Tipping the Velvet (45 page)

I gave a cry, and staggered. When I put a hand to my face, I found blood upon it - from my nose, but also from a gash beneath my eye, where the edge of the leather-bound spine had caught it. I reached for a shoulder or an arm, against which to steady myself; but now all the ladies shrank away from me, and I almost stumbled. I looked once at Diana. She also had reeled, after dealing me the blow; but Evelyn was beside her with her arm about her waist. She said nothing to me; and I, at last, was quite incapable of speech. I think I coughed, or snorted. There came a splatter of blood upon the Turkey rug, that made the ladies draw even further from me, and give little moues of surprise and disgust. Then I turned, and staggered from the room.

At the door stood Maria's whippet, Satin, and when he saw me he barked. Maria had set him there, with a dog's head of papier mâché fixed to each side of his collar, to represent the hound that stood on guard at the gate of Hades.

The marble floor of the hall, as I have said, we had scattered with roses: it was terribly hard to cross it, in bare feet, with my ringing head and my hand at my cheek. Before I had reached the staircase, I heard a step behind me, and a bang. I turned to see Zena there: Diana had sent her from the room in my wake, then had the door shut on us. She gazed at me, then came to put a hand upon my arm: ‘Oh, miss ...'

And I - who had saved her from Diana's wildness only, as it seemed to me then, to have that wildness turned upon myself — I shook her from me. ‘Don't you touch me!' I cried. Then I ran from her, to my own room, and closed the door.

 

And sat there wretched, in the darkness, nursing my oozing cheek. Below me, after a few more minutes of silence, there came the sound of the piano; and then came laughter, and then shouts. They were carrying on their revelling, without me! I could not credit it. The sport with Zena, the insults, the blow and the bleeding nose - these seemed only to have made the marvellous party more gay and marvellous still.

If only Diana had sent her guests home. If only I had placed my head beneath my pillow, and forgotten them. If only I had not grown miserable, and peevish, and vengeful, at the sound of their fun.

If only Zena had not forgiven me my harshness in the hall — had not come creeping to my door, to ask me, was I very hurt, and was there anything that she could do, to comfort me.

When I heard her knock, I flinched: I was sure it must be Diana, seeking me out to torture me or — perhaps, who knew? — to caress me. When I saw that it was Zena, I stared.

‘Miss,' she said. She had a candle in her hand, and its flame dipped and fluttered, sending shadows dancing crazily about the walls. ‘I couldn't go up, knowing you was here all bruised and bleeding - and all, oh! all on my account!

I sighed. ‘Come in,' I said, ‘and close the door.' And when she had done that, and stepped nearer to me, I put my head in my hands and groaned. ‘Oh Zena,' I said, ‘what a night! What a night!'

She set down her candle. ‘I've got a cloth,' she said, ‘with a little bit of ice in it. If you'll just - permit me -' I lifted my head, and she placed the cloth against my cheek, so that I winced. ‘What a corker of an eye you'll have!' she said. Then, in a different tone: ‘What a devil that woman is!' She began to wipe away the blood that was crusted about my nostril - lowering herself upon the bed, at my side, and placing her free hand upon my shoulder to brace herself against me, as she did so.

Gradually, however, I became aware that she was trembling. ‘It's the cold, miss,' she said. ‘Only the cold and, well, the bit of fright I had downstairs ...' But as she said it, I felt her shudder harder than ever, and she began to weep. ‘The truth is,' she said through her tears, ‘I could not bear the thought of lying up there in my own room, with them wicked ladies roaming about the place. I thought, that they might come and have another go at me ...”

‘There now,' I said. I took the cloth from her and placed it on the floor. Then I drew the counterpane from the bed, and set it about her shoulders. ‘You shall stay here with me, where the ladies cannot get you ...' I put my arm around her, and her head came against my ear. She still wore her servant's cap; now I took the pins from it and drew it from her, and her hair fell to her shoulders. It was scented with burning roses, and with the spice from the wine, Smelling it, with Zena warm against my shoulder, I began suddenly to feel drunker than I had all night. Perhaps it was only that my head was reeling, from the force. of Diana's blow.

