Alexa looked from one face to the other and could only read in Charles’s face a suppressed kind of look as if he was holding back some strong emotion. The Marquess of Newbury looked no different, although his eyes watched her carefully in the same manner that had always made her so uncomfortable. “I do not think that I...” she began before Charles spoke in an urgent voice.
“Do you remember when you spoke to my uncle on the night of the ball for Helen’s birthday? The same night that...” Before she could prevent it he had leaned forward to seize one of her hands and press it ardently. “I remember how you looked when you confided in me. How resolute and yet how shaken and wounded. And then when I saw for myself the way he dared treat you in front of me... My dearest, there are certain insults that cannot and will not be tolerated.”
The tightness inside her seemed to constrict her breathing and cut off her power of speech, and Alexa suddenly heard the dull thud-thud of her heartbeats in her ears and in her head as if they had been magnified a hundred times. There was something here that she felt she did not want to understand or even to know about. Something crouched and evil and waiting.
“I’m afraid that my nephew has a way of skirting around the point without quite coming to it,” the Marquess said in his usual detached tone of voice, forcing Alexa to turn her eyes and her attention to him against her will. “The powers of darkness...” She had time to wonder why that particular phrase should have suddenly entered her mind when she heard him say in the same almost disinterested voice, “Have you heard anything at all about the Judge and Jury Society, I wonder?”
Chapter 47
As if in preparation for winter, the fog seemed to wrap its long, cold arms about London more and more closely each afternoon and each night while the air itself grew colder and damper. Close to the river the cold and the dampness seemed intensified, and the fog came earlier and stayed longer than it did in other parts of the city.
It only meant more darkness and a renewed awareness of pain, as the chilled air seemed to eat into his sore and lacerated back like acid. It was a reminder, perhaps, that he was still capable of feeling and still, almost impossibly, alive—although he had stopped asking himself why long before. It was easier, he had found, to crawl inside himself and dwell there in privacy and in silence like a Trappist monk, even while his body suffered the agonies of the damned. And whether it was as penance or punishment did not seem important any longer, because his will had been taken from him; and if he had had any choices in the beginning he had none left now, except to endure whatever they decided he must endure, for as long as his body decided to remain alive.
“I wonder if you have learned anything from this, Nicholas?”
For some reason even his power of speech felt rusty from being unused for the past few days while he lay there unmoving and in silence. It was not the eighteenth century, and he had not been thrown in the Bastille on the authority of the King’s lettre de cachet, but he might as well have been. Except for Newbury, he was forgotten, just as if he had never existed at all. Newbury?
“I thought—that you might have gone—abroad for the sun by now.” Turning his head was even more of an effort than speaking, although Nicholas found that he could manage both creditably enough in the end.
“Did you miss me?” Newbury asked somewhat ironically before he repeated his first question, this time with a slight degree of curiosity. “Well, Nicholas? I suppose I cannot force you to answer me, since you have already shown how foolishly and pointlessly stubborn you can be, but I must confess it’s something I’d like to find out. Have you learned anything? Nothing?”
“Since you have been my instructor and mentor in this particular course, why shouldn’t I answer your question? Why then, I suppose I have learned, among other things, obedience, humility and chastity. Oh yes, and patience too. Does it please you? If not, I must beg you to feed me the answers you prefer over honesty, and I will try to give them back to you. Ah, for God’s sake! Why don’t you put an end to this game of yours? Or if you don’t have the stomach for it, instruct the good Brown accordingly. The river’s not too far from here, is it? I think—I think that I should have paid more than in full for my crimes by now, if my honorable judge and jury are pleased to agree.”
“Very eloquently spoken indeed, my dear Nicholas,” the Marquess said affably as he rose from his chair and signaled to Brown. “But you see, even if you—poor, stupid, used fool that you’ve shown yourself to be—even if you have paid for stubbornness and stupidity I am still fair-minded enough to realize that in the end justice should and must win out, and the truth, my poor misguided fellow, must eventually prevail. I almost dislike having to tell you how wasted your noble sacrifice has been, although perhaps you might come to see it as another lesson you have been forced to learn.”
“Oh Christ!” Nicholas said between his teeth when he felt himself hoisted onto his feet again. “And this is yet another lesson, I presume? What else must I learn in order to satisfy your sense of justice?”
“You don’t enjoy being flogged?” Newbury said caustically from behind him. “I should have thought you did, from your cringing willingness to submit to such treatment rather than being strong enough to save yourself merely by uttering the truth, once I had offered you an alternative. You had a choice, you know!”
He had learned, by now, to let the taunts and the challenges flow over him and past him, and how to shut his mind off from what they forced upon him. And so he said only, “It makes no difference whether I want or don’t want, enjoy or don’t enjoy—does it? So, as usual, I submit and am of course your most humble and obedient servant, your Lordship.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Newbury said briefly and gave Brown an order that somewhat surprised the man. “The lantern, Brown. I want it hung from the hook up there, where it’ll shed more light. It’s really far too dim in here to see very clearly. In fact—ah yes—I think another lantern hung up there—excellent! And now we have our stage set well-lighted for the benefit of our audience. You do not mind being kept waiting until they arrive, Nicholas? No, I’m sure that you will not in this instance, since you might well have something more to anticipate than your daily lesson in discipline. Have I made you curious?”
