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THE RED ROSE
CHAPTER ONE: "Withered Leaves, Withered Love"
***
William
William
I wished to do something special for Rose, something that would show her at least a tiny part of how much I loved her. So I spent the evening searching for the scores, surrounded by music sheets and notes that I could barely decipher, eyes half-closed from all of the pages I had been writing for Alfred Wright. Even though I had no piano to practise, I memorized all the notes in ‘Rondo Alla Turca’ for her. Anyhow, I would have the score in front of me, in case I forgot the notes. I imagined her overjoyed expression while I would play the melody for her and that simple vision was a powerful stimulant, in spite of the exhaustion that could be easily read on my face. I wanted to be the reason she smiled, the centre of her universe. A half-selfish desire, mayhap, but a desire to make her happy, nonetheless.
When I went to her place again, I surprised her with my skills. I asked her to lead me to that chamber again. Placing the score above, I started playing the piano. Her reaction was the one that I had predicted. “Oh, you learned it!” she exclaimed, a wide and so sweet smile curving her intensely red lips upwards. “Thank you, thank you so much!” She jumped with joy, and then took a seat next to me. I was truly glad to finally see her pleased, as she had never been before.
For the following minutes I had been playing Mozart over and over again, until, switching from the uplifting tune of ‘Rondo Alla Turca’ to the melancholic ‘Piano Concerto No. 21’*, she startled. “Oh, I love this one!” I heard her exclaiming from next to me. I paused while opening my mouth to say something, but she interrupted me. “Please do not stop, it is so beautiful.” Her head fell on my shoulder, her eyes closed while enjoying the soothing sound of music. I found it hard to focus my attention on the piano bars now, when all I wished to do was to behold the lovely nymph that was sitting next to me, eyes closed, her curly hair tickling me at the base of my throat.
All of a sudden, I lost track of the notes that followed. She opened her sweet almond-shaped eyes, probably wondering why I had stopped. Inevitably, our eyes made contact, and she blushed maidenly, and keeping her head rested against my shoulder. “I am afraid that I forgot what comes after,” I whispered in her ear.
“No wonder that you did,” she muttered in return, “you have been staring at me continuously.”
“I apologize, for I can not help it. Between the piano and you, I find your presence the most intriguing.”
“Stop with these compliments,” she said while her blush deepened, “you make me feel too loved. I do not deserve it, nor do I need any heartaches.”
“On the contrary, you deserve all the love in the world. Should you ever need mine, I shall not break your heart.” Her skin too soft and pale, I could not hold myself back from touching it, her lips – red and full – an invitation to kiss them. I caressed her shoulders, touched every portion of skin that was not concealed by burgundy velvet and black lace, until she moved her head to the side, our lips parting.
“Please stop it,” she begged me softly. Had I not felt her shivering under my touch, or her heart racing, perhaps I would have stopped right there. But I could not comprehend how could she ask me to stop, since it was plain to see that it was my touch that she was longing for. Obviously, I did not listened to her trying to hold back the truth of her heart. “I think you should leave, before I change my mind,” she whispered persistently between deep breaths.
“It is late, and you must be tired.” Having said this, she rose on her own feet, trying to exit the room. Before she had the chance of opening the door, however, I seized her by the wrists of her hands, enclosing her between the tapestried wall and my body.
At first, she tried to withdraw from my grip, until, understanding the truth of my own heart, she gave in to my love. “Are you not going to pull away from me?” I asked her after a while. She was so helplessly cradled in my arms, that I, in that moment, wished that she were entirely mine, and mine alone. She did not provide me with an answer, and looked as if she were hurt, as if my own attempts to love her would have caused her pain. “Rose, what is it? Have I done something, said something –” She nodded her head slightly, moving her head to the side.
In that moment, she seemed the most vulnerable creature that one could ever hold in his arms. I did not wish to take advantage of her weakness, of her sensitive nature. Right then, I promised to myself that, should she try to escape from my grip, I would’ve let her go, and never take the initiative again. I could wait for her, as I had never before done with any other woman in my past.
Seeing that she did not pulled away from me, however, I allowed my hand to creep behind her back, until I found the strings at the back of her corset. Unexpectedly, she trembled as if she had never been touched before, and I was left somehow surprised by her timorousness. For a while, we just stood there, she – so warmly nestled in my embrace, and I – ashamed by the thoughts that crossed my mind. I was thinking of carnal desires, while she merely wished to enjoy the moment of intimacy. “William. I can’t. I –” Automatically and as soon as she uttered those words, I withdrew my hand and kissed her instead. I could keep my hands off of her, but my lips – not.
