Evil's Niece

by Melissa MacNeal

  Chapin’s colour rose with each remark. ‘Enough out of you, slut! My wife never had such — ideas, until you came here!’ he blustered. ‘I knew you were one of those damned Cajuns living downriver from Dewel’s plantation, and I should’ve sent you packing long ago. Now get out.’

  Silence rang around us, until the old housekeeper could keep still no longer. ‘Will you please reconsider, Mr Chapin?’ Fanny pleaded. ‘Your Mr Schuck has compromised his own integrity — not to mention your wife’s. And with the Mardi Gras ball only a week away, I need Monique’s help with the preparations. She’s been invaluable —’

  ‘She’s been the downfall of this entire household if she’s bamboozled you too,’ he snapped, shaking the double-hung toy at her. ‘And from here on out, you’ll keep your opinions to yourself, Fanny Frike, or those three worthless maids will be the next to go! And maybe you will be considering retirement sooner than you anticipated.’

  Cleopatra, Antoinette and Cinderella stiffened, glancing at each other with their lips pressed into thin lines. Mrs Frike’s shelflike bosom shook against her apron with her effort to remain quiet. And Schuck, the toad, was practically rocking on his heels with the crisis he’d caused, as though he’d been promised a bonus for each irregularity he reported.

  I had my own axe to grind with this ill-kempt troublemaker, but I’d brought on some of these problems myself. Had I not been chasing around in see-through lace, asking Chapin’s lifelong rival for advice on seduction, none of this would’ve happened. But then, it all circled back to that day I saw my husband in a public courtyard humping his niece, didn’t it?

  This image bolstered my resolve. It wasn’t the time to mention his duplicity — his own glaring infidelity of late — but I did have an ace to play. A long shot, but sometimes a pellet of hard-packed truth is more useful after it rolls down the mountainside to gather snow. If I could diffuse this dire situation, it was worth being further humiliated by my husband in front of the staff.

  ‘I have a confession,’ I began quietly — hoping to bring Chapin’s breathing under control, for his colour looked high. I smelled perfume on him too, but that was another issue entirely.

  He shot me a sour look. ‘I told you we’ll discuss your affairs at a later —’

  ‘My affairs are not what they seem,’ I hedged, stepping towards him. ‘I’ll admit this is not the attire of a proper wife, but when I set out wearing it, the idea was to attract your attention, Chapin. I was going to whisk you away in the carriage after your lunch at the Beau Monde Club. A surprise designed to pique your interest in me, as a woman who wants you —’

  ‘If you think I’ll believe that —’

  ‘— but you’d already left,’ I pressed on. ‘And during that earlier meeting with your financial backers? Again at your gentlemen’s club? That sucking you got was my doing too!’

  Chapin’s face went pale. ‘Not only have you become a habitual liar, but you’ve lost your mind, woman. Females are never allowed inside —’

  ‘I’ve got your tip, folded and shaped by the heat of your hand, as proof.’

  I stood only a few feet in front of him, crossing my arms beneath my breasts. ‘Yes, this is an indelicate matter to mention before the staff, but a desperate woman takes desperate measures. Better to expose myself as a shameless hussy trying to win her man’s affection than to expose other matters that have come to my attention. Isn’t it?’

  Once again, my tongue had jumped ahead of my strategy, dammit. Chapin’s pale-blue eyes hardened into marbles, in a face turned to stone. Worse yet, when Judd started snickering, my husband assumed I’d sucked his valet’s cock under the table too.

  ‘Don’t go popping any fly buttons, thinking Miss Eve did you the same favour, Mr Schuck,’ Monique chided. She stood taller, holding her head so her unruly topknot looked balanced. ‘That whole escapade — and today’s black lace caper — were my idea, Mr Proffit. Like she said, Miss Eve just wanted her man. And I just wanted Miss Eve to be happy. If this doesn’t please you, I will leave after I —’

  ‘You’re already gone, bitch. Mrs Frike will send your belongings when she finds time —’

  In the blink of her scalding-coffee eyes, the maid sprang forward to snatch the dildo from Chapin’s hand. The tattoo of her high-heeled boots in the hall, and then the slam of the front door, marked her departure. Without a backward glance, Monique Picabou was gone.