“I suppose I should be curious to find out what offense I am supposed to have committed now to have earned a second disciplining for the day, unless you mean to speed matters along. But I’m afraid I seem to have lost the capacity for being curious, my Lord Newbury, since I’ve learned that there is only what is inevitable, and that must be faced in any case.”
“You have become quite the philosopher of late, haven’t you, my boy? I trust you’ll continue along those lines in the future as well. Such detachment from baser human emotions can only build strength of character in the end. Perhaps I shall be proud of you yet.”
Oh God, I am so tired of all this, Nicholas thought dully. Today had been one of the worst days, with the pain eating into him until it became almost impossible to ignore and became agony so great when they applied that vile smelling “medication” to his cuts that he had become sick from it, unable to stop himself from retching over and over again. And now he would have to face going through it all over again—and have time in which to anticipate what it would be like. Why couldn’t they have hanged him instead? Why couldn’t they take him out and hang him now to provide a spectacle for Newbury and his friends like the public hangings at Tyburn a century ago?
Nicholas hadn’t realized that Newbury had been speaking until the Marquess had raised his voice to say severely, “Really, Nicholas, you might pay a little more attention when you’re spoken to. Quite ungrateful of you, considering the time and efforts I have expended to bring about an end to your—er—incarceration.”
“Then I am sorry, sir,” Nicholas said wearily. “But I was meditating on the wages of sin, you might say.” He added more slowly in a colorless voice, “And I am thankful to you for all your—efforts, of course.” An end, Newbury ha
d said. It had almost ceased to matter how and in what manner it would be ended.
“I should certainly think you ought to be, since I had to go all the way down to the country in order to exert my powers of diplomacy and persuasion. Successfully, I’m happy to report. And as soon as our guests arrive here, why I feel almost certain that the lady whose honor you violated might consider you’ve paid for your misdeeds and are now a repentant sinner deserving to be pardoned. A few groans and moans might help too. You know what softhearted creatures women can be if you excite their pity rather than their vindictiveness. And by all means do not forget to beg her pardon and assure her of your repentance. You do repent, do you not, Nicholas?”
How strange that he had almost forgotten how he had come to be here and why, as he existed from one hour to the next and had his days separated only by his regularly delivered “punishment.” He existed through habit and nothing else and had lost his will to apathy, and he answered Newbury’s question through habit also, as he said in a tiredly indifferent voice, “I am penitent indeed, a Penitente whose sins have been scourged out of him. She might believe it this time and grant me absolution if I ask for it humbly enough, I suppose!”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Newbury said in his silkiest voice. “Why, she might even go so far as to feel some pangs of— conscience, perhaps? Women are such unpredictable creatures, after all!”
And men could be fools when they let themselves believe what they wanted to believe and not what they were told. Alexa. Sweet Alexa, loved and lost. And more than amply revenged by now for whatever she had lost or had suffered at his hands, by seeing him properly chastised and chastened. Did she know in what manner he was forced to wait for her arrival so that the performance might begin— and then finally be ended—and was that why she was deliberately tardy? A sudden draft of cold air made Nicholas shiver involuntarily, and even that small movement was enough to make him grit his teeth with pain. Ah, Alexa! If she needed the satisfaction of hearing him groan she might easily get her wish tonight, for his body had become weak and he did not think he could take very much more. Where was she?
She was cold, in spite of her warm cashmere pelisse lined with silk and trimmed with ermine, and in spite of all the petticoats she had worn under her dark green velvet gown. Alexa felt that she had never been so cold in her whole life as she was now, inside and out. If she had not kept her teeth gritted together she could not have stopped them from chattering. Where was Charles taking her? And worst of all, what would she find when they arrived? It was easier to keep her mind occupied with circumventing any sly plans Newbury might have for her instead of dwelling on any other alternatives; particularly the thought that he might actually have spoken the truth.
“Charles! How much further do we have to go? We’re quite near the river, aren’t we?” Her voice sounded almost strident in her own ears before she controlled it sufficiently to say more quietly: “I feel chilled by the cold dampness here, and I cannot say that I enjoy having to wear a blindfold either. Are you sure you and your uncle are not creating an overly exaggerated drama out of this Judge and Jury Society you are so mysterious about? Who are they and how dared they make me and my affairs the subject of one of these mock trials of theirs?”
“But, my dearest Alexa, I have already explained as much as I could to you, and so has my Uncle Newbury.” Charles’s voice held a note of exaggerated patience that vexed her even more. “The trial was held to vindicate you from censure and from any possibility of being thought of as fair prey for any crude advances by other men. I know from the stubborn set of your lips that you do not like to hear such things, but surely you must realize the truth of what I’ve said? And as for Embry, why, once he had shown his true colors and his obvious contempt for the code of ethics and morality that governs us all, who knows what further outrages he might have committed? My poor cousin had a fortunate escape indeed!”
