That evening at dinner Francesca announced that Mr. Schuyler offered to let her broaden her experience by exercising Lise occasionally, and she would be doing both of them the next day.
Anne felt a pang of jealousy despite her promise; she tried to suppress it. She told herself Francesca needed to practice on other girls just as jockeys need to ride many horses. Still, the buried worm of doubt raised its head that evening and especially as she lay in her cell at night. Might Francesca have put her out of the way for a week to be with Lise? She dropped into an uneasy sleep, starting awake whenever a rat ran across her body.
Anne concealed her anxieties better this time when she made Francesca’s breakfast and went with her to Mr. Schuyler’s for her whipping. But they emerged again when she saw Lise on the frame at their arrival. Francesca attached Anne’s leash to a hook on the gymnasium wall and went to change. Anne noticed that Lise seemed to be avoiding her gaze.
She was really quite fetching spread out like that, timid and fearful. If Anne were not chained up she would have gone over to Lise and taken advantage of the situation. Perhaps she appealed to Francesca the same way; using the whip on her would be a pleasure. Presently Francesca emerged in her exercise outfit with her case of implements, laid them out, and began.
Lise was a poor subject: instead of accepting the strokes she tensed, getting no benefit from them and making Francesca’s task harder.
Francesca saw this too and devoted the whole day to training Lise, though without success. Anne saw only that she spent all her time with another. As a result she was listless and depressed back in the cellar afterwards.
Francesca was too familiar with her girl not to observe her sullen temper. She asked if Anne had relapsed into a forbidden interest in her owner’s affairs. Anne burst into tears.
Francesca’s voice became cold; she reminded Anne she had warned her there would be punishment if she misbehaved again. Anne would remain in the basement for a week, chained to the wall; her feed and water bowls would be refilled once a day but no words would pass between them. Francesca drew the shades over the windows, leaving Anne isolated in the semidarkness. She marched up the stairs without a backward glance at the unhappy figure behind her, crouched on the floor with her forehead on the ground sobbing and shaking.
For three days, Francesca maintained an iron resolve; she appeared each morning, provided pellets and water, and left without a word to Anne who knelt with head bowed, not daring to look up.
On the second night, Anne lay awake on her thin mattress long after midnight and doubted Francesca would keep her. Girls in her position did not grow old. There were rumors at St. Agnes of ones who lasted years with a master; but no one ever knew of any, they only heard of it from someone. Francesca had rejected Sir Nigel’s offer and in any case all the girls brought to Barbary succumbed to his savage desires within a month. Even Mr. Schuyler had his herd “seen to” after a season when their novelty faded. Her selfish attitudes had cost her place here, she was sure.
Perhaps Francesca would grant Anne a merciful end with the garrote. Then she remembered Iphigenia; that was how they did such things on the farm.
With mounting horror Anne imagined herself hung up by her feet over the steel “innards” tub. By Helene’s description, Francesca would make short work of carving her. It was what she deserved; the most degrading end possible for a difficult creature who had brought this on herself.
Whatever Francesca undertook to do, she did well. There might even be an audience to witness the event, a demonstration of the young countrywoman’s skill with the butcher knife.
It would be a deft and professional operation, handled with her characteristic grace and efficiency of movement; they would enjoy it.
A memory of her first week at the farm came back to her. Amelie was leading her on her leash around the front of the farmhouse. It was bordered with a lush garden of colorful late-season annuals nearly as tall as she was. Forgetting her place, she complimented Amelie on the arrangement and asked what she fed them to make them grow so well.
Amelie’s eyes narrowed; she smiled and said “Girls like you.” At the time this made no sense; she thought the woman had misunderstood the question, or was telling Anne to mind her own business. Now a third meaning unfolded itself and she shuddered. That would be her fate when Francesca was done with her.
Amelie took her over to a bare patch at the corner of the house and made her lie down; she recalled that it was just the right size. It was to be dug up for a new planting. Most likely the same shovel Anne was spanked with would serve to deposit what was left of her.
She began to shake now and tried to calm herself, but the memory returned. Why had she not seen this sooner? Because Helene arrived just then; Anne stood up after being measured and the young woman brushed the dirt off her breasts and belly, driving all other thought from her head. She even tugged on Anne’s fleece at the end and Anne nearly fainted with desire.
Too late, she saw how her misconduct had destroyed her chance of happiness; there was nothing for it now except to await the inevitable.
Francesca appeared unexpectedly on the third evening. Anne scrambled to crouch low out of her way as she inspected the bowls. No need to add pellets; Anne had not touched them, they would all go to the rats tonight. Francesca looked down at the trembling figure, its face to the ground. She started to reach her hand out, then withdrew it before walking slowly away.
On the fourth morning, after refilling the bowls Francesca said in an unfamiliar tone “Stand up.” Anne rose, looking meekly down at the floor. To her amazement the strong, stoic Francesca threw her arms around Anne and began to weep.
“I can’t take another day of this, Anne. I want you to behave but I can’t stand to see you suffering. I have to help poor Lise, she won’t last long if she goes on this way. I -“; the rest was lost in a sob.
“I know that, ma’am; I lost my head, it’s all my fault.” Then it was Anne’s turn to break down.
After a minute or so of hugging and sniffling together, Francesca found a tissue and wiped Anne’s face and her own. Then she took a deep breath, grasped Anne’s shoulders and held her out at arms’ length.
She had been distracted from giving Anne’s training the attention it deserved. That would change. For Anne’s own good there would be new, stricter rules for her to follow and greater diligence in enforcement. She would not leave her charge imprisoned for days again; any punishments would be short and sharp.
“You have a streak in you that needs to be subdued, Anne.”
“I don’t mean to, ma’am.”
“I know; that’s what makes it so hard to break.”
Anne could think of no answer to this.
“I’ll find a way, though.”
Anne bowed her head and thanked Francesca.
Francesca concluded with “Shall we go upstairs now? The apartment needs cleaning.”
“Yes, ma’am, yes please.”