Marcus II: I was a man with pure intentions

I had been four months working on the McDaniel estate, and I had found little, aside from the vigilant eye of McDaniel’s wife, to be odd. My earnings were disproportional to the amount of labor I performed. A good thing, I swear it was. Not a single blemish of sweat could be found on any of my clothes nor had any calluses formed on my hands. My duty was simple. I was to locate the journals of that very madam who stalked me relentlessly and to transfer them from her possession to his. His exact reasoning behind wanting them I didn’t know, nor did I inquire directly. If I could have launched a theory on the matter, I would have concluded that perhaps she had been a woman inclined to extramarital affairs, and I would further assume that her husband was securing evidence to benefit him in a divorce. Frankly, good etiquette forbade me to meddle in the personal business of my employer. However, it was often difficult for me to ignore the brewing situation. Therefore, along with satisfying my duties to my sister first, and then to McDaniel, I had set as an additional goal to discover the heart of his distrust. By finding that element and salvaging the remnants of their marriage, I might sooner free Sarah from whatever bonds she had to the estate. Then I would be relieved of my visit to Virginia, having once again restored Sarah to a point of peace.

I gave thought to my objectives as I walked up to the entry gate of the estate, trying to reason the surest route that would lead to swift success of the matters. As I adjusted my tie or, to be clearer, loosened it so that I might breathe more easily, I remembered certain looks that I had received from Claire. There were none to insult or offend; rather, as she set her eyes on me, she made apparent her fondness for my company. Admittedly, I enjoyed the attention and catered to her childish fancies on more than one occasion, more so because I felt inclined to release her from the repressive force she identified to be her husband. For all my loyalty to the man, I could not entirely find fault with her opinions of him. I watched on numerous occasions as her good cheer was extinguished in his presence, like a match under water. Perhaps it was pity that I felt for her. It was certainly not any type of enduring affection, not as I was sure she wanted. It was, however, through all my thoughts of her and her desirous looks that I supposed the best way to help her, her husband, my sister, and myself was to use her passion to all of our benefit. Of course, it sounded as though I was callous for thinking of using the woman in such a way, but I considered the greater good that was bound to come of it. I was a man with pure intentions.

“Good morning, Marcus,” Claire said, opening the gate for me.

“Thank you,” I said, noticing the unfastened button on her dress.

 She drew her dress closed as she caught my glance of it.

“He wants to speak with you.”

She began her walk away from me as soon as she had said it, and by her actions I figured that it might concern the two of us.

“Do you know about what?” I asked.

She stopped and faced me.

“It’s none of my business,” she replied angrily.

Whether her sudden guardedness and anger was directed at me or because of some squabble that had taken place before my arrival, I wasn’t sure, but because I needed her to continue to desire my presence, I attempted to play both sides.

“Shouldn’t it be your business? You are married to the man, aren’t you?” I asked. “Equal partnership is how I understand it.”

“There’s no partnership between the two of us. You can see that.”

“You want it to be though?”

She seemed as unsure as I did of where exactly I was heading with my questions. However, I was compelled to ask as many as might reveal information I otherwise might not receive.

“Why are you all of a sudden concerned? You’re his pet, his confidant. Are you so easily moved across the fence?”

As I approached her she held a grimace as if she hated the very sound of my steps, though they weren’t loud. I was given to walking softly.

“I am no pet,” I told her in passing.

She then followed after me.

“If you’re not his pet, then tell me what he has you searching for.”

“Are you afraid it concerns you?” I asked, stopping just shy of the porch.

The front door had been left open. In reply she first lowered her voice so as not to be heard through the screen.

“I am not afraid of anything.” she said.

“Then why do you busy yourself to find out these things?”

“Why should getting what is only due to me from him be such a task? He hardly knows you. What has he told you? What has he given you?”

“You aren’t talking of money, are you?” I asked, suspiciously.

“No. I’m asking you to be open with me. Tell me this secret.”

“I don’t have any secrets. I have tasks. I complete them and then I go home.”

 “What are your tasks then?”

“I’m finding you and what you want and what you are like. Those are my tasks.”

The disappointment on her face was more than sufficient to show her disbelief.

“Marcus, come on in. I’ve been waiting for you,” McDaniel interrupted, stepping out onto the porch.

