The Ornaments of Love

Chapter Twenty-Three

He could not face anyone. Dídac remained in his room the entire day without the courage to let anyone see his shame, the mark of the criminal on his face.

He had excused himself upon arriving home, citing fatigue, asking that his supper be brought to his room. It was a nightmare, this tension in his frame. He lay in his bed for hours, his body writhing uncomfortably. The pressure in his neck was terrible.

When he could stand it no longer, he threw back the sheets and pulled the dressing gown up to find his organ, which had managed to soften and re-erect itself endlessly during the long eternity he had lain there. He had been warned enough against such actions, but juvenile explorations had rendered such cautions pointless long before they had been delivered. It was only after he had relieved himself of the stress in his neck that he could sleep.

But when he awoke in the morning, he felt ill from what he had done at Castell de Amontoní. It was a bitter taste, which wouldn't leave his mouth. And regardless of how many times he was forced to relieve the miserable stress, there was a wicked sensation in it that brought release without satisfaction.

He hated himself. It was inescapable, this feeling. He believed he had betrayed not only Veronica, but the Marquesa as well. He felt it was undeniably his own fault, all of it, and his recriminations came back to him in a chorus as he spent the entire day cloistered up in his apartment. It was no small blessing that no one bothered to disturb his privacy.

It was a simple resolution he had come to by the end of the day, when the fear and shame had poisoned his body with adrenaline. He would do as she had bid him, he would return to the castle tomorrow and beg the woman's forgiveness for his actions. She must allow him to do that much. He did not know what he would do if she ruined his life now.

As he slept, the pain returned to him again and again. This pain was consuming, and the physical torture was outdone only by the guilt. Resolution spread over his eyes as they closed for the final time that night; he would beg the woman not to cast him out of her niece's life.

She must not destroy him now, not when he had everything to lose.

***

Veronica was not in, that much seemed clear. Marcelina did not rise to greet him as Dídac was led to her sitting parlor on the third floor. She merely looked up to see that, indeed, he had come. She waited only for her footman to shut the door quietly behind the boy.

Dídac was the first to speak, though to observe his speech as anything but a mumbled stumbling would give him too much credit. He began his sentence three times before anything intelligible could escape his lips, and even then, it was an incoherent mess.

She held up her hand to silence him.

"Come, sit by me, dear. It's all right."

It was some sort of salvation, this invitation. It meant for him to be allowed to die while sitting down, his balance being one less burden in the final moments.

He sat beside her awkwardly, unsure if he might even sit back in the chair opposite her. His body remained as rigid as possible.

"Can you tell me why you're here?" she asked easily. There was no hint of malice in her tone, merely that of an honest curiosity.

"My lady, forgive me. I came today that I might have the chance to atone for my behavior with you. I was... It was inappropriate for me to have taken advantage as I did... I behaved unforgivably..."

He was at a loss, there was nothing he could do to focus his words. The pain of this moment was worse than he had foreseen it.

"That's enough," she stopped him. "It isn't necessary, my dear."