(click to enlarge. Nothing stupendous. I’ve done better, this is just a doodle. I love how their facial expressions came out though. In order from left to right; Charles, Orion, with Mini Muffin and Bri.)
If you have yet to read the story, click HERE to see it from the start.
There is another story following this one. But I’m not releasing any details yet as it isn’t even written. Check back for more if you like Orion and Bri.
(More Starving Artists coming soon.)
© 2011 Luz Briar.
Orion followed Bri into the parlor. There was a heavy April shower outside and the falling was pattering the roof, but peaceful.
Charles, Lucy and Amadeus were playing cards at the table. Charles was cursing in good humor, challenging something his wife had said. Meanwhile, Lucy chattered back while laughing, her red dress blending with the table cloth. Amadeus took a swallow of his wine and then turned in Orion’s direction and smiled.
Bri’s manner had softened toward the sailor. She now understood Charles method toward Orion. Like mad-doctor, Charles had needed to drain the bad humors from his ex-lover, to force him to heal. For that Bri was grateful.
Bri smirked and pulled her husband by his sleeve. For once he did not seem afraid of their company and for that, she was immensely grateful to Amadeus. The two got along smashingly. Bri sat opposite her man and he claimed a chair beside Amadeus.
The five continued laying the cards down among idle chitchat and Bri watched Orion smile up at Amadeus with innocence. She could tell his hand must be on the bigger man’s thigh. The other night, she heard her husband give in, letting himself go and offering himself up to Amadeus. In the room beside hers, she heard them make love all night and she tried not to laugh, with fodder to tease her husband the next day and with relief. Orion had released himself from restriction.
“Happy birthday, Muffin,” Bri told him, managing to whisper. Her laugh popped up and Orion laughed.
“Are you ready, dear?”
She nodded and Orion stood.
“The real reason we called you here was because we have an announcement to make.”
Lucy covered her mouth, crystal eyes widening. Charles cocked a brow and Amadeus looked on with his usual intensity.
“Brigid and I are expecting.”
Lucy squeaked and Charles gave Orion a generous nod. “Well done, Orion. Well done.”
Lucy stood, breaking the general eloquence and threw her arms around Bri. It was that moment she realized she loved the Arteberrys and their friend Amadeus.
“Brigid, congratulations, darling!”
Charles raised his glass and it was understood. The others did as well.
“To the Hookwell’s healthy infant. The fourth earl of Constance, perhaps.”
When the giddiness wore off, and the wine was taking its effect, Bri climbed the stairs to the largest room on the first floor. She threw open the balcony doors to breathe in the fresh air. From this location, the view was perfect for the pond. Bri watched the swans and leaned on the stone banister. There was a light drizzle that wet her, but the air was hot and the stickiness was womblike. She herself had never met her mother. She remembered a baby of her own once, long ago, the product of a terrible intrusion on her body. How she had wanted to keep the infant, but how she knew she would have to give it up to people who could care for it.
“It’s a beautiful view,” Orion’s voice found her.
“Like you,” she half-teased, but her sincerity was right beneath her skin. She felt tears welling up.
Yesterday her husband had told her all at last. She was still coming to terms with how someone could betray such a gentle creature as Orion. At the end of the broken heart, there was the worst fate, being locked in a madhouse in an attempt to get him out of the way. The fact that he escaped and functioned in society was a miracle in itself.
“Like you,” Orion took her face in his hands. “Thank you, Bri.”
She noticed that Orion had brought company. Mini Muffin, the baby swan with the bad wing.
“I told you I was right. You feel better now, don’t you?” she said, petting the swan.
“Holding it in was…rottenness. It festered. The older I had gotten, the harder it would have been to tell you. I am glad we did before the baby,” he stopped himself. His voice had caught.
Bri took his face now and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “You’re going to be a father.”
“I know, Bri. Thank you, Bri. You set me free.”
“I think Mini Muffin is well,” he announced.
“Darling, his wing is deformed.”
Orion smirked and let the baby swan go, it flapped its good wings and flew from the balcony to join its family. Bri gaped at Orion.
They embraced as the drizzle fell heavier.
© 2011 Luz Briar. All Rights Reserved.
Orion could not help but feel pain looking at the level of Hell Dante preserved for Sodomites. The illustration caused him grief, not because he thought he would merit it in his afterlife. No, he had been a merciful man. More merciful than the average. But a fellow person thought Orion deserved such torture.
He and his wife were looking over the haunting image. Orion laughed suddenly, recalling the time Bri had spoken up at tea about the Divine Comedy, in front of company “Who does Dant think he is? This work is not funny in the least.”
