A War by Diplomacy Page 12

  “What goes on here?” Daphne demanded.

  “This is where I and some of my helpers present our attitudes. Tableaux vivants, you know. Very popular with the sporting gentlemen. Gets them nicely warmed up.”

  “I see. Interesting,” Daphne proclaimed even though she had no idea what the bawd was talking about.

  The rear of the ground floor was given up to a kitchen and a large butler’s pantry that seemed to be used for preparing drinks, judging by the dirty glasses awaiting cleansing. On the first floor, the two rooms, which would probably have formed the drawing room and the dining room when the house was first planned, had each been divided. All four contained beds, in one of which a very young girl huddled under the covers with just her face appearing. She seemed to be terrified at the intrusion. Daphne hardly glanced at the girl but noticed that scattered about were various items of women’s clothing of a sort she had never encountered before as well as some men’s clothing. There did seem to be more lumps in the bed than the young girl could be responsible for, but Daphne decided that she would rather not find out what else was under the covers.

  It was on the second floor that Daphne discovered what must be the special rooms she had heard about. The first one she looked into contained a collection of large items made of wood. Daphne could not even guess what their purpose was. On the walls were hung several whips. There was also a large container filled with water in which were sitting a variety of wool balls. “What in the world is this?” Daphne asked.

  “This is our flogging room. We bind our customers to the equipment and give them a thorough whipping or caning. Particularly popular with men who have been to the best public schools.”

  “Oh course,” Daphne said, though she had never even imagined that men could get pleasure from being placed in such a position. She had thought that men were always in charge, or so they thought. “But what are these wet balls?”

  “You must know that many men dream of being exposed in the public pillories and of having rotten vegetables thrown at them. This room simulates that situation. The fee is doubled if the client wants real rotten fruit used because of the extra work to clean up the mess afterwards. Among those who enjoy this activity, it produces a most impressive phallus,” Mrs. Marsdon drawled in a matter-of-fact voice that Daphne suspected was designed to make her feel embarrassed and unsophisticated.

  Daphne was revolted by the whole idea of the perversions being indicated, but she wasn’t going to let this harridan know how nonplussed she was at this unbelievable account. “I suppose that the other special rooms here appeal to similar tastes?” she demanded still trying to hide her revulsion.

  “Yes, indeed.’ Mrs. Marsdon was almost gloating. “One is specially equipped to cane and whip gentlemen. The next for disciplining some of our young women, who are willing to submit for a very large fee. That is very popular among our clients. Marquis Sombutler especially. Very distinguished and well-respected man use it regularly. Of course, the fee has to be very high for often the ladies are not able to resume their work for quite a time, and it may leave scars. The fourth room is for our clients who enjoy being dressed as women. Also very popular, I must say. You would not believe how many men have to be entertained by our attitudes downstairs while waiting for access to our special rooms. I am sure you want to inspect them also. Maybe you would even like to take a turn in the ladies’ discipline room, Lady Ashton. I would be happy to whip you properly though I would, of course, count it against the services I am supposed to give to Lord Ashton, even though the former holder of the title felt that it was more blessed to give than to receive, so I had to take some of his whippings.”

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Marsdon.” Daphne momentarily turned on the charm to hide her astonishment. She refused to be intimidated by this woman. “I am not inclined to repeat my half-brother’s endeavors, even though I am sure you deserve to be flogged. I don’t need to see these special rooms. I expect they are in the same shoddy condition as the first one. I expect that if Viscount Ashton should continue to use the premises for these purposes, he will have them completely redecorated and refurnished with higher-class equipment. And while I might like to give you a thorough thrashing, just as you deserve, in the ladies’ room, my time is too pressing now to indulge my pleasures. Let us see what is on the third floor.”

  Mrs. Marsdon led the way up the stairs. Daphne noticed that Betsy’s mouth was open in consternation and there was a slightly glazed look in her eyes.

  “Are you all right, Betsy?” she whispered.

