Diana in the Offing Ch. 03

"Stop," Charlotte whispered, just loud enough to be heard. "Stop Margaret, Amanda, take her downstairs, give her a bath, and put something on her."

"But Mistress, I want to be your Pig," Margaret's voice broke as she started to weep, "Have I displeased you? Are you sending me away?"

Amanda rushed to help Margaret, but the older woman pushed her away and hurried on hands and knees to Charlotte's feet. "Please don't cast me out!"

The tear-stained face, not looking up into Charlotte's eyes, "I want to be your Pig, I truly do."

Charlotte glanced up from Pig to Emily, who was smiling behind her teacup.

"She absolutely does, you know, she is a complete submissive, always has been," Emily took a sip, put down the cup and saucer, then took up a cookie or biscuit as she insisted on calling them.

"Oh, I love these oatmeal biscuits, Charlotte. Did you know Margaret orders them from London, just for me?" Emily smiled and brushed the bald head of the woman sobbing on the floor.

"Oh, stop that blubbering Pig. I am not throwing you out as you did me. But I can't have tradesman coming to the door and have a naked old Pig running about, can I?" Charlotte put her cup down, finally addressing her pet. "Within this room and wherever I say up the day, you will be as you are and do as I say. Otherwise, you shall be presentable. Now go with Amanda and do as you are told, be off with you."

Amanda helped Pig to her feet; together, they left Emily and Charlotte in peace.

"So, your anger is spent then?" Emily asked, warming Charlotte's cup and passing it on.

Sighing, Charlotte fell back into her chair, her dressing gown flowing with her; she pulled it about her as if to ward off the chill.

"Yes," Charlotte pulled the robe even tighter. "Last night, really."

"Good," Emily beamed with satisfaction. "Nursing such feelings will age you and harm your soul."

"Now to business" Emily sat straight at the edge of her seat. "Well, Charlotte, it all started years ago...."

The story flowed from Emily, she came to America, and all was well; things were simple. They were not wealthy, but Emily and James were happy. They lived in James's family house in Soulard until her beloved died. After that, things became delicate. Financially, Emily had few resources, and quickly, she was in danger of becoming destitute.

"I understand your situation, Emily, but that does not explain the... activities within your home," Charlotte could see the chain of events that might lead an educated woman to become a mistress, a madam, or even a prostitute, but to indulge in what the Church taught was a mortal sin? Worse, to create an establishment that catered to it?

"Well, my dear Charlotte, you see, I was unusual in my," Emily took a deep breath. "In my education."

Emily turned to Charlotte now; Charlotte could see she was breathing more rapidly, and her breasts were tastefully displayed and were showing her excitement, reflecting the pink of her cheeks.

"Well, you see, as is common in my station, I was sent to what we British call public school," Emily searched for understanding in Charlotte; seeing none, she added, "You would know them as boarding schools, an all-girls boarding school."

Charlotte simply nodded and watched Emily.

"I met her in my second year; we were both young girls then," Emily seemed lost in her memories. "We shared rooms and soon became close."

"We were young, away from home, together at night, listening to each other weep in our loneliness," A wistful smile enhancing Emily's already lovely face, she told the story for herself as much as Charlotte. "Then, of course, we would either become close or hate each other."

"As we grew older, as your girlhood came to an end, we became... closer," Emily held Charlotte's gaze, "we became lovers, mostly by accident, fumbling through our maturity, but we spent the last two years of school together. It was not uncommon, honestly, but few were as... intense... as ours."

"It all came to tears; of course, it was impossible, she had a pedigree better than mine, but her family was poor as church mice by comparison." Emily's eyes were beyond misty, but no tear fell. "Her mother managed a match with a proper husband, meaning rich. He was as stupid as one could be, which might be ignored, for that is common, but also as dull as wash water finding joy only in fishing; worse, he is as ugly as the south end of a northbound horse. But, of course, none of that mattered; he was wealthy and had a good income, and that was that. She was married and out of my life."

The two sat silently for a moment, Emily dabbing a tear and Charlotte pretending not to notice as the birds happily sang in the early morning sunshine.