“What are you laughing at?” Bri asked, running a hand through his hair.
“The time you thought the ‘Divine Comedy’ was supposed to be funny.”
She hit his arm playfully and sat in his lap. He kissed her, lingering. “Brigid, you light the dark for me.”
She laughed and gave a subtle blush.
“Orion…”
When the butler appeared in their doorway, Bri jumped from Orion’s lap and straightened herself out. The man turned red and apologized. “I’m sorry, my lord and lady, your door was open.”
“It is alright, Papworth. What is it?”
“A visitor, my lord. A Mr. Frunberg.”
Orion set the illustrated volume on the nightstand. Bri had dragged him from his study to do something besides work. But now it was time to get back on schedule.
“I will be down in a second.”
He parted Bri with a kiss and descended the steps. At the bottom of the stairs the large frame revealed Amadeus.
“Amadeus?” he stopped at the foot of the stairs.
The German nodded to Orion with a slight smile, but a furrowed brow.
“Is there something the matter, my friend?”
“No, sir. I am here to pay you a visit.”
“You are? Would you care to sit?”
Amadeus nodded and followed the earl into the drawing room. The maid was cleaning feverishly and Orion called to her lightly, “Lily. Take some time to rest.”
The young maid turned to Orion, “Thank you, sir.”
He could sense she was tired, and he thought it cruel to work servants to the bone. They were people, after all.
“What brings you here, Mr. Frunberg?”
“I worried.”
Orion smiled at Amadeus’ characteristic short answers. He leaned forward in his chair, “About what, pre tel?”
“You were upset at the race track the other day. I wanted to see if you were doing well.”
“Very well,” Orion could not help but smile wide, “My wife sees to it that I do not stress. I have no hard feelings toward Mr. Arteberry either. It is only his way.”
“I know you will forgive him. You seem to be a merciful man. I am only worried about you. I mean to tell you something,” the man hesitated, blue eyes hazing a bit, “something private.”
Quite suddenly, Orion felt his flesh become excited, but he kept it at bay. The timing was strange and he did not understand it.
Amadeus looked about the den. “Permission to speak freely?”
When Orion nodded, his companion tensed in his armchair, “My sister was in the madhouse too. It is not a good institution. It is not a fair way. I am sorry for your hardship.”
It was unexpected, like cold but refreshing water. Orion had no time to choose his words this time, “Amadeus, I am sorry. Has she left?”
“She died in Constance Asylum. They fed her pills that make seizures.”
Orion hung his head in heavy thought. His worst torment in those dark days was the thought of perishing within the walls of the madhouse. Thrown into bedlam by men who wanted to disenfranchise him as a melodramatic, shy 15-year-old. He had no voice…
“Dark days pass for some of us. Not all…but I am lucky. Thank you, Amadeus. I greatly appreciated your kindness.”
“How is your wife?” the man seemed suddenly nervous.
Orion looked the muscular man up and down and smirked. What did he have to be shy about?
“She is well. Would you like to speak with her?”
As they headed up the stairs, Orion was hyper-aware of the doll maker’s eyes on him and the feeling gave him warm sensations. He could not help but wonder how strong Amadeus truly was... When they reached Bri’s chamber they found the door ajar and no woman inside.
“She is likely at the pond feeding her swans,” Orion shrugged. “She loves her animals.”
Amadeus stepped forward, as they were alone in the room. Orion’s heart jumped.
“My lord…permission to speak freely? There is something I must say,” his tone was demanding. It was hardly a request, more of a demand.
Orion would have bristled at the harsh tone, except that he realized it was only Amadeus’ way of speaking. He nodded and held his ground.
“Arteberry is so vulgar…” He reached out and cautiously, with one finger stroked Orion’s face. “You can find another…”
“You think so?” Orion asked.
He was utterly in shock, and yet a part of him suspected Amadeus was like him. Though he could not tell if the man was offering companionship or suggesting Orion simply find better.
“And you do not judge me?”
“I think you are beautiful…” Amadeus offered with a grunt. “A man like Charles will insult you. You could have any you wish. Why him?”
“You are most kind,” Orion heard his own voice lowering.
He inched forward. “Have you a better suggestion?”
He looked the man over quite obviously then. He was quite attractive and Orion would not deny him a night of experimentation.
“Your wife is correct that if you hold such things in you will become ill. But you should be selective. You can have any man you wish…”
Orion smiled and stepped forward. He had always suspected curiosity from Amadeus. But in retrospect, he could see the attraction. Why had he been blind?