I swallowed. Zena put a handkerchief to her nose, and grew a little stiller. There came, from the floors below, the sound of running feet, a furious thundering upon the piano, and a scream of laughter.

‘Just listen to them!' I said, growing bitter again. ‘Partying like anything! They have forgotten all about us, sitting miserable up here ...'

‘Oh, I hope they have!'

‘Of course they have. We might be doing anything, it wouldn' t matter to them! Why, we might be having a party of our own!' She blew her nose, then giggled. My head gave a sort of tilt. I said: ‘Zena! Why shouldn't we have a party, just the two of us! How many bottles of champagne are there left, in the kitchen?'

‘There are loads of 'em.'

‘Well, then. Just you run down and fetch us one.'

She bit her lip. ‘I don't know ...'

‘Go on, you shan't be seen. They are all in the drawing-room, and you can go by the back stairs. And if anyone does see you, and asks, you can say you are fetching it for me. Which is true.'

‘Well...'

‘Go on! Take your candle!' I rose, then took hold of her hands and pulled her to her feet; and she - infected at last by my new recklessness - gave another giggle, put her fingers to her lips, then tip-toed from the room. While she was gone I lit a lamp, but kept it turned very low. She had left her cap upon the bed: I picked it up and set it on my own head, and when she returned five minutes later and saw me wearing it she laughed out loud.

She carried a dewy bottle and a glass. ‘Did you see any ladies?' I asked her.

‘I saw a couple, but they never saw me. They were at the scullery door and - oh! they was kissing the guts out of each other!'

I imagined her standing in the shadows, watching them. I went to her and took the bottle, then peeled away the lead wrapper from its neck. ‘You've shaken it up,' I said. ‘It'll go off with a real bang!' She put her hands over her ears, and shut her eyes. I felt the cork squirm in the glass for a second; then it leapt from my fingers, and I gave a yell: ‘Quick! Quick! Bring a glass!' A creamy fountain of foam had risen from the neck of the bottle, and now drenched my fingers and soaked my legs - I was still, of course, clad in the little white toga. Zena seized the glass from the tray and held it, giggling again, beneath the spurting wine.

We went and sat upon the bed, Zena with the glass in her hands, me sipping from the frothing bottle. When she drank, she coughed; but I filled her glass again and said: ‘Drink up! Just like those cows downstairs.' And she drank, and drank again, until her cheeks were red. I felt my own head grow giddier with every sip I took, and the pulse at my swollen face grow thicker. At last I said, ‘Oh! How it hurts!', and Zena set down her glass to put her fingers, very gently, upon my cheek. When she had held them there for a second or two, I took her hand in my own, and leaned and kissed her.

She didn't draw away until I made to lie upon the bed and pull her with me. Then she said: ‘Oh, we cannot! What if Mrs Lethaby should come?'

‘She won't. She is leaving me, as a kind of punishment.' I touched her knee, and then her thigh, through the layers of her skirts.

‘We cannot ...' she said again; but this time, her voice was fainter. And when I tugged at her frock and said, ‘Come on, take this off — or shall I tear the buttons?' she gave a drunken sort of laugh: ‘You shall do no such thing! Help me nicely, now.'

Naked she was very thin, and strangely coloured: flaming crimson at the cheeks, a coarser red from her elbows to her fingertips, and palely white - almost bluish-white - on her torso, upper arms, and thighs. The hair between her legs - you can never guess at that kind of thing in advance - was quite ginger.

When I dipped my lips to it, she gave a squeal: ‘Oh! What a thing to do!' But then, after a moment, she held my head and pressed it. She didn't seem to be at all sorry about my swollen nose, then. She only said: ‘Oh, turn around, turn around quick, that I might do it to you!'

