{NOVEL PREVIOUSLY NAMED: "PALE EYES"}
𑁍Julius Cadwell is a pauper from an impoverished village, Porlock of Somerset in England. Julius journeys to Wellington to work as a footman for the Duke of Wellington, Somerset.
♕︎Reuben Griffith is the only s...
❝And of all men, we are most wretched who must live each other's lives and not our own.❞
•Oscar Wilde.
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A plight was brought forth to you so I'll keep your feet in Eros's shackles where you will dwell for eternity.....
Drawing Room ꨄ︎
Julius followed the rigid uniformed man into the manor. He offered greetings to the men in front of the tall wooden doors, and as usual, they ignore him.
It is foolish for one to feel foreign at a place they hadn't even left, but that was how Julius felt as he walked into the manor. Julius caught a glimpse of the Griffith family portrait. It was as if the portrait came to life. The family stared down at him as he walked through the halls. Julius felt numb, he could not bring himself to think of anything because if he did, his being might crumble. He did not want to think about the what and why's the Duchess had assembled him in such an urgent atmosphere.
Before he walked into the drawing-room he saw the controversial painting of “The Raft of Medusa.” At this moment, Julius has never related to anything more than he did with the painting, the emotions it mimicked. Fear, pain, hope and madness.
Duchess Augusta was by herself. She was seated on a settee with her side to him. Her greying hair gleamed despite the murky sky. Her lilac perfume filled the air with its rich aroma.
"Your Grace, I have him with me as you ordered," The uniformed man bowed in reverence.
"You may leave," she looked to Julius as she spoke. He wanted to recoil at her intense stare and swore in his mind as his wet hair dripped onto the opulent carpet.
With another bow, the man left Julius alone with the Duchess.
"Your Grace," Julius offered a brief obeisance, throat tightening and heart pulsing. If he was assembled because she knew of him and Reuben then a rainy day was truly appropriate for the occasion. The grey-haired woman looked his way, scrutinizing him as if to make sense of what she was seeing.
"Have a seat," she gestured to the empty club chair before her, still scrutinizing every move he made. She was not frowning but a smile was nowhere to be seen as well.
Julius' legs felt heavy, it was almost as if they were locked in place with shackles and wouldn't barge. In a way, it seemed his feet were warning him not to take another step forward. A thought comes to him. How fast could he run out of Wellington without being caught by the guards? He would never know.
"Thank you, your grace," Julius mumbled as he took his seat.
"Mr Cadwell, is it?"
"Yes, my Grace."
She stared at his arms. "What work have you done in the past?"
