Aubrey 43

 Chapter 43

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Sponsored chapter by LC (⅖) ❤️

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Time passed slowly, but it was bearable. The way out of this dreary existence with no exit would be decided on the following Wednesday.

[Wednesday, 3 p.m., 16th Street, Touraine.]

Aubrey pulled out Khaled’s business card from the drawer she kept in her nightstand, the sharp handwriting quickly becoming familiar. She ran her hand over the back of the card, feeling the convex protrusion of the letters. She wondered what the man's face looked like when he wrote this: would it have been frowning like his sharp handwriting, or would it have been scribbled with a characteristic nonchalance.

The eagerly anticipated Wednesday arrived. By noon, Barbara and Emily had vacated the mansion for their respective social gatherings. Jeffrik was also out early, but just in case, Aubrey told Trin she was going to take a short walk in the square. Trin, who was helping her get ready, said nothing. It was as if she had said it the day before, as if she had wiped the stigma from her memory.

"I'm sorry, Trin. This is the brush you prepared for me......."

The white silk brush was stamped with black footprints like bruises. It was supposed to be washable, but Aubrey was upset that it wasn't.

"Miss, I've had enough apologies already, and besides, I've already washed it and it's good as new again."

Trin said sweetly.

"Shall I get you something similar while you’re out in the square? It's going to get cold soon, and you could use a coat for the winter, a robe or a cloak or something."

"That's a surprise, then I'll pretend I don't know."

They both laughed, unconcerned. Then, ready, Aubrey left the manor alone. Trin had to stay behind to organize the food supplies for the fall. Once she was ready, Aubrey left the room, carrying a notebook with a story she had been scribbling for days. Time and time again, Trin had urged her to take care of herself. Aubrey didn't mind seeing a girl so much younger than her acting like a mother at the water's edge. So Aubrey waved her hand back vigorously.

*** 

It was a crisp, cloudless summer day. The heat had begun to recede and the breeze was quite cool. Aubrey was smiling thinly, but as the carriage pulled into the square, she began to feel a little uneasy. She was almost glad when she found the answer on his business card. 

He was the only one she'd ever known. Then she remembered him and the words she'd spat out. She would do anything for him, given the chance. The carriage stopped in front of the entrance to Langton Park.

"Do you expect to be here for about two hours, my lady?"

"Yes. I'd better meet you here, in case there's any chance of a delay."

She left the carriage on the pretext of taking a stroll through Langton Park and headed for Touraine Alley. Aubrey looked around, pretending to enter the entrance. When the carriage became a tiny dot, she wasted no time in turning around, sprinting across the fountain as if she were being followed. Then she asked the merchants and headed for Touraine.

Unlike the other streets, which were bathed in sunlight, the alleyway was dreary from the start. Aubrey tightened her grip on the notebook at her side and started walking.

"See that bakery over there? Just walk straight past it and turn right. But what brings you to Touraine, young lady?

The merchant who had given her directions had asked. As if women don't go to that alley. Aubrey's breathing was shallow, a little anxious, a little nervous. Finally, Aubrey spotted a large red house. This was 16 Touraine Street. It was the rendezvous point with Khaled Karnus. But the entrance was not easy to find. As Aubrey timidly circled the house, a gentleman walked out of a neighboring shop.

"Miss Aubrey Sandalwood?"

Aubrey gasped and looked again at the gentleman's face. The face beneath the black silk hat was unfamiliar. Tanned, coppery skin and jet-black eyes. He tipped his hat in greeting.

"I was waiting for your arrival."

He was quite polite, but he also seemed suspicious. Mostly because he didn't look like anyone she would expect to see in this city. He motioned for Aubrey to follow him, keeping his distance as if he understood her fright, and began walking ahead. The house was surrounded by waist-high trees. Aubrey wondered if there could be an entrance through them, but figuring that the main hall must be at the bottom, she followed him down the narrow path.

At the back of the house, there was a doorway that looked real. The vaulted ceiling was too high to reach even by leaping, and forked spears hung on either side of the tightly closed door. The gentleman knocked on the massive door. A man appeared, the background behind him red as blood.

"I have an appointment, sir. The Count of Lavonne should be inside."

The man nodded easily, then looked at Aubrey and shook his head.

"It's my sister, and she wants to take a look around. She won't be too noisy."

The man looked a little unimpressed, but he didn't seem to mind and opened the door wide. He motioned for her to follow him inside. Once inside, the stale air enveloped her. A pungent yet sweet scent numbed her sense of smell. The sounds of gentlemen's conversation alternated with raucous laughter.

Aubrey glanced cautiously in their direction and her mouth dropped open. There were dozens of gentlemen and a few scantily clad women. Gentlemen removed their hats, puffed on cigars, and laughed boisterously about what was so good, while women with cinched waists moved among them.

