Town and Country

Anne awoke early on her last day at Guy's. She got no breakfast; there was no point to wasting food on her, she would soon have no need of it.

Nor would she be allowed to serve the prisoners again next month. But another girl would do just as well for them, they were not particular.

She saw the attic noose and could not look away. Soon she would hang from it.

Or maybe not; he could save himself the trouble of carrying her down the stairs after if he did it outside. A sturdy beam projected from the barn over the sandbox. Yes, that would be the logical place.

And the fast-draining sand beneath it offered another way. He kept a large carving knife in the kitchen separate from the other ones, and she noticed he never used it in preparing his meals.

The line on her belly was a memory of her beloved, so straight and carefully drawn, surely for this purpose; he would use it as a guide. And he would want to wear an apron.

It was a connection between her and Francesca and Guy; she blessed them both.

She hoped that when her time came he would not hang her upside down by her heels like a pig. No, by her wrists, easier that way. But whether he backed her against a wall or simply made her stand, she would do her best to remain still while he did her. She had lost all power to resist his wishes even in her thoughts.

Mid-morning she heard a car drive up to the house. No one ever visited Guy. Perhaps he asked someone to handle her execution or dispose of her afterwards. She knelt in quiet acceptance.

She heard the front door open and two people ascending the attic stairs. They stood over her.

"I think she's lost weight," Francesca said.

Anne knew not to speak, but her heart was so light she could have floated up on her chain like a balloon. She saw Francesca was wearing her pretty flower-print dress.

Guy led her outside - she fairly danced behind her owner down the steps - before handing the end of her leash to Francesca. The air was cool but the sun warmed her skin as she stood for inspection.

Joy overcame her; she dropped to her knees and kissed his black shoes. They were steel-toed, she never noticed that before. Then she kissed Francesca's pastel pumps which were softer on her lips, and very respectfully the hem of her owner's garment.

Francesca laughed and told her to stand up. Anne raised her head for a moment; she saw her owner look at Guy, and Guy nod; she never learned what it meant, but she hoped it was a good sign.

It must have been, because Francesca kissed her on the forehead. Anne's knees buckled and Francesca held her till she recovered. Guy stowed her in the car; his touch on her bare shoulders was gentle as he helped her into the front seat.

Francesca had much to tell Anne on their way back to the city. Just yesterday she gave Lise to Helene; it should be a good match, they seemed made for each other.

She also shared a hopeful rumor; Mr. Schuyler thought Sir Nigel was coming to accept that he could not have Anne, and had turned his attention elsewhere. He might even be contemplating a trip abroad in his yacht.

And she had discussed a plan with Mr. Schuyler to complete Anne's training. "I handled his town girls while Frieda was away at his country place." She watched Anne narrowly for her reaction but there was none, just a demure smile and downcast eyes. "In return he offered me her services for your benefit; it's very handsome of him."

They paused to eat at the same roadside rest they visited six months earlier and Francesca unpacked the lunch. She cleared leaves from a patch of soil with her foot before pouring out a small amount of feed pellets; Anne ate them all and by mistake a centipede without a second thought.

Spring flowers were blooming in the garden by Francesca's apartment building as she walked Anne inside, and down into the basement that Anne did not expect to see again. Her owner's control of the leash had a firmness that Marc or Sir Nigel would have envied.

Once inside, Anne dropped to her knees and crawled over to her corner. Francesca tied her to the wall chain and brushed her hair for a minute before leaving.

She had removed the mattress, leaving Anne to lie on the bare concrete. And there was only the water bowl; Anne would eat off the floor from now on. Her eyes misted to see her owner had swept it clean for her return.

And the gleaming steel hook attached to a beam overhead was new.

That night she slept in her coal bin for the first time in months; as she lay there she missed - something, she could not say what - from her training at Guy's.

Perhaps Guy himself; she had grown fond of him and his little habits like standing behind her and watching her hips wiggle as she ate from her bowl. Sometimes he found the sight so attractive he pulled her hams open and took her on the spot. But her home now was whatever barn, basement, or kennel she was stabled in.

Those thoughts were driven out of her head each morning by the need to help Francesca in the days before exams.

She welcomed her friends the rats and tried to lie very still when they ran over her. She was too hungry to leave them any food but there was plenty of water in her bowl to share.

Francesca made arrangements with Mr. Schuyler and they worked out a schedule. She rose early and brought Anne up to her apartment where Anne prepared her breakfast. She fed the kitchen scraps to Anne, who carefully washed the eggshells and cut up the banana skins and potato peels. Her parents would be pleased to see her diligence.

