A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 9

Just as an ashy odor had impregnated the smoking room, the affair that played out on our private stage would permanently settle into our minds. There was no miraculous act that could wipe the stench clean. The only solution was to mask the evidence. Ciel had marched out of the parlor, a room that reeked of tobacco and sex, his head held high with some new resolve. He refused to feel guilt for the deceit he was enacting against Lady Elizabeth, because according to his adolescent logic, such a sentiment was not necessary when one is in complete control of the entire affair.

This is not to say he discontinued seeing his relationship as high priority. If anything, he became exceeding attentive to it, to a level that might be view as neurotic. Ciel would don his mask as he slipped into the role of a gentleman at the drop of a hat: accommodating, sensitive and respectful. He understood the importance of mending the terrible blow up between them, and feared the consequences of not attending to it swiftly. Any other young gentleman saw to this duty out of remorse for the pain he had wrought, or the guilt he felt from his own shames. I was convinced that Ciel could feel neither. His motivations were purely to appease Elizabeth so as to not cause disruption. Nonetheless, he could wear the expression of one who felt the oppression of the world's collective sinfulness, as if one minor transgression was capable of such a penalty.

Through the afternoon, Elizabeth remained quiet in her room, requesting tea in solitude and insisted that she would leave for home earlier than scheduled, despite her arrival to the Midford manor would be late in the evening. She insisted that she had her studies to attend to, and mother would appreciate her devotion to her education. Elizabeth made this request in a most formal tone, sitting distantly on her couch with her tea, as her betrothed stood by the doorway, reluctant to encroach. She sat with an air that demanded that her space not be impeded, for her lady-like sensibilities had been violated enough.

After she had left the manor, Ciel arranged to have flowers sent to Miss Midford every day for the next week, each bouquet bearing some flowery rendition of "I'm sorry," "please forgive me," "you are pure and virtuous," "my heart aches for your approval." It was abysmally sappy. The letters he wrote were far worse, groveling, pleading messages that made him out to be a victim in his own short comings, and yet he was seeking council to improve himself for her. They were all saccharine lies that Elizabeth would devour without question.

I smiled upon the whole development as a tutor would give his approval to his protégé. For the moment, I preferred Ciel to act with some semblance of control and poise whilst lavishly apologizing to Elizabeth. It made quelling the suspicions of the servants that much easier.

The other servants were by no means ignorant to the couple's conflict, since it was I who insisted that Mey-Rin be the one to see after Elizabeth and ensure her comfort. No doubt the young girl divulged what had happened, hoping a woman would sympathize. Of course the maid would gossip with the other servants, and consequently their behavior around Ciel was affected. They eyed him critically over dinner, commenting that he did not appear the least bit guilty over how he treated poor Lady Elizabeth.

This sort of dissent was absolutely intolerable. After dinner, I ordered all of them to the kitchen for a firm discussion. Tanaka, on the other hand, was not in need of any discussion; he knew the lesson of irrefutable devotion as butler well enough.

"I would like to know just how aware all of you are to the events of today," I stated, standing resolutely. While my tone rang with a lighthearted air, my demeanor was anything but. It was enough to send them shivering, awaiting some reprimand.

Mey-Rin decided it were best to stand forward. "Please don't be angry with me, Sebastian! Lady Elizabeth was just so upset, and any one would admit that the young master must have been out of line for her to be so distraught!"

Her statement was met with approval, Bardroy nodding with a "yeah," arms crossed. I found it strange how despite his boorish disposition, he would be so bold as to assume he knew how one acts with honor and decency.

A raised hand prompted immediate silence. The three stood stiffly. "Despite what personal opinion you may have on the matter, these sentiments will absolutely not affect your attitude or service toward the young master. He has had many pressures on him as of late."

Their interest piqued by my last comment. I realized that immediately after stating it I should have kept to myself. On the other hand, Ciel was in need of a little sympathy in the manor.

Finnian spoke up. "What sort of pressures, Sebastian?"

"This is the sort of conversation I will not tolerate among any of you," I quipped.

"You brought it up," Bardroy retorted.

Finnian added, "Yeah, and we're just concerned for the master, 's all."

I could tell they had Ciel's best interest at heart, but I added, "The master's business is his own. There will be no more discussion of it. Anyone seen speaking ill of the master again or speaking of his actions negatively again will result in severe consequences." My eyes pierced as I glared intently at each servant individually; I had them all sweating bullets. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"I'll leave all of you to clean up from this evening's meal." I turned on my heel to leave, feeling young master ordering for my presence. Even from the other side of the manor, I could crisply sense his need.

