Debauchery in the Library
I found Penelope in the library, relaxing with a book: History of the Russian Empire, Volume One - a pet subject of mine. Nicholas had gone off fishing for the day with Penelope's brother -- Christopher - who had decided to join the party for a few days before continuing his way to the South of France where he was to take his annual vacation. He too, was a good-looking fellow of 23, with his long black hair tied in a ponytail which shone with various shades of reds and hints of gold every time the sunlight caught it. He was two years older than Nicholas and twelve years younger than I. He had been the best man at his sister's wedding and had joined us after seeing to some urgent business matters.
He and Nicholas, with no little encouragement from myself, had decided to fish Cowley Lake for carp, a subject with which I was well acquainted. There were some fine specimens in the pond, the best of them running upwards of forty pounds. I had advised them on the best spots and methods that were most likely to yield good fish.
I had been pleased to observe that Nicholas and I seemed to be on good terms after his ordeal at my hands. In fact I was surprised how quickly he had come round, showing me great courtesy and warmth. Even Penelope seemed to bear me no malice, and I even detected in her a sense of fairness and affection towards me. I found this encouraging and was determined to take advantage of her good nature as soon as possible for she was a sweet little thing, and although my feelings inclined towards young men rather than young women, I felt she would nonetheless offer some reasonable entertainment during the interim of main events.
She was lounging on one of the heavily-upholstered leather armchairs, looking as pretty as a picture. She lolled back in the seat with one leg casually crossed over the other, a gesture I rather fancy had more than an element of design about it, for her frock had ridden up just above the knee and looked quite provocative. She had on yet another of her pretty floral dresses from her travelling collection. The design was quite daring, with a high hem and low neckline which showcased her fine calves and slim ankles and creamy white bubbies quite beautifully.
She wore sandals of a kind that you sometimes saw in prints of ancient Egyptian etchings, depicting masters and their entourage of slaves. They contained her feet in a gesture of symbolic bondage, the straps criss-crossing and appearing to cut into her flesh; though this was apparently an illusion because she looked perfectly comfortable in them. But they tended to make her look appealing to me in a subservient way.
She looked up from her book. Her neck was swan-like in elegance and her face radiated glowing health beneath the creamy complexion. I sensed a mixture gaiety and mischief in her sparkling eyes and easy smile. She seemed pleased to see me.
"Mr Jack... I didn't hear you come in."
"I hope I'm not intruding, my dear. I just popped in for a book. I thought you were out walking."
This was a lie. I knew very well where she had secreted herself away, for I had been watching her closely all morning, a fact that she was well aware of. She had been flitting about me at a distance all morning, giving me the look, playing with her hair and angling her head coyly, like some affected teenager, which in a way, she was. I knew she was giving me positive signals and wanted me to follow her and find her; but of course, now I'd actually caught up with her we were to maintain a charade of ignorance.
I indicated the book she was holding. "An excellent choice."
"It's a fascinating story. You have a fine collection, sir." "Please... call me Jack... not sir, or Mr Jack. Just Jack... at least for the time we are alone together."
"Alone?"
"As the men are out fishing for the day and we are unlikely to be disturbed, it might be nice to take this opportunity to get to know each other better. Perhaps we could talk awhile?"
"As you wish, Jack. And what would you like to talk about?"
"You, my dear. You interest me. I bet you have led a fascinating life."
She blushed deliciously at my flattery. "Me..? I've lived no life. Why, I'm only just nineteen. What kind of life could I possibly have had that would interest a man of the world like yourself?"
"You'd be surprised."
Penelope laughed gaily, closed the book and put in on the little table next to her. "Come on then... What would you like to know?"
"You must at least have dreams, Penelope? Everybody has dreams."
"Ooh, only boring ones I'm afraid."
"But there must be something you can tell me... about married life perhaps..? Your relationship with Nicholas? And what about your handsome brother? I'd wager there were a few things you could tell me about him."
"I could, but I'd rather leave it to him to blow his own trumpet. I suppose he is rather dashing - at least, to other women. He is only my brother after all."
Penelope suddenly looked troubled.
"Actually Jack... There is one thing..."
"Yes?"
"It is a matter of some delicacy. If I am to discuss it with you, I would need your assurance that you will not breathe a word to anybody else... particularly Nicholas."
"Penelope, my dear. I am the very soul of discretion. What you tell me in confidence will go no further than these four walls. I give you my word."
"Thank you. It concerns my relationship with my husband. Something is different now."
"In what way?"
"Ever since you held us both prisoner and forced yourself upon Nicholas, his attitude towards me has changed. On our wedding night he was considerate and attentive towards me, but now, ever since the episode in the stables a few days ago, he seems colder. He still makes love to me, but it isn't me, if you know what I mean."
"Go on."
"I mean, he goes through the motions, but I feel his heart and mind are somewhere else and that I am only an object, an instrument for sating his desire. I feel like I'm being used. Sometimes I feel he is making love to me but imagining I am someone else."
