Home of the White Dolphin - Segment 33

Chapter 161

February 27, 2009 – At the mansion in Walker’s apartment

Walker saw the tears in Samantha’s eyes after reading that poignant farewell entry. “Sam, if Blythe left the books behind, Helen must have made a go of it with her husband.” He took the diary out of her hands and turned the page. “Yes, this one is in a different handwriting.”

Samantha sniffled, knowing she was being silly about people long dead. “Go ahead and read it to me.” She gave a weak smile to Walker, knowing he still worried about her emotional health. “What’s the date?”

Walker looked at the top of the page. “July 29, 1887. Oh, she wrote her name along with the date. Helen Moreau.”

Walker continued reading, “This is the first time I felt the need to write in the diary Mama entrusted to me. I’m finally getting over what a liar Rick was. He could have told me he was married already. I learned he lied today when I saw him at the hospital with his wife. Some good came of this, though, when Wayne Moreau came by to apologize for his son. Wayne, not Rick, was with me when I gave birth to my sweet Cynthia.”

“Oh, how terrible.” Samantha interrupted Walker. “I mean, about Rick, not the baby.”

“Can I continue, or do you want to read for a while?”

“No, sorry. Please go on.”

Walker leaned over and gave her a quick kiss before returning to the diary. “Last night, Wayne made love to me.” He stopped reading aloud and glanced through the next few written sentences.

“What’s wrong? Samantha nudged him in the ribs. “This is getting interesting.”

“Ah, Sam, she gets a bit, I mean she’s rather… Oh hell, why not? We’re both adults.”

At first, Walker tried to skip over the more explicit sentences, but then thought better of that. Trying not to look at Samantha, he returned to reading out loud. “Wayne is a lot larger and more experienced than his son, at least last night he was. After he entered me like Rick always did, in what he called the missionary position, Wayne made me turn over on my stomach.”

For the next hour, until his voice became too hoarse to go on, Walker read the entries covering the next few years in Helen’s life. He kept sneaking looks at Samantha who remained silent all that time. When he put a bookmark at an entry written in the summer of 1889, he closed the diary and waited for Samantha to say something.

Chapter 162

February 18, 1908 –At the Boston home of Helen Moreau

By the time Cynthia turned 21, she tried to not be home whenever her grandfather visited. The year before, she managed to get a job as a typist working three days a week, something neither Helen nor Wayne knew about. She hoped to move out to her own apartment soon, and every paycheck went into a savings account. That morning, she finally told her mother about this plan, and they had been arguing since then.

“Darling,” asked Helen, “why would you want to do something so dangerous, living on your own? You know you can live here with me as long as you want.”

Cynthia shrugged before answering. “That’s just it, Mama. I don’t want to live here. I haven’t wanted to live here for years.” She hesitated, but went on, “You and grandfather, I mean I’d rather not live here. Just that.”

“Wayne? What does he have to do with anything?” Helen got up from her chair and began pacing around the room. “He loves you, and it hurts him when you’re not here when he comes to visit.”

“I’m sorry Mama.” Cynthia also stood after seeing the time on the living room clock. “I have to go. There’s something I have to do.” She went to Helen, kissed her cheek, and was out the front door before Helen could stop her.

Half an hour later, when Wayne used his key to come into the house, he found Helen at the kitchen sink doing the breakfast dishes. Quietly, he came up behind her, causing her to jump when he whispered, “What are you doing?”

Helen rapidly recovered and turned to face him. “I’m doing the dishes.”

“So I see. Why are you doing them now?” Wayne ran his fingers down her cheek, pausing at her mouth, and then down to circle them gently around her neck. “You know what I expect when I arrive, and I specifically told you what time I’d be here this morning. Didn’t you understand?”

Helen swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry. Cynthia and I were talking, and I lost track of the time.”

Wayne tightened his fingers. “Are you giving me an excuse for not being ready?” Seeing Helen give a tiny nod, he removed his hand from her throat. “And what have I told you over and over about excuses?”

“No excuses are allowed when you tell me to do something.” Helen bowed her head and let her arms hang down by her sides, waiting for the punishment she knew she deserved. She heard but couldn’t see Wayne leave her and begin rummaging through the kitchen drawers.

“Turn around to face the sink.” Helen immediately obeyed. “Raise your dress to your waist and keep it there. Oh, bad girl, I see you still haven’t prepared for me to use you.” Wayne pulled Helen’s cotton underwear down past her hips, leaving the cloth just underneath her buttocks. “There, that’s much better.”

