A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 7
Over the course of a few weeks he had grown fond of kissing, and sought many opportunities to partake in this. He was always the sort to demand his desires be met in a timely manner, and this was of course not limited to personal matters. In terms of business affairs, he was expedient in scheduling meetings, one of which was a trip to Dublin to meet this new factory manager.
During our carriage ride to board the train from King's Cross, he pondered, "What makes one a good kisser?"
"How do you mean, young master?"
"Surely you do not think I'm asking a trick question, Sebastian. How does one know if he is good at kissing?"
I crossed my arms, quite amused by this. "The only way to know is if the one you are kissing wants to be kissed by you again."
He reflected on this answer for a moment, peering out the window onto a hazy moor that would eventually lead to the grimy streets of London. All was quiet until he snapped the curtain closed and rose unsteadily from his seat as the carriage bumped along. Straddling my lap, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and I could not stifle a moan as his lips crashed to mine, his mouth hungry and his body wanting. I inhaled his scent as I deepened the kiss, smelling wool, tobacco, and sublime scent of his lust and the sweetness of his corruptible nature. I nibbled at his chin and his hips ground into mine. My head swam with all manner of devious thoughts of what I could do to this boy.
He breathed, "So, would you say I kiss well?"
I paused, reluctant to give a straight "yes." It was imperative that I remained unreadable, that he knew not what was stirring within me. Over the past few days I had entertained the notion of relinquishing my control. I quickly dismissed that possibility; while pleasure for its own sake is sweet, manipulation requires more skill and therefor yields greater rewards.
"I would say that the master is skilled in many ways," I whispered, the boy shivering in response. I thought it best not to tell him that his soft lips caused the heat in my flesh to rise. When I felt his tongue flick against mine it was as though he pulled at a thread within me, its vibrations reverberating to the core of my being.
I must say, there are advantages to a corporeal form based in this most solid reality. Humans are not aware of just how clouded they are to the whole of reality. They truly live in a cave, only witnessing the shadows on the wall. Despite their clouded perceptions, existing in this solid reality gives experiences immediacy, and the effects of these sensations are undeniable. For a being such as myself, naturally occurring in spaces that only mirror this realm, corporeal existence is so intoxicating.
I welcomed our small, intimate exchanges, but I allowed for the master to initiate them. It was common for Ciel to summon me to his smoking room, or to his bedroom before retiring for the evening. Surprisingly, I found that he was conducting his business with far less stress as a result of our encounters.
Even the servants commented on how the boy's mood had changed. They believed it was due to the shift in the season, or that Elizabeth was coming to visit. I reminded my young master of this a couple days prior to her arrival. Preparations for her were being arranged, and Ciel was diligent with tying up his review over sales reports before she arrived. Looking up from his work, he shortly proclaimed, "Very well, Sebastian, but I'll have you know I did not need you to remind me." He resumed his fervent scratching of pen on paper.
I bowed. "May I ask, young master, are you looking forward to her arrival?"
His lips formed a hard line. "As if it were any of your business, but to answer your question, I see Lizzie as being another appointment to attend."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I am obligated to appeal to her however she wishes. It's for the prestige of my good name, as well her honor, that we work to make this arranged marriage a success. But such things are no more than a business transaction; an exchange of goods and services, where the politics of negotiation are critical to this exchange." He neatly tapped a stack of papers into order and placed them in a folder for filing.
While it was most improper of my station, I was intrigued by the boy's comment and so to engage the conversation further, I sat in the chair opposite his desk. He stared at me, surprised with how I chose to sit without permission. "Am I to conclude that you see her no more than just another asset to your plans?" I rested my chin on my hand, eager for some naïve response from the young man who believed he could have all the answers.
"If you are suggesting that I don't care for her at all, you are mistaken." He rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands under his chin, mimicking me and sizing me up. "She is my cousin, after all."
"So you care for her as a family member?"
"In one regard."
"And what of in the sense that she is your fiancée?"
"Sebastian, you are pushing the matter. Drop it and bring me my tea."
I rose and gave a bow. As I turned to leave, he added, "Despite what sort of... exchanges... we may have had over the past few days, might I remind you: You are my butler. Any sort of events that occur between us, well, it's because I allow them to occur. Do not forget it."
