Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (22 page)

“I shall take Care,” I said, “to leave Antoinette exactly as intact as I shall find her.”

Mrs Haywood kissed me on the Cheek, and then, bidding me stay till I should be fetched, spun about in a red Hiss of Silk, and left the Atrium.

I was by now so cheared of mine earlier black Passion that it began to seem as if the Howling in mine Head had never been. The mere Decision to bury it had achieved that Design as efficiently as would its practical Enactment. I was astonished by this Fact, and intrigued. What wonderfull Faculty within mine Imagination had translated the Idea alone into the material Balm by which my bodily
Passions could be eased? Again, I thought, something hath closed the Gap betwixt Body and Thought.

“Mr Hart?”

Roused from my Reflexions, I lifted mine Head and beheld Annie standing in the far Doorway, which led to the Stairs. At the Sight of her, the Concupiscence of my Loins happily reawakened; the electric Fluid pooled at the base of my Spine.

I steppt smartly forward and took both her Hands in mine. A gentle Beginning, but already I was feeling for her Pulse.

She led me quietly up the Stairs to a back Bedroom, hastily prepared, in which all the common Regalia of the Harlot’s Trade were in plain Sight; the Dildoes, the Brandy, the Laudanum. Upon a small Table at the Side of the Bed was a Roman Vase, filled, not with Flowers, but with many long, stiff Feathers, plucked originally from a Goose, but dyed into a Rainbow that shone out against the dark brown Curtain. Upon the Floor at the Base of the Bed was a small iron Chest. It was locked, but Mrs Haywood had, some Months ago, at my Request, furnished me with a Key.

I ordered Annie to strip intirely naked before me, whilst I watched. This she did, altho’ initially she expresst Suspicion at the Presence of the Chest.

“Mrs Haywood didn’t say nuffin’ about that,” she said.

I told her truthfully that it was not my Desire that she be whippt, and she then, quite chearfully, divested herself of her Garments. I pondered what, if anything, Mrs Haywood had told her, and for a Moment I thought that I ought to explain to her what mine Intention was. Previously, I had had no intimate Dealings with Annie, altho’ she had been present once or twice in the early Dayes when, still compelled by the base Need to fuck, I had pinned down one of the other Women in her Presence.
Perhaps, I thought, that is what she imagines to be mine Intention now. Certainly, she hath Reason to assume it: I have never made Trial of any Woman here but Polly. But then I recalled that Annie was an experienced Whore, and that if Mrs Haywood had not told her, she ought to have guessed. Her Surprize is counterfeit, I told My Self. I smiled.

Seeing me smile, Annie wriggled her nude Form before my Face, and with an artful Expression doubtless intended to entice me, positioned herself atop the Bed with her fleshy Thighs spread to their farthest Extent, and her ample Breasts thrust upwards.

This fulfilled not half my Purpose, so, instructing her to remain thus poised, I withdrew my Key, which I kept always about my Person, and opened up the strong-Box. Alas, no hot Irons; but Instruments of Torture equally dear, and surely less equivocal. I quickly selected two Pairs of Shackles and a blindfold.

At the Sight of mine Appearance, Annie tried to quit the Bed, crying: “Liar!” and she put up a vigorous Resistance. But I was so much the stronger, that within very few Minutes I had her secured by her Ankles and her Wrists to the four Posts of the Bed, and the Blindfold tied across her Eyes. Then I took a deep Breath. I was ready to begin.

I shall take this slowly, I thought, hardening my Mind. I shall savour every Moment before quenching my Fire upon her at the very End.

I removed my Frock and my Waistcoat, and unlaced my Breeches. The black Hair of mine Arms was visible thro’ the Lace of my Cuffs. I heard the Voice of Lady B.——, calling me Jew.

“Be quiet, you Bitch!” I snapped. Annie had begun to swear and cry. “There is worse to come than this,” I said.

Mindful of Mrs Haywood’s Prescription that I leave no Mark, I
had already determined that the largest Portion of Annie’s Torment should be mental. There was, I knew, a certain piteous Enchantment to be enjoyed in the Whimperings of Fear, as in those of Pain, altho’ the Sound was subtilely different, and the Effects, generally, somewhat less dramatic. Additionally, as Annie had undresst, and engaged upon her little Pantomime, I had realised that I had neither Patience nor Desire to be attentive to her Condition, as I would have had to be if I had beat her. So I sate down upon the Bed at Annie’s Side, and gently ran mine Hand over the Hollow of her Throat, the scarred, child-ruined Fat of her Belly.