Helen stifled a moan when the first pain came. The second time Wayne swung the heavy, wrought iron spatula across her ass, she bent over the sink gasping from the pain. “Please, Wayne, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Wayne stopped and tossed the spatula on the sink’s countertop. “You say that every time, Helen, yet you keep disappointing me. I’m afraid you’ll never learn.”

“I will. I promise I will.” Helen turned to face him. “What can I do to show you I can learn?” She had let her dress fall down, while begging for another chance.

Wayne gave her a sad look. “Did I say to let go of the dress?”

Helen quickly reached down and pulled it up around her waist once again, while her underpants remained tight around her thighs. She stood still when Wayne bent and pulled them all the way down, only lifting one foot at a time so he could remove the underwear.

“Go make yourself ready for me. Once again, Helen, you’ve put your selfish needs ahead of mine, and you know I can’t allow this. I expect immediate obedience to all my orders with no excuses. This is the last time I’m going to be this patient, is that clear? If you disobey me again, I’m never coming back.” This threat worked, as it had so often in the past. Wayne watched Helen hurry out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.

He slowly followed her, knowing withholding his sexual favors had worked one more time. When Wayne reached the bedroom’s open doorway, he nodded in satisfaction at seeing Helen standing naked in the middle of the room and waiting for him. “You’re doing fine, Helen, but I’m still going to punish you for making me wait.”

Helen, even with her head down, could see him pulling two lengths of thin rope and a metal spike out of his coat pocket. After he tossed the coat onto a chair, Wayne motioned for her to go stand against the tall bedpost at the foot of the bed. “Put your hands behind your back.”

Wayne’s sharp words were familiar to Helen, since he often bound her arms and legs. This time he wound one of the ropes around her wrists and used the ends to tie her snuggly back against the post. He quickly looped the second rope loosely around her neck and again tied those two ends around the bedpost.

“I learned about this from a friend of mine and have wanted to try it with you.” After kicking off his shoes, Wayne removed his shirt and trousers. He stood in front of Helen wearing only his gartered black socks. The 68-year-old widower knew his body was still in good shape, at least the part Helen craved.

He saw her looking greedily at his crotch and shook his head. “Not yet, my pet.” Wayne took the spike and used it like a tourniquet to twist the rope. The more he turned the spike, the tighter the rope became around Helen’s neck. He loosened it only when Helen began choking.

In a harsh, hoarse voice, she managed to get out, “Why are you strangling me?”

Wayne began tightening the rope again. With a cheerful smile, he explained, “It’s called erotic asphyxiation, puss, and it’s supposed to heighten our sexual experience, mine at least. Well, that’s what I was told.” Watching Helen closely to make sure she could still breathe, he continued to twist the rope with the metal spike.

During the rest of the morning, Wayne kept Helen tied to the bedpost while he experimented with how far he could go before she passed out. He satisfied himself with Helen’s body repeatedly as she went in and out of consciousness. Shortly after noon, he couldn’t stop whistling as he dressed and left the bedroom. My friend was right about this giving me great sex. In this sated and relaxed frame of mind, he left the Moreau home. Wayne, in his euphoric mood, had forgotten to undo the two ropes.

Helen struggled frantically to get free. She finally slumped forward in exhaustion, making the rope around her neck press harder and harder against her throat.

Chapter 163

February 27, 2009 – At the mansion in Walker’s apartment

Later that afternoon, Walker decided to continue reading from the diary. Samantha was downstairs with Edith and the baby, so he knew he had plenty of time to privately go through Helen’s entries. He opened the thick book to where he had left off earlier and turned the page. When he began reading, he was glad Samantha wasn’t here.

“May 13, 1890. Last night Wayne, for the first time, hit me and said I had to obey him from now on. Rather than fearing this new side of him, I found Wayne even more attractive. I mean, he didn’t really hurt me very much, just startled me. He made love to me after, and I do like the way he does that.”

Walker quickly read the next few entries, wincing when he came to one dated August 16, 1903. By then, Helen had written about Wayne’s complete domination of her and how much she enjoyed submitting to whatever he asked of her. He almost put the diary aside before he read what she wrote.

“Grandmother’s Uncle Jason’s current letter arrived this morning. In it, he tells of how well his marriage to Marianne is going. He also promised they’d try to visit me when they arrive in America later this year. At 56, he’s closer to Wayne’s age than mine, so I hope to introduce the two men. They probably don’t have anything in common. I mean, Jason is Lord Edgeworth, while Wayne always worked for a living.”

Walker finally did close the diary and thought, I think Jason and Wayne have more in common than she thinks.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Walker once again was ready to keep reading. He could feel Samantha cuddled up close to him. When she returned from the long visit with his mother and Genji, Samantha appeared tired. Walker still worried about her, even months after Colin’s death, and insisted she spend the rest of the day resting on the sofa.

