Wilde, Jennifer Read Free Page B

rooms.
Jeffers, Brandy, and Cook had quarters in the basement. Millie and the other
maids slept in narrow little cubicles up in the attics, and the two footmen had
rooms over the carriage house with the groom and coachman. I enjoyed the
isolation, for it gave me a sense of privacy. The room was large, with windows
looking out over the mews in back of the house. If the furniture was second
best, everything a bit shabby and worn, it was still comfortable and snug.
    The
light was almost gone now, its thin rays fading on the old blue and gray carpet
with its pattern of pink roses. I lighted the lamp and took off my dress,
hanging it up in the enormous mahogany wardrobe with its heavy door that never
shut properly. I removed shoes and stockings and, wearing only a white muslin
petticoat, took down my coronet of braids and shook them loose. Hair fell to my
shoulders in abundant red-brown waves, coppery highlights gleaming. Sitting in
front of the mirror, I brushed it until it gleamed even more, and then I put
the brush down and stared at the woman in the mirror.
    The
petticoat was exceedingly low-cut, my breasts more than half revealed. The
bodice was form-fitting, the full, flaring skirt adorned with row upon row of
white ruffles. In this elegant garment, and with my hair falling about my
shoulders in such rich profusion, I looked totally unlike the demure Miss
Danver with her severe hair style and drab brown dress. Lord Mallory desired
me. He would desire me even more if he could see me like this, I thought, and
then I frowned, my blue eyes once again dark with concern. I left the dressing
table and moved over to sit in the large, comfortable pink chair in front of
the windows.
    The
sky was ashy gray now, and the world below was etched in gray and black and dim
whites. The lamp was low, and shadows spread inside the room multiplying beyond
its softly diffused pool of light. I thought about Lord Mallory, and there was
a strange ambivalence that hadn't been there before. I detested him, I told
myself, yet I was undeniably attracted to him. I remembered that kiss. I
remembered his tall, strong body, his arms crushing me against him, and I
remembered the sensations that had exploded inside me like tiny buds blossoming.
    Recalling
what he had said about my mother, I wondered, did I indeed take after her? I
was a virgin, and I had never even contemplated sleeping with a man before. I
was respectable and decent, yet, even though I hated him and everything he
stood for, I couldn't deny that I found Robert Mallory physically attractive. I
knew that I would never willingly submit to him, but if he took me by force
would I really be as distraught as I told myself I would be? Was I a shameless
creature for desiring him as I did? Surely women, decent women at least,
weren't supposed to be attracted to rakes like Robert Mallory. Perhaps there
was more of my mother in me than I realized.
    Night
had fallen now, and now the black and gray and white was gilded with silver on
the rooftops, spilling down over the sides of houses. A cool breeze caused the
curtains to stir. They billowed into the room like waving white sails,
billowing, falling limp, billowing again. The breeze felt wonderful on my bare
arms and shoulders, for it had been a sultry day. The lamp flickered and went
out, the blossom of golden light vanishing abruptly. I didn't get up to light
it again. Weary, worried, I sat in the comfortable chair, drowsy already. I
closed my eyes, and in a few minutes I was fast asleep.
    The
sound of footsteps awakened me. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, no
idea what time it might be. I sat up, startled, and then I felt panic grip me.
I recognized the footsteps. He had a long, lazy stride, and those tall black
knee boots he wore made a certain ring. I jumped to my feet. My heart was
pounding. Lord Mallory was in the country with his wife and children. It
couldn't be him, I told myself, but as the footsteps drew nearer, I knew I
wasn't