The women's faces were white and ruddy. They wore colorful dresses that could only be worn at a ball, and their breasts, which pushed up above the neckline, were almost overwhelming. The red, dark backdrop that surrounded them made the strange space seem even more sinister. The woman singing on the small stage gestured heavenward.

Aubrey stopped in her tracks, wondering if this was a brothel. She couldn't bear to be here anymore, to think that this was the brothel that might have once been her future. Worst of all, she hated Khaled for inviting her into this sinister place.

"This way, Miss Sandalwood."

She looked up and saw a gentleman a couple flights of stairs up.

“His Excellency is upstairs."

She had come this far, and she couldn’t go back. Aubrey remembered when she'd asked him to give her one more chance, and she reminded herself that she had to do it, even if it meant stripping off her clothes and seducing him. Steeling herself, she followed the man up the red, dark stairs. 

Unlike the first floor, where it seemed as if an orgy was about to unfold on the floor, the second floor had five or six tables spaced widely apart. They seemed to have been spaced so that no one could see each other's faces.

Khaled sat in the center. His eyes were closed as he sat on a dark red couch that matched the color of the walls. He looked serene, as if he'd fallen asleep, as if he could sleep in this mess. Aubrey was impressed.

"Well."

The gentleman turned away, his task accomplished. Aubrey tilted her head wordlessly at him. As she approached more slowly, she could see Khaled’s closed eyes more clearly. In the dim light, his face was frightening. Even with his eyes closed, he had a narrowed brow. Aubrey sat down gingerly on the couch across from him. The man's eyes opened then.

"You walk in here like a rat."

"Hi."

His blunt words were tolerable. Aubrey set the notebook she'd brought with her on the table. The dim lighting in the room made it hard to see. Her eyes, darker than usual in the dim lighting of the room, turned toward Khaled.

"I don't know why you asked me to meet you here."

Aubrey said the question out loud.

"Are you trying to scare me?"

He knew her past, and she expected him to say something along the lines of, "I'm the one who saved you from being killed," again. But Khaled rubbed the back of his head and smirked. As if the question wasn't even worth answering. Aubrey quickly flipped open her notebook. She'd met him, after all, and all that was left was the contract. She'd take care of that and get the hell out of this weird place.

"I've been writing a little bit since we spoke, nothing great, but I've picked out a few topics that I think would make good stories."

"Naive, to say the least."

His deep voice cut through the naïveté of her words.

"In a bad way, it's stupid."

"..."

"I'm talking about your idea to write a theater screenplay and try to move up the ranks."

Aubrey closed the open notebook noiselessly, then straightened her back and looked at him.

"I don't want to move up. I just want to have my own body, my own ability to be in charge."

Then Khaled leaned back into the couch and narrowed his eyes. He looked more languid than usual, almost as if he were drugged.

"You're just going to live at Count Ravant’s home like you've always done."

"No, no. I don't want that, and I won't be able to get help from my aunt forever."

"Aren't you nervous about not knowing how long you'll be able to stay at the mansion?"

Aubrey finally bit her lip. She'd forgotten one thing: He'd been in her shoes, and he knew how she felt.

"You're right."

Then she should stop pretending.

"You're right, I'm anxious, I'm dying of anxiety, and in the meantime, my uncle wants to make me Murfrio's third wife, so I need something, a way to make a living, to be able to leave this mansion and live on my own."

"You could just leave."

Khaled shook his head, his eyes narrowing.

"That's what you're good at, running away."

He was mean and crushing, because he knew what her situation was. She knew, too, that he was both savior and destroyer.

"I don't have the money."

Maybe it was the poison in her heart, but things seemed a little more objective. Aubrey took a deep breath and let it out, cleansing her body of all emotion.

"I don't want to be on the streets with no money anymore."

If he wanted her to, she’d take off her clothes. If she came this far, there was no way she was going to back down.

"In case you've forgotten, you already know how to stay in the mansion without being kicked out."

"...What?"

Languidly sitting up, Khaled pushed himself to his feet and pointed toward the first floor. Aubrey, who had been staring at him, followed mesmerized.

"You see?"

As if being manipulated by the low voice, Aubrey's eyes scanned the gentlemen at each table. But she couldn't see what Khaled was trying to show her.

"What do you see......."

At the same time, Aubrey saw a face she never wanted to see. In the midst of the chaos was Jeffrik. He sat at a table tucked away in the far corner. His silk hat off like the other men, his arms around a woman. Could this be the woman from the cloister, with her mottled golden feet and pure white skin, her red lips and red cheeks. The woman, like an overripe apple, sat on Jeffrik’s thigh, tickling his face with her own hair and purring.

Aubrey froze, unable to tear her eyes away from them, and then they shared a sloppy kiss. Aubrey jerked away, and was met with a languid grin.

"Well. You can stay in the mansion now, as long as you can read a little."

"...."

"Because Count Ravant will do anything to shut you up."

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