I was sure that he did not see me smirk as I left the room. Such a foolish boy; he failed to remember that it was I that encouraged him to indulge in his desires. His initial decision was to ignore them completely. We both saw how terrible that was for his nerves. I considered, if he wants to believe that he is the one in control of these circumstances, then so be it. Besides, I could sense that under his air of authority and immutable exterior, he found the experiences to be frightening. During those moments of heated exchange he felt out of control, his armor shaken to reveal all vulnerability. In some paradoxical way, this position of vulnerability thrilled him.
There were times when I felt a great reluctance in his touch. He was urgent in his kisses, but was fearful to advance beyond that innocent gesture. He had grown quite conscious of how far he could fall into this pleasure. When he would pull me towards him, I could feel his arousal and on many occasions was not inclined to hide it. One such evening, I hesitantly lowered him onto the bed, my bare hand drifting lower to his trembling hips. I crouched over his slender form, my hungry kisses on his neck being encouraged by his heavy panting. All that laid between my hand and his rosy flesh was the thin cotton of a nightshirt. Young master knew what I was reaching for, and what my intentions were. He saw the flash of my eyes, and instantly he cried, "Don't! Sebastian, I order you to stop!"
Needless to say, that was the end of our rendezvous for that evening.
I could not push him further than what he was comfortable because he was inclined to trust me implicitly. This was the reason why he could feel the full intensity of his fear, look into my eyes as his body quivered and acknowledge the risks he was taking. It only fed into the heat, and the result was a confusion embedded deep in the core of his being. I could taste it on his lips, smell it in his skin. His body reeked of corruption and turmoil, a walking delicacy. He was my masterpiece and with any work of beauty, the most crucial component is patience.
What terrified the boy more? Was it vulnerability itself, or the thrill of relinquishing one's armor? I do not believe even Ciel could answer this question.
Elizabeth arrived at the manor on a clear Saturday as Ciel was finishing elevenses. I expected him to dread the day, but surprisingly, as she bounded out of the carriage, the earl greeted her with open arms and his most charming smile. Most strange, I considered, since less than a month ago he appeared to resent her presence.
Ciel offered a walk through the garden's labyrinth, seeing as how Finny had spent the past three days trimming its hedges and cleaning its winding pathways. Elizabeth wore a new outfit of the season, a pale blue ensemble that was surprisingly less girlish than what her fiancé was accustomed to her adorning. There were fewer frills, the cut designed to accentuate a feminine physique, as opposed to a girl's attire which was meant to hide the body entirely. A smooth bodice accentuated an already tiny waist, which was made more apparent by the fullness of her bustle skirt. Her jacket was smartly tailored, its detailed embroidery winding down the sleeves to her hands decorated in lace gloves. Instead of wearing a girl's bonnet, she chose an elaborate spring hat with lilies and feathers to perch on top of her blonde curls.
Despite such a sophisticated outfit, she still chose to wear her girlish flat shoes. She had grown to quite a height, much like her mother. She was so self-conscious of this fact, and this apprehension was exacerbated by the fact that Ciel's rather short stature. He would unlikely grow much more past his height of five and a half feet. I concluded that it was due to his ill-humored nature, for he had spent his formative years fighting with his asthma and all its complications. Even though the boy would wear a heel that gained him an extra inch, Elizabeth still had several inches above him. While standing side by side, her flamboyant hat did not help the situation.
As a result, Elizabeth slouched slightly (as much as a lady in a corset is able) as they sauntered through the labyrinth garden. Noticing her self-consciousness, "Your new outfit suits you, Lizzie. You wear it quite elegantly." Ciel's compliment certainly elevated her mood. She shifted her parasol, turned, and glanced coyly over her shoulder. Gloved fingers pressed to her cheek, as though to hide a blush.
From that moment on, Elizabeth spared no expense when displaying her flirtatious behavior. The boy not only picked up on her lady-like advances, but was actually responding to them. I watched with intrigue when he held his arm for her to hold as they strolled along. She was happy to share her parasol with him. The scene was positively idyllic, not unlike the painting that hung above the fireplace in the Rococo-esque parlor. I sensed that underneath all his chivalrous displays and charismatic words, his mind stirred with impatience. I could hear him screaming in his mind, "Let's get on with it!" Whatever he meant by "it," I was unsure. He was up to something, and the manner in which he occasionally glanced into the distance led me to conclude his mind was elsewhere.