I have no account of what had happened after or how. Lost in the moment as I was, I did not give importance to other motion than our own bodies’. Meanwhile, we must’ve been moving so recklessly that we had already crossed the corridor, plus two thresholds, since the next thing that I recall is that I was in her chamber.
She made one step behind, then untied her corset, revealing perfect ivory-sculpted silhouette. Much to my admiration, she let her hair fell down, her dress, along with her undergarments, pooling around her feet as she carefully stepped out of them, then lasciviously positioned herself on the bed, her head in the centre of the pillows.
Spoiler! :
Standing there, captivated by her beauty, Eros must’ve struck me, just as he had done with Ares the instant he had fallen in love with Aphrodite. I imagined the beauty of the goddess of love must’ve paled before that of the woman that I was admiring.
“Will you stop looking at me so insistently and do something?” she asked after a while. How long had I been marvelling at her? I haven’t the slightest idea. I must’ve lost the notion of time.
“But what should I do? I dare not touch the beauty before my eyes.” Although pathetic, my comment was honest. I feared that I might’ve tainted her heavenly grace with my human hands.
“Where did you read that? Is it some kind of quote meant to sweep me off my feet?” she replied, smiling nervously and rubbing her forehead with her hands. “I needn’t hear your grand words, William. I’ve heard them a thousand times before.”
“Then perhaps it is love that you need and never had?”
“Is it not what all of us, mortals, crave for?” she spoke in a soft voice. I stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “That divine love that can surmount any barrier, be it social classes prejudices, and even death?” She was so sensitive and attractive – a statue of marble with a human heart. Taking my hand in hers, she brought it to her cheek. I had not realised it until then just how burning-red her face was. As we immersed ourselves in tender kisses, I felt her slender fingers ascending on my chest, unbuttoning my shirt.
Amidst deep breaths and burning desires, we made love that full-moon night. I found it impossible to believe that she had been a courtesan before. Her fair flush and the innocent look that had been upon her face throughout our lovemaking made me question the reality. That night she was the loveliest petite girl, her blushing cheeks of the most innocent rosy colour that melted my heart. She had been so timid and fragile under my touch, quivering with every caress, spanning her body against mine. I touched her in the most gentle way that I could, afraid that I could hurt her with my voluptuous tumult.
After all the passion had been consumed, she remained in my arms, her fingers playing with my hair. “Are you truly a courtesan? Tonight you made me think you were the most innocent damsel that I’ve ever met,” I muttered in her ear.
“Perhaps I am. The world before you came into my life has ceased to exist to me, William. You must understand that I did not love any of those men…” her voice trailed off. “Will you hold me in your arms, William? All night long?”
“I will.” With this, she fell asleep in my arms, her back stretched against my chest; our limbs intertwined one with another. I covered her bare shoulders with the bed sheets, shielding her from my eyes. I did not wish to wake her up from her angelic slumber, and I was aware of the fact that I could not prevent myself from wanting to love her over and over again.
Looking up at the sky, I wondered whether she would always be so innocent and pure. I questioned if she would be mine forever. Would Aphrodite choose Hephaistos instead of Ares?
I feared that something would break inside of me if this love would not meet my expectations.
Spoiler! :
***
I woke up at sunrise. My hands intuitively searched for porcelain skin and golden tresses, but found nothing but empty sheets. I wondered whether I was living a dream, if what had happened the day before was reality or my imagination. I startled as I heard a sound coming from another chamber, one that was too faint, too weak to be distinguished. Rising up, I put on my clothes that were scattered on the floor – a reminder of what had happened mere hours ago.
I followed the sound until I identified it as coming from the old piano and headed for the chamber where the passion initially started between the two of us last night. When I opened the door, I was pleasantly surprised to see Rose in a plain dressing gown that was tied so loosely under the waist, that it almost fell from her shoulders with every move of hers as she played her melody.
She was so beautiful, long hair pouring in golden locks, the warm sunrays diffusing golden light on her silhouette. I told myself that I shall not disturb her and go back to the room, but I simply could not resist the temptation. Before I noticed, I was already one step behind her, fingers longing to touch her, hands caressing the small of her back. I encircled her waist with my arms.
As a result, she jumped, not in surprise, but as if she suddenly remembered the moments we had shared. “Did you sleep well?” she then muttered to me while ending the beautiful sonata in A minor.
Drawing her closer to me, my breath feathering over her skin, I whispered, “I did. It was the moment I woke up that saddened me, though. Because…” She looked up at me, as if she begged me to continue the phrase. “Because I woke up to find that you were not there by my side.”
“Forgive me, I could not sleep. I believe I was not tired enough.”
“Have I not succeeded in fatiguing you, then?” I spoke with my ego. She rose from her seat, fastening the fabric around her, and turned to face me.
