“Lady Helena, how discourteous you are to keep me waiting so long!”
But it was Lord Wotton who answered in a somewhat timid but smooth voice. “I am afraid it is not Lady Helena, Mr. Gray.”
“I beg your pardon Lord Wotton, but it is a pleasure to see you as well.”
“Ah, but it is I who must apologize Mr. Gray, for I have often seen you at the opera with my Lady wife and have been remiss in my attentions to you.”
“Not at all Lord Wotton, I understand you are often busy with important matters of state and with your import and export business as well. I should have noticed you and took the initiative myself. It is only that I do so concentrate on the music, for one must never speak during good music, but truly listen to it with all of their senses attuned.”
“That is one of Helena’s views, is it not? I do hear so many of her views from her friends. It is the only way I come to know them. In truth my wife handles the affairs of the import and export business. She has quite the keen mind for it. You really must join me at one of my parties for entertaining foreign dignitaries sometime Mr. Gray. They can be a bit tedious sometimes with all of the politicians I must discourse with, but I assure you, I spare no expense for the entertainment—Ah! Here is my Lady wife now. Helena I have been meaning to ask you something—now I forget what it was.”
Lady Helena greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek. “My love, I am sure you will remember if you think on it, and we can discuss it at dinner later this evening. I am so sorry that I am late Mr. Gray.”
“Well Mr. Gray, it has been a pleasure. I hope to see you at dinner later this evening. Goodbye Helena, I am sure I will remember what it was I wished to discuss with you by this evening.” Lord Wotton hurried out of the room, lighting a fat cigar on his way.
“Never marry someone so sentimental. In fact, never marry at all. Men only ever marry because they are tired and disappointed, women only ever marry because they are curious what it would be like—and are also disappointed in what life has given them.”
“I am not sure if I will marry, but if it is how you say, then I am too much in love to ever get married!”
Lady Helena lifted her hand to her face in surprise. “What’s that? Who are you in love with?”
A crimson blush spread slowly across Dorian’s face. “With an actress. She is the most amazing Juliet you have ever seen! Her name is Sibyl Vane and she is an undiscovered genius in a meager theatre near Walthamstow. I was strolling by it quite by accident after a recent foray in London. I had gotten quite lost and stumbled across the owner standing outside smoking a most vile cigar. As he saw me his eyes lit up, ‘Have a box, m'Lord?’ he said. And he would not take no for an answer, but whisked me inside the horrid little theatre. To think, I almost refused him. Had I not gone inside that day, I would have missed the most beautiful creature enact the greatest romance of my life.”
Lady Helena forced a laugh between her delicate lips. “Mr. Gray, you should say the FIRST romance of your life, not the greatest, for you shall always be loved and be in love. This is merely the beginning of your foray into the complicated world of infatuation.”
“I am not as shallow as all that. Now let me finish my tale. I tell you, my Juliet was a shining beacon in an otherwise third-rate and tawdry affair. The dingy gallery was full in contrast to the empty stalls, with a terrible smell about the air, and there was a most dreadful orchestra complete with cracked and rusty instruments. I was beginning to question what I was doing in that wretched hole, Romeo and Mercutio being played in a very poor style, but then Juliet emerged.”
He paused and a beaming smile lit up Dorian’s face as he remembered first seeing her.
“She appeared to be near seventeen years of age, but looked like a vision from the Greek tragedies. With plaited coils of dark luscious hair, lips like the petals of a rose, and large, deep eyes that contained all the delight of her passion. She was the loveliest girl I have ever seen in all my life. Then she spoke. I have never heard such a voice before. It seemed she was instantly Juliet. From deep tones to flute-like music like the lark, she spoke and sang her parts with an excitement that stirred the whole audience. She concluded to thunderous applause and I could barely contain my own appreciation.”
Dorian paused again and closed his eyes. “When I close my eyes now, I can still hear her and picture her. The owner brought me back after the show to meet her. I remember I could hardly form a coherent sentence when first speaking to her. I was so enraptured by her beauty and presence.”