“Dost honestly believe,” I began, acting my Part, “that Mrs Haywood hath any genuine Regard for your Person, or, indeed, your Life? Poor, misguided Antoinette. Mrs Haywood hath told me that I may do anything I want with you, that you are quite dried up, and fit for nothing else. You are naught to her. But you can be very useful to me. For a long Time I have desired the Opportunity to perform a Vivisection upon an healthy Female, and you are to be the Specimen.” I ran both my Hands again over the delicate Expanses of her Breasts, and the Image of the creamy glandular Tissue within opened up reflexively before my Mind’s Eye. As I finished speaking, she became intirely still, and I judged that she was pondering whether I could be telling Truth or no; unless she simply did not apprehend the Meaning of the Word “Vivisection’. Against this latter Possibility, I put my Lips once more to her Ear, and explained precisely what it did mean, and the exquisite Agonies I imagined she would endure thereby.

“’Taint True,” she said, tho I could hear the tiniest Gleam of Doubt in her Voice. “Mrs Haywood wouldn’t. You daren’t.”

“Daren’t? Wherefore should not I dare anything? Whoever would come after me? If you die, Mrs Haywood will help me to throw
your Body in the Stink. You are not her precious Pauline. She hath decided to cut her Losses; you do not earn enough to pay for your Keep.”

“I do!” Annie said. “I do!”

“If you have any Peace to make with God,” I said, “’Twere better that you make it.”

I then, for I was near upon the Point of attaining my Desire, took from the Vase upon the bedside Table, one of the long goose Feathers that had appeared so bright against the dark Hangings of the Bed. “Antoinette,” I said softly. “I am going to cut you.”

“No!” Annie cried, and she began to thrash and strain hard against her Bonds. Obscenities rose from her in a vicious Cloud. Yes, I thought. A wild, intoxicating Gush surged lightning fast from my Stomach to my Loins, and back again; so potent that I was nigh doubled over and thrown down upon my Knees. Panting hard, I turned the Feather in mine Hand and presst the hard Quill roughly into the soft Flesh of Annie’s Breast.

Annie screamed.

It had not the extatic Beauty of Lady B.——’s anguished Shriek, but it was a fair Yell, sparkling and bright. I freed my virile Member from my Breeches, and poised My Self between Annie’s Legs. But that first Scream was failing; I knew that I must induce another if I was to reach my Glory, so I dragged the Quill down, across the Breast, quite quick and in a slicing Motion. Once more she screamed; and as the high, volatile Sound filled the Alembic of the Chamber, my Mind vanished, the Feather tumbled from my Fingers, and I spilled mine heavenly Delight all over the plump Whiteness of her Thighs.

I did not intirely know how much Time had passt when I noticed that the Screaming had stoppt. I lifted my Body from Annie’s, and
saw, to mine Amazement, that she was limp and senseless. “Antoinette?” I ventured. Then I realised that, for the second Time that Daye, my Lady had lost Consciousness. I sate up. Annie’s creamy Skin had taken on a greyish Pallour, and was clammy to my Touch. It appeared that she had fainted, truly fainted, thro’ pure Fear.

“Damme! Damme!”

All my Desire for Annie, or for anyone else thro’ her Proxy, was now extinguished. I swiftly removed her Blindfold and Shackles, bruising mine own Finger in mine Haste, and felt again to assess the Quality of her Pulse. Finding it regular, if somewhat shallow, I laid her upon her Side lest she should vomit, and covered her with the Counterpane before the Shock could chill her vital Organs. I hurriedly relaced my Breeches, and dresst.

Mine Attention then returned to Annie, who was beginning to regain her Senses. To mine unparalleled Relief I perceived that her Complexion had lost its deathly Aspect, and that a little Warmth was beginning to creep back into her Skin. I approached the small Table at the Bedside, and poured a Glass of Brandy from the Bottle thereon. Then I sate My Self upon the Bed. I stroaked Annie’s Hair, and watched her Features closely as her Eyelids fluttered. She gave a tiny Whimper, then her blue Eyes flashed awake and she drew Breath to give me yet another Scream. I placed mine Hand over her Mouth.

“Hush, now,” I said. “All is over. I shall not harm you. Nor have I; you are not cut.”

I made her to sit up, and presst into her shivering Hands the Tumbler of Brandy. She recoiled from me and scrambled to the other Side of the Bed. “You Fuckster,” she said. “You evil prick-docked Fuckster.”

“As you wish,” I said. “It is over, none the less.” I got to my Feet. Annie’s Words had reassured me that she was recovering rapidly from her Fright. Yet as I looked at her, her Face seemed, for one short, shifting Instant, to be not her own, but that of a Gypsy Girl, frightened and furious in the early dawn Light.

