Author's note: This chapter has not been revised by any beta readers. Please help me improve my English by contacting me if you find any grammar mistakes. Remember I'm not a native English speaker.
"Mr. Richter? I need to talk to you, sir."
A slender man, wearing a fine deep black velvet suit, slowly turned on his heels to face whoever was calling for him. His face revealed his youngness – he was probably around his twenties – and his beauty. His skin was pale, contrasting with the deep brown eyebrows; his hair was silky and lustrous brown, long enough to touch his shoulders. His eyes, however, were his second most precious feature – not brown, but not green either. It was almondlike, and seemed to change its color depending on the light.
The first most precious feature of Mr. Richter was his crooked jaw. And it didn't matter it was actually a physical defect; because when he widened his crooked smile, all women around him seemed to start hyperventilating. His full name? Joseph Michael Richter.
"What is it, Dawson?" he asked in his gentle voice, as he sipped the deep red drink he had in his hand.
"There's a woman outside, sir." Dawson, a man around his sixties announced.
Richter chuckled, "There're always women outside." He sipped a little more, "What's the big deal about this one?"
"She entered the kitchen and she tried to rob some breads, sir."
Joseph blinked and wrinkles appeared on his forehead. "So we have a prowler?"
"Yes, sir. I need to know what you want me to do with her."
"Let me see her."
"Follow me."
Joseph left his glass of wine over a mahogany table and followed Dawson across the house to the kitchen. It was a very big house, filled with the most luxurious furniture one could ever imagine in 1860. Richter was one of the richest men in New York in that decade.
Once inside the wide kitchen, Joseph gave a good look around to understand the situation. The cookers, two old black ladies, were around a young woman who sat on a chair by a wood table. Her fists were above it, tied by a rope. She let her head lowered, and her light brown curls covered her face.
He slowly approached her and sat on a chair in front of her. The woman barely moved. Maybe she was too frightened to make the slightest move, but she didn't really have to fear Joseph. He wasn't cruel. Actually, his employees considered him a very gentle man.
"Excuse me, miss?" his voice was soft, "can I look into your eyes?"
The woman rose her head and her face revealed as her curly hair fell behind her shoulders. She was as young as he was, beautiful and, Joseph noticed, blind.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since two days." She started babbling, "When I smelled the fresh bread, I couldn't help it." She tried to explain herself in a hurry. "Please don't punish me. Have mercy. I promise to never come back again."
"Shhh… Don't worry, girl. What's your name?"
"Cecilia."
"How old are you, Cecilia?"
"I'm 23."
"You're my age…" Joseph whispered, more to himself than to her. "So you're hungry, Cecilia. I'll tell my servants to cook something for you."
"Won't you punish me, sir?" he breathed.
"No, absolutely not. And I don't see why such a blind, sweet lady, would have to be tied with a rope."
Joseph managed to free Cecilia's fists himself.
"Thank you!" a sincere smile showed up on her face. "Thank you so much!"
Cecilia's eyes tried to find Joseph in the darkness of the blindness, with no success. So her hands searched for Joseph's, and when she found them, she helped his hands to her lips.
Such soft lips, Joseph thought, when she kissed his hands. Cecilia looked all soft and pretty, even in those dirty old clothes and with dirty on her hands. There was something in her that enchanted Joseph, and for a moment he felt he wanted to serve her for all eternity.
He ordered his servants to cook dinner for Cecilia. He also asked for water, soap and a dishrag.
"I'm going to clean your hands, all right, Cecilia?"
"All right—"
Gently, Joseph cleaned her hands and nails with warm water and soap, scrubbing the dishrag on her skin to remove the dirt. Then, he died her hands with a soft piece of cloth.
"Tell me, Cecilia, who do you live with?"
She shook her head and her blind eyes lowered. "I live all by myself."
Joseph's eyes narrowed. "Alone? But how?"
Cecilia bit her lower lip and Joseph understood that maybe she didn't want to talk about subject, feeling her stomach protest with hunger, so he respected that.
Dinner was ready within minutes: Pasta, tomato sauce, cheese, bread and a huge steak. Cecilia ate as if there was nothing more delicious in the world than that food in front of her.
"Do you want wine?"
"I can't drink wine, sir, thank you. I'd be happy with a glass of water."
A large glass of water was immediately placed in front of her, and Cecilia almost drank it all at once. When she was done, she cleaned her mouth and the tip of her fingers with a napkin.
"Thank you so much, sir!" she smiled.
"You don't have to thank me." Joseph broadened a crooked smile, "Was it good?"
"Absolutely!"
Silence fell between them while Joseph admired Cecilia for a moment. He made a gesture, dismissing the servants. When they left, Cecilia raised her head and seemed to smell the change in the environment. Then she relaxed, feeling no danger around.
"Well, now that you're fed, I'd like to know where and in what conditions you live.
"I live at the outskirts of New York. It's not very pretty; at least, not that I can remember."
"You mean you haven't been blind all your life?"
"No, I haven't. I lost my vision gradually, for some reason. Mom never had money enough to pay a doctor visit. I was totally blind when she passed away one year ago."
"Where's your father? Do you have any brothers?"
"My father left mom when I was still a baby; and no, I don't have any brothers."
Joseph was shocked, "How do you manage to survive?"
"So many questions, sir." Cecilia rubbed her hands and hid them between her legs.
"I'm sorry—"
"No problem. I sell flowers, when I can reap some." She hesitated for a second, "What's your name, sir?"
"Joseph Richter."
"Do you allow me to see you?"
"Sure; but how do you-?"
Joseph silenced when Cecilia touched his face, uncertain. The tips of her fingers were warm and soft, and touched his chin and cheeks as lightly as a feather. He closed his eyes when her fingers wandered over his eyebrows; and when she explored the contour of his lips, he almost let a sigh out.
"You're a handsome man." She murmured.
Joseph touched her hand and held it against his cheek. "You have no idea of how beautiful you are, Cecilia."
Cecilia smiled, and yawned hereupon. Joseph got up on his feet and offered her his hand. She took it.
"I'm going back home now. Thank you for the food once again, Mr. Richter."
Cecilia made a move as if she was about to turn around, but Joseph didn't let her hand go. "It's dark and it's getting very cold. I can't let you out in conditions like these. Tonight, Cecilia, I'd like to offer you my guestroom. Tonight, you sleep here."