Page 37 of Infernal Vices

CHAPTER 18

FORGIVENESS

I should have done as Detective Inspector Dancer suggested and changed all the window locks, not just those on the ground floor, for I knew exactly who was in my room. I lay stiffly hoping he had not realized I’d awoken. Part of me wanted to hit out at him like a frightened child, and wound the man who had hurt me. But, an outburst of that nature was not becoming of a gentleman. Even though Sebastian Cavell had broken my heart, I still retained my dignity.

“I know you’re awake,” Sebastian said in a soft whisper that sent chills up my spine. “I’ve watched you sleep many times dear heart, and I noted how your breathing changes when you move from dreams to alertness.”

I wished he had not addressed me with that affectionate moniker. “Go away. You are not welcome in my home,” I said petulantly. The moments of silence that followed my reprimand felt like hours.

“I…I would like to apologize for what occurred…in the park. You took me by surprise.”

Oh, I was sure I had! I rolled to my side, away from him and curled in on myself, pulling the blankets higher. “No need. You have made your choice and moved on. I understand the situation well enough,” I replied in an emotionless monotone.

“Gods, Benedict, you understand nothing at all. You are a stubborn brute at times!” Sebastian hissed and then I felt cold hands snake beneath the warmth of my coverlet and lift me bodily from the bed.

“What…what the devil are you doing?” I said in a furious whisper, thumping at his clasping hands. “Put me down at once or I’ll shout bloody murder and wake the whole house.”

Sebastian clearly had a plan in mind, for he had already opened the bookcase door to my secret room, and in the muted light peeking through my drapes, he bundled me into the room and deposited me onto the chaise longue. Then he closed the door and turned on the gaslight.

“Who the hell do you think you are to manhandle me so?” I protested at full volume, knowing not a soul outside this room would hear me roar.

“I think I’m the man who loves you! Now please, stop this self-piteous nonsense. We will not leave this room until you hear me out, damn you!”

I lay on the chaise seethed with rage, my heart hammering, and my blood boiling in my veins.

“Well, if I have to listen to another one of your fictions, I need a bloody drink!” I rolled off the chaise, stood, and arranged my pyjamas which had gone askew with the manhandling. Then I strode to the small drinks cabinet. There I poured myself a glass of brandy. On returning to sit on the chaise, I cast Sebastian a derisive glance. I gulped the brandy, my anger readying to boil over as Sebastian began to pace in agitation back and forth in front of the cabinet that held my phallus collection.

“I have not lied to you, Benedict,” Sebastian asserted. I let out a mirthless laugh.

“Everything I told you about my life was true. I may have…omitted some pertinent facts, but I never lied to you.”

As an opener I was not impressed and took another swig of brandy.

“I told you that I was born in Bombay, India, and that my father was a chaplain. He sent me alone to school in England when I was ten. I had never been to England before and I missed my ayah greatly.”

I was schooled well enough to know that an ayah in the Indian tradition was a nursemaid, governess, or maidservant.

“I had known only India, and so England was a foreign land to me. I did not fit in at school and I suppose I was a very lonely child. I returned to India briefly when I was fifteen because my mother was unwell and father was unsure if she would survive. I already knew then that I preferred boys, but, having a chaplain as a father and an education from a devout Christian school, I was deeply ashamed of my feelings.”

I understood the shame and confusion at the awakening realization of one’s preference. My unyielding countenance began to soften a little. Sebastian spoke on as he continued to pace up and down the small room.

“I was an only child, and back in the vicarage I discovered my beloved ayah now worked for another family and was not permitted to see me. The servant’s children I had once played with were forced to work to help their families and so I had no companions at all. Looking back on it, I was rather traumatized at having been abandoned alone in England and then returning to India while my mother was so very ill,” he paused for a breath.

“I soon became friendly with one of the new girls…a young maidservant who had joined my father’s household in my absence, her name was Nishah. Every day I would sit outside in the garden and read. I would see Nishah putting out the laundry and taking it in. Mother was still fighting her fevers and so there were many bed sheets to be washed daily. Eventually, we began to have conversations. Nishah was seventeen. She was born into the Shudras—the labouring caste of Indian society and she was not supposed to speak to me, but I encouraged her to talk to me discreetly. She appeared as lonely as I was. Nishah told me it had not always been so, that she was Shudras. She spoke of her ancestors, how they were once the royal family, stripped of their wealth by the invaders, and after the British victory at the Siege of Seringapatam; they were banished from their ancestral lands and forced into servitude to survive. After living in England and then returning to India with an education I’d read a lot of history books. The glorious wars and victories didn’t seem as thrilling. I could see for myself that the glory of the Empire was not as glorious as it was reported to be. I did not feel a connection to England. The native Indian peoples endured so much suffering. I didn’t understand until Nishah explained how we, foreigners, had invaded and took everything for profit. The Crown colonized India to drain her of her natural resources and her people.”

Ah, so this is where Sebastian’s anti-imperialist beliefs began.

“Nishah was fierce, proud…and she was kind to me at a time in my life where I was rudderless on a vast sea.”

I raised my hand to pause Sebastian’s story, then rose, refilled my glass and poured a glass of brandy for my companion.

“Sit, you might as well be comfortable while you make your telling.” I offered the drink to him and he nodded gratefully before taking a gulp and sitting beside me on the chaise.

“Nishah and I used to meet in the attic of the vicarage at night when all were abed. I would read to her by candlelight. She liked Shakespeare, and Emily Bronte. She said she dreamed of going to grand English balls and of making a good match. I was an inexperienced boy on a hair trigger…even a strong breeze would give me a stand back then.” We both laughed and then I caught myself and gestured for him to go on.

“I don’t recall what led up to it, reading a story, or acting one out, but we experimented…with sex… just once.”

“Oh,” I gasped. I had not expected this turn of events at all. The heat of jealousy coiled in my chest and then I chided myself for feeling jealousy for an act that occurred years before I knew Sebastian.