The two made their way to the center of the labyrinth, where I had a quaint luncheon prepared: cucumber sandwiches, smoked trout, a salad tossed with sweet relish, and fresh buns glazed in honey. To complete the meal, I prepared a treacle tart and coffee. Elizabeth clapped her hands at the delicate display of food set on glass trays at the wrought iron patio set. I decided to complete the display with an arrangement of jonquil and a few sprigs of daphne odora. Surely she would notice this subtle hint.
Ciel held the chair out for his fiancé and she arranged the folds of her skirt after being seated. He gave me a sideways glance and smirked, as if to say, "Well played," nodding to the table. As the lady was preoccupied with her decorum, I reciprocated the silent exchange with a flash of vermillion eyes. Elizabeth looked up to see the blush on the boy's cheeks and perceived it as being directed towards her. This is all aligning so flawlessly, I thought.
Between small bites and sips of tea they carried on a most polite conversation; That is to say, I found the conversation to be rather dull. "Tell me more about your brother, Lizzie. Is he well?" Young master perched his fork on the side of his plate and rested his chin on his hands, as though this were the most interesting thing in the world for him.
The young woman clung to her napkin. "Last I saw him he was in good health. He has been studying law, as you know, but even when university is not occupying all his time, he refuses to come home on holiday."
"Do you suspect anything suspicious?"
"I have no reason to," she looked down at her hands, which were wringing the napkin, "but mother seems disinclined to talk of such things with me. She will not say anything, but I can tell there is something has displeased her."
The young gentleman pondered this for a moment, suspecting something was amiss. Lord Edward was extremely close to his younger sister, not only in the protective sense, but in a trusting one as well. He was eager to share all matters with her, and vice versa. Ciel was very aware of this. Their lack of correspondence, and Elizabeth not knowing her brother's current condition, was a circumstance the boy found more than interesting.
This was not a topic of conversation that the lady was entirely comfortable with, and thus she switched to something she felt was more pleasant. "How are the plans for the charity ball coming along?"
Young master tried his very best to sound chipper and enthusiastic over the whole event. "I find preparing for the event may be more enjoyable than actually attending it, I fear," Ciel quipped. Elizabeth beamed from such a comment.
"Might I ask, Ciel," looking rather sheepish, "Would you be willing to have me play a piece or two on that evening? I have been practicing, you know, and I have so fallen for this one composition. It reminds me so much of the spring."
Ciel crossed his arms as he considered it.
"It would mean so much for me to play for you, in front of everyone," she added.
Again, young master gave another one of his winning smiles. "How could I ever say no to you, Lizzie?" It took all of her will to not dash over the table to take her fiancé into an embrace.
I was suspicious of his demeanor at this point. He was far too relaxed. The little snake, I thought, putting on airs so effortlessly. Just what does he have in his head that has made his interactions with her so effortless? What has resolved in his mind to make this so very possible? All the while his mind screamed, "I'm bored! How can she be so dull?"
Ciel attempted to steer the conversation to literature, but found poor Elizabeth had not read much of anything he had preference for. He attempted to talk politics but learned rather quickly she could not keep up with the conversation. She wished to talk in great detail about her daily goings on with her own studies (which for a lady contain little substance at all), and the time spent with friends over afternoon tea. The boy had to work especially hard to not show just how little he cared.
It was when I served the coffee that Ciel decided to take a different approach. "Lizzie, I understand that our dreams can tell us a lot about ourselves. Have you had an interesting dream lately?"
"My, Ciel, what an odd thing to ask." She blushed. "I... well, goodness me, I'm far too embarrassed to share it."
"Oh, then I suppose it's terribly... improper." As he looked directly into Elizabeth's eyes, her breath hitched. I was beginning to see just what he was playing. He was forcing the conversation to lead to some inevitable conclusion, one where Lady Elizabeth would be compelled to respond in some desired way. In a sense, I felt a sort of endearment, because surely it was from me he learned this tactic.
I pretended that I found the blooming dogwood tree nearby to be of far more interest.
He leaned back in his very smug manner. "Well, might I share one of my own with you?"
Reluctantly, she replied, "I suppose..."
He took a sip of his coffee. "I had this dream where I was on my bed as it was floating out at sea, but it was storming. The waves were terrifying, but at the same time I felt thrilled by the activity of the ocean. It was as if I was waiting for the bed to capsize." My attention was snapped back to the conversation and I did not hide that I was staring at the boy.
"Oh my goodness!" The young lady looked almost stricken with horror. "If I were to have such I dream, I would wake up screaming and not sleep for the rest of the night!"
