Free The Heiress by Evelyn Anthony Page A

the same time at the nature of the lesson he had taught her.
    Before the dawn came the touch of his hands awoke her again, and she knew better now than to draw back from him. His second love-making was so different from the first that she could hardly believe the lover who possessed her then was the same man as the jeering violater of some hours before. Not a word did he speak; he took her in silence and he subjected her to the expertise gained in the arms of many women until her senses swam and incoherent cries came from her lips as they were opened by his own. When the culmination came it was a shared ascent, explosive but controlled, completely different from that other brutal act of domination.
    Anne put her arms around his neck and fell asleep against his breast, not daring to speak for fear of breaking the spell which seemed to have encompassed them. In his arms she felt very soft and light, very pliable compared to the stiff, resistant body which he had overcome by force the first time. She was different from Louise; Louise entwined herself like a serpent when they were in repose together, unwilling to lose the slightest contact or abjure the last faint sensation of enjoyment. His wife slept in his arms like a child that had been loved and comforted. He felt content himself at that moment; surprised, but contented and very much inclined to hold her close and sleep. He had never felt like that with any woman before.
    â€˜Madame is very happy,’ the little maid Marie-Thérèse whispered. The senior girl frowned at her. It was not proper to discuss their mistress but she could not resist it that morning. She had helped to put the pale-faced bride to bed; she and the others had listened for hours in the ante-rooms for the bridegroom who had not come. And when he did the word had already reached them through his servants that he had been drinking. And yet this morning the Marquise was transformed. Her beauty bloomed; she smiled and sang as they dressed her.
    â€˜Yes,’ Marie-Jeanne whispered back, ‘yes, she is happy; how it is possible with that brute, God knows. At least we can be glad for her. For me, I’d as soon lie with the devil!’
    When Anne awoke he was gone; it was already late and the sun was streaming through the curtain cracks. She had slept on for hours; his pillow was cold when she touched it. She slipped out of bed and saw the ruined nightdress lying on the floor; she hid it in a drawer and put on another. It was the only time in her life that she had dressed herself without help. The thought made her smile, but then everything was touched by the over whelming happiness that filled her heart. She had forgotten nothing; there were marks on her arms and shoulders which would take many days to fade, but of what consequence were they when she had gone to sleep cradled in his arms, nursed as gently as if she were a little child.…
    â€˜Marie-Jeanne, where is Monsieur?’
    â€˜I do not know, Madame. But Madame his mother and sister have been asking for you. They would not permit us to disturb you, and so they left an hour ago.’
    â€˜Oh.’ She was disappointed; she would have liked nothing better than to tell them both how wrong they were when they feared for her happiness. All had come right, and sooner than she had ever dared to hope. She dressed with great care, choosing one of the simple morning dresses which had been made by the Versailles dressmaker. Pale blue broadcloth, severely cut with a crisp frill of white linen outlining her throat and circling the narrow sleeves. A short pelisse lined with dark fox made it a dress in which a great lady could walk comfortably through her gardens or take a drive out through her park.
    â€˜Marie-Jeanne, go down and see if Monsieur is in the house.’
    â€˜Yes, Madame la Marquise.’
    â€˜One moment,’ Anne said. ‘You must remember not to call me that. I am Madame Macdonald now.’
    The girl