The Concubine Affair Page 8

  ‘It’s me, Ingrid.’

  She wanted vanilla sex with no strings, but already the cream was turning sour as she looked at her not so handsome date. Calder was not meeting his prescription, and Libby was comparing him to Orvid; she couldn’t conceal her disgust.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve made a mistake,’ she said.

  ‘I understand,’ said Calder ‘but at least stay for a drink.’

  Her shiny high heels stabbed into the carpet. She picked up the sparkling white wine and rohypnol cocktail, and saw him smirking.

  ‘I think I’ll pass,’ she said putting down the glass.

  ‘That’s a real shame,’ said Calder ‘then I guess we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way,’ and he produced a knife.

  Her long blonde hair covered the pillow, and there was a swollen cut on her lip.

  ‘You raped me,’ she said to her date, who was calmly doing up his tie in the mirror.

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said.

  ‘I’m going to the police.’

  They never did; the husband would find out.

  ‘I’ll tell Orvid too.’

  Presumably this was the unfortunate spouse.

  ‘Darling, everyone knows cheats are liars,’ and he laughed.

  ‘We’re separated, he’ll believe me, and so will the police.’

  He thought for a moment. He always covered his tracks, but the temerity of the woman, with the laughter in her eyes, was goading him.

  ‘That’s unfortunate,’ he said, undoing his tie for the second time. He turned up the TV then exploded with rage.

  She was no match for his anger as he throttled the life out of her. He quickly tidied up the room, whistling, and checked her bag.

  ‘You really are a bad girl,’ he said to himself looking at the driver’s licence ‘aren’t you Libby Benedict, or should I call you Mrs Orvid Benedict?’

  He punctured her damp, no longer fair skin, and drained a sample of blood into his small mouthwash bottle.

  Ariel Vice left the Hotel Plato incognito, with a hat tilted over his face. He walked to the train station, peeling the plastic off his fingertips; you could never be too careful, and he was used to refusal. In first class he rapped his bony fingers along Ingrid’s laptop, and containing all trace of Hotnights.

  ‘Tickets please,’ said the conductor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘I thought it might work better with the vase on view,’ said Alain.

  But really he wanted to see its beauty once more; whilst Verity took a trip to the past. His own painted execution both fascinated and frightened him.

  ‘But Alain I abhor needles,’ she said, as he removed his medicine kit from an old battered leather satchel. There used to be a hole at the back, but it was now patched up with bright green reptile skin; he couldn’t make the wallet.

  The drug was in a small bottle, waiting to be drawn up, and on the dining table next to the Qianlong vase.

  ‘I couldn’t honestly,’ she said, looking at the long sharp pin in disgust.

  She was still squirming from the injections at Monks Hill. Alain studiously checked his notebook; he already had an answer, but wanted to look intellectual for Verity. Marcus wasn’t the only expert.

  ‘Well let’s try the oral route,’ he suggested.

  ‘Will it work?’ she asked.

  She wanted her cake, and to eat it; or at least the pleasure. Alain shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘You’ll have to take the precise amount,’ he said ‘I’ll inject it into your mouth.’

  She sat in the armchair with Alain standing over her. Her mouth was open, and he shot the fluid to the back of her neck. She gagged as the load hit her throat.

  ‘Swallow Verity.’

  She looked at him, her eyes smiling, excited, and scared.

  ‘Was it good for you?’ she asked him.

  ‘Always with you.’

  That was both a yes and a promise.

  ‘Should I say goodbye now?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not sure when it will work,’ he said ‘if at all.’

  ‘Well at least Marcus is away,’ she said.

  ‘Where’s he gone this time?’

  ‘Brussels. He’s trying to sell the vase.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he just auction it?’

  ‘The chef,’ said Verity ‘he could sue if he found out, and then Marcus would lose all those millions.’

  ‘It’s extraordinary,’ said Alain, admiring the workmanship once more.

  ‘Whose going to have the last chocolate?’ asked Verity, looking into the box.

