Chapter 5: Conspiracy

The attractive, elegant women stood huddled in small groups; it was obvious to any observer that they were grieving and were comforting each other, bound by their loss and a common sense of purpose.

Their nationalities varied but they were all beautiful, most under thirty but a few older; although they all wore black they all wore it stylishly, figure-hugging dresses, or skirt and jacket suits, expensive hosiery, plenty of Jimmy Choo and Christian Louboutin high heels. Their hair and makeup was perfect and despite being dressed in funereal finery, they exuded sexuality.

The women all wore discreet gold rings shaped in the form of a serpent swallowing its tail on their wedding ring fingers.

The men were also very well dressed in expensive tailored suits and they exuded a sense of upper class entitlement, refinement and affluence; they too were gathered in small groups. They surveyed the women in the same way a horse racing syndicate might survey their stable of mares; appraising the particular features of each creature. Many of the men would be instantly recognisable as peers of the realm, leaders of industry and commerce, politicians and public servants, military men, academics and artists. They were older than most of the women; not one of the men was younger than forty.

The men all wore black onyx and gold rings on their right ring fingers, the band of which was fashioned into a serpentine design.

Of course there was no one outside of this distinguished group of men and women to recognise any of the mourners; they were a closed society and the funeral was a private service.

The just completed internment had taken place at the family crypt inside the hallowed grounds of Chelmsford Hall. Lord Edward Tilsbury’s funeral service had taken place prior to his internment in the Chelmsford Hall chapel. The chapel could not accommodate all of mourners; and anyway few of them were religious so most had elected to pay their respects at the graveside service.

Now that the service was over and marks of respect had been rendered the groups of men and women began to merge, no longer divided by their sex. The few mature women were confident and assured of their status; the younger women more supplicant and shy.

A woman of uncertain age but likely in her forties stood on a small knoll observing the ceremony under the shade of one of the few remaining healthy Elms in England. She was stylishly dressed in Dior and Louboutin. A black suit consisting of a knee-length tight pencil skirt with a kick pleat clung to her buttocks and thighs; the equally tight jacket over a white satin blouse delineated a modest but pert decolletage. Her blonde hair was exquisitely coiffed, ironed straight, the nape rested on her shoulders her fringe cut perfectly straight across her eyebrows.

Her makeup was heavy but impeccable, dark eyes, rouge defined high cheekbones, ruby-red full lips; she had accessorised with modest gold jewellery, as befitted the occasion.

She sensed the presence behind her but did not turn her head when she spoke.

“You remain devoted to him even now he’s gone,” the woman rummaged in her purse for cigarettes.

“I loved him,” the other woman, of similar age and equally elegantly presented, replied.

“All of us Acolytes of the Circle loved him Mary,” the woman placed a cigarette in her lips.

Mary took a step forward and flicked her gold lighter and placed the flame under Charlotte’s cigarette.

“When was the last time we met?” Mary lit her own cigarette and blew smoke over her shoulder.

“Oh I think it was at that thing at Dickie’s place in Kensington, just before I went to America, must have been at least ten years ago,” Charlotte scrutinised the filter of her cigarette, picking off a stray skerrick of lipstick.

“Yes; that was it. You do look good,” Mary smiled.

“You got fat,” Charlotte replied; a whimsical grin crossed her lips.

Mary smiled and turned down her lips; she knew that she had not put on a single ounce since they had last met. She had a voracious appetite but her exercise regime was the equal of any Olympian athlete. She refused to rise to the bait.

“Well. As I said, you look good. You’ve kept your figure and you have the arse of a twelve-year-old boy,” Mary replied.

“I used to be a twelve year old boy,” Charlotte smiled and turned to face Mary.

“But some jumped up shopgirl, turned cigarette-hawker in a men’s club gave me a few pointers a few years ago and now you see what you see,” Charlotte dropped her cigarette and crushed it into the grass.

She pulled Mary into a warm embrace and kissed her on the lips.

“How have you been darling? It’s so wonderful to see you,” Charlotte smiled warmly and tenderly rubbed at Mary’s lip where she had smudged her lipstick.

“All the better for seeing you,” Mary smiled back and held Charlotte at arms-length and appraised her.

“Those tits are new,” Mary’s eyes scanned Charlotte’s decolletage.

“Well ... I had to have those fucking silicone granulomas removed but lucky for me the plastic surgeon was able to remove them without too much damage and he gave me a nice set of implants,” Charlotte patted her chest.

“Yes, well back then all they had was silicon injections to enhance breasts. How about ... I mean ... you know?” Mary glanced down at Charlotte’s mid-section and raised her brows inquiringly, blushing as she did so.

