A Magnificent Depravity -Chapter 4
Upon entering his quarters the next morning, I found the young master lying on his stomach, the linens of his bed tangled around his person. Not bothering to change into his night clothes, he had fallen asleep in yesterday's garb. Judging from his dreadful state, I knew this would be a difficult day for Ciel.
"Young master, it is time for you to get up." He did not respond. I proceeded to the window where I opened the curtains, flooding the room with morning light. A most pitiable groan erupted from the pillow at his realization of a new day and among the crumpled sheets the little lord feebly attempted to hide.
"Sebastian," he croaked, "Close that blasted curtain." I obliged.
"You must get up, for Lady Elizabeth will be attending brunch shortly, and you have little time to make yourself presentable."
"I couldn't give a damn about brunch." I felt it best to ignore his remark.
As Ciel rolled over I noticed the front of his shorts were unbuttoned, a reminder of his lustful actions of the previous night. Did the boy fall asleep shortly after he serviced himself? It was evident that after his climax, he did not even consider cleaning himself up and putting on proper night clothes I decided for the moment that these issues were largely irrelevant when the young master's appearance was first priority.
I had come to the bedroom with a fresh-pressed outfit for the young master, something comfortable and unrestricted. I was anticipating the boy to be out of sorts that morning and I was willing to provide as much assistance as needed to ensure his fiancée would not suspect any outrageous deviation in the boy's behavior. I laid the outfit on the bed next to him and pulled him upright. His head tilted back as if the strain of carrying his own weight was too much of a demand on his shoulders.
He moaned, "My head is pounding."
"I assure you that after I set you right a cup of tea will shortly follow." As I unbuttoned his shirt I sensed his heady scent, a subtle remnant from the night before. "First, you need to wash."
Even as he held his face in his hands, I could see the slight rose on his cheeks. "I do not think that will be necessary."
I lifted his head up and untied the eye patch. "Young master, you smell of brandy." Among other things, I silently jested. I proceeded to free him from his shirt. I instructed him to lift his arms as I pulled off his undershirt, and he immediately brought his arms down to cover his chest.
"Are you cold, young master?" When he didn't respond, I commented, "I am willing to accommodate my young master in any way necessary."
"Just shut up and make me presentable for Elizabeth."
"Yes, my lord." I stood him up to remove his shorts.
I rolled up my sleeves, but thought it best to leave on my gloves. While it was slightly tempting to indulge myself, this was no time to take advantage of the boy's vulnerability. I led him into his private bathroom where a wash basin of warm water waited. Let us get through this quickly, I thought.
Ciel kept his eyes downcast. While one could say it the light that was exacerbating his migraine, I knew he did not want me to see the shame written on his face. He could smell his own sex, and so he very well knew I was sensing the same.
I worked with the calm indifference of a butler, remaining silent as I trailed a wash cloth over his goose pimpled flesh. Even though I worked quickly, my gloved hands were enough to bring a blush to the boy's face. Ciel stared in the corner of the tiled floor as a means of ignoring his growing arousal.
My washcloth migrated down his back to his rear and young master gasped. "Sebastian, that's enough, I really think I can finish washing myself. Turn around; I don't want you looking at me." A brief look of surprise was quickly dispelled as I turned around and gave Ciel his space. He calmed his labored breathing, now free to wash his lower half. I listened to the water trickle in the basin as he wet the cloth. The air was thick, and I could not help but stiffen from this oppressive tension.
"Hand me a towel." I did so, and the boy turned from me as he dried himself. I took this opportunity to change my gloves and fetched a fresh pair of underclothes from his armoire in the adjacent dressing room. Shivering, Ciel modestly held a towel before him – I matter-of-factly grabbed it from him. I could not dress the boy if he was cowering like some prudish gentile. I kneeled before him as he stiffly stepped into his breeches, his hand resting on my shoulder for support. Despite young master's arousal, I refrained from staring at his crotch.