“I believe so,” Rose replied playfully. Having heard that, be it a joke or not, my pride had been hurt. I approached her and dug my hands into her skin, deepening my grasp. Her body hit a few piano bars, making a non-harmonic noise.
“What you mean to say is that I am not capable of exhausting you,” I concluded on a serious tone. “Shall I take that as a complaint?”
“Not at all. I did not complain. I am the one who is unappeasable. You are just like the others.” She smiled seductively to me. At this, I crossed my arms at my chest and frowned.
“Just like the others?” I asked with noticeable indignation. “My dear, you have just challenged me to prove you the opposite.” I watched her self-satisfied smirk as it slowly disappeared with every serious glance that I threw at her.
Having just touched my male pride, she awakened a certain less honourable – I admit – feeling of possession inside of me. In that instance, I wished to possess her. I could have made love to her right then, on the piano, in the most voluptuous, carnal manner. And love we made, as I disrobed her of the dressing gown, revelling myself in those intimate pleasures that are characteristics rather of lust, than of love.
I did not question the possibility that everything might have ended in a flash of light when that old count would be back to her. Lost in the moment as I was, I did not notice the letter that was placed on the piano, until, moving recklessly against and over the piano, the paper had been dropped on the floor. I caught a quick glimpse of it and saw the words ‘with love’ at the bottom, followed by a name that I could not decipher. Before I had the chance to read it, Rose bent down and grabbed the letter in her hands, hiding it from my view.
It was then when I feared. I feared that she was somebody else’s, that she could replace me with another one while I was not in her presence. “Who is that from?” I inquired. Her silence did nothing but confirm me the fact that my suspicions were well grounded.
“What will become of us, William?” was all that she could say.
I let my previous question unanswered, becoming more and more impatient with any silent passing second. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, instead.
“The count is returning tomorrow. What will happen to us then? Will you be able to accept the fact that him and I –”
“Of course not,” I cut her off. Since when had ‘me and her’ become ‘him and her’? I did not even wish to hear of the possibility that she, to whom I had nurtured respect and admiration in spite of so many aspects of her life, would ever dare to think of cheating on me. “You shall break up with the count, and stay with me. Will you not?”
“I should like to believe this is the way things will stand.” I felt irony and deceit, so powerfully painful, like a pang in my chest. How easily I had let myself convinced by her, believing that it was innocence that stopped her from giving herself to me that night. Blimey! She had been hesitant the day before because she was feeling guilty. At least she still had the discernment and decency to stop me this second time. Not only that I would have made a humiliating mistake, it would have also killed any drop of respect that I was still able to feel towards her.
“Do you imply that you shall let him touch you at night, and continue with the charade while he is not present? Is that what our relationship will become? A foolish love affair?”
“Foolish it might seem, but I do not have other choices.” I wanted to ask for an explanation. How could she say that she did not have a choice? Was I not good enough to be ‘her choice’? Understanding the prospect of our relationship, I let go of her completely. I felt miserable for trusting her, disgusted by the woman that stood before my eyes.
I kissed her softly on the lips, as if I would have wanted to let her know how much she meant to me. But the gesture I made was rather sarcastic and disrespectful.
She arched against me, lips slightly opened, anticipating another kiss. I could not help but smirk at her foolishness. In her mind, she probably thought that I would agree to become her naive lover, while she could devote her life to another man. Her words before she had fallen asleep echoed in my head: ‘The world before you came into my life has ceased to exist to me, William.’ How easily I let a woman deceive me!
I felt a strong urge of slapping her with my hands in that moment, but found it worthless. To me, she was still the woman with no morals that I had known before. I hoped that, between gentle kisses and soft whispers, I could make her mine, and take her mind off of wealth and vanity, and, the most important, of any other man but myself.
Lifting her chin up, she opened her eyes, and closed her repelling lips – those had been kissed by so many before me, quite surprised by my cold reaction to her advances. “My dear,” I uttered, “this is where it ends,” I said with detachment and indifference.
Turning away from her, I prepared to leave the room. I considered that leaving this woman in her misery would be the least I could do. “Forgive me, but you have come into my life at the wrong time,” she said, still preserving her calm.
I laughed to myself at her trying to find an excuse. “And now I am walking out of it, and not coming back.” I expected her to explode at any time, to shout at me, to beg me to stay. But she did none of these.
“I trusted you were different from the others, William,” she added right before I crossed the threshold. “I see that I was wrong. Forgive me for misjudging what we had. You men are all the same, you think you own us. Jealousy drives you mad, before you even have the proof.”
“Then pardon me for not wanting to share you with another one. I believe it is common sense, is it not?” I replied while raising my voice.
“I would call it possession, and I want nothing of this kind,” she exclaimed.