"Well, I did wake up in the middle of the night from that dream. It wasn't frightening like you would imagine, Lizzie. I slept well enough afterwards." As Elizabeth looked at her dessert plate and took another bite of tart with uncertainty, he puckered his lips in my direction. I felt my heart leap. The sly little imp was playing us both.
"What do you suppose it means, Ciel?"
He leaned forward and whispered, as if divulging a secret, "I think... it means I like to take risks. Could you say the same of yourself?" His eyes were heavily lidded, and I could see Elizabeth swooning in her seat. She hardly knew how to respond to such a question.
"I'm quite finished with my coffee," he proclaimed as he set his cup on the saucer with barely a sound. "Lizzie, would you care to walk with me down to the lake? Perhaps the ducks have come back for the season."
"Oh... okay." As the two rose from their seats I knew this was my cue to clear the table and head back to the manor. Initially I was suspicious of his perspective on his relationship to Elizabeth. I was concerned that under his own foolishness he would sabotage his engagement entirely. Such a predicament would not bode well for his status or reputation, and I just could not allow that. In retrospect, I recognized his logical stance on the matter had put his mind at ease. To explain their betrothal in business terms meant he had the potential to control his situation. This was why the young master felt more at ease with being what Elizabeth wanted him to be.
I made my way to the kitchen with a trolley laden with dirty tableware and a spent meal. Upon entering, I hung my jacket, rolled up my sleeves and began to empty plates and cutlery into the large wash basin. Still, what had changed in over the past several days that could potentially be the reason for the boy's change in disposition?
What had changed was the new level of intimacy between me and the young master. It was not as though I had believed these exchanges would change nothing but he was growing cockier by the day. It was a few months prior that he seemed highly reserved and sullen. Since the evening where he destroyed that violin, he carried a certain glint in his eye that indicated a hidden amusement. He found our liaisons to be a sort of game. I could not help but chuckle at this realization. Did he believe he could actually win at this?
I was elbow deep in dish water when I heard a door upstairs close, which was preceded by quick steps. Most curious, I wondered. Something about it was amiss, so I proceeded to dry myself and adorn my gloves and jacket. Even after I had managed to roll down my sleeves I could feel the crumpled fabric underneath the jacket. No one would notice it, but I knew the creases were there; it was most unprofessional. This was usually my time to change my shirt and see to my own laundry, but I supposed it could wait. I stalked up the stairs to where I heard someone enter through the back door that led to the patio.
I happened across Elizabeth who had quickly taken the stairs and was making her way through a back corridor. I hung back under the shadow of the stairs to watch her above me and heard sobbing. As she turned a corner, I took to the stairs, making sure I would not be seen nor heard. It was apparent that she was making her way to her personal guest room with the intention of going unnoticed. Once she felt she was in a hidden corridor, quite alone, she allowed herself sob more openly. I peered around the corner to see her dabbing her red face with a soaked handkerchief. She had the look of a woman who wanted to crumple into herself, but could not for the restrictions of a corset. I concluded that Ciel would have been the one responsible for the lady's distress. How he had sent her into such a state, I could only speculate.
I slipped into a lounge off the main corridor by the back stairway. The speaking tubes were in a discreet corner of the room and knowing Mey-Rin would be in the laundry room, I spoke calmly, "Mey-Rin, my dear; Are you available?"
A moment later I heard her quivering voice echo up the tube, "Yes, sir, is there something... you need help with?"
It was then I heard a distant crash, coming from a much lower part of the house. Apparently, the maid heard it as well, for being at ground level. She squeaked in response. "What was that? Sebastian, what is going on?"
I sighed. "Oh my, I suppose something has happened between the young master and the Lady Elizabeth. She is in her quarters right now. Would you see to her? I must take care of-" Another crash was heard. "…The young lord."
"Say no more, sir!"
I could make out that it was the sound of glass being thrown against a very resistant surface. As I hurried down the stairs to the main floor and turned toward the kitchen, the noise grew more apparent. Peering in, I noticed he was not in there directly but he was terribly close by. I followed the racket to the end of the narrow hall leading down to the wine cellar where the sound of glass shattering echoed its way up the stone walls.
