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With a trembling hand, Edmond (the ancient butler who had served our family for as long as I could remember) passed me my mother's pearl and diamond inlayed mirror. I wondered what I was about to see.I too could not believe what my eyes were telling me. I told Edmond to bring me a brandy, immediately. I needed a drink, and this time not water. I looked around the room and no one had moved except Emily, the upstairs chambermaid, who was helping Susan to a chair.I noted with interest that the fall had caused Susan's bodice to shift so that the fullness of her breast was revealed to my eyes. My view was quickly obscured as Emily noticed Susan's condition and corrected the misallocation of that thin piece of cloth that normally covers the delicious treasure chest.I also noticed the look on Emily's face as she was handling Susan's predicament. It seemed to me there was an interest shown there, that was more than just concern for the clothing malfunction! I made a note to look into that in. But now, Brad resurrected Winston. Brad taketh away, Brad givith. Glory be the name of Brad. And I feared why. Largely out of guilt–for I had long forgiven him for sending out the pictures of me that had been the proximate cause of all this–In fact I was grateful to him–I tried to be kind to Winston, to be sexy and willing. And there was, I admit, a certain perverse pleasure in knowing what was happening, in exposing myself to his camera, knowing that Brad would view the image. And hoping that he–Brad–might be jealous seeing me giving pleasure to my husband. I knew it could not go on. Not the way it was. Not at Broadthroup and Brown. Not with Winston. Not with Brad. None of it was stable. But I, who had once been celebrated for decisiveness and initiative, had no desire, no intention, no will to make a change. I did not even know what change I wanted. Which was real: the person I had seemed to be all my life, who excelled at school and work, or the person I was with Brad? The only.
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