“Then it is clear as day that we have nothing else to say,” followed my conclusion. As simple as that, what we had built in less than one month had gone in one second.
I came to think that it had been sympathy alone that I had been feeling toward her. At first, I had felt compassion for her, because of her past. Then it had been my ego that wanted to conquer and win her heart, because the simple fact that she, who had been indifferent to me at first, had chosen me over the huge number of lovers that she’d had, and this fed my pride.
Then she had fallen into my arms so quickly, that all the passion had been consumed in mere days. No, I could not love her for that.
Rose
I could not. I simply could not pretend in front of William. I could cheat on the count without feeling any guilt and shame. After all, I had done it so many times before… But with William, some noble virtue that had remained unknown to me until then kept on holding me back. But he, so insistent and passionate, made me give in.
Maybe there was no attraction or passion at all between us. But then again, I’d contradict myself, because Lord knows that in that very moment I felt something never felt in my past. The fact that I felt pangs of conscience did nothing but to confirm me the curious feeling that had been taking control over me.
Spoiler! :
I wondered whether it was pity that stopped me from allowing him to touch me. However, this statement did not seem credible. Something told me that he would not cry over me. Wouldn’t his behaviour after our fight erase any trace of compassion? Usually, any insult or attempt at making me feel humiliated would have resulted in me being disgusted by one more man.
Though, this time I considered the fault to be mine, thus did not hit back. What’s more, my mind refused to focus on anything at all, unless I was thinking of him. What questionable force had gotten into me?
I was absent-minded while dining with Ralph. Inevitably, he became suspicious. “What is the matter with you, my dear?”
“I am perfectly fine, I have a bad disposition, that is all,” I replied then pushed away the plate. The wine made me feel light-headed. Though, I drank it to the last sip. I wished to be drunk, unconscious while the count would perform his duties by owning me.
“It will go away, I am certain, when I’ll give you this…” he said, his last words fading away. “Where did I put it?” In the coming seconds, he took out a tiny box from one of his pockets. Without hesitation, he asked me something to which I could not respond. “Will you be my countess?”
Darn it, I would’ve never imagined that this miserable count would ever ask me such a question. Had I known before, I would have walked away from our affair and found another one to support my payments. Was it not obvious that my interest in him was limited to his fortune alone? It was too late now, however, to break up with him. I had broken any relationship that I had had with other nobles.
What could I have done? Life had taught me how to get any man that I wanted, but apparently it failed to prepare me for such a situation. Seconds were running, leaving me at a crossroad. I could not answer ‘yes’; sooner or later I would be forced to refuse him. I could not say ‘no’ either, not because it would have broken his heart. Hell take his heart! I could not care less. That was not a heart that he had. But I had no other material support. And then… an idea struck my mind! I could become an actress again. I could win money, enough to buy me a decent living place. And then I could refuse them. Until then… though… (and I was well-aware of the fact that actresses did not win enough money for that)… I could postpone our wedding. I came up with a convincing reason immediately:
“Oh my dear Ralph, I do not deserve to be your wife. I could not accept marriage with any one, especially with you. You have been too kind, too loving with me, for me to wear this ring for you.”
“Nonsense, my love!” I smiled with repulsion at the hearing of that sweet appellative. I was nobody’s sweetheart, much less his. How did he think he would own me? Did he believe he would steal away freedom from me with a simple golden ring? I intended to refuse him, but before I had the chance, he thrust the piece on my finger.
“You should know that this is not an approval,” I spoke, still preserving that sweet tone in my voice.
“It is not a refusal either. Please, take your time, but think it over.”
Then he dragged me to bed, as he always did. For some reason, I could not redirect my thoughts to anything else. One single line was echoing in my mind: ‘This is where it ends.’
I woke up with another man’s name on my lips. “Will –” I stopped right away. Three more sounds spoken and I would’ve been as dead. How did that name escape from my lips? Was I thinking of him? Was my mind playing tricks with my conscience? “Will you stay with me all day?” I continued awkwardly. Damn it! I cursed my discrepancy of words. I prayed that he’d turn me down, as always… but, this time, I got an affirmative answer. Damn it again! Why did he not refuse me?
All day, I had been careful not to let any stupid thing slip from my mouth. My thoughts were, though, redirected to somebody else. What did William predict? That I would let him provide me with money? Not in a million hundred years! We could never be an arrangement. Why did men find it hard to comprehend that us, women, have a thousand ways of giving ourselves to them?
I noticed the flowers William had given me were still in the same place where I had placed them the day he had offered them to me. “Annette,” I said to my maid as she cleaned up the table, “those roses are withered. You should throw them away.”
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* a composition by W. A. Mozart.
Is tapistried even a word? I would suggest you just erase it. 
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