Resilience

Chapter 12

"No, no. It's just that... I guess I always thought she became a whore because she... had a taste for the flesh, and like all the chaps, I took advantage of it. Often. And I know you did too, Marcus."

"So? What are you getting at, Tony?" He looked anxiously at the door. "Where is that doctor, anyway?"

"Well, what if women like Mrs. Jones become whores because they have no other choice? What if it's a matter of life and death?"

"My Caroline would rather die than sell herself," said Marcus primly. "There are always other choices. Women like Mrs. Jones make choices like they do because that is their nature."

"There are choices for men, certainly, especially if you have blunt. But what if you were a woman with no family to protect you, nowhere to go, no options except death by starvation and selling your body. What would you do then, Marcus?" His headache forgotten, Anthony sat up and demanded answers.

"Well, hell, how can I think like a female?" complained his brother. "But there are respectable positions, such as shopkeeping, and even going into service. It's hard work, but at least it's respectable. No doubt whores prefer working on their back, though."

"That's what I thought as well, but then I found out those jobs are scarce, and usually require some sort of reference, either from a previous employer or a vicar or some upstanding citizen. Girls who have been abused and have no respectable connections more than likely end up as whores, whether they like it or not."

And then he recounted the story he had heard from Sally. "It never occurred to me when I set Sally up in London that I was perpetuating a cycle of abuse. I just thought she was a girl with a lusty nature, and making her my mistress was surely a step up from selling herself at a seedy inn."

Marcus was perplexed. "Has Sally come to you grumbling about the past? She never seemed that sort."

"No," sighed Anthony. "She never would have said anything if I hadn't asked her. She... loved me and never even hinted at it because she knew that wasn't part of our bargain. And she didn't even shed a tear when I handed her off to my friend who abused and abandoned her to unbelievable horrors, nor does she harbor any ill-will toward me even now." He fell back among the pillows. "I only wish I could forgive myself for my part in making her miserable."

Marcus regarded him curiously. "Who are you... really? This attack of conscience is not at all in character with my man-about-town big brother. Were you indulging in something stronger than brandy at that gambling hell? Blue ruin, perhaps?"

Anthony continued as though his brother had not spoken. "Marcus, do you plan to be a faithful husband when you and Caroline get leg-shackled? Are you faithful to her now?"

Marcus squirmed. "Good heavens, I don't know. Forever is a long time. But... actually, I couldn't bear to hurt Caroline like that. Every time I look at a pretty girl, I think of my Caroline with a broken heart. That's enough to keep me on the straight and narrow. That and the memory of what happened when Mama found out about Father's chères-amies."

Their parents' was a typical society marriage, arranged by their families, and everything seemed normal until their baby sister died of influenza at the age of two. At some point after that, their mother discovered her husband's philandering, and that was when the fighting began. Anthony shivered inwardly as he remembered the bitter battles between them, as well as his mother's retaliatory drinking binges and indiscreet affairs. The Jamisons became the scandal of the season, and worse, ended up destroying each other and leaving their young sons alone in the world.

It's not supposed to work that way, reflected Anthony. In society marriages, once the succession is secure, both partners go their own way and nobody is supposed to be hurt.

"What about you, Anthony? Haven't you thought about what sort of marriage you would like to have?"

Anthony frowned. "Hadn't thought of seeking a leg-shackle for years yet. Too many women around willing to fuck me without it."

"Whores, yes. But what about the widow you were squiring around last season? A Lady Fleming, I believe. There were wagers at White's that an interesting announcement would be soon forthcoming."

"I believe Jane is the one who started the rumors," said Anthony. "She is a pleasant companion and certainly very talented in bedsport, but I never considered marrying her."

"Why not?" inquired Marcus. "Did she have other lovers? Was she a shrew? Or is it a virgin you are looking for?"

Anthony squirmed uncomfortably. "Good god, Marcus, are you looking for a deathbed confession? Where is that doctor, anyway?" His head was beginning to throb again and indeed, his entire body was aching. As was his conscience.

Lady Fleming had had no lovers other than her late husband until he had taken her to his bed. She was several years younger, beautiful, well-mannered, and would make an estimable countess and a perfect wife and mother. She had given her heart to him, and he had mercilessly taken it and smashed it, and he didn't know why.

But when he visualized the face of his future countess, it wasn't hers he saw. Incredibly, it was the face of pretty little whore called Felicia. What was THAT all about?