"That doesn't sound like the Mr. Gray I know."
“Yes, I was quite flummoxed while we conversed. She asked me how I liked her rendition of Juliet and I could only stammer out my appreciation. Fortunately, she was very gracious and I was able to recover as we discussed the arts and various playwrights. I invited her to dine with me at the club but she refused, claiming that her mother expected her home promptly. I was quite bewildered and didn't know what to say next, until she said that she hoped I would come and see her again the next night. Of course, I agreed fervently.”
Lady Helena was barely able to conceal her exaggerated eye-rolling as Dorian continued his tale.
“Every night since, for two weeks, I have been there to see her performances. One night she is Rosalind, the next Imogen. What an actress she is Lady Helena! She is innocent and glamorous, mysterious and transfiguring. I love her with all my heart. I love her!”
“Well this Sibyl Vane sounds quite charming. Do tell me what your relations with the young girl are?”
A deep flush returned to Dorian’s face and he was immediately outraged. “Lady Helena, that is quite private but I assure you she is sacred to me.”
“Only the sacred things are worth touching. She will be yours one day.”
“Oh, you are incorrigible. Perhaps it was the champagne, but I knew from the first night that I must get to know her more intimately. The owner wasted no time in regularly insisting I be brought backstage after the performance and introduced to all of the other actors. I do believe he hoped to recruit me as a benefactor for their troupe. Every time afterwards when we met, she was shy and gentle, and whenever I complimented her performance for the evening, her eyes would grow wide with wonder. She really has no notion of the power she holds over us all. Despite my assurances to the contrary, the owner kept referring to me as ‘My Lord’. I assured Sibyl I was nothing of the sort. ‘You look more like a prince. Prince Charming I will call you,’ she said.”
“Ah, she is smooth with her compliments.”
“No, she was perfectly sincere. She is quite ignorant of the world and really knows nothing of life. She lives with her faded old mother who once also was an actress in her younger days. Sibyl is quite divine though. I am forever longing to see her. That delightful talent hidden in that pretty, ivory body. You and Sage must come with me to see her. I shall find a way to take over her career and bring her out properly at the West End theatre. Then the whole world will come to love her as I do.”
“Very well. Sage and I will join you at the eight o’clock show next week. But shouldn’t you be the one to extend the invitation to dear Sage?”
“I have not laid eyes on her for a week. She even sent me the portrait she painted adorned in the most wonderfully designed frame. I feel quite horrid for ignoring her and the wolf so. He has grown much larger now and dominates the room with his wild and intelligent manner. Sage is really quite proud of how the animal has grown. Please extend my invitation to her tomorrow. I can’t see her alone right now, she does say the most annoying things and gives me the most trying of advice.”
“Sage puts all of her brilliance and charm into her work. As a consequence of her art, she has nothing of it left for her own life. For an artist must either be amazing in their work or in their pursuit of life, but it can never be both.”
“I wonder if that is really so? It must be, if you say it. But I must be off. Do not forget about next week. Good-afternoon.”
&nbs
p; As Lady Helena was left alone with her thoughts, she was not jealous in the least, but pleased by the progress Dorian had made in becoming more self-aware and open to all of the wonderful pleasures that the world had to offer. Even this silly infatuation with the young Sibyl was a vital part of his development. Men give the name of experience and wisdom to the mistakes that they inevitably make in life which are wholly necessary in forming their character. Yes, the lad was growing into quite the striking man and more fully coming into his own.
Chapter 6.
Sibyl Vane
The next night, as had become his custom, Dorian visited Sibyl at the theatre. He was seen as a regular and was well known by the staff. The coarse doorman greeted him with a nod and he was immediately escorted to his usual box by a bawdy steward that reeked of cheap wine. The steward promised to return shortly with the finest wine that the house had to offer—likely a third-rate vintage.
