(Bri & Orion. By me. Yes I know I draw like Dr. Seuss…)
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(part 1 of 6)
The Earl Swan
England, 1850
1
The librarian fastened the lace of her boots and then grabbed her load of books from the ground. Desdemona Parade’s library was so vast and so quiet the whip of the laces and crinkling of pages echoed. It never ceased to give the librarian Brigid the spooks. On more than one occasion she had screamed to find someone behind her, usually the sulky heiress Desdemona herself.
“Ms Bri,” came a lush voice.
This time it was not Desdemona. Bri jumped and her nervous tick--a petulant, uncontrolled laugh--bubbled up. It was such a deep, manly laugh, and she such a petite woman, that it never ceased to give people a start.
When she met Lord Hookwell’s green eyes her face reddened and she apologized for dropping her books.
“My lord, you move like a shadow.”
“I’m sorry, Ms Salud. I was only saying hello,” he gave his wide smile. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“My lord—“ the laugh “-- I can never quite come to grips with the gigantic SIZE of this library. For a woman who never reads, really…” she caught herself insulting Des, Orion’s fiancé, and bowed her head, “I mean, it is HUGE, you must admit.”
Bri had clutched her bundle of books to her bosom. Then, she loosened her grip, realizing that the books bunched her large breasts up and she did not need to distract the poor earl.
“What is your business in the library, sir?” she teased.
“The librarian is good at conversation,” he complimented playfully “and Des is boring me with her talk of…well, you know the way she gets.”
Bri’s laugh popped up again. “Pardon, I can’t seem--” again “to get the laugh under control today.”
Orion laughed, his face suddenly brightened. He was a slender figure, a bit taller than average and Bri always had to stare up at him, due to his tallness and her shortness. He had light blonde hair and a gaunt face which often gave him a melancholic look. But best of all was his toothy smile. He had the nicest teeth Bri had ever seen on a man.
“You have a unique voice, Ms. Salud. I’m sure you’ve been told that before.”
He was accustomed to her laugh by now, and did not mock her for it.
She snapped out of her daze, reminding herself that Orion was almost a decade her junior and her employer’s fiancé. It was something Bri had to remind herself often, for she was a lusty woman at heart.
“Yes, yes,” she smirked. “My voice. Thank you, I suppose. It is a melting pot from India to England, I’m afraid…”
Bri was told often that her accent was strange. What with being an English waif born in India, raised by both natives and Britons.
“No, it is the voice itself I would say,” Orion mused, bending down to collect a book that Bri had overlooked on the floor. “But sadly I must return to Desdemona and the ‘planning.’ Until later--” he took her hand and squeezed it. “Farewell.”
Bri felt her insides cool as her cheeks flushed, and then the earl was gone, like a swift white swan lost in the bright sunlight.
She cursed herself privately. She had already suffered much drama with her ex-husband, an unfaithful viscount who ventured all the way to Parliament to divorce Bri. And what for? Because she refused to turn a blind eye on his affairs. Of course, he chalked it up to her being “frigid.” But nothing could be further from the truth, as evidenced by the problem she had now.
Lusting after an engaged earl…she reflected, climbing a ladder to shelve a book. That would be my luck…
“Bri, I want your opinion on something,” Desdemona summoned the librarian-assistant, who was truly her ladies’ maid at the end of the day. She pointed a long, manicured fingernail to the window, a landscape of rolling green hills. “Elephants…”
The woman let the statement linger with much importance. Bri cocked an eyebrow.
“my lady…they never forget?” Bri tried to make sense of the heiress’ statement.
“Haha. No. what do you think of elephants instead of horses for the wedding? Would Lord Hookwell be too shy about it?”
“Far too modest,” and reasonable, Bri managed not to add.
“Ah, he has no imagination,” Des proclaimed in an exaggeration.
“I would beg to differ,” Bri offered, pouring the lady’s tea. “Your fiancé is very artistic.”
“Oh,” she snapped suddenly. “that reminds me.”
No topic could stay on anyone else for very long. Des needed time to shine, after all.
Much to Bri’s dread, Des grabbed for her violin in the corner and abused its strings too quickly to make any sort of music. Bri refrained from covering her ears, though the effect of the sound was very much like a cat falling out of a window repeatedly.
“Did you recognize the piece?”
Piece of Shit, in D-minor.
“Yes…uh, no.”
