Justice
Part IX -- Epilogue
The next day I whipped Sydney--Mrs. DeMarcco--as I had promised her
master. But I felt strange. I could not take pleasure in it. I felt no
desire for revenge, only a sadness at her story and all the misery she
had endured. I did not whip her very hard, and she knew it, but did not
say anything.
We did not speak privately all day, except when I gave her orders and
she quietly answered "Yes, Mistress," and complied. It wasn't until
evening that I took her aside and bluntly reminded her to speak to her
husband tonight. She nodded silently but did not speak. I knew she was
afraid.
It was early the next morning and I was not quite asleep, my restless
mind still active with all the surprising events of the last few days
twirling inside, when there was a soft knock at my door. "Come in," I
whispered, assuming it was Sydney.
My surprise was almost horror when I saw it was Master DeMarcco. He was
carrying a small lamp turned almost all the way down and in the dim
light I saw he was smiling. "May I speak with you, Miss Janey?" he asked
and I nodded. He came and sat at the edge of my bed. I pulled the covers
tightly around myself, both for comfort against the chill and a sort of
security against this strange man.
"She told me everything," he said suddenly, staring away from me. "She
told me all about you and her as children, in Triten."
I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. His face suddenly was pointed toward
me, though in shadow, and I could not see if he was pleased or angry.
"You have done a wonderful thing, Miss Janey," he whispered quietly.
"You have given me a wife."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I mean that for the first time, my wife and I were able to talk, to
really speak about important things. Tonight we talked for hours, and I
learned more about her and she more about me than either of us learned
in all our years of marriage. It was what we should have done _before_
we were married. It is astonishing, Miss Janey, but we are now closer
than we have ever been. It is like we are suddenly two different people
who just met and have fallen in love."
He paused and I did not speak. "Do you know why I married Rosemary?" he
asked. I shook my head. His head turned away and I saw his eyes were
slits, lost in memories. "I married her because I didn't understand her.
Does that make any sense?"
"No, sir."
"You're right. It does not." He laughed almost drunkenly and I worried
he was not quite aware of his own actions. But then he became serious
again and I saw he was not drunk with wine but giddy with joy.
"When I first saw Rosemary I thought she was like all the
others--haughty, greedy women who do not _feel_ anything. I abhor the
type and yet in high society it seems that is often all that's
available. It is no wonder the lower sections of London are quite
popular among the aristocrats. Where else can men of breeding find
_real_ women? Sure, we can only marry the respectable, but our
attraction is to the women who are not ashamed of their bodies, the
women who's idea of fun is splashing through mud puddles, women who
would sleep with a man not because he's her husband and it is her duty,
but because it is her desire!"
The Master shook his head softly. "Rose was beautiful, that was
certain. But from the second I first spoke to her I knew she was like no
other woman I had met. For you see, she spoke to me as a peer, as her
equal, not as her master.ĘShe did not disguise her thoughts or opinions
to make them more appealing to me. This intrigued me. It puzzled me. I
was fascinated, captivated. I accompanied her everywhere, and yet the
mystery was never explained. She had all the proper manners of decorum
and speech, yet she did not _think_ like the women I had known. It was
not long before I proposed and she accepted.
"At first we were deliriously happy. We were of one body, though not of
one mind. Eventually that fact caught up with us and we fell apart. We
had very little in common and rarely spoke. For a long while I thought
maybe I had made a grave mistake. Whatever I had seen in Rose that so
intrigued me no longer interested me. I just wanted us to be friends
again, to laugh the way we used to, to play together. But Rose had grown
distant, aloof, disinterested. I did not wish to force her, so I rarely
made an issue of it. But inside I felt sad and betrayed, for a part of
me really adored this mysterious woman, this beautiful stranger who
spoke more like a man than a woman.
"And then there was the whole scene with you, and the night when I
punished her and turned her over to you as your servant. I confess I did
what I did out of desperation and anger, not rational thinking. I felt
betrayed and abandoned, and I wanted my haughty wife to learn the real
meaning behind being a Lady. I did not honestly expect it to work; I had
not really considered what would happen if it did.
"Then tonight she came to me, meek and humble, begging to confess a
horrible secret which has haunted her for years. I immediately thought
she had betrayed me with a man and I was livid, but she told it was not
that, but far worse. I did not know what to think. Then she told me her
story. She told me of you and her as children--though she did not reveal
that it was you, at first--and she even showed me the Lindsey vase which
she has kept all these years.
"I must confess her story bewildered me. I felt relieved in some ways,
for the mystery behind her strangeness was known. But I felt cheated and
deceived by her years of lies and that made me angry. In truth, I was
confused. What did this mean to us, to our relationship, to our
marriage?
"But then she broke down into tears and wept openly and begged me for
forgiveness, and asked that even if I would beat her it would be a joy
to her, for her to have just that part of myself. 'It would be an honor,
Master,' she wept, and I saw no deception in her actions. Then I
realized what had happened: she was a Lady, a real Lady, who perhaps
does wrong, as we are all so bound to do, but then apologizes and
accepts responsibility for her actions at whatever the cost. My wife,
this beautiful creature sobbing at my knees, was now as humble as a
servant and as meek as a naughty child!