The private box was small and threadbare, with thinly padded cushions and a ratty rug on the floor that boasted a wide spectrum of mysterious stains. Still, it was the finest that the theatre had to offer and Dorian hardly ever noticed the décor these days. His eyes were only for Sibyl as she flowed onto the stage in a wispy light-blue dress that complemented her sculpted figure.
This night the play was Much Ado About Nothing. Sibyl portrayed an exuberant Beatrice with great zeal, delivering her lines with a subtle sensuality and playful wit that gave the audience no choice but to instantly adore her. The marvelous insight she showed while depicting the girl’s vulnerability and weakness behind a jeweled mask of hardened sarcasm, was truly transformative. The audience showed their devotion to her and cried out again and again for an encore. Sibyl was happy to oblige them and was in her element, as she smiled gracefully and curtsied for the vigorously applauding crowd.
After the final curtain fell, Dorian slipped backstage and entered her modest dressing room silently, careful not to be seen by the actress. She was seated in an oval-backed chair that had seen better days. Her eyes were fixed on the cracked, but functional, wood-framed mirror as she slowly removed her colorful stage makeup. She barely caught sight of him from the corner of her eye, as he trailed his fingertips deftly from her delicate wrist and upwards, towards her collar bone which ended with a gentle caress of her porcelain cheek.
The contact warmed her to her core, and she was aghast at the tingling sensation it invoked between her thighs. She was unable to conceal the smile that his touch brought to her lips, or prevent herself from leaning back into his strong arms. Her head rested upon the firm chest muscles which were concealed beneath his plush waistcoat.
Ever the actress, a surprised look came over her face as she teased him. “A proper prince would announce his arrival and await an invitation before imposing himself so brazenly upon a lady in such a manner."
Dorian responded with a sly grin that hinted at future delights. "Your speech declares your annoyance, but your body begs for the second act to begin."
He tightened his biceps around her and squeezed firmly as his bold lips slowly brushed the pale curve of her slender neck with a feather-touch.
After a moment spent in silent enjoyment, she turned her head slightly to whisper seductively in his ear. “The second act is only the beginning. I have yet to bring you through many more delectable acts, each more pleasurable than the next—until at last, you reach the most satisfying climax of this play.”
At that, he became immediately hard, his trousers growing taut, and Sibyl smiled wickedly as she felt the swelling against her thigh.
Dorian stepped back, suddenly at a loss for words, as his imagination danced across the various pleasures that her lithe form offered. A lustful haze fell over his eyes, and several seconds passed before his thoughts refocused and he regained his composure. He reached into his pocket and removed a delicately laced box. It was wrapped in an ornate, brightly-colored silk ribbon.
With a gallant bow, he offered her the treasure he cradled in his hands and heralded the gift with a husky voice. “A small trifle of my affection, my lady. It would honor me if you would wear it and accompany me to a gala to be held this evening by the Duke of Berwick.”
With wide eyes and a gasp of delight, Sibyl received the fragile gift and tore into the soft packaging with alacrity. Her heart sang as she unwrapped the most beautiful golden and bejeweled necklace that her eyes had ever beheld. The gilded leaves of the cable were a delicate and ornate pure-gold. Set between them were rich flower petals with each of the metal blossoms holding a bud with a different shimmering stone. Clear, bright-white diamonds, deep-red rubies, brilliant-green emeralds, vivid-blue sapphires, and glistening topaz stones twinkled in the light. The necklace was in the style of some of her mother’s finer costume jewelry pieces, but she knew this item to be assuredly authentic and exceedingly expensive. She began to cry at the generosity and beauty of such a lavish present.
Sibyl was breathless as she admired the necklace. “It is very lovely, but I couldn’t possibly accept so extravagant of a gift. Besides, none of my dresses would be worthy to accompany it—or you, to such an elegant gala as the one held by the Duke.”
Dorian laughed in a bright and conspiring way. “It is nothing compared to your beauty, my sweet—besides I have already dealt with the issue of the dress.”