“Oh that?”

“No she’s still tucked away between my legs and neatly gaffed. Never saw the need for a prosthetic vagina; besides, what do the French say? Vive la diffėrence? There’s plenty of the Masters used to like my toy; as did you if I recall correctly,” Charlotte sniffed.

Mary blushed a deeper red until Charlotte began to chuckle and then Mary laughed with her and the two beautiful women fell into each other’s arms and kissed again.

“Is it awful? Laughing during a funeral I mean?” Charlotte dabbed at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief.

“Well technically the funeral and interment are over so no; not really,” Mary smiled wanly.

“Come. Let’s walk the gardens and go down to the Hall and get a drink,” Mary took Charlotte gently by the elbow.

“I have so many questions; so much has changed,” Charlotte said.

“And so much has remained the same,” Mary said, a little bitterness in her voice.

“I see you got your ring,” they were holding hands and Mary squeezed Charlotte’s left ring finger.

“Yes,” Charlotte self-consciously twisted the ring on her finger.

“Edward introduced them not long after you left for America. Turns out some tosser was passing himself off as a Master of the Circle and was shagging Acolytes like a randy dog, mostly young ditzes who had been Novices only weeks earlier. He never came to any of the Meetings of the Circle of course, just found Acolytes outside of the meetings and demanded his right as Master of the Circle by invoking the Master’s command,” Mary began.

“I have need of your service,” Charlotte whispered the command that bound Acolytes to their Masters.

“Precisely. Anyway, one of the old hands found him out and Edward had Sargent Pitt sort the tosser out if you know what I mean? Problem was that membership of the Masters of the Circle was getting too big to properly oversee. So Lord Chelmsford introduced the rings as a means of identification,” Mary explained.

“Sort of ‘no tickee-no-washee’,” Charlotte grinned.

Mary playfully punched Charlotte’s arm and smiled back.

“Exactly!”

“Speaking of ‘no tickee-no-washee’, I notice a few other changes too,” Charlotte raised her brows inquiringly.

“Oh yes. It’s the nineties dear; the Circle is an equal opportunity employer. We have black women, Asians, ladies of all nationalities ... we even have a few more of your sort,” Mary teased.

“Not really,” Charlotte sniffed.

She was well aware that there were a few other transsexual Acolytes but they had all undertaken gender reassignment surgery.

“But the Masters are still all British upper-class?”

“Yes; well that’s because potential Masters are only invited to join the Circle by the current crop of Masters so of course the candidates tend to come from their own gene pool so to speak. Besides, the selection and indoctrination process for a Master takes nearly as long as it does for a Novice. We have to ensure the utmost discretion and that secrecy is maintained,” Mary answered.

“As you are aware, at twenty-five the Acolytes can leave the Hall and live freely in society, but are still bound by their commitment to the Circle. Most of them soon marry and leave the Circle; sometimes a Master will even marry an Acolyte he’s fallen in love with.”

“Can’t imagine being married to a woman who has had more pricks in her than a second-hand dart board. But then I’m not a man,” Charlotte sniffed.

“Well you used to be and you know better than to speak about us like that! You’ve been away a long time but you still wear your ring. You’re still sworn to the Circle!” Mary let go of Charlotte’s hand and crossed her arms angrily.

“Keep yer knickers on; you know I was only joking,” Charlotte sidled up to Mary and put her arm around her waist.

“Second-hand dartboard indeed!” Mary scoffed as they kept walking towards Chelmsford Hall.

“There are disturbing things happening within Society of the of the Order of the Circle, Edward was trying to get to the bottom of them when he was taken from us,” Mary abruptly changed the subject.

“Really. What things?” Charlotte’s interest was piqued.

“Well I told you about the imposter using our Acolytes. Also many of our younger Acolytes have resigned from the Circle,” Mary continued.

“Yes Mary but many do. They become attached to man or they decide the lifestyle is no longer for them,” Charlotte replied.

“Yes, but so many more than usual and some of them have simply disappeared, never heard from. And even more disturbing too many of our Novices are withdrawing from Society of the Circle prior to graduation. We have always had a few that were not suitable or who decided that devotion to the Circle until the age of twenty-five was not for them; but we are losing too many for it to be a coincidence,” Mary said.

“Intriguing. Have you any idea at all what’s causing our Novices and Acolytes to relinquish their devotion to the Circle?” Charlotte asked.

“Not really but Lord Tilsbury thought he was close to solving the mystery,” Mary sounded melancholy and more that a little lost.

Charlotte took Mary’s hand as they continued to enjoy the gardens.

