Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Five

A face was looking back at him, only inches away on the other side of the glass. The bloodshot eyes stared wildly as if they would jump out at him, the mouth was twisted open in a snarl of rage, drool tracing a sickening path down the chin. It was the face of a madman. 

Suddenly a growl issued forth from the twisted lips, baring teeth like a dog. Jonathan thought it was sheer good luck that terror caused him to grip the ivy as if his life depended on it, when it could just as easily have caused him to leap backwards in shock, and fall to his death. Afterwards, he could never remember how he got there, but when his senses returned, he was back in his room, trembling.  

Hastily he stripped out of his clothes, threw on his nightshirt and buried himself under the covers. No sooner had he done so, when the handle to his bedroom door turned slowly and someone peered inside. He kept his eyes shut and tried to steady his breathing. He heard a low whisper."No, it's alright. He's there. Sound asleep." The door closed again, softly. 

He lay still for a long time, wide awake, heart still thumping, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Who was that man? Not one of the servants, he was certain he had never seen him before. There was a madman. Locked in the attic. It all sounded too fanciful to be true, but it was. 

Jonathan tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep, wondering how he was going to face everyone in the morning, pretend nothing had happened. 

Just before dawn, he heard the sound of a horse and carriage pulling up outside the front entrance. Lord D'Anvers had returned early. 

All of a sudden, the door was flung open and D'Anvers stood there, still in his riding gear. 

"So, you were curious, were you?" he asked, striding across the room. He reached down and hauled Jonathan out of bed by the wrist. Jonathan stood before him in his nightgown, all thoughts of deceit swept out of his head.  

"I'm s-sorry, my Lord," he stuttered. "I didn't mean any harm!" 

Lord D'Anvers was still holding his wrist in a tight grip. "What did you see?" 

"Nothing! Nothing, sir!" 

"You saw him didn't you? I promised to look after him," D'Anvers continued in short, abrupt sentences, as if Jonathan hadn't spoken. "When we knew he was sick, before the madness started. He's dying, the doctor says it won't be long now." 

"I'm sorry," Jonathan repeated, helplessly. He tried unobtrusively to free his wrist.  

D'Anvers appeared to come back from wherever his thoughts had taken him. He glared at Jonathan, as if it was all his fault. 

"He's barely twenty! Look at you! So young, so fit. It isn't fair!" A strange look came over his face as he stared at Jonathan in his nightshirt, the rumpled bed just behind him. 

Before Jonathan knew what was happening, he grabbed him by the chin. "Maybe you can take his place," he murmured roughly, before crushing his mouth down on Jonathan's bewildered lips.  

Totally shocked, Jonathan froze, allowing D'Anvers to thrust his tongue inside his mouth. Horrified, he wrenched his mouth away, pushing the other man hard in the chest. 

"What are you doing?" 

For a long moment, D'Anvers stared at him, his breath coming in hard gasps. He still had a death grip on his wrist. Jonathan stared back, watching the thoughts flicker across his face. He tried not to show how terrified he was, D'Anvers was a strong man, if he pushed him down onto the bed, he didn't know if he could fight him off. 

"Father?" a small voice came from behind them. 

"Thank God!" cried Jonathan to himself. D'Anvers dropped his wrist as if it burned him, and swung round to face Evelyn. 

"Go back to bed, everything's fine," he said in a nearly normal voice. To Jonathan's infinite relief, he followed his son out of the room without looking back, and shut the door behind him. 

In a flash Jonathan was at the door, turning the key in the lock. He couldn't quite believe what had just happened. D'Anvers had kissed him, another man! 

He had to leave. There was no way he could stay here a minute longer. Hastily he dressed and packed as many of his possessions as he could into a bag, small enough to sling round his neck as he climbed down the ivy. Everything else would have to stay behind. Maybe he'd send for it later, maybe he wouldn't. 

By the time the sun peered over the horizon, Jonathan was several miles away.