"You're talking like one of those feminists."
Marley heard censure in Anna's voice. "So? What's wrong with being a feminist?"
"Nothing, except you're not standing in those girls' shoes. This was 1833, Marley. These women didn't have choices like you all do now. Being at a ball, wearing a nice gown, dancing with men, flirting, eating elegant food, was a hell of a lot better than slavery."
"Yeah, but it's still slavery, just in a pretty dress. The man who becomes your benefactor owns you just the same as a plantation owner does a slave."
"So either way you're owned, but one keeps your hands out of the dirt."
Marley figured she'd rather dig in the dirt than give o**l s*x to an obnoxious rich guy, but she didn't say it out loud. Marissabelle was Anna's relative, and truthfully, what did Marley know about it? She'd never done back-breaking manual labor or been destitute.
"Most of those women considered themselves lucky. You ever go hungry, Marley? You ever live on the streets? That's what Marissabelle was protecting herself and her son from, and it was a position that had its drawbacks, sure, but it had some perks too. Parties, gowns, pretty manners, and believe it or not, there are some women who like sex, like the games they can play with men, like the pleasure they can take for themselves."
"I can't imagine enjoying sex when a man is paying you for it."
Anna stared at her, her eyes dark as granite. "Then you don't understand the power of sex. You don't understand power itself. And you definitely don't understand the freedom of letting yourself do what your body was designed for, without worry, without fear, without restraint. Just diving in and doing it."
Marley hugged her knees harder. "No," she whispered. "I don't understand that." She didn't do anything without fear, without restraint, without weighing the pros and cons and stressing over the outcome, the future, her feelings, and everyone else in the universe's feelings about her, her actions, their actions, and why the Earth was round. Freedom? She had no idea what that was.
"So Marissabelle met Damien at a ball?" She could see it in her mind's eye, the beautiful women, the candlelight, fluttering fans, flirtation, men moving confidently and arrogantly, sure of their place in the world, their worth.
"Yes, but not for a while. First she was one man's mistress for six months, but he was fickle and lost interest. She wasn't sorry to see him go because he was quick with his fist. Then she was with another man for near a year and he was nice enough, if a bit boring in the bedroom, but he dropped dead one day and she was back at the beginning, back to the balls."
"It sounds scary, to always have to rely on someone else for your security, never really knowing if you'll wind up with a nice guy or not."
"I suppose so." Anna grinned at her, her dentures shifting a little in her mouth. "But not so different than dating. You're taking a mighty big risk of being annoyed or bored when you say yes to a man asking you out."
"That's true." Then again, Marley didn't even date anymore, so what could she claim to know about it?
"Marissabelle had heard about Damien du Bourg, and she had avoided meeting him. It was said he was strange, eccentric, reckless to the point of suicidal. He had volunteered to bury the dead in the last cholera epidemic the year before, and they said he worked nonstop, burying bodies all day for two months. They said he stank like death, like dirt, and he never once seemed afraid he'd catch the sickness. He never complained, never asked for payment, just stood side by side with working men dealing with all the bodies that stacked up higher and higher every day. They started to call him Death's Door because it seemed he was always knocking on it and yet never took that last step. He drank heavily, he raced his horse, his carriage, he wrestled alligators in the swamp, and had a collection of cottonmouth snakes. Marissabelle thought he sounded strange, a bit off. Not quite right in the head."
"I would have to agree with that. He definitely sounds a little strange." And creepy. Though she supposed there was something to be admired about a man who risked his own life to bury dead strangers.
"But one night she accidentally caught his eye, and he asked her to dance. He didn't say much, didn't give her all that flattery, some real, some false, that the other men did. He just held her, just stared down at her, unsmiling, just let her see that he was a man who could match her, pride to pride, passion to passion, wit to wit. She wanted him physically, was drawn to him in a way she didn't understand. It was like being reeled in on a hook by an expert fisherman, and when the dance ended and he said, 'Come home with me,' she didn't hesitate. She just said yes. There are some men like that, you know, or sometimes it's just that one man with that one woman… the two together are combustible. Irresistible to each other."
While it was a stretch to think she was irresistible to Damien, Marley certainly understood how Marissabelle had felt. She was flopping around like a fish on a hook herself. "So her time with him was passionate?"
"Very much so. Their relationship was passionate, angry, demanding, sweaty, powerful, lusty. The rumors were true. He was strange and reckless, but that excited her, challenged her. She was an enthusiastic lover, and he gave her a house."
"And?"
"And that's it. End of story."
"That can't be the end of the story. Did they stay together forever? Did they have children? Were they in love with each other?"
"No, no, and no." Anna sighed. "But I'm tired now, Marley. If you have any more questions, maybe you could come on back tomorrow and we'll chat again."
Marley looked at Anna, saw how pale and drawn she was, and felt terrible for not noticing sooner. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Do you want to take a nap? I can help you into the house. I didn't mean to push, Anna."
"Not your fault I get tired so damn easily." Anna shifted in the chair and grimaced. "Do yourself a favor and never get old."
Marley laughed. "Okay, I'll work on that." She stood up. "Is there anything I can get you? Water?"
"Just go on back to the big house and I think I will take a nice nap. You come on back tomorrow and we'll talk." Anna stood up and tugged her shirt down lower. "And you can gossip to me and tell me what sex with this Damien du Bourg is like."
This wizened old lady was way more liberal than Marley was used to. Her cheeks were burning. "I'm not sleeping with Damien."
"But you will be. You will be."
Suddenly I understood that if I wanted to gain that which I sought, I had to let Damien know what I was seeking. With heart racing and palms damp, I sat on his lap and said, "Rosa appeared to be enjoying your attentions."