“Sam, you did promise to obey me. Remember?” Walker sat down and gently put his arm around her, bringing her closer to him.

Samantha sputtered at his teasing remark, but didn’t resist his tender embrace. “I most certainly did not promise to obey you.” Too tired to continue, she put her head down on his shoulder and immediately fell asleep.

Walker checked to make sure she was sleeping before he slowly bent over and grabbed the diary from the coffee table. He carefully opened the book to the next entry dated February 20, 1908 and saw the name Cynthia Moreau printed neatly alongside the date.

“It’s now my responsibility to keep up this family diary now that my mother is dead. When I arrived home after work two days ago, I couldn’t stop screaming when I found her body in the bedroom. A rope held her tied to the bedpost, put there most likely by grandfather. After the police came, they told me a second rope around her neck was the cause of death when she slumped down unconscious.”

Walker shook his head, hardly believing what he’d just read. He was glad Samantha was asleep when he went back to reading from the diary. “An understanding policeman must have seen my shame at having to tell all the other officers what probably happened. He took me into the kitchen and made us hot mugs of coffee. After he sat down opposite me at the table, I poured out the whole shameful story of Wayne’s treatment of my mother.

“He explained none of this was my fault, and that it wasn’t unusual for some men like my grandfather to exert power over women in this way. Before he left with the other men, after the Boston medical team removed Mama’s body, David promised to keep in touch with me. That’s his name. David…David Quinn.”

A slight frown crossed Walker’s face after reading that last sentence. For some reason, the name Quinn sounded vaguely familiar.

Chapter 164

March 12, 1904 At the new Edgeworth mansion in America

“Damn you, woman,” yelled Jason, trying to block out the sound of Marianne’s complaining voice. “All you’ve done since we got to America is bitch about the cold, the servants, and the lack of civilization here.”

Marianne came further into her husband’s study, glaring at him. “Did you just yell at me? The mother of your son?” She patted her bulging stomach, and then frowned. “He’s causing me more pain than you ever did.

“And knowing your appetite for pain, you probably like it.” Jason stood and came around the desk. “I’m tired of hearing you complain, so I won’t be back until you have that kid.” He headed out of the study, while saying over his shoulder, “For all I know, this is some other man’s bastard. Don’t expect me to return until the doctor says I can work on one I know will be mine.” He continued out the door, leaving a stunned Marianne still standing in the center of the room.

That afternoon, the doctor arrived to deliver a healthy female. When he handed the baby to Marianne, she took one uninterested look at the squalling infant and gave her to the waiting wet nurse.

A furious Jason came into his wife’s bedroom that evening. “A girl? You give me a worthless girl?” He slumped down on a chair by the bed. “Next time, I demand you squeeze a boy out. I need a son to carry on the Edgeworth name.”

Marianne glared at him. Over the years, she and Jason constantly fought, and their marriage thrived despite or perhaps because of this stormy relationship. Even though she enjoyed his often violent sex, Marianne did not like being pregnant. “You bastard. You’re not the one who gets fat and ungainly for months.”

“Well,” Jason said with a cruel laugh, “at least that keeps you from cuckolding me.” He stood and gave one last disgusted look at the cradle holding the sleeping baby. “Hannah. That’s what her name will be.” With that order, he left the room.

* * *

For the next few years, various wet nurses and nannies raised Hannah. The last one, a local 14-year-old named Nancy, provided the love missing in the little girl’s life. By 1908, just after Hannah turned four, her mother was again pregnant.

Hannah huddled alone in her room on a stormy May afternoon. Even through the closed doors, she could hear her mother’s screams of pain. Marianne was in her thirteenth hour of labor, and the little girl knew something was wrong.

Suddenly, her bedroom door opened, and Nancy hurried in. “It’s going to be all right now, Hannah.” The 18-year-old nanny, once the child’s wet nurse, went to where Hannah sat crying. “The doctor just arrived, and he’ll help get the baby out.”

“Is Papa there, too?” Nancy sadly shook her head at Hannah’s hopeful question. Even after she became Jason’s mistress, she had no illusions about the Englishman‘s love for any of the females living in his home. That first night with Jason still was fresh in her mind months later.

* * *

Jason had just informed the staff of Marianne’s pregnancy, and there was an air of celebration throughout the mansion. The hope was that their employer’s foul mood would improve with a birth of a son and heir.

After Nancy tucked young Hannah into her crib, she walked down the long hallway toward her own small room. Once inside her room, Nancy quickly undressed and slipped into her long flannel nightgown. As she started getting into bed, she didn’t hear the slight creak of the door opening and silent footsteps coming up behind her.

