Salvation(Dorian Gray)

Where Dorian meets the young Baroness at Selby Royal

The other week Dorian was invited at Selby Royal by the Duchess of Monmouth and her husband; both of them were vaguely boring for him, but wanting to change his thoughts and interest his mind with something else, plain curiosity and gossiping which wasn’t quite his subject, Dorian decided to erase what couldn’t be removed; another sin between those many he had made.

“I haven’t seen your cottage in Sussex in awhile, Harry. I miss those nights spent in playing bridge and talking endless tales about humanity” the Duke of Monmouth exclaimed before taking another sip of his already finished brandy. No matter how much Dorian tried to communicate and stay present with the events and the plain talks the people surrounding him spoke, he yet couldn’t cope with all of that; he couldn’t become one of those unscrupulous gossipers although he were even worse than all of them; they gossiped, he executed.

“I don’t really fancy going there, Louis. You see…” Lord Wotton took a plain breath, seeing how everyone prepared for his usual burst in wisdom. “You see people often say that the clear oxygen there gives you strength to continue with your life, but to be honest, I cannot find anything in particular there, except empty fields and peasants” he added, shortly putting his triumphant expression over his face and smiled while he watched the rest pleasantly laugh at his joke. Some of them pretended, some of them really laughed, some, like Dorian, listened everything trough blur and pure ignorance. He bit his lip; another sigh escaped his body and joined the many inside of the suffocating room. Everybody was smoking, but that night he couldn’t bear to feel the sore taste of the murderous poison between his pink lips. He was thirsty; didn’t want the alcohol to drain his throat, he was thirsty for opium, his body lunged to feel those embracing wishes for a pure intoxication- the easiest way to forgetting, the only place where he felt relaxed and didn’t care if someone crashed his room on the attic and saw the cursed portrait. Oh, that portrait! The mere thought of that ugly face expression brought that ignoble feeling and the distorted face expression, running back to him and he felt even more suffocating. There wasn’t a way to escape, he could never escape the person he were, he could only prolong his punishment and poison himself until he completely didn’t feel the pain.

He closed his dark eyes, inhaling and exhaling; he had to find a way and endure the end of that endless banquet, he had to find strength and act his part of the play until the end, lastly he was free to go wherever he wanted, and there was the particular place which always helped him to relax more than his own cursed mansion.

“The young baroness is late” his thoughts were interrupted by the sweet voice coming from the Duchess’ direction. Dorian shared looks with her; he couldn’t understand her defiance and that significant smile which meant something. A moment later, she called after him, leaning over his ear and hiding her mouth with her fan.

“I think, this is the right time for you to think seriously about settling down, Mr. Gray” she whispered, the air shuddering between his ear and her mouth, while the tone she spoke with was completely mysterious and sent mixed signals to Dorian. Departing, the young Duchess focused her wonderful eyes bitterly at his direction and nodded her head. Dorian couldn’t do anything but smile; he didn’t understand what she wanted to tell him until the door opened and the butler entered announcing the young Baroness Claudia Whittaker. It was all a moment of sharing interest; the Duchess happily left her seat and stood up clasping her hands together and exclaiming her happiness; apparently she hadn’t seen the young Baroness for full two years and that was the reason for her mere excitement and happiness. The Duke couldn’t hide his greedy look; he waited for the said presence like a beggar waiting for food while Harry and the rest inside of the saloon including Dorian casually expected to meet the infamous young Baroness.

The saloon entered a rather tall young lady, her hand wrapped around a young man’s elbow; she wore a purple silk dress, very loosely decorated, black gloves over her hands and a very gentle, silver necklace around her pale white neck, down to her collarbone. Her tan was very pale and white, her cheeks rosy and well shaped, her nose straight with a lot of freckles over their memorable place. Her teeth were straight and pearly white while her mouth was very well lined, two cupid bows with a very soft lower lip. Her dress robes didn’t seem anything special for a Baroness really; her dress was sleeveless exposing her very thin and slightly masculine hands and shoulders; the cleavage was slightly opened but it didn’t reveal too much, she managed to look sophisticated and attractive at the same time. Her piercing blue-green eyes seemed to have magical tone; they swap colors whenever a light shone upon them or darkness embraced them. Her hair was rather long; had various shades of ginger and blonde, every hair lock different shade and it was loosely fitted into curls which covered her shoulders and reached down to her lavishly cleavage. She wore small silver earrings over her ears, made to match the silver necklace over her neck. She had a small purple feather placed inside of her hair purely to complete her whole look. The first impression Dorian gained was memorable; his mouth remained gaped while his eyes widened in disbelief and thirst. It was obvious that he liked what he saw; turning around the room he could notice that half of the men in the saloon including the Duke himself had shared his face expression, swooning over the youth’s perfection. His look was gathered away by the young man accompanying her; he were tall, his tan was very pale just like hers, he had a mustache above his upper lips, his face expression was very firm and it completely suited his arrogant but stanch posture and that soldier uniform he wore. His grip was firmly and protectively secured over the young Baroness’ hand and his look was never leaving her side. His icy blue eyes seemed to guardian every motion of hers and penetrated every unwelcomed look, just like half of those which stabbed her young face. He was attractive, very well built and advanced; Dorian couldn’t ignore the fact that she had a staunch protector and stanch dwelling to hide when she was chased by people like him.