Part 18 (1/2)

”Come in.”

He stepped inside, closing my door behind him. He held a gla.s.s of bourbon in his hand. On his face was a look I had seen many times before. It was wary.

I smiled at him. ”Which Lucy will you find today?” I teased. ”Isn't that what you're thinking? Will I be hysterical or sad or disobedient?”

”I would prefer,” he said slowly, ”that you be the wife welcoming her husband home.”

”I am that,” I told him. ”Welcome home.”

He frowned at me. ”What ails you, Lucy?”

”Nothing at all. I feel fine, in fact.”

”Did you see Victor today?”

”Yes. I've missed you,” I said.

”Well, I've been quite busy. You know that. I've taken on two more clients at the 'Change, and what with the house and the clubs-”

”I don't mean today,” I said. I put down my winegla.s.s and moved toward him. ”I mean that I miss the man you were; the man I married.”

He looked confused. ”What's this about?”

”Do you remember that day at the beach, William? The day you proposed to me?”

”Of course I remember it,” he said, though he squirmed a little, and I was not sure he told the truth.

”Do you remember kissing me?”

He went still. His hand gripped his gla.s.s. ”Yes.”

”You never kiss me. I don't think you've kissed me since the night we wed.”

”I've kissed you,” he said.

”On the cheek. Chaste pecks to wish me good morning and good night. I miss the way you kissed me then.”

He looked a bit displeased. ”You do?”

”Why wouldn't I?”

Carefully, he said, ”I would think, with your delicate sensibilities-”

”I wish you'd offend them,” I told him. I came closer, though we were still so far apart. We had long since grown accustomed to s.p.a.ce between us. To be close . . . it felt awkward to me, and there was no doubt he felt the same.

”I don't understand.”

”Maybe once or twice I'd like you to . . . kiss me.”

He set down his gla.s.s so hard bourbon spilled on my dressing table. ”What's this about, Lucy?” he demanded. ”What's got into you?”

”Nothing,” I said. I took a deep breath and went right up to him, inches away. I touched his arm, letting my hand linger there. ”I love you, William. I should think we could . . . celebrate . . . our feelings for each other.”

I let my hand slip to his chest, to the b.u.t.tons of his vest. I slipped one loose and pushed inside to feel the warmth of his chest through his s.h.i.+rt.

”What are you doing?” he whispered.

”Touching you,” I said.

”Good G.o.d, Lucy.”

”Ssshhh.” I stretched on tiptoes to brush my lips against his. He backed away so quickly his head banged on the wall, and I smiled. ”Come, William,” I said. ”I'm your own wife. How can this be wrong?”

He grabbed my wrist, keeping me from the fastenings on his s.h.i.+rt. ”You are a lady,” he said.

”I don't want to be a lady tonight.” I twisted loose of his hold and kept on undoing b.u.t.tons, pressing my hand past fabric to touch his skin. I kissed him again, whispering against his mouth, ”Take me to bed, William. Please.”

”d.a.m.n it, Lucy,” he murmured. He held my hands again, stilling them. ”Have you been drinking?”

”Not a drop,” I lied.

He took my arm and pulled me to the bed. ”You should lie down. It's clear you're not yourself.”

I sat upon the mattress and grabbed him before he could back away. I looped my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me. ”Please, William, don't leave me. I-I want you to stay. Please, stay.”

He hesitated, and I took the opportunity to kiss him, opening my mouth against his lips, touching them with my tongue. He stiffened in obvious surprise, and I pushed my way into his mouth until I felt him relax, until I felt him surrender. When his hands slipped past the ties of my gown, I moved to allow him greater access. He pushed impatiently at the chemise I wore, jerking it up over my hips, unfastening his trousers. I had wanted to feel his skin on mine, something I had never truly felt. I wanted his hands on my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I wanted the things I had only imagined. But though I had pushed William past endurance, nothing else would change. He did not touch me except to thrust inside me, but I was desperate enough to take even that. I raked my hands through his hair and held him tight to me so he could not put distance between us, so he could not run when I twisted my hips against his. But William spent himself quickly, and after that he did not linger. He rose as if the touch of my skin was unbearable. He fastened his trousers and looked at me as I lay with my legs spread, yearning, my chemise rucked above my hips.

”For G.o.d's sake, cover yourself, Lucy,” he said. ”You look like a common wh.o.r.e.”

Then he left me.

I pushed down my chemise and tied my dressing gown about me, and I sat on the edge of my bed, burning and unsatisfied. I tried to think of that day on Bailey's Beach, to remember a long-ago kiss that had promised something more than this, but it was hazy, like a dream I couldn't quite remember. What was clear was the memory of this afternoon, of a mouth that opened to mine as William's never had.

Notes from the Journal of Victor Leonard Seth Re: Eve C.

April 14, 1885 We have acted out the first time Eve C. apparently felt and recognized s.e.xual desire, with mixed results. Though Eve was obviously aroused and enlightened, her husband was concerned about his later encounter with his wife, which he explained to me in deepest confidence when we met today at SIAC. He expects Eve to be a well-bred lady, and thereby pa.s.sionless, and he is concerned that I mean to turn his wife into a wh.o.r.e. I restrained myself enough to explain that this is all part of Eve's treatment, and that it is only with the full exploration of all aspects of her unconscious that we can help her.

I reminded him of the masquerade ball, when she showed no evidence of depression or hysteria (at least to his knowledge; I didn't inform him that I had staved off a possible fit). This was a mistake-he mentioned his worry that people are gossiping about her behavior-but it did remind me of the greatest threat to my treatment of Eve: that her husband will realize what I am attempting to do and remove Eve from my care. I rea.s.sured him this time, but I must be more careful in the future. I cannot risk him discovering my intentions toward his wife-at least not until it is too late for his actions to affect them.

My colleagues will be astounded when I present my findings at the Neurology a.s.sociation meeting this year. When I think of how the scientific community will respond to my discovery, I am rea.s.sured that what I'm doing is the right thing, the best thing. Such an achievement is the pinnacle of all I have reached for, studied for, worked for. To have it hinge on one woman seems remarkable. It is not surprising that I think of her constantly, that my mind persists in working out the puzzle of her, that deep into the night, I debate the best way to proceed. I am consumed by her.

Chapter 14.

The next morning William left early for the 'Change. When he returned that evening, we sat at dinner-ever the civilized couple-and did not refer to the night before. If we did not talk about it, it would be as if it never happened. The night was put away, folded into a drawer that was already full of things we never talked about.

I felt guilty and ashamed. I had become someone I didn't know. The urges that came more often, more intensely, the desire that plagued my sleep-these things did not belong to me, yet they seemed increasingly to be mine. I began to understand, as I had not before, the things I wanted: to spread my wings, to fly. But these were not what I'd been taught to want, and they seemed infinitely dangerous. Who would I be without the life I'd been trained to live?