It was strange how behind a blindfold all the other senses seemed intensified as if in compensation, Alexa thought, and clenched her hands together tightly in her ermine muff. Even though she could not see Charles’s face to gauge his expression, there had been a certain nuance in his voice that made her feel that his whole speech had been a hypocritical sham to cover something else. Was she meant to be put on trial now? Or was this excursion she had agreed to a ruse to get her out of the way by shipping her off somewhere as they had done with her Aunt Solange before? But no! Not even they would dare try to get away with anything so obvious, especially since her servants knew whom she was with and that her hurried return to London had something to do with Newbury’s visit to her. She had even taken the precaution of sending off a letter to Mr. Jarvis informing him of everything she had been told and what she planned to do. In fact—and it made her feel safer—he had promised to make sure she was followed everywhere for her protection. Safe? Alexa repeated the word in her mind and sat up straighten She would not let herself be afraid. No matter...no matter what.
“You should have warned me, Charles, that these corridors are so narrow, and I would not have worn my new crinoline,” Alexa said as she felt her wide skirts brushing against walls on either side of them. Whatever this place was that they had finally arrived at, it felt damp and cold and had a strange, almost moldy odor that made her flesh creep when she imagined moss creeping up crevices in old stone walls and spider webs hugging dark corners or covering windows and doorways. Not to mention scuttling mice and huge, gaunt rats with angry red eyes. Perhaps it was just as well she still wore that black silk bandage over her eyes so that she couldn’t see where Charles was leading her. “And you might have been thoughtful enough to warn me we had so far to walk, so that I could have worn some suitable shoes,” Alexa added quickly to ward off the uneasy, even apprehensive feeling that seemed to grow stronger and stronger with every step she took.
“I am sorry for the blindfold, but you will understand when I am able to remove it that it was for your own protection,” Charles had said earlier, and now he repeated his apology as he promised it would not be long now and she would soon have a chance to see everything for herself.
“See for myself? Is it another one of these mock trials, which I’m to be allowed to watch this time? And...” Alexa found she swallowed drily before she went on carefully, “And what has all this got to do with...with what you said about Embry?”
Her heart had begun to thump alarmingly for some reason as Charles drew her to an abrupt halt, and she was about to tear the silken bandage away herself when he stopped her with his hand laid warningly on her arm as he whispered, “Please be patient for just a minute or two longer, my dear. My uncle has planned a little entertainment especially for you this evening, and you would not wish to spoil his surprise, would you?”
“I...” Alexa had begun when she heard the Marquess of Newbury say affably, “Ah! So there you are at last. We have been ready and waiting for at least a half hour or more. And, Lady Travers, I thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight and for your forbearance so far.” She felt her cold hand picked up and the touch of his cold, dry lips on its back before he said, “But first the overture before, so to speak, the curtain rises. Brown? You may begin now.”
At first she did not understand at all what that sound was or what it meant, and she stood there frozen while she listened to that regular cracking noise that was being repeated over and over and over with a steady rhythm. It was only when she heard a gasp and Nicholas said almost violently after that, “Oh damn. Damn!” as he felt his head spin sickly and knew he was going to faint or be sick again, that Alexa was able to move again and tore clawingly at the black silk that prevented her from seeing... horror and the interior of hell itself, as her glazed eyes were able to focus once more.
“Ah,” Newbury said pleasantly, “so you were too impatient to wait? But it doesn’t matter, my dear Lady Travers, because this you see, is what happens to transgressors; and this is your revenge, which has been and is being exacted on your behalf. You m
ust not look so... Do support her, Charles, there’s a good fellow, in case she... I’m sorry, Lady Travers, for not thinking that the sight of blood might make you feel faint, but first and foremost I wanted you to know that your accusations did not go unheard and were not ignored by some of us at least!” And then while Alexa fought to make her paralyzed throat and tongue function again as the room seemed to lurch back and forth with the swinging lanterns, the Marquess turned back to Brown and said in a tone of bored irritation, “I think some cold water will revive him this time, Brown. And then you may continue again.”
“No,” Alexa whispered, and then in a scream that seemed to echo and reecho from every wall, “No...o...o...o!” She ran against the barred door and shook it, then slid down the bars to her knees with her face contorted like that of a demented woman while she choked out, “Oh God! Oh God—you monsters, what have you done to him?” She barely heard the Marquess say reproachfully, “ I, madam? I was but the instrument of the justice that you condemned this poor wretch to when you accused him of abduction and forcible rape. Did I not make that sufficiently clear? If I did not, I’m sorry.”
“No, no! Please, I beg you not to...he didn’t...he never did...I was...”
She was gasping so hard she could hardly speak by now, and Newbury said smoothly: “But, my dear Lady Travers, surely you won’t allow the natural softness of your heart to influence you into accusing yourself? No, it won’t do, will it, Charles? Why, Embry admitted at his trial to the truth of what you said. Taking you to a bordello against your will, using restraints to keep you tied down and helpless while he ravished your body as he pleased...”
Surrender to Love Page 55