  “Yes, my lady. I just cannot believe any of this. Why would anyone want any part of this or why would women want to work here?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t even imagine it. I have never heard of such things before now.”

  “But you seemed quite knowledgeable, my lady.”

  Play acting, Betsy. Just play-acting. I know no more than you.”

  The third floor had been divided into several small bedrooms, more clearly equipped for what one might expect in a brothel, rather than with any extensive furnishings to accommodate a longer tryst. “These are where our less talented ladies entertain gentlemen who are in more of a rush or who can afford to spend less time with them than the ones who use the first floor rooms.”

  “I see,” said Daphne, though in fact she was having a hard time not revealing how shocked she was to hear prostitution discussed in such matter-of-fact terms. “And what will I find on the next floor?”

  “Oh, just my own rooms. Never opened to others except of course the late Lord Ashton.”

  “Of course,” Daphne agreed, not believing a word of it. “Nevertheless, I am afraid that my inspection cannot be considered complete without viewing those premises.”

  Daphne without waiting for any comment from the other woman proceeded up the stairs, followed by Mrs. Marsdon and trailed by Betsy who still seemed to be totally disoriented by the sudden exposure to a whole side of life which she had never even imagined could exist. Daphne too was having a hard time visualizing the seamy side of human nature that the visit was revealing even as she strove to give the impression that she considered it all normal.

  The upper floor, which from the street had been largely hidden by the pediment, turned out to have unexpectedly high ceilings and large windows facing the back of the house. The two rooms facing the street had low ceilings and were poorly lit by the dormers. They were given over to a dressing room and a place to hang innumerable dresses of all types.

  One of the main rooms facing the rear of the house had been fitted out as a sitting room, and would have been very pleasant were it not for the garish clash of colors in the furnishings and the wallpaper. Its most notable feature was a large portrait of a much younger and very voluptuous Mrs. Marsdon lounging provocatively in the nude in the style of many classical, salacious pictures. Daphne recognized the style of a renowned artist whose portraits were often shown in magazines after being converted into etchings. Either the artist had been flattering his subject outrageously, or else the younger Mrs. Marsdon had had a much more attractive figure, face and complexion than she now possessed. The other room facing the rear of the house was a large bedroom, very comfortable looking if one could ignore the poor taste revealed by the choices of colors, curtains and furniture.

  “How very nice!” exclaimed Daphne hypocritically. “You must be very happy here. I am glad to see that these quarters are eminently suitable for your lessons in deportment and acting. Very suitable! And I am sure you can use the bedroom to instruct kept women or the daring wives of wandering husbands how best to keep the interests of men. No doubt you instruct them in how best to hold elevated conversations. However, I am sure that we can find much better uses for the rest of the house when we have refurbished it to the very best standards and got rid of much of the special equipment.”

  “Don’t you dare try to make changes to my establishment!” was the response. “I’ll have you know that many very prominent men are most partial to my sp
ecial services and would come down hard on anyone who tried to interfere with them. Why, I’ll have you know that the Bishop of Stanbury is very partial to the women’s dressing room while Sir David McDougall very much enjoys reddening and striping a wide variety of backs and backsides in the discipline room. Hector, the footman who let you in, had his back well flogged by Sir David before providing his more standard molly-boy use. If you are thinking that the law would help, Sir Toby Constips, the local magistrate, is an enthusiastic patron and Justice Brownwater is very, very needy when it comes to receiving a good flogging.”

  “Thank you very much for the tour, Mrs. Marsdon. I shall be letting you and, of course, Lord Knockingdon and Mrs. O’Brien know that we shall expect all of you to uphold the terms of the lease.” Daphne, with head held high, led the way down the several flights of stairs and through the front door, even eliciting a bow from the lackey who must have been the well-flogged Hector.

  “Thank God that is over!” she exclaimed to Betsy. “I am sorry to have exposed you to that … that … abominable place and what goes on there. I had no idea of how the house was used. In fact, I never knew that such things happened at all. I didn’t really know what occurred in the brothels that are whispered about, and never even imagined any of this.”