He kissed Amadeus, chaste but lingering.
© 2011 Luz Briar. All Rights Reserved.
As Bri had always noticed, a spat between two men quickly subsided.
Soon she and her husband were at the town racetrack, alongside the Arteberrys. Once again, their family friend Amadeus lingered with them. Charles, Orion and Amadeus were discussing which horse to place a bet on. But Bri leaned against Lucy, feeling overly hot and a little woozy. Lucy had an arm about her waist, and the affection of another, more radiant woman was refreshing. She was keeping the discomfort to herself for now, hoping it would pass.
As the horses kicked up a cloud of dust in their race, Bri continued to lean on Lucy where they sat in the stands. The taller woman stroked her hair.
“Gentlemen, I believe Lady Hookwell needs some water.”
Amadeus stood. When Bri shut her eyes in the heat, she could hear he and Orion discussing things in hushed tones. When she opened her eyes she watched Amadeus leave and followed her husband’s eyes as he watched him. He was the one to return with refreshments, his arms big enough to carry five of them. Lucy put a glass to Bri’s mouth and she sipped. She felt her husband’s hand on her back, but his tone was low as he spoke to Amadeus.
She thought she recognized the tone. It was innocent but teasing, almost suggestive. Bri squinted in the sunlight and saw Amadeus hand the drink to Orion. They exchanged smiles.
Bri winced against her nausea. She was grateful Charles sat on the far end, away from her and she was in between Lucy and her husband.
She was beyond gratitude when the winning horse was announced. She got to her feet and asked for Lucy’s aid, “I need to find a chamber pot… or a privy…I…”
“Yes, dear,” Lucy aided her to her feet and the women left in search of privacy and an orifice for Bri to empty the contents of her stomachs.
Lucy did not need to tell Bri what her illness might mean. Both women knew, but neither spoke of it. When they left the outhouse, the crowd was dispersing, still angered.
“How could a horse named Giggles win! What a travesty!” someone was exclaiming.
In the stands, Charles, Orion and Amadeus were waiting. Only Orion sat, as his two companions seemed to be discussing something of great interest. As Bri and Lucy returned, Bri tried to ignore the horrid aftertaste in her mouth and smile at Orion. When he saw her, he scooted over for her and held her when she sat. He kissed her forehead. “My love, are you ill?”
She shook her head, but before she could answer, Charles’ sharp voice interjected.
“By the way, Orion, have you seen Lawrence about town with the rent boy?”
Bri could feel Orion’s discomfort. “No. I don’t care to know.”
“Apparently he’s taken to a particular rent boy and treating him like a love. Those of us at the docks find it hilarious, we’ve seen the boy before.”
“I am glad to hear Lawrence is getting along well.”
“You’re not, Orion,” Charles responded.
Bri grimaced. What was Arteberry attempting! To hurt Orion because of the recent rejection?
Bri’s face snapped up. She detected some sincerity in Charles’ face this time. The words were harsh, but the tone was not lacking meaning.
“You’ve heard of it. Does it disgust you?” Charles spoke with his usual confidence. “If it does you ought to say something instead of letting it fester.”
“I think nothing of it.”
“You do, Orion.”
“And now I shall be told what I think?”
“Oh, bloody hell, Orion! This again?”
“We are in the presence of others, Charles…” Orion answered, a rasp forming in his deep voice. Bri felt his grasp on her loosen as he withdrew into himself. “What I think about Lawrence and his rent boy is none of your concern.”
“Then why isn’t it yours?”
Orion shut his eyes in clear exasperation. Bri did not like the tension in the air. It was not wise to corner Orion in this manner, but it seemed to be Charles’ goal. They were outside, in the stands at a race track and though they were alone, it did not seem the best place for an intervention.
“Charles! Can you please—“ Bri jumped in, only to have Orion squeeze her hand softly for silence.
“Ah, perhaps it is the novelty.” Charles shrugged, looking at Amadeus.
Amadeus did not look humored. He was glaring daggers in Charles’ direction.
“The novelty of what?” Bri demanded.
“Meeting a man who was not so in denial of himself. Even if he is a rent boy, at least he will not run away…”
The group fell quiet and Bri shook her head. Orion closed his eyes and put his face in his hand, “Charles, there are things you do not understand.”
“Orion, there is more to the world than what those men did to you.”
Orion raised his eyes to Charles for the first time. His glare was piercing, and his words came out like venom, “Is there, Charles? Thank you so much for telling me? Now kindly teach me how to erase the trauma and I will. Kindly teach me the way to be a stronger person so that I will add up to your level of fortitude.”