  ‘Me,’ said Alain swiping it from her, but he knocked the vase; it wobbled, teetering close to the edge.

  Verity stopped it from rocking, and he saw the points of her perfectly painted nails; the light reflecting off the thick shiny gloss.

  ‘That was close,’ she said, placing it carefully in the middle of the table.

  Alain was breathing a sigh of relief.

  ‘That would have been a hundred lashes,’ said Verity.

  He touched her hand and said ‘I love you,’ but her eyes were spinning around in her head, and Verity was now somewhere completely different.

  ‘I love you too,’ said Wa Yu to her handsome priest.

  ‘Do you always have to be the Emperor’s concubine?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said sadly.

  ‘So you’re his prisoner.’

  ‘Of course, like all of China,’ she replied.

  ‘We could leave the country,’ said Alain, in one fleeting moment of optimism.

  ‘You know that I can barely walk.’

  Her feet had been bound since childhood. She wore beautifully decorated four inch shoes, but could only step from one seat to the other, crawl, or be carried by her eunuch.

  ‘There are doctors in France who could help you,’ he said.

  Perhaps he was right, but escape seemed impossible.

  ‘It’s Bik Dong Fang my Mistress,’ said Yi entering the room, looking concerned.

  It was too late for Alain to leave Wa’s quarters; she couldn’t send him scurrying into the marbled corridor to face her second visitor. And to rebuff Bik would be an insult.

  ‘Here hide under the bed,’ said Wa.

  ‘Hello my sister,’ said Bik, as her eunuch placed her down on a cushioned seat.

  ‘Greetings to you Bik,’ said Wa.

  ‘You can tell your eunuch to wait outside with mine Wa, I promise not to ravish you, as beautiful as you are,’ said Bik.

  Bik had an undeniable presence too, but it was earthier, less serene. She had a small cute nose, and the filthiest of eyes.

  Wa nodded towards him, and Yi went to wait outside, knowing that if Alain was discovered he too would lose his life.

  ‘You know I really would like us to see more of one another,’ said Bik.

  ‘It is nice to have friends,’ said Wa.

  ‘Quite, and especially for new arrivals at Court like myself,’ said Bik.

  She reached out to hold Wa’s hand.

  ‘I will look out for you little sister,’ said Wa.

  Bik knew that Wa held a special place in the Emperor’s heart, but in her first month at the Imperial palace she had chanced upon a knowing glance between Wa Yu and a Jesuit priest. If she could uncover any impropriety she would quickly rise to become one of the Emperor’s favourites.

  ‘It is said the Emperor keeps your name under his pillow,’ said Bik.

  ‘It is true that he cares for me,’ mused Wa.

  There were over sixty concubines in the palace, plus assistant mistresses; each with their name written upon a jade tablet. If they were to be favoured, the Emperor would pass their inscribed characters to a eunuch.
The concubine would have her clothes removed, in case she concealed a weapon, be wrapped in gold cloth, and then carried to the foot of the Emperor’s bed.

  Wa Yu was so incredibly pretty she had been assigned a eunuch all of her own; Yi Peng: Whilst Bik was the new girl in town who needed an escort to show her the sights.

  ‘I hear the Summer Palace is wonderful,’ said Bik.

  ‘Indeed, and this year we will have a water display in the gardens,’ said Wa.

  ‘I believe the barbarians call them fountains,’ said Bik.

  She had already done her homework on the Jesuits.

  ‘Do you know which one has designed them?’ asked Bik. ‘Whispers say he has overtaken Heshen as the Emperor’s favourite.’

  ‘If that were true he would already be dead,’ said Wa.

  ‘Do you know this priest?’ asked Bik.

  ‘Only in passing; I believe his name is Alain Fontaney,’ said Wa, knowing he was listening in.

  In spite of the danger, Alain was becoming excited listening to the two women.

  ‘Are those your bags?’ asked Bik, looking at the packed cases on the bed.

  ‘Yes,’ said Wa ‘we leave this afternoon do we not?’

