Chapter 18
Sara was genuinely surprised to see her husband stride into her chambers the next afternoon.
"What a pleasant surprise," she laughed. "Goodness, it has been years!"
Arne laughed derisively. "I shan't bother you for long, my dear. I simply wanted to discuss a mutual problem with you."
"That annoying little brat, no doubt," she snapped. "Tell me, has Nathalie been shrewish about you, too?"
"She is frigid, Sara," Arne said coolly. "I believe she has been put through enough."
"Enough? Enough!" Sara's face was contorted with hate. "Why, Arne, I am truly surprised at you. Are you growing soft in your dotage?"
Arne shook his head with disgust. She really was a vile excuse for a woman.
"Frigidity is an illness," he said patiently. "The child cannot help it. She feels nothing, and it is an ordeal that will gain nothing for any of us. I propose putting an end to it immediately."
"No!" Sara hissed. "She has said things to me that I cannot forgive!"
"What has she said?" Arne asked quietly. "That you are old? The statement is truthful. That you are ugly? That, too, is true. You cannot hate a cornered, trapped animal that fights only with the truth."
Sara's face twisted into a deadly sneer.
"And what has suddenly filled you with pity? Oh, spare me! Do not tell me that you are suddenly infatuated with the child!"
"No," Arne answered evenly. "Please calm yourself, madam. We have never before happened onto a woman that could not eventually be trained to enjoy and partake eagerly of the flesh. Whatever we put them through, they eventually ask for more."
"I shall make the child beg," Sara grumbled.
"No. She is beyond help, woman, and we must accept this," Arne said firmly. "She is the first we ever took as a ward, and I propose to treat her as a ward should be treated. She will keep the room. We will prepare another for the next girl. She will have the run of the grounds and other than her freedom, she is to be denied nothing."
"I will not take this, Arne," Sara warned.
"You will take it, madam," he answered coldly. "I am still master here. You were nothing when I brought you here, Sara, and I can turn you back into nothing with no qualms of any kind."
Sara's mouth gaped as she stared up at him. He had never threatened her like this in their twenty years together, nor had he ever reminded her of the lowly station of her circumstance before that time.
"Very well, Arne," she answered quietly. "I cannot say that I understand it, but I will accept it."
"My apologies, Sara," Arne answered. "I did not intend to speak so brutally. I feel rather strongly about this simply because I know the bitter frustration of unfulfillment. The girl has her own private hell. We need not add to it."
"Whatever you wish," she answered lamely.
She could not touch the girl again. It would be dangerous to defy the master and Sara did not intend to take any chances with the pleasant life he had given her. She could, however, make Nathalie's life a hell in other ways. Smiling to herself, she savored the thought as she bade her husband goodbye.
It was a relief to Arne to get away from Sara. He had dreaded the visit. Lately, he wondered often why he bothered to put up with her at all. She certainly was of no use to him.
At Nathalie's door, he again paused and, taking a key from the ring, he slipped it into the lock. When he had finished, he knocked.
He could hear a scurry of movements and finally the girl opened the door cautiously and peered up at him.
"Ohhh!" she cried. "It is you!"
"Certainly," he answered. "And who else?"
"But you never knock," she answered. "When they bring the meals or wood for the fire, they sometimes knock."
She was completely flustered. Leaving the door ajar, she walked back to the chair beside the fire and huddled into it.
"What do you want?" she asked miserably.
"I have decided to unlock the door," he said. "That is all. Neither Sara nor the dogs and I will visit you again. Your malady is hell enough to live with. I shall not add to it."
She could not hide her excitement. Though she tried desperately to contain herself, it was evident in her tone as well as her eyes.
"And to what am I to be assigned?" she asked.
Arne laughed. "You have been checking with the help, I see. Well, my dear, you are to have no assignment This is your room. You are our ward. Other than freedom to leave the grounds, you have but to ask and it shall be granted."
"May I have my clothing back?"
"Do you really want it?" he asked, "or perhaps you would prefer a new wardrobe?"
She had been so sure. There was no question about it, but now she hesitated. Astrid and Hedda would certainly not like her in the old things. She could not decide how Roald would feel, if he felt at alL
"You may decide that at your leisure," Arne said with a pleased smile. "I shall have your things brought up and see if a few more-frivolous garments are about somewhere that you might find use for."
"Thank you," she said quietly.
After he left, she was overwhelmed by what had happened to her. She rushed to the door and tried it. It was not locked. She had a tremendous urge to rush out of the door and search out her friends to share the good news. It was the gauze gown that stopped her. She could not go rushing about among strangers in such attire.
Impatiently, she waited. Although it was less than a half hour before two women marched in with their arms loaded with clothing, it had seemed like an eternity. Nathalie was shocked as she looked at her old clothes. They were shabby and cheap. Even worse, they were the clothes of an old lady, not a young girl. Could she really have changed this much in so short a time? she wondered.
There were other gowns, not flamboyant, but far more becoming than her own tired frocks. One gingham particularly caught her eye and she was delighted when she slipped into it and found the fit perfect.
The neck was rounded gently but not at all revealing. The waist fit snugly and the skirts billowed out gaily. Tiny puffed sleeves covered the top of her arms and the soft, powder blue material made her eyes dance merrily. She found a dark blue shawl to wrap around her and small white slippers that were far more practical for dancing than for walking. She did not care. She felt like dancing this day. With her own staid bloomers and chemise, she felt comfortable and unpretentious.
Nathalie considered a bow for her hair but decided it would be too drastic a change-but she did not knot her hair as she had in the past. Her heart was pounding wildly as she stepped into the hallway to begin her exciting explorations. She had not taken more than a dozen steps when she literally bumped into Sara Bjornson.
Sara eyed her from stem to stern with a sarcastic sneer.
"Well," she said. "I see that you are taking advantage of your situation fast enough."
"Yes, ma'am," Nathalie said, careful to be polite in spite of her hatred for the vile woman.
"Frankly, I believe Arne is entirely wrong about you," she laughed cruelly. "You look like a girl rushing out to get herself screwed. Perhaps I shall be able to prove it, yet."
Nathalie sucked in her breath, holding back the rush of spiteful words she longed to utter.
"No, ma'am," she said finally. "I shall leave that pastime to you."
She brushed quickly past the woman and rushed down the stairs, knowing she should not anger her further.
"Slut!" she heard the woman spit as she reached the landing below. She clamped her hands across her mouth to keep from answering and rushed down the next flight of steps.
That sharp tongue will be the death of you yet if you do not take care, she scolded herself.
Then, pulling one of the great doors open, she hurried out into the courtyard. It was the first time she had smelled the fresh air of the great outdoors since her confinement. She filled her lungs till they were near to bursting. It was such a joy to be alive again. Then she stopped short as she realized this was exactly what had happened to Astrid and Hedda. They were so glad to be alive and have even a bit of freedom, that they asked no more.
J shall not make that mistake, he promised herself and gathering her composure, she began her search for Astrid and Hedda and Roald.