Evil, I thought. Evil, evil.

Guilt thudded thro’ me like a Spear. I reached into my Pocket and withdrew my Purse. I took out three Shillings—all, presently, that it contained—and placed them upon the Table next to the candle Snuffer. “I lied,” I said. “Mrs Haywood told me explicitly that you must not be marked. But we both know that will not last. Save what you can and pay off your Debts to her before you are too poxed and old for her to care what Condition anyone should leave you in.”

I turned, and fled.

*   *   *

That night, I did not sleep. The peccant Medusa of the Cancer hung before me in mine Eye, its vicious Filaments spreading. I greatly feared that Dr Hunter had not cut all of it away. ’Twould be preferable, I thought, in such a Case, if the intire Breast were to be removed; there would be a far better Chance of excising the Whole. If one Morsel hath been retained, the Evil will revive; and she surely will not consent to a second Operation.

If I were evil, how could I credit my Diagnosis?

I vainly tried to distract My Self from mine Anxieties by letting my Mind run over the Incident at the Brothel. I knew that the Pain I had inflicted upon Annie had been minor, yet she had responded to it as if it had been the most extream Agony. I could only conclude that her Sensitivity to the physical Sensation had been intirely
due to the Words and Ideas I had put into her Mind. These had, somehow, so heightened Annie’s perceptual Experience of her Torture that she had verily perceived that I was cutting into her Flesh. Fear, and Pain, had become one Experience. As Dr Hunter had said: the State of Mind was paramount. I had been acting a Part, but Annie, clearly, had not. She had thought that the thing had been intirely real. The fearsome Idea of Pain—a purely mental thing—had so powerfully affected her Senses and her bodily Reactions that she had fainted away as cleanly as if I had genuinely made her the Subject of a Vivisection.

This Analysis gave no Comfort. It was slowly becoming horribly plain to me that I had done Annie Harm, real and most likely lasting, for all that it was not of a physical Nature. Moreover, I could not hide from the Knowledge that her Injury had not been accidental to my taking Pleasure or finding Relief. Bad enough, had it been so; but I had suspected at the first that she had not fully understood what was to happen, and because I was angry and impatient, I had let My Self believe that this did not matter. Perhaps, indeed, I had secretly preferred it thus. I had tortured her to play out the Phantasy of taking my Revenge upon that other Woman whose very Life had lain beneath mine Hands, and which for very Shame I should never have dreamed make manifest. It had not been accidental. I had wanted to break her.

Evil, evil.

Since the Incident with the infant Bat, it had become mine Habit, when I could not sleep, to steal down-Stairs in Search of a Panacea; so, at about three in the Morning, this I did. The House was silent and, I thought, abed. But upon opening the library Door, I discovered, to my Shock, that I was not alone. Mr Henry Fielding, who rarely left his Bed once he was got into it, had limped painfully
down-Stairs and was sitting in a high backed Armchair, lawfully partaking of the very Nantes I had intended to pilfer. Seeing me stoppt short within the Doorway, he raised an Eyebrow and his Glass, and beckoned me to come forth.

“So,” he said with a slow Chuckle. “Caught in the Act, Mr Hart. I take it that you were about to help yourself to my Brandy?”

Appalled, I stood motionless. “I apologise,” I said, as my Face grew hot.

“I can always tell when Tristan Hart hath suffered a bad Night,” Mr Fielding said. “For my Nantes will be half empty in the Morning, without fail.”

I made an incoherent Sound, and wished that the Floor would chasm and swallow me; but naturally it did not, and I remained standing in the Doorway, my Cheeks blazing and my Sentiments dismayed.

Mr Fielding laughed. “Be easy,” he said. “I shall not put you in the Bridewell, Robber tho’ you be. Come and join me in a Glass.”

Too horribly embarrassed to know whether I ought better to accept or to decline this kind Offer, I chose to accept it, and gratefully steppt up to the cup Board, where I poured My Self an half-Measure of Brandy.

“Do not you stint yourself, Tristan,” Mr Fielding said. “You are not usually so abstemious. Double that and be damned.”

“Mr Fielding,” I said, taking him at his Word and sloshing a few more Ounces of the dark Liquid into my Glass. “I am sorry for my Conduct, and I do apologise, Sir; but I must object to being made fun of.”

“Oho!” Mr Fielding exclaimed, sitting up in his Armchair. “Must you, indeed! Object, indeed! Well, well, young Man, I shall let pass your ill Humour in addition to your criminal one; if you will tell
me what brings you down-Stairs in the Middle of as chill a Night as this?”