  ‘If any of you have any similar ridiculous notions about relations between my wife and me, you may collect your pay and leave.’

  The small study reverberated with silence, and the fidgeting of the three maids wearing short, sassy uniforms like Monique’s. They kept their panties pulled up these days, but if Chapin or his new watchdog caught a whiff of their equipment, I didn’t want to think about the fit my husband would throw!

  After a full minute of lording over us with his pointed glare and flaring nostrils, Chapin dismissed us. ‘Except for you, Miss Eve. We’ll continue our discussion after the others leave.’

  I stood aside to let them pass, noting the maids’ beleaguered looks and the apology etched on the housekeeper’s face. Schuck smirked, falling in at the end of the subdued parade.

  ‘I suppose you’re going to spank me for this,’ he jeered.

  ‘Bastard,’ came Fanny’s reply, ‘you’ll get yours, for telling tales on Miss Eve. Not worth the trouble of heating up my hand on your fat ass, that’s for sure.’

  My husband let these remarks pass, and then closed the door. He brushed the lapels of his natty double-breasted suit, and was still gripping them when he confronted me. ‘Where have you been, Mrs Proffit? Don’t bother lying! Everyone in the room smelled the reek of your sex.’

  I widened my eyes at him, thinking quickly. ‘I have a toy of my own, you know. Who’s to say —’

  ‘Where did you go, after you supposedly stopped by the club for me?’

  ‘And where were you?’ There was no point in mincing words, for what did I have to lose? ‘Just couldn’t wait to be with your niece, Savanna? Or did you visit that woman I saw leaving your room the other morning?’

  Chapin’s face paled until his eyebrows and lashes looked painted on. ‘I don’t have to answer to —’

  ‘Why not? For seven years you’ve treated me as though I’m no more enticing than a piece of your mother’s furniture!’ I blurted, grinding my fists into my hips. ‘I’m tired of feeling like —’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, cover yourself!’ He gestured at my poorly wrapped lace dress, scowling. ‘Any man would be upset to learn his wife is messing with her maid, but I have a campaign to manage! If it gets out that you’re one of those kind — or running around with that bastard Dewel —’

  ‘You won’t be the next mayor of New Orleans? Wouldn’t that be a shame?’

  I stalked towards the door without bothering to rewrap my dress, for I’d revealed far more than my breasts and my bush today. Chapin knew what I knew: he hadn’t refuted his dalliance with young Savanna, or the presence of that other woman in his suite. Like most men, he felt himself exempt from the social strictures binding a wife’s behaviour — and now, no amount of coaxing or cajoling would get him into my bed.

  Not that I wanted him any more. When I got to my room I locked my door, and then shoved my vanity in front of that open keyhole. His damn valet wouldn’t be privy to anything else I said or did either!

  * * *

  Schuck would’ve had little to witness as the night wore on, however. I couldn’t sleep: I was reliving my terror when Chapin hailed me from his study, and the anger that welled up as his insidious inquisition continued. Why had everything Dewel and Monique arranged for me, with the best intentions, gone sour? My husband always ruined it by appearing at just the wrong moment.

  I was partly to blame, of course: I had allowed the illegitimate Proffit and his Cajun protégée to take charge of my private life. It was no wonder Chapin railed about my deteriorating morals, for I’d undergone an amazing transformat
ion these past few weeks — just at the time his reputation depended on an obedient wife.

  Well, that was too damn bad! And there was no turning back, nor reverting to the previous Miss Eve, who followed the rules of a society and a husband who didn’t give a whit about my happiness.

  It grieved me, too, that Monique had left without so much as a furtive wink — anything to show that our friendship didn’t end with her position here. But she’d had no more choice about it than I had. Chapin perceived my maid as a threat to his almighty position in this household — in the entire city — so she got sacrificed on the altar of his gratification.

  A thumping above my head made me blink, and listen. Mrs Frike had a small suite behind the kitchen, but the main servants’ quarters were on the third floor. The sissy maids had made so little noise before this, it hadn’t occurred to me they might be right above my own room.