His confidence in the affair was rooted in the knowledge that I craved him increasingly. In some prideful way, he saw this as truly filthy. He could logically explain his need for some sexual release: he was a young man with needs, sometimes tension has to be relieved, occasional relief eases the stress of putting on the airs of public decency. I, on the other hand, was the perverse one for wanting to lay my hands on him. My hands craved his skin, my lips were ever eager to sink around him, and I could listen to his groaning for hours. I would no longer deny this, since the truth was forced out of me. I could not help but sneer at his hypocritical logic. Was it not him who originally saw an attraction in me? Was it not a short time ago that he was an addled mess over the matter? Of course he had forgotten his initial fears, for they were overshadowed by a swollen pride. Be that as it may, I would let him have his pride, because it kept him from being a nervous wreck over the immoral treatment of his fiancée.

After our encounter in the smoking room, he was reluctant to summon me again for any other rendezvous. It was part of his need for control. He did not wish to appear too eager, because to do so was to admit to some awful truth that made him feel incredibly vulgar. I knew this was part of the allure for him, to yearn for something so sickening and then to conquer it. A condescending glare communicated his belief that he had somehow won his dominance over me.

I was incredibly amused by this. The manner in which he displayed and affirmed this perceived dominance was undeniably entertaining.

I was not terribly irritated by his realization that yes, I was receiving some pleasure from our encounters. He was rather clever after all, and in a small way I had anticipated him coming to the realization, even if I had given very little away. I had forced myself to be restrained in my actions with him, denying myself to express my own pleasure. There had been small instances where I had let a moan slip, or perhaps I caressed him a little too eagerly. Even so, my displays were minor in comparison to how much I could affect my little master. In those heated moments, decorum was not so much set aside, but rather thrown to the wind. After the episode, he would pluck up his decency like a discarded shirt and don it again as though it were of no consequence.

As a result, he was rather careless over the whole affair, but I minded little, his attitude implied that he did indeed trust me. He was so confident that nothing awful could come from this secret arrangement. I daresay I was flattered and thus motivated to not betray this trust. After all, I had everything to gain from such course.

I was adamant about ensuring our intimate exchange would continue to go unnoticed, but there were moments when I questioned whether Ciel concerned himself over the possibility of us being seen. His actions escalated in recklessness over the course of the week.

On one such occasion, I saw him slip out of his library, lips pursued. I had finished unpacking the master's summer wardrobe, and when I came across him in the hall, he was quick to pull me to his level and forced my lips on his urgently. My eyes widened not so much from the gesture, but the scent on his lips. He tasted of sex and debauchery. As he opened his mouth and I felt a foreign yet familiar substance slip into my mouth. A pulse shivered though me and my suspicions were delightfully confirmed.

The boy had been in the library, pleasuring himself, no doubt. The refuse of that deplorable act was decidedly collected and he wished to deposit it to me. How perverse, I wondered, but still I found the gesture a little endearing, not to mention extremely arousing. I would have like to deepen the kiss, further explored his mouth for more of that taste of his seed, but as soon as it was deposited, he pushed me away. I braced against the wall as my head spun from this unexpected treat. He quickly glanced over his shoulder. "Woof."

It was obvious; He was treating me like the dog he thought I was. I was given a reward, while simultaneously being forced into submission. My hands visibly trembled from this exchange and this result gave Ciel no end of pleasure.

I found my own arousal near-impossible to ignore most days. He wore his seed as though it were a cologne, and to add insult to injury, he would step just a little too close for what was considered decent, knowing that I would smell sex on him. Most evenings I was dismissed with no satisfaction, and instead I would angrily return to my own quarters to violently relieve myself of my own tensions.

He rarely wished to lay his hands on me. All he wished for was to be absorbed in the pleasure I could give him, and while I knew he desired me in some small way, he desired the sensations I could give him even more. I could not say that I craved attention from him, seeing as how the day's schedule revolved around the young master, but I did enjoy those small gestures. In the heat of the moment he pulled at me, as though I could not be close enough. Indeed, when the king's armor fell to his feet, I was able to see my master as his genuine self. I, and no other.

I knew what was transpiring, and I was delighted with how Ciel was playing into my sordid game. What was most wonderful was we were only getting started. He had no idea what was in store.

It was a lazy Saturday morning when at breakfast I informed the young master of no appointments and a clear schedule.

"You know how I hate to waste a day on nothing," Ciel said grumpily, stirring his tea. "I would practice my music..."

I finished his sentence, "-but you no longer have a violin."

The irritation was written across his brow. "Sebastian, after that day in my parlor," I knew to what day he was referring, "when I came back that evening after supper I found the smashed violin was gone."

"I cleaned the mess you left, young master." He bristled at the comment.

He assumed that by "cleaned" I meant disposal. In truth, I found every scrap of that violin and had gone so far as to reassemble it some weeks back, with a few moderations. As to not give the master any indication of my questionably subversive behavior, I had yet to discover just how well this corruptible instrument could sing.

