By His Command. Justine Elyot

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СКАЧАТЬ mattered was that it was eight o’clock and I was here, alone with Jasper; Cutts having entrusted me with the museum keys after cautioning me to keep an eye on our film director friend and make sure nothing got broken.

      ‘So, where do you want to start?’ I asked. I was wearing jeans and a fleece, having been home in the interim, and he was similarly dressed.

      ‘Where’s the dressing-up box?’ he asked.

      ‘What?’

      ‘You and your mates were all in role when I turned up earlier. I liked those costumes.’

      I sat down on the hall chair.

      ‘Jasper, I’m not at all sure what we’re doing here. You turn up out of the blue and take the place over with some cock-and-bull story about a film and I don’t know what it’s all about or why we’re here tonight or …’

      He took hold of my wrists, his grip tight.

      ‘Calm down,’ he said, with absolute authority. I recognised the tone immediately and, more importantly, so did my body. It was like rewinding my life back to that summer. I stopped gibbering and held myself still, waiting for his next command.

      ‘We’re here because we want to be,’ he said, with the same steady, slow modulation. ‘Because I want you, and you want me. And this could be a lot of fun. Don’t you think?’

      ‘I don’t know what to think …’

      ‘Then stop thinking. Just do as you’re told. Do you think you can manage that?’

      I nodded, relieved to have the pressure taken off. I was tired of analysing the situation every which way from Thursday. I wanted to fling myself backwards off the side of my life and into Jasper’s keeping. I wanted my summer back.

      ‘Good. Now show me your dressing-up box.’

      I stood and led him, still joined at the wrist, to the back parlour, a pretty little Morris-wallpapered room where things were stored, including, in a Turkish-carved ottoman, our costumes.

      ‘Do you think any of these will fit me?’ asked Jasper, pulling out my favourite of the waistcoats, a silk-embroidered affair with a peacock-feather pattern that Rob always wore rather well. ‘It’s flamboyant. I like it.’

      ‘I think you and Rob are a similar size,’ I ventured.

      ‘Are we, by Jove? And how would you know that?’ He cocked a devilish eyebrow.

      ‘I don’t mean that.’

      ‘You’d better not.’

      ‘Is that what you think of me?’

      ‘No, Sarah, it isn’t. Him, on the other hand …’

      ‘You have nothing to worry about.’

      ‘I just don’t want another lovelorn rival on my hands. Not after the last time.’

      I saw his point. That hideous tangle with his former groundsman was best forgotten.

      ‘I think you’re safe,’ I said. ‘Rob’s harmless. Oh, this shirt … I love the sleeves.’ I held up a capacious lawn cotton number and Jasper took off his hoody and slipped it on.

      ‘I feel like Lord Byron,’ he remarked, lacing it tight.

      I handed him a cravat, a plain blue one with little gold trefoils, not wanting to overegg things since the waistcoat was so gaudy.

      ‘It seems pointless to dress up like this when what I’m planning involves getting it all off again,’ he commented. ‘Still, every scene needs a bit of build-up.’

      ‘I don’t think we should …’ I opened, a little tentative.

      ‘Should what?’

      ‘I mean, the furniture is all authentic. Including the beds. I’d rather not …’

      ‘You’re afraid I’ll damage them?’

      ‘I have to work here,’ I said, biting my lip.

      ‘Nothing is going to get broken,’ he said. The waistcoat was on now and he looked good. Wicked good. The jeans didn’t really go so well, but from the waist up he was the perfect Victorian gent. All he needed was extravagant facial hair.

      He dug into the ottoman and drew out a pair of tight riding breeches. He noticed my salacious eyeing of them and said, ‘You’re still dressed. Why is that?’

      ‘Oh. I …’

      ‘Is there a corset in there?’ He peered into the depths.

      ‘I told you. We don’t wear real corsets.’

      ‘Well, that must be remedied. I’ll take you up to town on your day off. I know a woman who makes the most amazing pieces. Expensive, but you’re worth it. In the meantime, a chemise and some drawers will do.’

      I unbuttoned my jeans, glad to have an occupation for my restless fingers.

      ‘What’s this film all about then?’ I asked. Surely it couldn’t be a porn flick? Perhaps it was.

      ‘Sex,’ he said, grinning and strutting around in his riding breeches. ‘My God, I should wear these more often,’ he said, slapping his thighs. ‘I feel like a panto principal boy. Where are the matching boots? And, most importantly, the riding crop?’

      ‘Is there a riding crop in the film?’ I asked, my mouth now dry and the words sounding small and fearful.

      ‘Whatever I want to be in the film will be in the film,’ he said, posing in front of the chimney-piece mirror. ‘So, yes, I’d say a riding crop was a given.’

      He turned to smirk at me.

      I was wearing my bra and a pair of linen knee-length drawers, the type with a flap at the rear that could be opened to reveal the buttocks.

      ‘But what’s the script about?’ I persisted, wishing Jasper would, for once, give a simple answer to a simple question.

      ‘I’m sorry. You’re getting anxious again, aren’t you? You finish getting dressed and I’ll tell you.’

      He sat down in a plush armchair, watching me release my breasts then cover them again with a short, light chemise.

      ‘The script’s about social inequalities in the nineteenth century,’ he said. ‘It’s supposed to shine a light on present-day conditions. The Poor Law translating to benefit cuts and so forth. The central relationship is between a cruel upper-class bastard and his hapless maid.’

      ‘It sounds rather grim.’

      ‘It has a happy ending. She makes him see the error of his ways. At least, it’s happy for her, because she inherits his wealth when he commits suicide.’

      ‘God, we aren’t re-enacting that bit, are we?’

      He СКАЧАТЬ