There was hardly any light to be had in this place; a small amount from the doorway above. As one moved towards the back of the cellar, this darkness became so dense it was difficult to determine where one's person was in proximity to anything at all. It was into the back of the cellar that Ciel was tossing wine bottles with all the fury his body could muster. Within the dim light I could see the wine seeping towards him in the cracks of the uneven cobbled floor.
This display was downright ludicrous. Most often I made the greatest effort to practice patience with the boy, but in this situation it was only appropriate that I be entirely on the level with him.
A bottle of Pinot Noir came whizzing toward me. I quickly cast it aside, and it collided against nearby shelf. "Damn it, Sebastian! Damn it all to hell!"
"What foul language, young master." I darted across the room faster than his senses could register and grabbed him by the jaw. "Do you realize..." I cocked my head and lowered my voice, "the mess you have made?" I was hardly referring to the cellar. I pulled another bottle of wine out of his hand forcefully before he could hit me with it. After I had a firm grip on his body, I calmly set the bottle, Chablis, back into the wine rack.
"What did you do?" I demanded. "What is the meaning of all this?"
He attempted to squirm away from me, which resulted in me holding him tighter, his arms held to his side by my firm grip. I lowered my voice, hoping it would calm him, but honestly I was beyond attempting to be patient. "Elizabeth is terribly upset and I am blaming you for it. You do realize the potential repercussions of this, correct?" What folly would I have to clean up for him?
"Let go and I'll tell you!"
"Tell me and I will let go." With both of my arms wrapped around him now, it was too easy to lift him off the ground. I could smell honeysuckle in his hair. I could smell a trace of Lady Elizabeth's perfume on him as well.
He spat, "I kissed her, all right?"
I blinked. What did he hope to accomplish from such an act? "...Is that all?"
"Not really." He shifted a little in my arms and whispered in my ear, as though he were afraid to hear himself say it. "Do you know about a week and a half ago, what you said about my letter to Lizzie, how I should imagine myself writing to you instead of to her?"
"I do recall..." I held him in a less restricting manner, seeing as he was a little calmer. I did not feel inclined to let go of him entirely, knowing my closeness was only making the boy more agreeable.
"Well, I did not take that advice in that way."
I was eager to see where he was headed with all of this explanation. I pulled off his eye patch, because I wanted to see him fully in the dim cellar. "How do you mean, young master?"
His lips were inches from mine. "When I kissed her... I tried to kiss her as if I were kissing you."
The silence pressed in on us.
He never ceased to exceed my expectations.
"My, that is truly sinister, young master."
"I know, and oh how wrong I was for doing it." Those mismatched eyes held my gaze, as though it were the only thing he had to cling to. "I thought that maybe it was what she wanted. I considered I could do that if I just… pretended. She ran from me, Sebastian. I suppose it was too... intense?"
At this point I could give a damn about the mess in the cellar. My master had worked himself up to such a fit and I was more concerned with seeing to that. Well, I would be lying if my focus was entirely on his state of mind.
He continued, "She is simply too good of a person and I would only disrupt that. I realized the conditions of our relationship really are constant; she'll never know me as I am, nor would she want to. Also, as much as I attempted to feel something with her in that moment, I couldn't. She leaves me hollow."
I let that word hang in the small spaces between us. Ciel was so vulnerable in that moment.
"Do you feel hollow when I am near?" I inquired gently. I was desperate to know, anything to gain leverage over this boy.
Out of the silence he murmured, "...No. Sebastian, you make me feel so many things it frightens me."
He took the liberty to run his fingers through my hair, hands shaking, lips quivering. I could not help but tip my head and expose my neck. "Then tell me, young master. Just what are you feeling?"
"Other than afraid?" His lips gently grazed my exposed flesh. "I feel," another kiss, "excited," and another, "and angry," he nipped at my chin, "and alive."
I could not stop myself from forcing my lips onto his. My tongue was greedy, and I did not care. He clung to me, and effortlessly I lifted him and his legs wrapped around my waist as I backed him into a cabinet. My fingers dug into his rear, pushing him against me, and he muttered, "oh my—"
"Do you feel alive now, young master?"
"Yes—"
"Do you want more of this?"
"Yes..."
"Then, would you allow me to give you more of this pleasure?"
His breathing was labored and his fingers tangled in my hair as he pushed his arousal against me. I whispered, "You want this. You trust me. It is rather simple. Just say it and it is yours."
"Oh... Sebastian," he whimpered. I bit at his lower lip and he moaned. "Uhn... okay, yes, I want it."