With that, he turned and opened the splintering door to the timeworn armoire that stood forlornly in the corner. He stepped to the side with a flourish to reveal a stunning gown that embodied the spirit of the necklace, hanging there expectantly. It was a soft-gold color as well, slim-fitting with a delicate cuirasse-bodice down to the thigh. The front and back of the dress dipped dangerously low in a provocative cut, with a sophisticated pattern of shimmering golden leaves offering the only modesty. The back of the dress was finished in an intricate train that flared wide and was complete with a fanciful network of glistening, inset stones. The entire gown was trimmed in vivid colors, which perfectly complimented the gems that were set in the necklace she had just received. It was truly a masterwork and the sizing and shape seemed like a perfect fit for her body.
“I had the seamstresses that make your stage costumes send the measurements to Paris—oof,” he was cut off as Sibyl leapt into his arms, covering his face and neck with a fury of her passionate kisses. Her hands travelled experimentally across his chest and arms, before venturing lower towards his waist and stomach. Dorian grunted and backed into the wall behind him, returning her kisses with a fiery and desperate need. His hands found the curve of her waist and hips. Then he turned and spun her around, lightly forcing her backside against the wall. His fingers pressed lower, moving between Sibyl’s slender thighs as his kisses descended between the swell of her supple breasts.
Suddenly, a knock at the door directly behind them rapped out a heavy beat. The door opened partially, and then immediately closed as the muffled voice of the theatre owner grunted out in a halting manner. “None o’ that now, I lock up in a quarter hour. ‘Tisn’t proper—beggin’ yo’ pardon m’Lord. I’m not one ta interfere, but the other women in da troupe won’t allow that sort a’thing—seein’ as it’s a shared dressin’ room an’ all. An’ the girl’s mother wo’ be furious wi’ me.”
With a frustrated look, the couple untangled from each other’s arms and tried unsuccessfully to smooth out their disheveled clothing. “One moment,” Dorian called out in a commanding manner. He leaned into Sibyl’s ear and spoke softly. “Change quickly and we’ll be off. I’ll distract him.” With that, he exited the room and quickly closed the door behind him. Sibyl could hear his muffled voice as he attempted to stall the flustered owner with talk of remodeling the stage.
Sibyl hastily donned the golden dress and draped the glamorous necklace across her bustline reverently. She paused briefly to admire the way the jewelry curved with the swell of her bosom before fastening the golden clasps with the precision and speed of an actress long experienced in completing a complicated wardrobe change.
; With a few minor touchups to her painted eyelids and long lashes, she finished the styling of her hair. It had, thankfully, been put up and pinned in a regal manner for her performance on stage only an hour earlier. With a discerning eye, she added a subtle kiss of paste and powder to complete the look. In a truly life-saving move one of the seamstresses had ostensibly sent her shoe size as well—for at the bottom of the armoire was a pair of delicate golden heels, embellished with gemstones and silk. Her stockings were serviceable, with the dress hopefully hiding the somewhat tarnished look of them. Pausing for one final glance at the mirror, she exited the room confidently.
Dorian was astonished and struggled to express his admiration as Sibyl emerged from her dressing room and into the hallway. “Good lord, you look exquisite—quite err, amazingly-dazzling.” He was stunned by the beauty of this gorgeous creature. The owner could only stare in a state of awe, as Sibyl smoothly took Dorian’s arm. He escorted her down the stairs, across the foyer and to the street where the carriage stood waiting to convey them to the gala.
Chapter 7.
The Duke’s Gala
The two were whisked away towards the wealthier side of town by a pair of swift, pure-black Friesian horses. They rode in a richly appointed four-wheel carriage with an enclosed cargo area and glass windows. While the carriage was in motion, Sibyl’s reserve was once more tested as Dorian closed the curtains and began changing into a silk tuxedo with a tail coat. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look away, as he teasingly removed his shirt and trousers and slowly put on the more elegant, white-silk shirt and midnight-black trousers. The two locked eyes briefly and an animal-like energy filled the space between them—ending only as Dorian completed his dress with a light, golden-silk vest and bow tie.
The Wolf of Dorian Gray - A Werewolf Spawned by the Evil of Man Page 4