I left her standing there and went on inside with him, shutting the door behind me as I was told to do.

“I like knowing that you’re not a lying man, Marcus,” he began as he led me into his study.

I stood before his desk as he took a seat. He lit one of his cigars, drew a few deep breaths from it, and blew the smoke into the air above his head.

“Therefore I think it’s important that you explain to me the meaning of these few pages here. I don’t want to assume you’ve been keeping things from me.”

I took the pages from him as he handed them to me. I noticed first that they had been torn from their original binding, and I realized as I moved closer to the light of the fireplace that I was holding and reading the contents of Claire’s journals.

“The look on your face tells me that what you see written there isn’t foreign material,” he said, rising to his feet.

“I’ve no idea where she got this from.”

“Of course you do. It’s your history, your private history.”

He came to me swiftly and jerked the papers from my hands.

“The meal I brought for him had since grown cold,” he quoted and then paused. “Do you remember that meal?”

“I’ve not eaten a meal here.”

“Secrets, Mr. Jesse, these are not good for you. Not with my Claire.”

“This is all some fantasy in her head,” I insisted, pointing at the papers.  

“Is it really?” he asked.

“Yes, and I won’t be accused of this foolishness.”

I began my march towards the door.

“I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

Not paying him a bit of attention, I pulled at the doorknob.

“What’s going on?” Claire asked me, standing just outside the door.

“I only want the truth out of you,” he said to me, slamming the door in Claire’s face and leading me away from it.

“If you believe that those papers are truth, then why ask me?”

“Don’t bother trying to confirm or deny what’s in these papers, Mr. Jesse.”

The fire swelled as he tossed them inside. Divorce then was not his reason behind wanting her journals.

“I know everything about you two.”

“There’s nothing between us.”

“I’m offering you a way back to my graces because where you are now is very dangerous for you. I know about you and Claire. I can even bring myself to applaud you for sinking to such a level to retrieve what I asked for, if that’s why you did it.”

Answering him in any fashion was not likely to change his frame of mind so I remained quiet and simply listened.

“My concern isn’t for the fidelity of my wife. My concern is for this,” he said, opening his arms.

I looked about, as he did, at the study.

“I work; I toil for this,” he continued, moving over to his curtains and pulling them open.

The light that flooded in through the window was so bright that it made the fire seem to have gone out.

“This vineyard, I built it. My hands were the first to dig through that dirt. I knew that soil when it was nothing but weeds, rotten wood, and the wood rats that fought to keep stake.”

“I assure you that there is nothing going on,” I said.

“Don’t be simple. She plays the victim because it works, not because she is, and I’m warning you not to let her fool you.”

“I’m not fooled.”

“Good, because if she does, if I have to have this talk with you again, you’ll regret it.”

A knock came as he pulled the curtains shut.

“Come in,” he said.

It was Claire.

“It’s a letter for you,” she said and then looked at me.

“For me?” I asked, surprised to receive any mail.

At first she appeared to walk in my direction though she bypassed me at the last minute.

“The postman said that—”

“You’re excused,” he said, interrupting her. “So are you,” he then said to me.

I walked with Claire out of the study, keeping a noticeable distance. His threats were no uncommon thing, but at the same time I took them seriously as they came.

“What’d you two talk about?” she asked.

“What did you hear?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Then that’s what we talked about.”

“Nothing?” she asked, touching my arm.

I nodded to confirm.

“Come with me.”

“I’ve got things to do. I’ll help you another time,” I told her.

“I don’t need your help. I need to talk to you.”

“Talk to me here.”

I didn’t want to incite any further suspicions against us. The foyer was fine for conversation.

“I can’t here.”

She took me by the hand and led me up the stairs into one of the bedrooms, shutting the door behind us.

“I can’t be in here,” I said, reaching for the knob.

She moved herself to block the door.

“Feel,” she commanded, lifting her dress.

“Put your dress down.”

I did it for her, not giving her time to decide whether she would or wouldn’t.

“What are you trying to do?” I asked.

I pulled her arm to get her to move away from the door and she did, after a brief moment of struggle.

“Don’t leave,” she pleaded.

“I’ve got enough to deal with. What do you want from me?”

“It’s here. I’m sure,” she said, and she put her hands to her stomach.

“What’s here?”