 

After that, I pulled the counterpane over us, and we drank more champagne, taking turns to sip from the bottle. I put my hand upon her. I said:
‘Did
you used to frig yourself in the reformat'ry?' She gave me a slap, saying, ‘Oh, you are as bad as them downstairs! I nearly died!' She pushed the blanket back, and squinted at her quim. ‘To think of me with a cock! What an idea!'

‘What an idea? Oh, Zena, I should love to see you with one! I should love -' I sat up. ‘Zena, I should love to see you in Diana's dildo!'

‘That thing? She's made you filthy! I should die with shame, before I ever tried such a thing!' Her lashes fluttered.

I said, ‘You are blushing! You've fancied it, haven't you? You've fancied a bit of that kind of sport - don't tell me you haven't!'

‘Really, a girl like me!' But she was redder than ever, and would not gaze at me. I caught hold of her hand, and pulled her up.

‘Come on,' I said. ‘You have got me all hot for it. Diana will never know.'

‘Oh!'

I pulled her to the door, then peered into the corridor outside. The music and laughter from downstairs was fainter, but still loud and rather furious. Zena fell against me, and put her arms around my waist; then we staggered together, quite naked, and with our hands before our faces to stop ourselves from laughing, to Diana's little parlour.

Here, it was the work of a moment to open the bureau's secret drawer, then take the key to the rosewood trunk, and open that. Zena looked on, all the time casting fearful glances towards the door. When she saw the dildo, however, she coloured again, but seemed unable to tear her eyes from it. I felt a drunken surge of power and pride. ‘Stand up,' I said — I sounded almost like Diana. ‘Stand up, and fasten the buckles.'

When she had done that, I led her to the looking-glass. I winced, to see my face all red and swollen, and still with crumbs of blood caught in its creases; but the sight of Zena - gazing at herself with the dildo jutting from her, placing a hand upon the shaft of it, and swallowing, to feel the motion of the leather - proved more distracting than the bruise. At last I turned her and placed my hands upon her shoulders, and nudged the head of the dildo between my thighs. If my quim had had a tongue, it could not have been more eloquent; and if Zena's quim had had one, it would now have licked its lips.

She gave a cry. We stumbled to the bed and fell, crosswise, upon the satin. My head hung from it - the blood rushed to my cheek and made it ache - but now Zena had the shaft inside me and, as she began to wriggle and thrust, I found myself compelled to lift my mouth and kiss her.

As I did so, I heard a noise, quite distinct, above the shuddering of the bed-posts and the pounding of the pulse inside my ears. I let my head fall, and opened my eyes. The door of the room was open, and it was full of ladies' faces. And the face, pale with fury, at the centre of them all, was Diana's.

 

For a second I lay quite frozen; I saw what she must see - the open trunk, the tangle of limbs upon the bed, the pumping, leather-strapped arse (for Zena, alas, had her eyes tight shut, and still thrust and panted even as her outraged mistress gazed on). Then I placed my hands on Zena's shoulders and gripped them hard. She opened her eyes, saw what I saw, and gave a squeal of fright. Instinctively, she tried to rise, forgetful of the shaft which pinned her sweating hips to mine. For a moment we floundered together inelegantly; she let out a burst of nervous laughter, more jarring than her first thin shriek of fear.

At last she gave a wriggle; there was - monstrously distinct in the sudden silence, and horribly incriminating - a kind of sucking sound; then she was free. She stood at the side of the bed, the dildo bobbing before her. One of the ladies at Diana's side said, ‘She has a prick, after all!' And Diana answered: ‘That prick is mine. These little sluts have stolen it!'

Her voice was thick - with drunkenness, perhaps; but also, I think, with shock. I looked again at the wide and spilling box, that she was so vain and jealous of, and felt a worm of satisfaction wriggle within me.

And I remembered, too, another room, a room I thought that I had carefully forgotten - a room where it was I who stood speechless at the door, while my sweetheart shivered and blushed beside her lover. And the sight of Diana, in my old place, made me smile.