  ‘Then perhaps it is time I began my own packing,’ said Bik, and she clapped her hands for her eunuch to return.

  ‘I know they’ve been castrated, but they are rather handsome don’t you think,’ said Bik, and she squeezed the oiled bicep of her stoic faced guardian.

  ‘Do you think they still get aroused?’ asked Bik ‘I mean mentally.’

  ‘Perhaps, but how would you tell?’ asked Wa.

  ‘I don’t know, perhaps their tongue gets stiff,’ said Bik, and she laughed.

  Bik enjoyed flirting with danger, and had no intention of wasting her life loving an old man. She was hoping to gain Wa’s trust, and then replace her. If she could give the Emperor a favourite son she would be made for life, with toys of her own.

  Wa hoped Bik wasn’t as mischievous with the Emperor, or he might remove the tongues of his eunuchs as well; but she wouldn’t be the first concubine to be wooed by the mouth of a eunuch.

  ‘You can come out now Alain, she’s gone and Yi’s on sentry duty outside,’ said Wa.

  He crawled out from underneath the bed, and Wa could tell he was pleased to see her.

  ‘You liked that didn’t you,’ she said noticing his arousal.

  He nodded.

  ‘And was it just me, or the sound of me and Bik together.’

  Alain went bright red, and Verity knew that she was talking to the very same Alain Fontaney she had left sitting at the table.

  ‘You know I believe we are going to know one another a lot longer than anyone would believe,’ said Wa, and she pulled Alain towards her bosom.

  ‘If the Emperor saw that he’d have it chopped off,’ said Wa, and she laughed.

  ‘However in the meantime I could either put it to good use, or punish it,’ she said.

  ‘What would you sooner have me do Alain?’ she asked.

  He looked at the ground.

  ‘Then punishment it is,’ she said.

  Her nails were long, but she had a surprise waiting.

  ‘You know there’s only one thing I haven’t packed,’ she said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘My beauty box,’ she replied.

  It was full of hair bands, slides, clips, and pins.

  ‘Madam, someone’s coming,’ shouted Yi into her chambers.

  ‘I know,’ said Wa.

  ‘So how do we clean up this mess?’ asked Yi.

  ‘Oh don’t worry, I’m doing just that,’ said Wa.

  ‘Madam they’re here,’ said Yi.

  ‘Tell your mistress we’re loading the bags onto the coaches,’ said a courtier to Yi, before marching off with the rest of his troupe.

  Yi wiped the sweat from his brow, and said a short prayer of thanks to his own god.

  ‘The coast is clear,’ said Yi, and Alain slipped amidst the hurly burly as the Court prepared to re-camp for the summer.

  History had come alive before Verity’s eyes, and she joined the others to Xiyanglou.

  The blinds were lifted, and Verity looked out onto the summer gardens. Heshen had staged a welcome for the Emperor, whose retinue were watching a dancing bear. The beast was tied to a pole, staked deep in the ground. Yi carried her to them, whilst a large orange cushion was placed next to the Emperor.

  ‘Whatever are you eating?’ she whispered in Chien-lung’s ear, but fully knowing the answer. She’d been spoiled herself.

  ‘Chocolates from France: A gift from Alain Fontaney. You should try one,’ he replied.

  Heshen, the Emperor’s right hand man, was looking at her distrustfully, simmering with jealousy.

  ‘Thank you my Lord,’ she said.

  ‘Alain is about to turn the fountains on,’ said an excited Chien-lung.

  Heshen grimaced.

  ‘Ah,’ gasped the crowd, as the fountains sprang into life.

  ‘Look how much they spurt,’ said the Emperor.

  ‘What else could we expect from Alain Fontaney,’ said Wa, hiding her face behind a fan.

  The moon bear had intelligent eyes, their gentle softness now clouded with anger. Verity sensed its hurt, the broken heart once playful and free, like her very own. But the chains that imprisoned them both now had a weak link.