"Perhaps it would be a good day for shopping," I suggested lowly. "How would the young master like to take a small trip to London today?"

"Very well, have Finnian prepare a carriage."

The gardener was more than excited to be the one to ride us into town. Bardroy exclaimed, "Why does he get to be the one to go to London?"

I explained coolly, "The young master and I have matters of music to discuss, in regards to the charity ball, if you must know." Never mind the fact that the vast majority of the young master's visits to London were solely accompanied by me, and I would be the one to drive the carriage.

Finnian's enthusiasm quickly turned to discontent when as soon as we made our way down the drive way and through the gate the clouds turned grey and resulted in a most unpleasant storm.

"We picked the worst day to visit the city," Ciel huffed as he gazed out the splattered window. I could read boredom in how he leaned his head in his palm, and his slouched posture. He tapped his foot irritatingly. "Sebastian, while we're out, I would also like to pick up a present for Lizzie."

"Very well, young master." I stared out my window as well with a calm indifference. I was trying to ignore how Ciel splayed his legs in such an undignified manner.

After a moment of silence, he added, "I don't know what to get her."

"Are you suggesting I make a decision for you?"

"I suppose I'm asking for your help."

I chuckled, "The last time I picked out a present for Elizabeth-"

"Sebastian, must you always be so contrary?" the boy spat. "I just don't know what girls like, is all."

"You could buy her a new hat."

"She has lots of hats, one for every outfit. She likes her hats to match her outfits, so if I were to buy her a hat, I might as well buy her an entire ensemble."

"Well, why not?"

"I don't know her measurements, Sebastian."

"Would you like me to find out?"

A horrified look spread over Ciel's face. "You can't just ask about a young lady's measurements."

"Yes, I suppose buying her an outfit and it being tailored perfectly to her would look a little suspicious."

"It would be more than suspicious, Sebastian." The boy crossed his arms. After the young couple's last encounter, there was no need to imply that Ciel had the intimate knowledge of the young woman's figure.

"So clothing is out of the question," I concluded.

We sat in the tense air of the carriage, rain pelting the top, its clapping providing some relief to the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Do you suppose a book would be sufficient?" Ciel pleaded.

"It's a rather cold sentiment, considering the both of you have known each other for so long," I pondered. "It would be a nice gift for a small, informal occasion, but honestly, if you have to ask..."

"Sebastian, I'm terrible at this."

I did have sympathy for the boy who was almost clueless in these matters. He knew that society constantly watched the couple, assessing all their actions at every social event they attended. Ciel had been known a few years prior to be rather unsociable and had to strive to raise his reputation. Elizabeth was a huge help in this regard and thus received the opinion of many that she would make a successful wife. A few others added sourly that it were a shame that such a prized woman was arranged with the unsociable Phantomhive. While he made his waves in the business world, he would always flounder in social circles.

"I have an idea, young master." He perked up. "Does the lady wear perfume?"

His eyes sparkled. "Sebastian, that's a brilliant idea." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "She's always wearing something very flowery, like so many other girls, but I don't think she owns a true perfume that a lady would wear."

We agreed that visiting a perfumer would be added to our trip.

The city was soaked when we arrived, the streets filled with mud that stunk of the effluence of the city: gin and excrement. It was as though the bricks of the buildings were infused with it. It was always necessary for us to pass through East End to reach the cleaner, brighter heart of the city. Even still, the Opera Arcade looked morose under the day's deluge.

Having a much keener sense of smell than any human, the young master was grateful to have me accompany him to the perfumer. We settled on a bottle of Jicky for the young woman. The perfumer was under the impression that Ciel was there to buy the bottle for himself, but upon mentioning it was a gift for a lady, the surprised merchant insisting on boxing it lavishly. After the gift was handed to the earl, the man behind the counter commented, "This lady of yours must have a passionate spirit." Ciel looked away, grinning sheepishly.

As we left with parcel in hand, the little earl inquired, "What did the perfumer mean by his comment?"

"You mean how he assumes that Lady Elizabeth must be a passionate woman?"

"Yes, how would that relate to preference for perfume?"

"Young master, you must not have been paying attention to all of the perfume's notes. Initially, the citrus notes are vivacious to the point of being overwhelming, but it settles into something elegant and powdery. There's an underlying fougere that is densely earthy and wild, suggesting something darkly secret, but it is tempered with lavender so as to be a little more feminine."

The boy stared at me like he had missed a good story. "I didn't catch all of that. But it did smell rather nice."

My hope was the Lady Elizabeth would be captivated by such an alluring scent. She was the sort of girl that teetered between wishing to comport herself with feminine civility and wishing to be romanced by that of a more sinister nature. While she would never admit to this, her attraction to Ciel was more than girlish fancy; her eyes spoke of the darkness that she sensed in the boy, even if it was on some subconscious level. Such things were frightening to her, or perhaps she was frightened just by her very inclinations to the sinister.

