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“How so?”
“Ifeeldifferent already. As if I must have devilish horns pushing through my bonnet, seen by all. My thoughts are already wicked enough. Voicing them makes me feel as though everyone will know. As if mobs will surround at any moment.”
Stella smiled. “If we’re quiet, no one will know. Am I not proof of that? Or do you struggle with your conscience? For that, even hushed voices can’t help, I’m afraid.”
“I feel guilty—but it’s guilt for not feeling more guilty.” She shook her head. “I’m not making sense.”
“You make sense.”
Glad to feel understood, Clara continued. “You don’t want to serve and obey one man for life. YouknowI understand—I arrived at the same conclusion. Our circumstances differ, I realize. But I don’t want to exist as someone’s chattel. My parents spoiled me. When I speak to my brother about matters of business, he hears me out, exchanges ideas with me. I can’t imagine being married and my opinion holding no importance, or worse yet, treated with contempt.”
Stella nodded in full agreement.
“Stella, your customers, are they married?”
“Most of them, yes.”
“Could they not find with their wives what they find with you?”
“I don’t know. Look around this room.”
Clara’s eyes moved inconspicuously around the Lilac Room, taking in the ladies so corseted and weighed down by heavy garments, any real physical activity was impossible. Each of their movements was carried out with elegant precision.
“If you and I are speaking of what we are, who’s to say that similar inclinations can’t be found at another table?” Clara observed, though she sounded hesitant.
“Many of these ladies must seek their own adventures. But not within their marriages.”
“Why does it seem impossible for a couple to be evenly matched, finding together what they otherwise seek elsewhere? It’s rare, but it happens. My parents found a great love together.”
“Ah.That’swhy you have such peculiar notions!”
“I suppose. But I can’t change who I am. I’m fortunate that David has been my champion, and hasn’t forced me into an arrangement.”
“Nowyouare making your own arrangements. Tell me now, after having ‘researched’ as you have, do you still wish to carry out your plans?”
“Yes! But I’m not ready yet.”
“For what are you waiting?”
Clara pursed her lips. “I fear the first time. Not so much the pain, but I’m dreading the experience. When I told J.R. that I was a maiden, he appeared discomfited. Deflowering me will be a chore for him, I fear, not a boon.”
Stella turned her head and looked at her sideways. “I have a suggestion. The deflowering of a maiden fetches the highest possible sum in my profession.” At Clara’s shocked look, Stella waved a dismissive hand. “A jest.”
“Truly? Wouldn’t an experienced woman be in higher demand?”
“There is only one maidenhead; that alone makes it a delicacy. Some fear disease and seek the safety of a virgin. There are other reasons. Some men greatly enjoy the affliction of pain; tearing a maidenhead is a form of that.”
“If asked to name a single surprise from my studies, it’s that men may take carnal pleasure in another’s pain.” The illustrations of flagellation came to mind.
“Ah, yes. It’s not uncommon. It’s equally common, however, for men to enjoybeingthe subject of such treatment, you know.”
Clara closed her mouth when she realized shock had opened it rather dramatically. “At the hands of a woman?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever…?”
“I have some customers who make inquiries. I oblige if I can, but it’s not my speciality.”