“Mozart. The Magic Flute,” Des raised an eyebrow proudly, not mentioning what part of the opera she had been ‘playing.’
“I’m sorry, Ms. I missed it.”
Des’ dark eyebrows dropped and she attacked the violin again in another melodramatic display, her face held stoic purposefully to appear alluring. At times, Bri wanted to jump out of the window with the imaginary cat.
The heiress Desdemona Parade was a beautiful woman, with pale skin and long dark hair. But there were many things, in Bri’s opinion, that ruined the would-be beauty. Des wore a vial of “blood” as a necklace, she professed to know spirits and be a practitioner of witchcraft. She scarcely did smile except in a contrived way and what she liked was selective and of no real opinion except what it contradicted. She thought herself a master musician after three years of dabbling in violin along with other rich young nobles. She was at home in the social circle of young rebellious artists with nothing to stand up against.
Worst of all, Des considered Bri one of her closest friends for the ironic reason that Bri would not lie. She amused Des, it seemed. Bri was a woman who could not be bothered with pretensions and flattery. Her lack of social graces-- that distinct tick of hers-- her mousy looks—she had buckteeth, large brown eyes and brunette hair -- and the famous divorce from a viscount; all of these factors added up to Bri’s being gutted of any false hopes for social status. Sometimes Bri felt like a “deviant” accessory for her friend-employer, like a sort of slave-made handbag made from the skin of baby animals.
“I’ve thought of inviting Jaun to the wedding,” Des spoke, probably cued by the glazed-over look in Bri’s eye.
“Will Orion--eh, Lord Hookwell, be bothered with that, miss? That seems a tad…absurd…”
Juan was one of Desdemona’s many lovers. Bri had met the man and found him as pretentious as the heiress herself.
“My fiancé doesn’t know so he has no reason to care,” she sighed, “Juan is sad since…we were intimate…he says, frankly, no other woman compares.”
Bri was standing behind Des, so she was able to roll her eyes freely. More secrets from Orion?
“What if he interrupts the wedding?” Bri asked, not masking her bitterness. “He will if he loves you and wants you.”
Usually her sarcasm flew over the heiress’ head, so she did not worry about masking it.
Des pasted on a smile and perked up. Again, she stroked the poor violin and continued to play. “Do you think Orion will be angry if I tell him?”
Bri unleashed the truth, all the while Des kept silent in an attempt to be mysterious.
“Ms, frankly I worry his heart will break. It is the third time this has happened with three different men. Three is excessive.”
“He wants to fester in his pants,” Des breathed.
Bri held her breath. Again, Des was trying to be serpentine and falling short. It was downright farcical.
“Do you mean, Ms. Parade, that he will not perform in the bedroom? I don’t think you are using the word fester correctly.”
“Fester means to rot. What do you think I should do, Ms. Bri?”
Bri continued but all the while Des was sulking while ‘playing’ the violin. Bri, accustomed to being tuned out whenever critique arose, began to toss out nonsense to see if the woman would notice.
“If you want a turkey for a house pet, you should fill its litter box with wood shavings. It is a dumb bird and will try to eat sand or rocks you put in a box. Also, it has been known to trip.”
“Interesting,” Des stated, eyes closed. “He’s a sodomite, you know?”
Bri’s jaw dropped. She knew that Des had been implying this for a long time now. But to hear her actually say it sent Bri off the hinge.
“Ms Parade, your husband might be refusing you because you aren’t properly wed yet and he wants to avoid a pregnancy. Furthermore, not every man who rejects you is a sodomite. Perhaps you should think before you assume things.”
“Are you finished?” Des asked, looking up from her violin, still playing.
Bri nearly wished the duchess would fire her on the spot. Alas, she kept attacking the violin and now Bri had to quit the room, lest she yell at her employer more.
She knew the earl well from having spoken so often to him, both in letters and in the library. Their friendship was not so well-known to Desdemona but that was just as well. If the duchess knew of their friendship, surely jealousy would be ignited.
But never did Bri have the courage to ask Lord Hookwell, the 3rd Earl of Constance, whether or not the nasty rumors were true. There were some who said he fancied gentlemen over ladies, but Bri shrugged that off as foolish chatter. The lord was engaged to a woman, after all.
But now, Desdemona’s using this as an excuse for infidelity had pushed Bri to the limit. She must speak to the earl.
© Luz Briar 2011. All Rights Reserved.
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