  Heshen had stage managed a surprise; when the muzzled beast broke free he would kill it with his sword. This bravery would surely cement the gratitude of the Emperor’s son, and heir apparent.

  ‘Quickly, secure the bear,’ shouted Wa Yu ‘he is about to escape.’

  Red faced Imperial guards rushed towards the beast, and led it away with pointed spears - to the bile farm. The owner would still demand payment in full, though he would be killed before he got the chance to collect.

  ‘You’re not as shy as I imagined Wa,’ said the Emperor.

  ‘It is not the time for modesty when your Highness is in danger,’ she said.

  ‘Everything was under control your Highness,’ said Heshen.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Chien-lung ‘but no one is blaming you my loyal friend, it was just a precaution.’

  ‘He’s jealous,’ the Emperor whispered to Wa.

  ‘I know my Lord. Half of the Court believes you have a jade tablet in your bedroom with his name upon it.’

  Wa Yu never dared such boldness, but Verity was a modern woman, and the Emperor couldn’t stop laughing. He was still ringing in her ears when she heard another voice.

  ‘You’re back,’ said Alain. ‘I almost thought you’d gone for good.’

  Verity was rubbing her eyes.

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Eighteen hours,’ he said ‘but don’t worry I can adjust the calculations for next time.’

  ‘It was so beautiful.’

  ‘Did you see the jade lions?’ he asked.

  ‘And the golden peacocks,’ she said.

  ‘And Heshen?’

  ‘You mean Dr Calder.’

  ‘What about the Emperor?’

  ‘Just like Marcus; keeping women in his pocket. And before you ask, you haven’t changed either.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I won’t spell it out, but before you go I’m going to get my beauty bag.’

  And she laughed for as long, and as loud, as the Emperor himself.

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ asked a relieved Alain.

  ‘In history class of course,’ she said. ‘Anyway it’s time to put it away.’

  ‘Sorry,’ apologised Alain.

  ‘I meant the vase,’ said Verity.

  ‘It looks different,’
said Alain.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘That scene has changed,’ he said pointing ‘I’m certain.’ He reached for his phone.

  Verity studied them both, the vase and Alain’s photo; he was right.

  Previously Heshen had swung his sword at a raging bear. Now the tax collector was to the side, with an unnamed concubine in front. But Verity Forster knew all too well who it was; it was her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  He watched them leave from his car, parked further down the road; the guy with the frilly shirt, and his red haired bimbo. So that’s why the wife was looking for a playmate on Hotnights.com.

  Lawrence Calder skirted around the detached house, before slipping through the tall front gate. The six foot hedge masked him from prying eyes.

  Lauderdale’s cat flap was half finished, and Calder kicked in the rest of the door. Upstairs he opened the wardrobe, and grabbed a turquoise shirt from an abundance of ruffles, and then his sweating face lit up: Hanging out of the top pocket of a blue velvet jacket were a set of keys, with a tag that read ‘Peking Theatre Spares’.

  ‘Damn, I’ve forgotten the handcuffs,’ said Orvid.

  They were part of his act, but Karin had been receiving extra tuition; mainly in his bedroom.

  ‘You have to stop taking them Orvid,’ said Karin as he turned the car around, and referring to his prescription.

  ‘And what if we can’t cope?’

  ‘Have the voices ever told you to kill anyone?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Then what have you got to lose?’

  ‘My freedom.’

  But would that suit Karin? After all, he could see Sofia in Monks Hill, and plan an escape, for both of them.

  Calder was starting the engine, just as Orvid turned the corner.

  ‘Strange,’ he said to Karin ‘I could have sworn that was Dr Calder.’

  ‘Maybe he does house calls,’ said Karin.

  Calder looked at the shirt on the passenger seat; truly criminal.

  Orvid didn’t call the police. Nothing was stolen, and he didn’t have insurance for the door.

  There was a drumroll from a stage assistant, whilst another led the handcuffed Karin to the guillotine. The handcuffs were antique wrought iron, and Karin was suitably attired as Marie Antoinette.