"It was shortly after the wedding that James came to the pile, and you know the rest," Emily took a deep breath and smiled a sad but genuine smile. "So, you see, I discovered that I could enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with either men or women but also that I enjoyed the company of women far more."

"I still don't understand...." Charlotte asked, her brows furrowed; she could see how Emily might find comfort in another woman's arms. Still, there is a great chasm from sharing a lover's bed to running a brothel exclusive to women.

"I was getting to that," Emily chuckled and padded Charlotte's hand. "Well, when I came to Saint Louis, I, being a high-born Brit, was of some interest to the bored locals."

Emily joyfully laughed, "It did not hurt that James was dreadfully dashing in his uniform. But, of course, we were immediately taken into the social circle of parties...."

Emily sighed, "Well, that is where I made some... friends. But, you see, James was away often, and I became lonely... many of those friends were equally lonely, and well, as in school, nature took its course."

Realizing how that sounded, Emily suddenly sat up and took Charlotte's hand. "I was never unfaithful to James, ever, but I came to know that some of the ladies and I shared desires, but I never acted on mine, at least not physically, but...."

"When I lost James, my friends rallied around me, and then one day, three of them came to me with a proposition, you see there was a certain need for companionship, but none of them could endanger themselves, but my home was far enough away that it might serve, and it did."

Emily finished, thinking that all was clear, but seeing a hint of confusion on Charlotte's face, she continued.

"They suggested that several of our sisters, in desires, would pay handsomely for relief from either uncaring, absent, impotent, or more often otherwise entertained husbands. After all, so many husbands keep mistresses; why not those of us who wish some companionship?"

"I see, so you established this enterprise to both provide for companionship and also to provide you an income?" Charlotte refreshed her tea and began to sip absentmindedly. "I think I understand, but why me?"

"As you must have surmised, Margaret was one of those women, she is a complete submissive, and her husband could not, or would not, meet her needs. The other two you know as well. As for you, I wanted to give you some modicum of... well, for the lack of a better term... revenge if not justice. But to also have what was rightfully yours returned. Margaret could have fought even a lawful will. After all, a judge could find it easier to favor a living high-society mother than a dead love-struck boy and his lower-class gold-digger wife. But by doing as I did, I exposed her, thus freeing her of her bonds, all the while making it impossible for her to deny your rights."

Emily was feeling herself the avenging angel, "I also had hopes that you might be a kindred spirit and perhaps able to help me with the Club; you see, I wish to travel, but I am constantly needed to deal with this or that. I was completely uncertain of how it would go, but when you did not run screaming from the house once the playroom doors were opened, I was hopeful, and when you to a hand with Lady A and Lady B and did so perfectly? I was beyond pleased. However, the real test was when you handled Margaret with firmness but, more importantly, understanding and gentle forgiveness. I was over the moon."

"I am all the more certain when I come here this morning and find you giving Margaret exactly what she craves and doing so effortlessly as if you have done it all your life?" Emily was effusive in her praise. "I knew you were perfect for assisting me with the burden, and you would enjoy all the play as much or more than I. You see, I do not enjoy meeting out pain regardless of how much a woman might crave it, it is not my nature, but it is yours; you are not a sadist; you are naturally dominant, the best I have ever seen."

Charlotte sat stunned. "So, if I understand you, you wish me to take some responsibility for 'the Club' as you call it, and to continue to participate in its activities, to what purpose? What would motivate me to do such a thing?"

"First, it is extremely lucrative. I have done quite well for myself through its operations," Emily continued, hopeful that Charlotte had not yet said no or thrown her out. "You should know that Margaret has poorly invested; what sums were left to her? Several swindlers have taken her money; the accounts are merely a shadow of what they were. I know because it was for a loan that she came to see me shortly after throwing you out. I gave her that loan with certain... conditions. Some of which you saw last night."

"Second, and most importantly, because you enjoy it. You cannot deny you thoroughly enjoyed everything last night." Emily sat back in triumph, confident she had made her case well enough for the Pope to see the logic of it. Emily was smiling from ear to ear.

"Suppose I accept your offer; I don't know where I would find clients or... what word do you use? Employees?" Charlotte asked innocently. "I mean, why would these women do this?"