  Captain Bolton was waiting for Daphne when they returned to Nerot’s Hotel. The carriage was soon rolling along on the way out of London. Captain Bolton took a keen interest in everything they were passing and his delight in the changing sights kept Daphne from brooding too much on the shocking tour she had taken with Mrs. Marsdon. Captain Bolton confessed to knowing very little of England apart from East Anglia, London, and the routes to the major naval bases. The different type of landscape as they travelled to Dipton kept him enthusiastically commenting on all he found charming and Daphne found that she was starting to see the countryside with newly awakened pleasure.

  This led to a discussion of depicting landscape in paintings and Captain Bolton’s fascination with art. He waxed lyrical in describing the developments that an artist called Turner was making, quite catching Daphne’s attention. She really should find out more about current artists and what paintings would be suitable for Dipton Hall. She and Richard had never talked of art, and she wondered what his tastes were. She knew that his profession meant that he would be away from home for long periods. She had never imagined how much she would miss being able to ask him small things and get an immediate answer.

  The time on the trip passed easily, though darker thoughts concerned with this mornings’ inspection kept intruding into Daphne’s thoughts. She even wondered idly if Captain Bolton was one who indulged in the types of services that were offered in the sort of establishment with which she was now so unwillingly associated. Surely, no gentleman would. But then the names that Mrs. Marsdon had dropped kept intruding into her thoughts. Who could she talk to about the house and what was happening there? Ladies were not supposed to know anything about such things and she could think of none who would be helpful. That supposed innocence included herself, so how could she ask assistance of any male acquaintances – and if she did, would they be all too knowledgeable, not about how to extract Richard from the tangled web, but about the forbidden joys that her unwanted establishment provided? She had never wanted to be a viscountess and being one certainly had brought many problems.

  They arrived in Dipton just in time to stop first at Dipton Manor to introduce Captain Bolton to her father and to invite them to dinner. She discovered that Mr. Moorhouse was already supposed to dine at the Hall, and received the news that the Countess had arrived and was staying there. Daphne had invited her to visit while she was at the funeral. It was just a pity that the unexpected length of her own time away from Dipton meant that she had missed her mother-in-law’s arrival. Would there be ruffled feathers to smooth out at Dipton Hall because she had not been there to greet the Countess?

  There was, in fact, none. Lady Clara was very understanding about why Daphne’s return had been delayed; indeed, she sounded a bit envious that her son had wanted his wife along on even a short voyage. She instead confirmed how grateful she was for the invitation to visit Dipton Hall. She seemed to be much less imperious than she had been when Daphne first met her.

  After the ladies had withdrawn after dinner, Captain Bolton’s irrepressible curiosity got the better of him. The Countess had invited Lord David to dine and he had been introduced by that name to the naval visitor.

  “I am puzzled, Lord David,” Captain Bolton began, “that you are addressed as Lord David. I always had heard that the proper address for the younger sons of earls is ‘The Honorable’ or, I suppose, in your case it would be ‘Reverend the Honorable’.”

  “You are quite right about the proper form of address,” Lord David responded happily. “The ‘title’ is our own family quirk or joke that has no official warrant. It came as a result of my father’s bad temper, I am told. It was soon after Lady Marianne left her home, much to my father’s annoyance. We had a butler at the time who was a bit of a stickler for protocol and insisted in announcing even members of the family when they had been away. As a result, when my half-brother, Thomas, returned from a trip, the butler announced him as ‘The Honorable Mr. Thomas Giles’. My father is said to have bellowed something like ‘The Honorable Mister! The Honorable Mister! Peter was ‘Lord Peter’ before he became Ashton. ‘Marianne’ is ‘Lady Marianne’. If ‘Lady’ is good enough for that traitor Marianne, ‘Lord’ is the right title for my other sons. Thomas is ‘Lord Thomas’ around here!’ The idea caught on and Richard and then I became ‘Lord Richard’ and ‘Lord David’. Family acquaintances picked it up and it has become habit for us to introduce each other with the incorrect title. I am afraid that my sister-in-law has little use for the finer points of protocol, so she introduces me as Lord David without thinking.”