  Was that the bumping of a bed against a wall? I didn’t want to consider which of those effete young men was doing what to whom, yet the attraction was there. They had urges, just like I did. And now that Monique had established the intrigue of same-sex relations, I could hardly act repulsed about how my hired help behaved in their off hours.

  I heard a raised voice — Cinderella’s it was. ‘I don’t care what you say! Chapin Proffit is a horrid, manipulative bully who —’

  She got shushed, and as I glanced towards the corner of the ceiling, I saw a circular grate. It had once housed a furnace pipe, but since steam radiators had been installed on that top floor it served only as a vent for air circulation.

  I smiled, realising I had access to their conversations. But then, those three could listen in on my activities as well — and I suspected they already had.

  On impulse, I grabbed my fireplace poker, stood on the vanity bench, and tapped at the metal grate. The squabbling — which sounded suspiciously like part of a three-way sex session — came to an abrupt halt. I tapped again, in a pattern that couldn’t be taken as coincidence.

  An eye and a dark eyebrow appeared in the centre hole. ‘Yes, Miss Eve?’ Cleopatra said in a stage whisper. ‘If we’re being too noisy —’

  ‘No, I…just wanted someone to talk to.’ I was again aware of the impropriety of sharing my thoughts with the help, but Monique’s departure had left a void I was already feeling. ‘I’ll come up the back stairs. If that’s all right.’

  ‘That would be lovely!’ It was Cinderella’s face partially framed in the round opening now, peering down with an eye that appeared red from crying. ‘We must stick together, you know. It simply isn’t fair —’

  ‘See you in a moment,’ came the brunette’s calmer voice. ‘The princess is beside herself tonight.’

  I wrapped a robe around my nightgown and slipped down the hallway, wondering if Judd Schuck monitored this activity. Or perhaps, as the Golden Boy’s new pet, he was downstairs indulging in his master’s fine brandy and imported cigars, basking in the light of privilege and favour. Fine by me if those two kept each other company. They deserved each other.

  As I entered the large, dormered servants’ quarters, I felt as though I’d joined a pyjama party where young girls twittered the night away in gossip. But, of course, these ‘young ladies’ had cocks and balls clearly visible through their nighties. Their flat chests seemed incongruous, after I’d grown used to seeing them with stuffed uniforms. The room smelled of male musk, with overtones of perfume.

  Cinderella, draped in a lacy confection of translucent blue, greeted me with a hug. ‘I am so sorry about tonight, Miss Eve,’ she gushed. ‘We tried to persuade Mr Chapin that you were taking care of details for the Mardi Gras ball, but he wouldn’t believe us.’

  I hugged her, touched by her concern. ‘I was a fool to say as much as I did — especially about Mr Proffit’s own activities. But at least it’s all on the table now.’

  ‘We knew you were with Dewel, of course,’ Cleopatra said with a suggestive wink. She plucked at the strap of her beaded red peignoir, which flickered like embers each time she moved.

  ‘But it’s easy to see that you and the other Proffit are so perfectly matched — if you’ll pardon my saying so.’ Antoinette looked directly at me, with a speculative expression. Wrapped in a dressing gown of a pale green floral pattern, she was the most discreet of the three. ‘We saw you cavorting in the fountain with Tommy Jon and Monique, you see. And after that, we watched that handsome Creole take control of you, until you were crying out with —’

  My appalled expression made the redhead grin.

  ‘We couldn’t resist watching,’ she said with a coy shrug. ‘It inspired a night of our own sort of…cavorting.’

  I swallowed hard, slipping free of Cinderella’s embrace. I hadn’t realised just how visible my trysting had been…how much evidence my husband could’ve gathered by stepping out to the gallery. ‘Do you think Chapin saw us?’

  ‘No. He was out that evening, remember?’ Cleo replied. ‘With Schuck trotting along behind him like a damn bulldog, kissing his butt.’

  ‘And I, for one, refuse to let it pass!’ Cinderella stiffened with renewed resolve. With two pink cheeks aglow on her porcelain face, and her blonde hair flowing past her behind, she looked like Rapunzel pitching a fit. ‘We have our ways of getting back at those two —’

  ‘Don’t get noticed. Get revenge.’ Even with her exotic cosmetics washed off, Cleopatra had a regal bearing as she sat against her propped-up pillow, demurely arranging her red peignoir over her outstretched legs.