"The clients come by word of mouth, and we have no shortage; some come from as far away as Chicago, others Kansas City, and we even have two sisters to visit quarterly from New York." Emily's smile dimmed. "As far as young ladies who provide comfort and pleasure, there is no shortage."

"Do you remember when I became cross with you over that word?" Emily asked, leaning closer to take some sugar for a fresh cup. "I was upset because Deborah and Grace were there, I would have been regardless, but doubly so for them, for you see, there were that kind of woman."

Emily's hand was slightly trembling as she sipped. "Before all this started, while James was still with me, I was just off the mark establishing the household, and I was searching for domestics, but you see, we had a modest income, and I could not even boil an egg. Not what a posh English girl does, you see, cooking was not done."

"One evening, I was returning home from a dinner party and yet another fruitless search when two women, one helping the other her arm over her shoulders, came around the corner as quickly as they could. I could hear a policeman's whistle and running footsteps away off."

"Please miss, we done thing wrong; he beat my friend Grace here, he used her in the alley and refused to pay, and when she demanded her money, he beat her. I saw and jumped on him, and then he hit me; please miss help us." Emily continued, the memory nearly painted on her face. "Well, something told me they were in earnest, so I quickly opened the door and helped them in. I had just locked the door when a police officer came hot around the corner and demanded that I produce them."

"What are you talking about? I asked him" Emily said, "Two whores just robbed a proper gentleman around the street in an alley."

"What sort of 'proper gentleman' spends his time in alleys? I asked" Emily was becoming cross; Charlotte thought it was cute and frightening. She knew that Emily could be fierce. "His response? None of your business; just bring them out here right quick. Those whores are going in for robbery and assault."

"What is your name, officer? I asked him," Emily reported, her eyes fixed again in memory. "Never you mind, my name. He says to me. Just bring them whores down; I know they are in there cause l saw the door closing, and they could not run further without my seeing them."

"I asked you a question, officer. What is your name? Or shall I call Chief Constable Watkins and ask him? His wife and I had tea just yesterday, and I have no issue with asking her about you at tea next Monday." Emily was smiling slightly now; she was living through it all again.

"Kelly, Constable Edward Kelly, now bring them out at once. The bastard finally replied through gritted teeth; I had had enough of him by this point." Emily continued.

"I will do no such thing; the only women in my home are my housekeeper and cook. However, I will consider your request; if you bring forth this 'proper gentleman', you, he, and I will discuss his activities in the alley. If I am satisfied they were honorable, I will gladly bring my staff out. We shall all then take a cab, at my expense, to this gentleman's home and discuss it with him, you, myself, them -- and his wife." The smile of triumph returned to Emily's face; she was positively beaming.

"Of course, they did not return, and Kelly has been a thorn in my side ever since, but I was overjoyed to learn that Deborah and Grace were the perfect solutions to my problem. To his credit, James was overjoyed as well." Emily sat quietly, then added, "Well, once we started the Club, Deborah and Grace were invaluable assets. They rescued several girls and offered a way for those who needed help to come to us before they had to ply the trade on the streets or in those filthy brothels by the river. Of course, there is a constant turnover, and we are happy to see them go. We insist that they improve themselves, finish school, help them with a respectable trade; some even become nurses, many are schoolteachers, and the like."

"Charlotte, I have watched you. You know you are excellent with people; you are sensible, unfailingly kind, and with a strong spirit. If you have a mind, you have all the skills to take the reins, protect these women, and manage the Club and its difficult characters. But, please, Charlotte, I need you." Emily was pleading, and it nearly broke Charlotte's heart.

"I will not lie to you, Emily, I enjoyed last night very much, but that was about me. I have no idea how I will behave at the next... meeting?" Charlotte could not help but wonder what the proper word was.

"We use the term -- ball," Emily sipped, chuckling. "I thought it appropriate as with our little group, and the title would be the only balls involved."

Charlotte groaned at the pun.

"I will give it six months, then we shall see." Emily kept her voice even, trying to keep her anticipation from her voice.

The following day, Charlotte became Mistress Diana at the Club, and six months flew by.

Charlotte and Emily referred to them as the Halcion days.

