The Song of the Siren

“He was going to marry you because of your fortune. Solely because of your fortune, Carlotta. He wasn’t in the least reluctant, though. A nice fortune and a loving little wife. He told me how it was with you. He described those times you spent together in Enderby Hall, wasn’t it? He talked about women like that. He used to talk about Naturals. They were born for it, he said. Lovely passionate creatures. They are as eager as you are. Carlotta, he said, is like that. He was glad, he said. One grew tired of the shrinking kind who had no heart in the romp.”

“Be silent,” I cried. “How can you? I hate you. I hate you. If I could I would ...”

“I know. If you had a sword here you’d run it through me as Durrell would have run it through you this morning. You owe me your life, Carlotta.”

I could not explain my feelings. There was shame there, shame for what Beau had said of me. I never wanted to see that room at Enderby again. My mother had done everything she could to stop me and she had been right. I could not bear to think of him-discussing me and my emotions and my reactions to this ... disciple of his.

His fingers were on my coat. “Come, dear Carlotta,” he said. “Forget him. He is past.

Perhaps he lies mouldering in some grave. Perhaps he is at this moment lying with someone who can give him more than you could. Forget him. I know you and love you already. You are no stranger to me, Carlotta.”

He had taken off my coat. He was undressing me with unexpectedly tender hands.

I wrenched myself free suddenly. I looked about the room. He took my face in his hands and said: “Caught. Trapped, like a little bird in a net. Sweet Carlotta, life is fleeting. Who knows, perhaps this very night men will come to this place and take me. Perhaps in a week, a month, my head and shoulders will have parted. Life is short.

It has always been my motto. Enjoy it while we can. That should be yours, too. Who shall say what tomorrow shall bring to either of us? But there is tonight.”

Then he picked me up and carried me to the bed.

He laid me there and I closed my eyes.

Resistance was useless. I was completely in his power. I knew the sort of man he was. Beau’s sort. He was moving about the room. Then he blew out the candle and was beside me.

I wanted to cry out in protest. But cries, as he had pointed out, were useless. I was in his power.

I heard him laugh in the darkness. I think he knew me better than I knew myself.

It is difficult to understand myself. I suppose I should have felt degraded and humiliated; and in a way I did, and yet. ... It is hard to explain except to say that I am a woman who was meant to experience physical passion and I was beginning to understand that it was not so much Beau himself that I had missed as the opportunity to match my physical needs with one with whom I was in complete bodily harmony. This was how it was with Hessenfield. We were as one flesh; I forgot the reason for my being where I was and although I brought out all my pride-and that was considerable in ordinary circumstances-I could not hide the fact that I found pleasure in this encounter.

Hessenfield knew it; he exulted in it, and he was by no means a rough or uncouth lover as might have been expected in the circumstances. He behaved as though his great desire was to please me and he made no secret of his delight in me.

He told me that I was wonderful; that he had never enjoyed such an experience as much as he had with me.

In the darkness he whispered to me: “I could so easily fall in love with you.”

I did not jeer at him; I remained silent. I was overcome by a mixture of shame and ecstasy.

We were as suited as lovers as Beau and I had been. There was an overpowering sensuality in us both which gave us a rare appreciation of the sensations we could evoke in each other. Whatever happened to me, I could not wholeheartedly regret this adventure.

He knew it even as I did. He certainly behaved like a lover after that first onslaught.

It was as though he was telling me that he was sorry it had happened in this way.

When the first streaks of light were in the sky he was at the window. He was looking for the ship.

“There is nothing there,” he said; and there was almost a relief in his voice.

Another day passed. A long day it seemed. They were all watching for the arrival of the ship. I dressed the General’s wound. I seemed to be more adept at nursing than any of the others and they Jet me do it. They seemed glad that I could.

The General was not quite sure where he was, so he did not question my presence.

I was glad of that. Later I went down to the kitchen and prepared the food for them.

It was only a matter of setting it out on the table for whoever this house belonged to had left it well stocked with food.

I was embarrassed to meet Hessenfield’s gaze during that morning. He was so knowledgeable; he would know exactly how I was feeling, and I could scarcely pretend to be as outraged as I should be. He had been fully aware of the passion in me which had matched his own.