A loose-fitting top with billowing sleeves seemed an appropriate choice for today. Sure, such a fashion was outmoded, but it was not as though the earl had to impress anyone other than Elizabeth. She would think of it as "cute." Ciel stepped into his proper shorts, and his hands curled into fists as I tucked in his shirt, having to reach under the band of his pants to do so. A thick wool vest completed the outfit. I retrieved his comb from the vanity and set his hair right before returning his eye patch. He silently sat as I rolled the stockings up his pale legs. Even for a boy his age, he was still a very lithe creature, having little mass in his calves. In heeled shoes, I dressed his feet with grace and reverence, treatment much deserved by my keep.
He looked down at me, kneeling before him, with severe cobalt, a gaze that could cut as harshly as ice. I was a detestable thing to him, a paradigm of all things unholy and removed from glory. Beneath this loathing, the flame simmered, and his desire to reach for it made my young master loathe himself even more. I gave a cheerful grin and he sneered in response.
"I would really appreciate that cup of tea right about now, Sebastian."
"Tanaka is serving tea down stairs, my young lord."
Ciel groaned, resting his elbow on the chair as he cradled the side of his head. "Fine. Damn it." He rises with a heavy sigh.
Brunch, being held in the sunroom toward the rear of the manor, was a trial for the young master. I had prepared pancakes with boysenberry preserves and potato quiche, and the boy could barely stomach it. Elizabeth, who was happily enjoying brunch, inquired to his reason for not eating.
"Oh, the food from last night was too rich, and it made my sleep most uncomfortable," young master lied.
Perhaps it was too cruel to have brunch in a room filled with windows, which happily let the sun light stream in from all sides. Despite the barrenness of the English garden, the sky shown with a cheerfulness uncharacteristic for the season. It only exacerbated the poor master's nausea. As soon as he had partaken of just enough to be polite, he graciously excused himself from the table, leaving a dejected Lady Elizabeth by her lonesome.
She peered up at me, the ruffles of her traveling bonnet framing her angelic face. Gently, I commented, "If I may, my lady, you appear to be troubled."
She casted her sight downward. "No, it's silly, really."
"I am not so sure, young miss. If you are troubled, that is reason enough for my concern." I placed my hand to my chest. "After all, as the young master's fiancée, I am just as much of a butler to you as I am to him."
From Lady Elizabeth's perspective, this was a true enough statement. From my perspective, I am not required to extend any sort of loyalty to this pure soul due to some trivial, human obligation between the pair. It would benefit me if I would have her believe such a thing, I considered. "I most humbly assure you, anything you wish to divulge will be kept in confidence, my lady."
The young woman wrung her hands in her lap. "It's just... something seems amiss with Ciel this morning, like he had no interest in me. He seemed more than ill; His mind was elsewhere, and I can't help but think that this has something to do with me..."
"May I sit?" I gestured to the chair.
"Oh! Please."
It was my responsibility to ensure that Lady Elizabeth's suspicions were dispelled, seeing as how Ciel was in no condition to put on a convincible mask that day. Sitting as an equal, if only a moment, would give the impression that she could be on the level with me. While this gesture was a deviation from certain proprieties, Elizabeth in her fanciful manner would not adhere to them if they did not suit her.
I sat most upright, a leg crossed over the other. "You are correct, my lady, the young master is indeed off today, and I sincerely apologize for his behavior. Please understand there is a lot resting on his shoulders at any given time. The stress of it preoccupies his mind."
"Sebastian, if Ciel is bothered by something I might have done, would you tell me?" Why is it that women believe all matters must revolve around them?
I concealed this thought with a polite smile. "I can assure you that my lady has done nothing to offend the master."
"Then perhaps it is something I don't do." She nearly whispered. A concern knit her brows, and I realized in that moment that this lady was indeed maturing into a young woman. This included all the passions and yearnings a young woman would naturally possess, despite what restrictions were placed on her out of some flimsy sense of decency. Of course, while she would never admit to it, her increased heartbeat, the scent of sweat on her palms, and the dilated pupils of her eyes spoke clearly of her emotions.
