom you may have glimpsed in the pub at Cheltringham, Phoebe Saxon. She has been staying here for a little while in training to be a housemaid and, to speak frankly, I think you and Jane might enjoy making her acquaintance.

  Since my finances have been a little tight, and I gave her father a rather large cheque for her services, if you felt like taking her on I would naturally be obliged if you’d reimburse me. I seem to remember you’d borrowed a sum from me shortly before we parted company years ago. It was too awkward to ask for it back then, but I hear that business has been booming for you lately—so perhaps you’ll make things right there as well.

  Ever yours,

  Jake B.

  Phoebe was snoring softly. I left the letter facedown on my desk unsealed, in case I wanted to add something, and went downstairs to have a quick word with Flo about when the post went out.

  NINE

  Things got a little murky around then. I remember just a couple things more about that day. It was very quiet and peaceful, a soft slightly drizzly afternoon, wasn’t it? Phoebe woke up from her nap after I returned upstairs and we ate lunch on trays provided by Flo Hendrick. Then we played a card game of some sort. It was strange how the erotic mood of the morning had completely evaporated. Phoebe had dressed by that point; I can’t remember exactly when she left to do so, or
whether Flo brought her some clothes. We were comfortable with each other, I thought. She did seem pensive, though. I remember her asking something about the neighbors around here, and I assumed she had some desire to go back to Cheltringham to see her father.

  “Oh no,” she said, smiling. “Why would I? He’d only want to put me to work again.”

  “Talking about that, we should have a uniform for you tomorrow.”

  “That will be nice,” she said rather modestly. I was attracted by this aspect of Phoebe and smiled at her. She was really rather sweet.

  * * *

  Then of course there was Ben, later. Phoebe was safely ensconced in her bedroom at that point, though I knew that from the following day onward, she and Ben would have more to do with each other. More time. But I intended for that to be cut short a bit, if Edward took the bait. Or rose to the challenge, more accurately. I felt like he would. I don’t know why, but I could see Phoebe in his world, his social set. I didn’t want to be there myself any longer, and had no plans to get sucked in again. There was still a slight, pale scar on one cheekbone from where Edward had slammed the gun stock into my face. Still, we had spoken a few words to each other in recent years. Jane always remained slightly out of reach, hovering in the distance. And she could stay there, I thought.

  But Ben... That evening with him was a revelation to me. I knew after we parted that I would soon ask him to leave his room above the stables and move into the Abbey. It was only right. I was ashamed, actually, that it had taken me so long to do this. What was I waiting for?