Ha! I rued. Would it could have been so. For more likely than not, I knew that every one of these brown-silk beauties would be bought by some rich roué, and some would go to appease the wives, and some would tickle the fancy of the courtesans, and the brothel-keeper would keep her illicit accounts in one, and the dilettante would sketch his naked mistress in another, so ha! Ha to my noble thoughts! And so the world goes, and so our bodies rot and turn to dust, to gold, to nothing. Welcome to Damage’s Bindery. The Whore of Bibliolon.
For, once again, more than for peace of mind, I was working, still, for money. The chinking of coins saw me through every fold, every stitch, every cut and every paste, for money was what would see me through, and time was running out.
For one thought sounded clear in the morass of confusion. I could no longer continue to work for Charles Diprose and the Noble Savages. Which would mean that I would break our unwritten contract. Which would mean that London – possibly even England – would become unsafe for us. I needed money to do what I knew was inevitable.
I would flee with Lucinda.
I would find Din before he left, and together the three of us would go to the only place we could possibly go together.
America.
‘You must be insane! Insane!’
There is no hope; no, for I have loved strangers, and after them will I go.
‘Sylvia!’ I had figured that the remarkable and rather beautiful change that had come about in her since Jocelyn’s final dismissal of her would have opened her to a more sympathetic understanding of my plight. There was nothing else for it, than to broach the issue. ‘Sylvia,’ I repeated, more softly. ‘Is there something behind your anger?’
‘I do not follow you.’
‘Is there something you wish to tell me about your relationship with . . . with . . . Din?’
‘Your intimation, please?’
‘Nathaniel,’ I whispered, but immediately wished I hadn’t, suspicious fool that I was. Of course she would deny it, but I had not appreciated with how much vehemence.
Her mouth fell open, and her eyes widened, and she looked as if she would hit me, but instead she slumped on to the chair and said, ‘Not you too! Do you mean to say you have not believed me all this time? Do you accuse me too?’
‘Sylvia,’ I said gently. ‘I know about your evenings with him. I know about the spear.’
‘Pshaw!’ she said. ‘It was not only me. We all have our curiosities. But as if I would take it any further! Dora, you revolt me. You are worse than Jocelyn. But then, you really have slept with a black man, so of course, you suspect everyone else of having the same letches.’
There is no hope; no, for I have loved strangers, and after them will I go. Where had I read that recently?
‘And you! You, leaving for America, with him! I have never heard anything so mad! I should call for a doctor immediately!’
I remembered the quotation. It was from the book of Jeremiah.
‘What you are saying is an abomination! You disgust me! Never in my wildest dreams!’
‘Be that as it may, I persist in thinking it would be safest for me to leave. But I am concerned for you, and leaving you behind.’
‘Dora, Dora darling. Let me talk some sense into your feeble little head. I do understand, really I do, or at least I think I do, that your Black Prince may now be to you some darling thing with kinky hair and velvet skin, but let me tell you in no uncertain terms, painful though it may be, that in time he will revert to type. I have learnt more than I care to share with you through my work with the Society. They may be our brethren, but they are not our equals. To such a man, his wife is by custom his slave. She is nothing more than a tiller of the ground, a vessel for more children than nature can cope with, and an outlet for his rage!’
‘Sylvia . . . !’
‘He will kill you, one day, in a savage attack! Or he will take another wife! Or, heaven forbid, wives plural! And Lord, knows, he may not be a bachelor now!’
‘Sylvia . . . !’
‘Dora! You are very naughty!’ She opened her eyes wide and dared me to interrupt her again. When she continued, her voice was calmer, and she had changed tack. ‘Dora. There is one reason above all others why I would never have relations with a black man. And that is, that in so doing, one foolish white woman endangers all other white women! Think of your American sisters! Your impropriety will have completely changed that man’s expectations of them; their safety has been jeopardised, by you! You! Your actions have served to weaken the very Empire! I have absolutely no idea why you would want a nigger for a lover anyway.’
‘And you never did?’ I retorted, despite myself. Even if Din wasn’t Nathaniel’s father, who was to say that she didn’t have her way with one of the other slaves bought by the Society? I settled on that as the most likely explanation; it soothed me better, at least.