"The young master does go out of his way to please you, quite happily, in fact."
"Yes, and I'm always grateful for these gestures," she spoke urgently, "but there's something missing. I cannot say what it is that I want from him, especially when he already does so much for me."
What should I suggest? I wondered. She wants him to return the passion that she so often feels for him, but to outright suggest such a thing would come off as indecent. I laced my fingers, looking intently at Elizabeth. Yes, I understood the situation well enough, and it was time for me to find a way to compel her to drop the matter. Young master does not need her troubles to further complicate the issues plaguing his state of mind.
"My lady, the young master is a very proper gentleman, and has spoken to me on his feelings for you. When it comes to the engagement, your honor is his first priority, and your happiness his second." The young woman could interpret "feelings" in which ever manner she chose, for all I cared. "I can empathize with your trouble, and I think it is valid to feel as you do." At this statement, she perked up. Women are rarely given permission to be free in their thinking. "But I implore you, my lady; please continue to be patient with him. I can assure you that your sense of decorum is what he finds most beautiful. Any man would be eager to be wed to a young lady such as yourself."
This innocent, endearing young woman still had the look of a child as I saw her eyes glisten with a sense of appreciation. Even at the age of sixteen she had the look of a china doll, rosy lips pressed into a restrained smile, her blonde curls bouncing as her shoulders shook to hold back her emotion. This passionate girl hardly had the will to contain herself, and to watch her try was a heart-wrenching sight. It was no wonder Ciel always felt so much guilt about her unrequited affections; he had to always endure seeing the effects of it.
She stood up, and I followed suit. "Thank you very much, Sebastian." A single tear fell down her cheek, and she quickly patted it away with her handkerchief that was tucked in her sleeve. "Would it be unbecoming of me if I were to tell you just how trusting I am of you?"
How her level of innocence never ceased to astound me. "I am flattered, my lady."
She closed the space between us and embraced me, a gesture of sweetness that someone such as myself is not at all accustomed to. This girl poured love and compassion into all of her actions, wishing only to fill her world with this feeling. It takes a particular type of strength to continue such an outpouring of love in a place filled with so much despondency. Yet she was determined in this pursuit, and it made me wonder just how long she could continue this until she had no more left to give. What would cause this doll of a woman to shatter? Thoughts such as these kept me preoccupied as I endured this gesture from her which I found so detestable.
She stepped back, looking rather cheerful. "I do believe that I should be getting ready to leave for home. Would you send up Mey-Rin to help me prepare my things?"
I bowed, "Yes, my lady. Also, I shall see that Finnian packs the carriage."
"You'll be sure to keep your valentine close, yes?" Elizabeth asked her fiancé with a cherub expression.
Young master looked perplexed for a moment, and then remembering yesterday's events, replied, "Oh, yes, of course." Her crafted love note was still in the parlor. It was apparent to me that he had not given the poem any sort of thought.
The young lady took the boy's delicate, cold hands in hers. "I wanted to ask you earlier, but would you allow me to come and see you again soon? Perhaps next month? It would mean ever so much to me."
"Of course." He managed a smile, but from the way he shifted from one foot to the next, I knew that he desired his solitude. "I promise your visit next month will be even better. Hopefully the weather might be more cheerful. We can ride the horses out. The gardens will start to show their green again."
"I would enjoy that."
Elizabeth released her hands and wrapped her arms around the boy's shoulders. Ciel relented, mimicking the gesture, and the girl's embrace tightened. For a brief moment, she pulled back and their eyes met. While the young lady wished to lock eyes and fall into his gaze, the boy simply could not help but focus his sight beyond the confines of her hug.
Perhaps in that moment she was hurt by his subtle gesture. She might have interpreted it as Ciel just being Ciel. Either way, a precious smile adorned her bright face, and she bounded to the carriage, not bothering to take the assistance from the foot man standing by.
"Goodbye, Ciel! Please write to me this week!"