"My heart swelled with joy and pleasure and I leaped to my feet and
stood her up and said, 'Sydney, my love, you have my forgiveness and
eternal love! For today you have shown yourself a true Lady, a woman of
breeding and good character, a woman who will not shirk her duty nor shy
away from her responsibility no matter how painful or difficult.' And
Sydney began to weep in my arms and hugged me tightly and told me she'd
never let me go, never disobey me or deceive me again.
"I told her I understood, that she was forgiven, and that we now could
begin a new phase of our relationship. 'We have so much to discuss,' I
said to her. 'There's so much we need to learn about each other. We have
never really spoken about our pasts, our feelings. Please, trust me--I
shall never harm you. I will trust you, too. We shall open our hearts to
each other and let the blood flow openly between us. No secrets, no
mysteries. Only pure truth, raw and unfiltered.'
"And so we did. We spoke until the early hours and then we made love
and it was beautiful, far more precious than I can ever put into words.
I felt like I was holding a part of my soul in my arms as I held my dear
wife and I wept without shame, for I knew that I loved her and she did
indeed love me."
The Master paused for such a long time after this that I almost thought
he had fallen asleep sitting up, but then he shook his head as though to
shake off a fierce and controlling dream and turned to me. He held the
lantern up close to my face so we could see each other clearly. There
were tears in his eyes and he looked so handsome and happy I felt my
heart aching for him.
"It was all your doing, dear Miss Janey," he whispered gently. "You
opened her heart; you showed her the way. Truly, if ever there was a
real Lady, it is you."
I gasped in shock at this outrageous statement. Surely he was jesting.
Me, a Lady? But his face was filled with the utmost seriousness, and his
smile was one of pleasantness, not mirth.
"Sir, you cannot mean what you are saying," I began, but he cut me off
with a gesture.
"Again you are too modest, my dear. It is, perhaps, your only flaw."
His smile was gentle and kind and before I could move he had leaned
forward and kissed my forehead. I flushed brilliantly and I felt a
sudden bursting of emotions flooding from my heart to my crotch and I
turned away, deeply embarrassed. What was the Master doing!
He laughed, boldly. "I am only here to thank you, little one. You have
given me a wife, the woman I have always dreamed of but never met. It is
the most precious gift I know, the giving of one being to another."
He stood quietly and took my hand in his and gently squeezed my
fingers. "Trust me--I know the sacrifice you made. She does not realize
it yet. Perhaps she never really knew. I saw it between you two
immediately, but I did not pry. I did not really understand until she
told me everything, but now I know."
"Know what, sir?" I asked, bewildered.
He smiled, a broad, friendly smile, the smile of one confident to
another. "I know," he said simply. "I know." And then he was gone.
I lay softly for a while, thinking. I wondered at everything I had
heard, everything that had happened, what the Master had said at the
end. It was not clear to me. What did he think he knew? What was it that
he thought he saw?
And then suddenly, as the clear light of dawn broke through the window,
I understood. My heart wrenched and I knew what he had seen, something
so deep I myself had not examined it. I knew what he had learned and
what Sydney only naively suspected. I also knew that no one else would
know, that the Master would keep my secret as tightly as I had kept it.
I also knew that I had always known, had always suffered it, and always
would. For it was not something I could discuss openly, reveal its dark
nature in the light. Even now I could not say the words. It was
something that had to remain deep and buried where it was, and I would
have to content myself with other methods.
I thought of the Mistress' cold whip and hard cane, her loving hand,
her sorrowful tears. I saw her kneeling at my feet, weeping. I saw her
naked flesh, pale with the vivid red stripes of punishment. I felt the
welts on my own flesh, the stinging pain, the heart-wrenching agony of
each stroke, and my breathing grew shallow.
It was all true. It was all there. We were so much alike and yet so
different. With a heavy heart I stretched out upon my bed face down and
began to weep. I wept for everyone I knew, for the Master and his wife,
for Sydney's mother, for her brother, for Dorothy and Nellie and others
I had never met but only heard of, even for poor Alfred.
Finally, after a long time, I built up the courage and did something I
had never before: I cried for myself, for what I would never have, for
what I would never feel. I understood the Master's message, what it
implied, and I knew that he was right. My feelings were no more
appropriate than it would have been for him to have taken advantage of
me during one of those late-night visits.
But at least, at the very least, I knew that Sydney--Rosemary--would be
happy.
It was hours later. I stood and dried my tears. Enough emotion. It was
time to be a servant again. I had duties to perform. With a deep sigh
and a faintly trembling heart I left my room.
The kitchen was in chaos, servants running and pots steaming and people
shouting. Immediately the cook asked where I had been and did I want a
strapping?
I smiled and sighed.
Everything was again as it should be.
The End