  “Makes wonderful sense to me, Lord David. I have never actually been in a position where the difference would be relevant until this visit.”

  “With that resolved, I imagine that we are ready to rejoin the ladies,” responded Lord David.

  When Daphne had led the ladies into the small drawing room, her niece, Lydia, immediately approached her. “Aunt Daphne, do we have to still be in mourning?”

  Daphne had actually been surprised that her relatives had all been in mourning with the exception of Lord David. She herself had abandoned it for the trip to London. “What does your mother say?” she prevaricated.

  “Oh, she would abandon it right now, but she was afraid that it might insult you or Mr. Dimster’s parents.”

  “And your grandmother? She knows far more about these things than I do.”

  “I haven’t asked her. She isn’t my real grandmother.”

  “Let’s get her opinion anyway.”

  “Of course you can come out of mourning, Lydia. Your uncles meant nothing to you or to your mother. It is quite meaningless to pretend to mourn them. Nevertheless, you should first ask Mr. Dimster what his parents would think. You don’t want to start marriage on the wrong foot, especially with his father supplying the allowance.”

  “That is something we need to talk to you about, Aunt Daphne. Tomorrow morning?”

  “Of course. Around noon? Ask Mr. Dimster to come for luncheon, if he is free.”

  Lady Marianne and Lydia soon excused themselves. Captain Bolton’s attention was directed entirely at Catherine, while Lady Camshire and Daphne’s father were holding a quite animated conversation. That left Daphne with Lord David, and even before she could think of how to begin a conversation, he took the lead.

  “At the funeral, Captain Gregg said that Richard should go to the regimental headquarters to straighten something out. I hope it all went well.”

  Daphne had completely forgotten about Thomas’s love-child and his mother and the steps she was supposed to take on their behalf. That was something else she would have to see to immediately. But she didn’t think that she should enlighten Lord David about
the matter. He probably could be discreet, but he was likely to treat the newcomers in a special way if he knew why they had come to Dipton.

  “Yes,” she answered, after a moment to think about her answer. “It was really quite straightforward. I am afraid that it was your other brother that caused the real problems. Part of his financial affairs are in a terrible tangle and it is not clear how to straighten them out. They arise, I am afraid, from his rather dissipated way of life. They, in fact, are the major, delicate problem he left Richard. Mr. Edwards was not much help in straightening it out, and Richard had to leave before he could tackle it. I really am not quite sure what to do.”

  “Why don’t we talk about it soon?” Lord David replied. “I don’t know much about debauchery, but probably more than you do. I might be able to help.”

  Daphne again had trouble falling asleep that night. There was again some discomfort from being with child. How convenient it would be if she could somehow speed the process up and still have a healthy child. She also had much on her mind. She had to find out how the various projects at Dipton were progressing. She also should inspect the farms and talk to her tenants to see what the prospects for a good harvest were. Then there were the problems that had arisen in her trip with Giles: Thomas’s love-child and Ashton’s whorehouse. In addition, what could Lydia and her fiancé want? Furthermore, she really should find time to see about the needs for better art at Dipton. It was all very well to tell herself that there was nothing to be done until the next day so she might as well sleep; her mind didn’t work that way.

  Chapter XII

  Giles turned away as the coach carrying Daphne disappeared at the first bend in the road. He entered the inn where he presumed that Sir Walcott must be staying. However, the innkeeper had no news of the man. Giles sent Carstairs to find out if any of the other inns in Chatham knew where his passenger might be staying and settled into the lounge with a cup of bad coffee, for which he soon substituted a pint of ale. He was growing steadily more annoyed. Carstairs came back to report that he could find no trace of Sir Walcott in any of the likely places in Chatham.