"I will, Lizzie. Safe travels." She replied with a tinkling laugh.
Ciel heaved a sigh of relief as he watched Elizabeth's carriage pull away from the house, leaving plums of dust in its stead. I stood by the door, trying not to appear voyeuristic, even if I was watching their brief exchange before her departure. When the carriage turned a bend and Ciel could no longer see it, he slowly trudged across the drive and up the stairs.
"Sebastian, bring tea to my study." His features were hardened, and any attempts from me to pry would only cause him further frustration.
I bowed. "Very well, young master."
Many of our exchanges over the past few days were similar to this; Young master would give a clipped order and expect my immediate obedience. I could tell this was his way of reestablishing a sense of control over the matters that clouded his mind. During this brief period of simple exchanges and awkward silences, I had plenty of opportunity to ponder over Ciel's attraction to me.
Despite his aloof disposition I could sense him cradling a longing. All it took was a simple gesture, an ambiguous statement, or a sly grin, to fan the flames. I would hand him a cup of tea, our eyes meeting for a brief moment and a surge of heat would cause his heart to palpitate. On one particular occasion my eyes flashed before him as I was taking a plate from the dinner table. He quickly excused himself and insisted on forgoing his gateau for the evening, a most uncharacteristic behavior of the young master, indeed.
As I continued to play these subtle games with my young master, I found myself delighting in the prospect of him finally cracking under the pressure and giving in to his want. It was not going to extinguish itself, and no matter how hard he tried to quell it. It was most amusing to further aggravate his inner conflict. At nights, I felt the boy pleasuring himself, trying to stifle his groaning from the release of pent up frustration. He would collapse in exhaustion, only to wake in the morning and have the same feelings resurface. Surely he didn't believe that his lust was some sort of ailment that simply needed to be purged from the body? Victorian sentiments would have one believe that simply ignoring a thing can make it go away, but I know that repression of desire is the very thing that fuels it. Is that not how lust works? His ever-growing frustration at futile attempting to shake off these feelings was too comical.
Thinking back to our exchange in the smoking room, I decided to wholeheartedly acknowledge that I too had found pleasure in it. The boy's scent was tinged with corruption. This flavor was even more evident in his skin, as though his sinister nature seeped from his pores. The beauty of it was that the boy's willfulness allowed him to maintain a comely and pleasing disposition. So few would ever be privy to the boy's true nature. This exotic occurrence, so rarely seen in humanity, was my entire reason for desiring the boy's soul so fully. Even still, to have but a small hint of that unwholesomeness, like an appetizer before the meal, was reason enough for my wanting to give in to my own pleasure. Even still, I decided not to push the matter. The young master would crumble under the pressure of his own want in time.
I busied myself with maintaining order in the manor, keeping the other servants too preoccupied to notice Ciel's odd behavior. If there was ever any sort of question, I could simply say that Ciel was immersed in his work, which was true. He kept himself cloistered in his study much of the time: making his correspondence calls with various factory managers, ensuring distribution of goods was in order for the upcoming season, balancing accounts. The young earl felt the necessary work was extraordinarily tedious, and would have to seek some respite from it.
The violin was a means for the young master to find some relief from the strain of business negotiations. Under my tutelage, I encouraged this one pursuit. Dancing was an utter failure. His attempt at painting was laughable. Even the piano proved too much for him. Despite clumsy fingers (because he seemed to be clumsy in just about anything artful) but the violin was so much more approachable for a boy of his nature. It is a unique instrument in that its strings will resonate with a player's disposition.
I was polishing the silver one afternoon when it became apparent that the young master achieved the ability to channel his feelings through such an instrument. From his private parlor I heard a sonorous note rip through the air, melancholy and yearning. At moments when his bow stilled in pensive hesitation, the air quivered. The somber melody rang strongly, with tones that felt as if they were pushed out rather than coaxed out of the instrument. This action would have felt abrasive, if not for the sorrow imbued in every facet of this sonata.
The silver can wait, I considered. I simply could not pass this opportunity.