None the less, knowing the girl's scent from memory, I knew her wearing this perfume would turn heads and raise compliments. She would be considered not only classy but decidedly modern. In addition, the act of Ciel gifting this romantic item spoke much to the maturity of the two individuals, as well as the level of their relationship. The boy would admit it, but once again, I had been responsible in deciding a stunning gift for the woman.

Finnian carted us to a prestigious music shop to purchase the master's new violin. He sat morosely on a side street while we spent quite a bit of time determining a suitable instrument. I was surprised with how Ciel had become so very picky, wanting to find that right violin that could be an extension of his own "voice." What the boy lacked in olfactory senses he made up for in his ability to discern the slight auditory variances in each instrument.

One violin played a minor key with great depth, but lacked an appropriate octave range. Another one, slightly lighter in build, seemed to hiss under the master's fingers, and he very nearly threw it from himself upon hearing it. "Do you have anything better?" he urged the merchant, starting to grow rather impatient.

The older gentleman excused himself to a back room. He returned with a box in hand and Ciel nearly gasped when the lid was removed. The violin had a cherry red finish, gleaming as though wood could have been mistaken for glass. The neck was sensual, a perfectly proportionate length, the scroll at the end flamboyantly constructed. The body swelled erotically, and it was heavy to hold for its elegant design. Ciel held the finger board at first position and the bow ran a silky chord through the store. A couple on the other side stopped to turn. As the bow was pulled back, a flourish of notes leapt forth and resounded with an eerie high F in vibrato.

"I'll take this one."

"Good sir, are you going to inquire as to the price of this violin?" Ciel looked at the merchant as though he was out of his mind. He motioned me to pay the man.

As I laid a purse of sixty guineas on the counter, I inquired, "Do you think this would be sufficient?" Now it was the merchant's turn to look as us as insane. I gave him a simple smile, as I am inclined to do in these situations.

"Do not take me as a fool, sir," my little earl declared coldly. "This is no modern violin. This is of Italian design; from its proportions, I would say late Baroque. The finish is new, a pity really, but this ornamentation is extremely outmoded." Ciel chuckled. "It has aged extremely well, and this wood is extremely dense. The acoustics are what I need in an instrument."

I decided adding another ten guineas would help to send the message home. The master always gets what he wants.

The man offered a black, velvet-lined case complimentary to the purchase, but I decided to pay him another two guineas for his politeness.

When we were back at the carriage, Finnian exuberantly asked, "Will you play for us when we're back at the manor, young master?"

"Sure, whatever you want."

We sat silently in the carriage until we were out of the city. The sun was perched low and a new formation of clouds loomed over the landscape, darkening the skies earlier than expected. It would be dark by the time we arrived home. Finnian briefly stopped the carriage to light his lanterns in the front. Ciel insisted he would much prefer to sit in the dark.

"I get the impression my young master is in one of his moods," I said light heartedly.

"And what if I am?"

"I just find it curious, is all. You have little reason to be." The light was dim, the sky giving the impression of twilight, even if it was only quarter to five.

We listened to the wheels churn down the road. Suddenly, Ciel barked, "I know you did something with my old violin."

"Oh?" I leaned forward. "What gave it away?"

"Because I know you. You would have righted it immediately, but it has been over a month since—"

"Since you broke it."

Ciel huffed and slouched in his seat again.

"You didn't throw it away." The boy was absolute in this assertion.

"Correct."

"You kept it."

"Hmm."

"...Did you fix it?"

I hoped the boy could see that vicious glean in my eyes.

He very nearly bolted out of his seat. "So why did we even bother going into the city? What purpose do I have in buying another god damned violin?" His voice was rising to a level of indecency. Surely Finnian would hear.

"You will not be able to play it, young master."

The boy did not understand what I could have meant by this. Of course I was toying with him. Of course I was on the verge of angering him. I had little care, for I was in a mood to excite the boy in some fashion, after him having the upper hand for a better part of a week. He had no understanding of just how uncouth our game was going to turn, how his perceived control was really a lie he told himself. The poor boy would not have even admitted that what little power he had in this game was because I granted it to him; I did so only so I could revel in taking it back.

"Perhaps when we arrive at the manor, I will show it to you and you will see why you cannot play it."

A look of confusion was glossed over the boy's featured. "Could you not return it to any original condition? Was there some flaw that could not be mended?"

"I can assure you, young master, this was not an issue."

"So I'm assuming it plays as it did before."

I replied slowly, "I cannot be certain of how it plays, precisely." While I had not actually played the instrument after mending it, I was pretty confident that I had changed its acoustics.

"Damn it all, Sebastian, enough of your cryptic horse shit. Just tell me what you did to my violin!"

"The violin is played a sinistra."