The War to End All Wars was drawing to a close; soon, husbands, sons, brothers, and fathers would be returning. Bittersweet for Charlotte, as her husband would remain in Europe till judgment day.

One day she received a package; it was Jonathan's personal effects. Included, surprisingly, was his sidearm; it was not an Army issue, so it was returned to her. The custom 1911 Colt.45 was damaged during the crash; she sent it to be repaired. There was a Purple Heart and medals from Britain and one from France. What mattered to her was the small photo of them as newlyweds. Found on his body, a decent German officer provided it in exchange for the personal effect of German pilots and soldiers at some impromptu truce.

All sat framed beside Charlotte's bed.

The Club grew, Emily could travel for the first time in years, and she was wined and dined by Club members across the Midwest.

It was a trip to New York that would forever change their lives and those of innumerable others.

Grace was the first to feel poorly, so they decided to take the express from New York to Saint Louis; by the time they returned, her fever was high, and Deborah and Emily tended her bedside until they, too, fell ill.

Word was whispered about a new plague, God's judgment on man for the carnage of the war. So perhaps it was, but to Charlotte, it seems a horrible thing to add insult to injury.

Charlotte had no idea what to do but could not leave Emily, Deborah, and Grace without help.

"Amanda, keep the house locked up, admit no one, have the deliveries made to the door, make them leave, then wait, then spray all with alcohol and wash regularly. Do you understand?" The precautions seemed foolish, but she did as was recommended; they seemed reasonable enough.

"I will be back as soon as I am able," Charlotte added, packing what food could be spared.

"You are not going alone, Charlotte" Margaret stood nearby, dressed and bag in hand. Her short hair was finally growing to be recognizable as a fashionable bob cut.

"Margaret, please, there are," Charlotte started.

"You are not going alone; there are three ill women there. You are but one woman, and what happens when you fall ill?" Margaret was firm. "Miss Emily was my first mistress; she was here to save me when my husband died. She understood and helped me, even when I was wrong. So, I am going with you."

"Alright," Charlotte could not help but smile, feeling relieved she would not be alone. "We may live to regret this, but I am thankful for the company."

"But Mistress, the grocer will not take credit and will not deliver; he says that we must... " Amanda did not have a chance to finish the thought.

"Leave them to me," Margaret moved to the phone; she made a half dozen calls while Charlotte finished packing the flour, sugar, salt, and yeast powder. It was all they could spare save the bags of beans and a few lentils.

"All arranged, I had to put a few bugs in ears, but it is arranged, Mistress. I may be your Pig, but I am still who I was." Margaret hauled the heavy pack onto her back and headed for the door. "Coming, Mistress?"

They made their way across the mile of open parkland to the location of Emily's house. The city was a ghost town; no movement was to be seen. Everyone was hiding in their homes, trying to avoid what every invisible killer was stalking the good people of Saint Louis.

Charlotte climbed the silent stairs on the lonely street; the silence was eerie, not even a bird.

The door was locked, and the handwritten note stated, sick house, no deaths yet.

Charlotte knocked, but no one came to the door. Finally, Margaret suggested breaking the glass, and Charlotte seriously considered the suggestion until she remembered her key, which she had forgotten to return.

They crept into the silent house, locking the door behind them. It smelled awful, the stench of sickness but not death.

"Hello?" Charlotte started, "It is Charlotte and Margaret; we have come to help."

"Go away, girl, before you catch your death, leave us to die and be safe," Deborah's weak voice could be heard through a narrow crack of the slightly open door of the room she shared with Grace.

Charlotte did not listen.

"I will check on them, but first, we open some windows; the air is feted. Then, Margaret, you go upstairs and check on Emily," Charlotte first opened the kitchen window, it was late in the year, but the cool air did help to flush the stench from the house. Fresh air was needed when she entered Deborah and Grace's room, the sight that greeted her nearly caused her to faint. It indeed broke her heart.

Both women lay in bed, side by side, but they were in horrid conditions, too weak to leave their beds; they were covered in filth. Charlotte feared the worst but found them both alive, if barely; she opened the curtains and sash. Both women were dehydrated but living, they gasped for air with each breath, but she was thankful they were breathing.