“Do you know how beautiful you are, how much I want you?” The man’s whisper startled Nancy, but she recognized Jason’s British accent. When he turned her to face him, she realized he wore only a knee-length, velvet robe. Her eyes went down to where the red material hung open and saw his thick shaft jutting out.

When she felt him pushing against her body, she tried to get away. “Please, M’Lord, I’m afraid.”

“Hush, child. There’s nothing to be afraid about.” Jason untied the ribbons at the neckline of her nightgown. “I just want to see you naked. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He gave her a lingering kiss. “Now, hold still.”

Nancy began to tremble when she felt Jason pulling the nightgown over her head. Standing naked in front of her employer, she knew there was nothing she could do. If she objected, she would find herself out of a job. Jason could easily spread the news she was a thief or worse. After that, the only way for her to make a living was to turn to prostitution. She knew this was the fate of many young women who refused to have sex with their employers.

Overcome with shame, Nancy tried not to cry as Jason made her get onto her bed. He immediately used his hands to move her legs apart, and then knelt between her outstretched thighs. She couldn’t keep back a sob when he pushed inside her.

“A virgin? You’re still a virgin?” The delight Jason felt when his penis bumped up against the thin fold of skin increased when he forced his way through. That night, Jason ravished his daughter’s teenage nanny for the first time. He continued to visit her most nights throughout his wife’s pregnancy.

* * *

Months later, Nancy was resigned to being Jason’s mistress. Sitting on Hannah’s bed and holding the frightened child, she waited to learn if Marianne would finally birth a son. If so, Nancy prayed Jason’s cruel treatment of his wife and mistress would end.

Chapter 165

March 03, 2009 – At the mansion in Walker’s apartment

“Sam, it’s my turn to hold her. Give her up already.” Walker stood in front of Samantha and held out his arms toward his wife. She was sitting on their sofa after lunch and holding a screaming baby.

“Are you sure? Edith says Genji’s teething, and I doubt if even you can sweet talk a female this young.” Teasing Walker was becoming easier for Samantha as the months went by. In private, there no longer was any sign of the serious workaholic who still ran his mansion effortlessly. She rolled her eyes when Genji immediately calmed down after Walker cuddled her in his arms. “Okay, so I was wrong.”

Walker’s deep laugh brought a big toothy grin to his youngest daughter. “Sam, while I continue to sweet talk this young female,” he ducked when Samantha pretended to hit him, “why don’t you open the diary where I left off and keep reading? It might give me a clue to why the name Quinn sounds so familiar.”

Samantha leaned forward and grabbed the thick book from the coffee table. She read silently for a short time, all the while trying to ignore Walker. This she found rather difficult as he was singing to Genji. Walker’s reputation around the mansion was for having no musical talent at all. The unexpected sound of the baby giggling made her turn to look.

“What?” Walker gave Samantha a surprised look at seeing her shaking her head in distress. “What did I do?”

Samantha gave up pretending to be upset. “Not only do I have a husband who is tone deaf, but it seems so is my daughter.”

“She doesn’t appreciate good music, Genji. We’ll just ignore her, won’t we?” Walker went back to singing after snuggling Genji against his chest. Now and then, he sneaked a look at Samantha.

“If I read aloud, maybe I won’t have to hear you.” Samantha quickly gave Walker a kiss to take the sting out of this implied insult. She returned to the open page. “Cynthia wrote this entry a year after Helen’s death.”

“The White Dolphin docked in Boston Harbor yesterday. It took that long for my grandparents to get the letter about Mama’s death and set sail for here. They left my brother behind to manage the other three ships. The White Dolphin remains the flagship of the fleet, and Blythe and Robbie refuse to live anywhere else but on board.

“Tonight, we’re going to dinner with David, his parents, and probably many of his other relatives. David, as well as most of the Quinn family, lives in South Boston. This gentle giant of a man has been a good friend since that horrible night of Mama’s death. David came by my home two days after my mother’s funeral to tell me of Wayne Moreau’s fatal heart attack. This occurred in the jail soon after police took my grandfather in for questioning. After that, David dropped by on a regular basis and soon began inviting me to share Sunday dinner with his large Irish family.” Samantha put the diary down on the sofa after reading this.

Seeing she wanted to hold the baby again, Walker gently passed a sleepy Genji back to Samantha. “It sounds like Cynthia has found someone with a normal family.” Picking up the diary, Walker decided to keep reading. He noted there were only a few more pages in the diary with writing on them.

Continued in next segment

Home of the White Dolphin - Segment 34  (GC) Chapters 166 thru 170 #2091675 by J. A. Buxton