  ‘Be careful. We’re the next to go,’ Antoinette agreed. ‘And what choice would we have, but to crawl back to the School, to grovel at Miss Delacroix’s feet? I say we construct a plan that will not only benefit Miss Eve, but cover our own asses as well.’

  I studied the redhead with a new respect, for she spoke with a voice of calm in this storm; her loyalty was clear, yet she had no illusions about its consequences. I wished I had more of Antoinette’s allure and Russell’s practicality.

  ‘I hope you can remain until the ball next week,’ I said. ‘You’re excellent help, and Fanny and I need —’

  ‘A masked ball is just the place to wreak a little revenge — if we have your permission to wear costumes.’

  Toinette had obviously given some thought to this subject before tonight’s confrontation with my husband. ‘I see no reason why you can’t,’ I replied after a moment’s thought. Then I had to smile, sensing these maids craved the dressing-up as much as paying Chapin back.

  ‘Shall we choose something from that…other woman’s wardrobe? The clothes locked away in the attic?’

  My eyes widened further. ‘Oh, my, yes! Won’t that be a shock — and with me in that Bo Peep outfit his dear mama probably wore!’

  ‘Exactly.’ The redhead waxed foxlike. ‘He’ll be too busy hosting his influential friends to raise any sort of ruckus at the ball, since he needs us to keep the tables filled.’

  ‘And he wouldn’t question where those costumes came from either — at least not until afterwards,’ Cleopatra remarked. ‘I like it! It’s time we put his uppity ass in a sling, and hang Judd Schuck’s beside it! They have no right to mistreat you this way, Miss Eve.’

  Cinderella was dabbing her eyes with an eyelet handkerchief, looking brighter by the moment. ‘Is there something in a pretty blue for me? With shoes fit for a princess?’

  ‘I think you’d all look stunning dressed as the royalty Monique named you for,’ I said with a chuckle. ‘That way, I can keep track of you. The house will be awash in a sea of outrageous Mardi Gras costumes, you know. Glorious to behold, but we’ll have no idea who’s behind those elaborate masks.’

  The furtive allure of this plan was making my pulse thrum, with only one regret. ‘I don’t suppose Monique will get here though. And she’d be in her element on such a night.’

  The three maids glanced at each other. Then Antoinette smiled, with that same intimate bravado she’d shown in the attic. ‘Have you ever known Mistress Monique not
to have her way?’

  22 A Dual Proffit, Revealed

  With every waking moment of the following week occupied by preparations for the party, I had no time to stew over my personal predicament — and no chance to further incriminate myself, for I saw nothing of Dewel or Monique. It was as though my life had returned to its previous balance, before those two conspirators turned my world upside down with passionate possibilities I’d never dreamed existed.

  This tranquility was an illusion, however. Beneath the glasslike smoothness of that oasis pond, the muddy bottom waited to be churned up once again by the strained emotions and revelations of the past week. Chapin and his valet were gone late into the evenings, pandering to political supporters — or so they said. The maids and Mrs Frike laboured like souls possessed, staying out of Chapin’s sight when he was home. I had but one purpose, and that was to hostess the grandest masked ball New Orleans had ever seen — hoping that after the election, my husband would return to his more regulated life of cotton commerce and the Beau Monde Club, and possibly playing mayor, so I could return to my own routine as well.

  Things would never be the same, of course. But after this party and the election, I could escape the public eye. I could ponder and pursue a life that fulfilled my emotional and sexual needs — an unheard-of luxury for most Southern ladies, which had become an absolute necessity for me.

  So, on the morning before the ball, as I was on a last shopping excursion in the Vieux Carré, I didn’t anticipate seeing Honore Delacroix — and certainly not with Tommy Jon Beaumont! I paused in the doorway of a little bakery, and then ducked into the nearest alley to remain unseen. The headmistress of the School for Domestic Endeavor was plying her wiles as only an experienced demigoddess could do: arrayed in shimmering shades of purple silk, with a matching, peacock-feathered, veiled hat angled coquettishly over her coal-black hair, she was flirting with him! Teasing T-Jon with the bending of her gloved finger in a come-hither, which I could only assume was for a kiss.