We both knew the truth. She had planned and schemed and lied and stolen and murdered, but there was no need to punish her. Her real tragedy was being stuck in a loveless marriage. Being married to a man so far inferior in intellect to her that he bored her stiff each day from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning.
I had seen it in her eyes many times—the desire for men other than my father—but she controlled it with an iron will. She had chosen the splendor of a public life and the envy of her friends without the true and lasting joy of inner satisfaction, but she deeply resented having to make that choice.
The weak morning sun was shining down on Marlborough Hall. It always looked its best on a sunny day. I turned away and got into my car and drove away without looking back. I would miss my conservatory, but otherwise there was nothing I would wish I had not left behind.
Soon it would be spring. And then summer.
27
Ivana
I stood at the window and looked at my reflection in the window. I was wearing a cream silk and wool dress. Cream suited my dark hair and pale coloring. Beyond my ghostly reflection lay the beautifully manicured gardens. Soon Dr. Kane will be here. My husband wanted to join me in the meeting but I dissuaded him. It was far better that I alone handle this matter.
Anyway, it was a relief to send him away to the stables. Last night I had to do all those things that I had not done for a very long time. I had almost forgotten how dreadfully white, flabby and sweaty he could get when he had to do the deed. Like a sack of wet sand he had puffed and panted on top of me while I pretended to enjoy it. I even took his shriveled, red penis into my mouth.
I stilled the shudder of disgust that ran through me and took a deep breath. There was a price to pay for everything. This house, the envy of all the people I knew, the glow of being recognized and treated as someone important, all of it had to be paid for. He was basking in the glow of our renewed passion this morning. I reinstated my power. So it was worth it.
I put him at the back of my mind. He was not important now. I watched Dr. Kane’s car drive up. Inside me a serpent twisted and spewed its poison into my veins. The effect of its acid was immediate. My hands started to tremble. I clenched them into hard fists.
God, I hated that bitch. How I hated her.
She was supposed to die in that car accident. Anyone else would have just given up and died, but her? Noooo. Like an unwanted, ugly weed she sprouted up again. And now she was setting roots, becoming strong. Worse, she found a man to champion her. I had underestimated the cunningness of my step-daughter. The cheap little whore had done what cheap little whores do. Opened her legs and ensnared him. Now he was hers to bid.
The venom bubbled. It felt as if it was eating me up from inside.
I gritted my teeth.
What an awful miscalculation it had been to send her to him. How I regretted it. It kept me awake all night knowing that it was I who had arranged their meeting. I should have done my homework better. I should never have picked a man who was so physically beautiful, a man even I could have loved. I thought tragedy had felled him, made him an irredeemable shadow of himself, but I was wrong.
I remembered too late what my mother had told me. She said that all men could be described as boxes of goodies hanging on strings from a tree branch. There were three types of boxes. Empty, nearly empty and full. It was very easy to recognize the nearly empty boxes. They rattled a lot. They were always showing off, telling you how much money they had or what amazing lovers they were. The problem was distinguishing between the empty boxes and the full boxes since they both spoke very little.
I thought Dr. Kane was an empty box. But I was wrong. He was the full box my mother had told me about.
I heard the doorbell ring.
If only the little bitch had died in the accident. I closed my eyes and took a long calming breath. I was not beaten. All was not lost. I was resourceful. I could handle Dr. Kane. I could always handle a man. All men are susceptible to me.
She is not as beautiful as you. But the reflection of my face in the glass pane was marred with a frown. The truth was I was not sure how to mold him to my wishes.
He stood apart from other men. I saw it for myself at the dinner when I purposely invited the proudest and most caustic members of our set. And they did what I knew they would—deliberately set out to make him feel small and insignificant. But their veiled insults and disparaging comments were useless. He cared nothing for their good opinion.
Not only did he not recognize them as his betters, he refused to obey the social etiquette set by them. Instead he made his own rules without fear of what society thought of him. Men who will not be bullied by the artificial rules of society are more dangerous than men with knives. For they cannot be controlled.