She put the coffee grounds in her food dish on the floor along with the other refuse and waited for her owner's approval to begin.

Then she washed the dishes and knelt until Frieda appeared, to take her away for "finishing". On sunny days the servant walked Anne to Mr. Schuyler's. Clad in her gray smock she drove Anne like a donkey, holding the leash in one hand and a short pointed goad in the other. Oblivious to the impression she made, Anne kept her head down and looked at the sidewalk, jumping occasionally when Frieda prodded her.

They entered the townhouse by a side door and walked down a corridor, passing a small room with a hook in the ceiling. Mr. Schuyler had begun to employ the scourge, hiring Naomi when Sir Nigel called in his loans and Mme. Messier's school went bankrupt. The once grand madame was now reduced to prostituting herself, bringing sailors to her shabby room near the docks.

Frieda allowed Anne to pause and look into the room. Once she saw a young woman with long blonde hair, pale and very tall, suspended from the hook; her hands almost touched it and her face was frozen with terror as Naomi placed a wad of fabric in her mouth. Naomi fastened her hair up out of the way and stroked her breasts to soothe her before reaching for the scourge. The fleece between her legs was a rich red brown, already speckled with moisture.

It was Lise's former owner, who had chosen the same life as her girl. Mr. Schuyler took her on as Lise's replacement and was preparing her for training at St. Agnes. She would be of interest to a client of his, a tribal chieftain in the Congo.

Another time they arrived at the end of a session to see a short brunette covered with an artful pattern of lines, kissing each of Naomi's fingers.

On one occasion she viewed three girls suspended; she had not noticed a row of hooks in back. Naomi was doing one in the center of the room while the other two, already gagged like the first, waited their turn. Their eyes were wide as they watched Naomi at her work, each wondering who would be next and who saved for last.

She never saw any of these girls afterwards. A year ago she would have wondered what became of them, but that did not occur to her; she took it all in without curiosity, or concern that her owner would send her to Naomi as well. When Frieda prodded her she moved on.

In the gymnasium Giselle, the dark-haired girl Anne met at the recital, awaited them on her knees wearing only a collar and bracelets. They shook a little as she helped Frieda stretch Anne on the frame; she belonged to Frieda, a new year's gift from Mr. Schuyler.

Giselle's skin showed just a few recent marks of the lash. A docile obedient girl, she needed only occasional chastisement for negligence. She slept in Frieda's room at the foot of her owner's bed; whether Frieda took her into it was a subject of debate among the servants. But after Anne was hung up she saw Frieda stroke Giselle's behind, and she knew. She hoped the young woman would not envy her.

The trainer was careful not to cause any lasting physical damage, but with businesslike efficiency she drove Anne out of her mind every day.

At noon she put a water bottle to Anne's lips and gave Giselle a bowl of paste to share. Giselle ate a spoonful, then fed one to Anne, repeating till the bowl was empty. She held her face so close that Anne tasted her sweet breath. She felt a growing warmth toward the other girl. Once her mind wandered and Giselle pinched a nipple to bring her attention back to the spoon.

Frieda left her in Giselle's care for half an hour. The girl wiped the sweat off her - Anne became ardent under her caresses - and knelt a short distance away, studying her. Still dazed, Anne tried to remember where she was. When Frieda returned, Giselle told her owner whether Anne had shown any sign of intelligence.

Obedience lessons occupied the early afternoon. Anne struggled to perform Frieda's commands as quickly as Guy's. Success was rewarded with a cookie sometimes, and hesitation with an electric prod. Then Frieda resumed the derangement of her subject, and at three she took Anne up to Mr. Schuyler's office for his use until four o'clock. Sometimes he invited friends and they shared her.

A few minutes past the hour Frieda returned and put the meek, trembling creature into the back of the utility van for the journey home. No one who knew her as the self-assured career girl of just eighteen months ago would recognize her now.

The old woman hung Anne by her wrists from the ceiling hook, or chained her in the coal bin where she lay on her back staring blankly at the ceiling until her owner returned.

Francesca asserted her authority by bending Anne over the leather chair, putting a hand between her legs and stroking her haunches with the other while Anne wept with joy. She poured a small pile of supper on the floor for Anne and stood over her until she was done.

Then she kissed Anne on the cheek and went upstairs without a word, leaving her in darkness. Anne lay on the floor and repeated her owner's name to herself - softly, like a prayer - until she fell asleep.

One night shortly before she drifted off she realized Francesca's plan to "break" her was succeeding, and smiled; but the thought faded out and did not return.