Orion stood and he met Charles face-to-face. Bri anticipated a punch to Charles’ face. Alas, it never came.
“There is so much more to the world, Charles. And it is all like you. It assumes everything and asks no questions. The less it learns, the more it thinks it knows. And then…it Preaches! Denial! Denial! DENIAL? You think that is what this is about!”
Orion was raising his voice, something Bri had never heard before.
“Denial! Yes, this is about the petty ‘I am this’ or ‘I am that!’ That is all it is about, isn’t it! Words! Bloody fucking words! And what those men did to me? You do not even know! Do you know what leeching is, Charles? What about cupping! Bleeding, hm? How about starving and cold water treatment? What about being left for dead? Yes, Charles! O, yes! There is more to the world! There is much more! I wonder if you even know what it is, Hypocrit!” he was so angry he was spitting and yelling, and now he stormed off.
In his path a stray dog stopped and whimpered at the sight of him.
Bri found she was backed up into Lucy, her head practically in the woman’s bosom. She wanted to turn and hide her face in them.
All eyes fell on Charles and he sighed, “Brigid, I think he will talk now…”
© 2011 Luz Briar. All Rights Reserved.
Orion was able to forgive Brigid for her unruliness at the opera. He also forgave Charles, who had not apologized formally, but whom he knew was like a leech for emotions. He had merely discovered a pet peeve of Bri’s and sought to exploit it for the emotional satisfaction of it. It was nothing personal.
But for Bri’s birthday, Charles, Lucy and their friend Amadeus were invited to tea. Orion felt his energy drain when he saw the couple in the parlor, chatting with his wife.
He stepped forward and kissed Lucy’s hand before he shook Charles’. The man’s grip was firm. He was recalling after the opera how Charles had insinuated Orion should visit him some time. His way was still seductive, even in his forties these days. He recalled years ago, at the tender age of eighteen, when he had fallen prey to the seduction. He knew better now.
Behind the couple, Amadeus was looking on like a guard. Orion smiled to him, despite his intimidating air and the German smiled back. He and the man had not spoken much during the opera, but at intermission they had a short exchange about Charles. He recalled Amadeus being straight-forward, but consoling in an odd way.
He means nothing by it, Amadeus assured Orion. He is an emotional leech. I know him well.
Amadeus was the godfather of Lucy and Charles’ daughter after all. The daughter…who had gone missing.
He shook the man’s hand, pushing the depression down. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Frunberg.”
“Pleasure, my lord.”
He noticed Amadeus’ package, tucked under a powerful arm.
“What have you got there? Is it for me…or my wife?”
The man’s blue eyes followed Orion’s gaze and he responded, “We have a gift for Brigid.”
“May I open it now!” she exclaimed.
The party moved to the drawing room where a pleasant conversation was led by Lucy. She took the reins socially, as usual. It was not quite evening yet, but it was Brigid’s celebration, so the wine was brought out early. The Arteberrys did not seem to mind, and that was likely light drinking for Charles. The sailor downed his glass in one gulp.
Orion noted a quiet change in Charles. Though he had always been sulky in moments of silence, there was now a true hint of melancholy.
When they moved on to board games and idle chitchat, Orion became more curious about Amadeus. He was a man of few words. He was a commoner, but his dignity spoke for itself. There seemed a laconic understanding between the two men. He even nodded to Orion when the conversation ran dry.
Brigid finally retrieved her gift from its package and pulled out a large porcelain doll. It was breathtaking.
“Oh…” she stared. “Where did you…?”
“It was a group effort,” Lucy cooed.
Before Bri could ask how, Charles jumped in, “Lucy caught it, I killed it and Amadeus stuffed it.”
“It looks hand-made,” Orion whispered, smiling at Charles’ joke.
“Amadeus makes dolls,” Charles spoke in earnest. “That’s his profession. Lucy sewed the clothes and I bought the materials. It was group effort.”
Bri embraced Lucy and thanked the two men.
“How long have you made dolls?” Orion asked Amadeus, almost whispering again.
“Say, since I was fifteen perhaps.”
***
By sundown, it seemed the three were going to disperse soon. Bri was still giddy with the idea of a real birthday party, Orion could tell. She had admitted to him last year that she was without a real her whole life. She scraped her way from the dirt in Indian to a dislocated British nurse, and raising herself a waif from orphanage to orphanage, Bri had never fit into upper society.