Charlotte and Mary completed their walk around the grounds and arrived at the Hall to find a crowd of Masters and Acolytes clogging the main entrance as they made their way to the extravagant wake that awaited them in the main hall.

“Let’s go in through the conservatory,” Mary smiled and dangled a key.

“So you never left Chelmsford Hall? You stayed and worked for Edward all these years?” Charlotte touched Mary’s arm briefly.

“I never wanted anything else. I am content to be an Acolyte of the Circle and was gratified with my role as Edward’s personal assistant,” Mary sighed.

They made their way through the conservatory and Mary led Charlotte to Lord Tilsbury’s private quarters where both his office and his bedchamber were located. Mary invited Charlotte to sit in one of the beautiful antique chintz armchairs while she poured them both a drink.

“I heard you had a child,” Charlotte lit cigarettes for both of them.

“Yes; Tiffany. Edward is her father, she’s away at finishing school in Paris. She knows nothing of the Circle nor will she,” Mary said determinedly.

“But it’s good enough for her mother? You’ve devoted your life to the Circle,” Charlotte countered.

“I gave my up daughter not long after she was born. A good friend of mine who married well and relinquished her Acolyte status adopted Tiffany. I’ve been fortunate that I have been able to watch her Tiffany grow up into a beautiful intelligent young woman; visiting the family regularly, I’ve still been part of her life,” Mary put down the drinks on the table and took the proffered cigarette.

“It must be hard. What about Edward?” Charlotte picked up her drink.

“The one thing we never agreed on. He didn’t want me to have the baby but I insisted. Now it doesn’t matter anymore,” Mary wiped at her eyes and forced a smile.

“Enough of me; what about you? I’ve heard you’re a world traveller and entrepreneur?”

Charlotte reached into her purse and handed Mary a matte black business card embossed with silver script: ‘Something Special - Charlotte’s Web’ with an international phone number discreetly inscribed on the bottom right corner.

“A callgirl agency?” Mary could not keep the disappointment out of her voice.

Charlotte stiffened.

“Not at all! It’s like the card says ... something special. Membership to an elite club that gives members unfettered access to a pool of gorgeous, articulate ladies who are artisans as well as companions,” Charlotte reproached.

“Callgirls,” Mary repeated herself.

“No!” Charlotte slapped her palm on the table.

“Charlotte’s Web is modelled on the Circle, but is a commercial venture. Men pay an exorbitant monthly stipend for the privilege and the girls are well paid for their services. They also get to keep whatever extra remuneration the members bestow upon them,” Charlotte calmed herself as she spoke.

“I see,” Mary didn’t sound convinced.

“Charlotte’s Web has franchises in most of Europe, Singapore, Japan and Australia. I’ve lived in Australia for the last seven years; made it my base of operations so to speak.”

“But you went to America first?” Mary frowned.

“I tested the business model there but the Americans just don’t get it. They couldn’t appreciate the privilege of belonging to an exclusive clique with a clearly defined dictum and principles. They treated the girls like hookers; passing them on to non-members, they didn’t treat the women with respect,” Charlotte began.

“Americans like to deride the British upper-classes as stuck up and antiquated, whilst secretly being jealous of our formality and social propriety. Just like their addiction to junk food and shopping malls, everything needs to fast, ‘to go’ and disposable. They do not comprehend the subtlety of the Acolyte and Master relationship; they just wanted ‘wham bang thank you ma’am’ sex; the Circle model never worked there. But I learned a lot about running a commercial venture; then I shut down my enterprise in America and reopened in Australia with a refined business model.”

“And now it’s a roaring success,” Charlotte beamed.

“So you stole the whole premise and tenet of the Masters of the Circle and turned it into a grubby commercial business?” Mary finished her drink and took their glasses to the bar to refill them.

“You don’t approve?” Charlotte crushed out her cigarette.

Mary didn’t answer but asked another question.

“You still wear the ring of an Acolyte; does that mean you still abide by the dictums of the Circle?” Mary bought the drinks back to the table.

“It’s who I am. I won’t ever forget where I came from and what Sir Edward Tilsbury did for me. I will always be an Acolyte of the Circle,” Charlotte said solemnly.

“So ... Speaking of the Late Sir Edward, is it true that that jumped up little twerp nephew of his Barnaby will inherit the title?” Charlotte sipped her gin and tonic.

“Edward’s is one of the few remaining hereditary peerages in England. He has no son and as Barnaby is the legal benefactor and heir decreed in Edward’s will, Barnaby will inherit the Earldom, but there is likely to be some pushback from the peerage; he’s not well liked,” Mary explained.

“I’ve heard he’s a right little shit,” Charlotte looked over the rim of her glass at Mary.