But the Arteberrys were delightfully offbeat and she was clearly fond of them. Even Charles.
Bri insisted they stay the night, rather than ride back to their estate in darkness. It worried Orion, as he met with Charles’ eyes shyly and he looked away. There was much he remembered about their mistake many years ago, that he did not wish to drag back into the light. There was much he admired about Charles; his bluntness, his bravery, his intelligence. But to dwell on them would mean he would succumb again. His heart was far too vulnerable.
As he walked the halls to his bedroom late that night, he and Charles’ paths crossed. It was inevitable, their shadows tangled. They eyed one another and Orion went to circle Charles but the older man caught his arm. When he was pressed against the wall by the sailor, he allowed it, savoring the force.
“Orion,” Charles whispered, “Does your wife need you in bed? Are you trying to procreate every week night? Because it is a Saturday, I’ll have you note.”
“We are doing what we can…she cannot begrudge me a night off I suppose…” Orion returned his playful tone.
“I think I know what you need, my lord.”
“What is that, Charles?” he asked, having forgotten how nice his aggression was.
Charles leaned in and whispered lewd things in Orion’s ear. He gulped and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. He scooted against the wall, feeling for the nearest door. Bri was right, he needed some kind of satisfaction. The tension was weighing on his physical form.
As Orion nearly fell back into the unlit guest room, with Charles still on him, he tried to catch his breath. Charles pushed him onto the nearest coach and began to seize control.
“How long has it been?”
“Years, Charles…” Orion spoke in between a kiss. “…since you and I…”
“Fucked. Say the word, love.”
But he could not bring himself to say the word. His mind kept racing to other things, as pleasant as the touching was, as enthralled with the idea he felt…he could not stop thinking about it.
The urgency seized them and they began to shed their clothing, bound toward the forbidden.
But Orion’s mind ran back to Lawrence and his promises. It ran back to his very first lover, the doctor who he refused to even speak with today. The broken vows, the false sense of security. The actual, physical pain when Orion was struck down. At fifteen years old, he had not been much of a match for a full grown man. Today, he could easily overcome someone. But he was still a child in those days…
“Orion,” Charles shook him beneath him. “Hello? Are you lost?”
He realized that Charles had been indulging but that he was far off, lost in the past. The memory of being slammed against the wall with strong hands around his throat.
Bloody, stupid spoiled sodomite!
He pushed Charles off, more roughly than he had intended. “I have to go…”
He closed his shirt and buttoned it, looking around frantically for any other clothing that had been tossed aside. The scant sunlight that peaked through the half-drawn curtain left things dark. Orion knelt on the floor, feeling.
“I see you have not changed much, my lord,” Charles quipped.
Orion seized his shoes and then looked at Charles’ in the half-light. “What are you implying?”
“You are as predictable as the weather in the year you were born,” Charles spat. His voice sounded metallic and distant. Charles was not rejected often, most likely. He was infamous for his sexual prowess.
He referred to 1816, the highlight of chaotic seasons. Very well. “Perhaps then you should find a lover who is more your temperament. For now I have to be alone…”
Running away again, Rion.
He groped for the bedroom door and flung it open. But before he left, he added, “By the way I was born in 1817, Charles.”
He rushed to his private chamber and threw his shoes aside. Where he sat, the very last of the daylight fell on him as he shielded his face in his hands. The warmth was retreating into the night. He tried with all his might to push the memories down. Shame, lies, his mother’s death, the madhouse.
The madhouse; he could not even reflect on that without screaming.
The bedroom door creaked open and small, shuffling footsteps introduced Brigid.
“Muffin…you hold too much in.”
“Brigid, I want to be alone right now.”
“What are you trying to prove, Orion? There’s nothing wrong with the way you are.”
“I did not say there was.”
“Then why not do what makes you feel good?” her voice was getting shrill, he could feel her prickling. He could also feel her assumptions and it pushed him.
“Brigid, you do not understand…”
He met her eyes so that she could see he was weeping. Perhaps then she would understand. When the woman saw his tears she frowned. It was hard to detect in the dark, but her eyes may be watering with his. Not even Brigid knew about the madhouse. Only the men who had thrown Orion there, in hopes that he would rot, knew he was a former Bedlamite.
“Talk to me, Orion…” she begged, her voice small.
“Later…” he promised.
He would tell her in time. But not tonight. Tonight he wanted all eyes off of him. He wanted to stay in the dark.
If there was a sound for resignation, he would have heard it when Bri hung her head and left her husband to dwell, battling the past.
© Luz Briar. All Rights Reserved.
