Darius

Chapter Eight

     When the lightning exposed itself, Darius and Isabelle decided to run into Isabelle's cabin. She had somehow managed to remain mostly dry, just her boots and the hem of her dress were soaked through. She pulled her shoes off and sat near the fire her younger sisters were huddled around.

     "Make yourself comfortable..." she paused, "I'm sorry, I never asked you your name," she laughed.

"Darius," the gentleman said nonchalantly.

Isabelle stood up quickly, her whole demeanor changing. "Your Lordship, I-"

"Never mind that. Please sit back down, Isabelle," Darius said. Isabelle blushed, but did as she was told.

"Is that someone mighty important?" One of her sisters asked.

"That's the one that takes all the moneys, remember" another one whispered not quietly enough. Isabelle hushed them and stood back up.

"I'm sorry, my lord," she started, "Lila, Cherie, Eliza off to bed you three. It's getting late."

Isabelle pushes them into one of the only other two rooms of the cottage. Darius took this moment to look around.

The building was short, dark, and dingy but had a comforting and homey feel to it. Instead of being claustrophobic, Darius felt welcomed and warm. The fireplace was the main feature of the main room. Two chairs were set up facing it as was an old recliner. The kitchen was small and compact, with just enough to live in it.

"Sorry again, sir," Isabelle looked ashamed. But I'm gaining back her composure, she head over to the kitchen where a tea kettle set upside down over a bucket of clear water.

"Could I offer you some tea?" Isabelle asked firmly.

"No thank you," Darius declined not to be rude but because he felt pretty sure that in that bucket was the family's only ration of clear water for the month.

     "Okay," Isabelle said putting down the kettle.

     Darius avoided eye contact; he felt ashamed. In doing so, he noticed a small book peeking out of a wooden case by the door. He walked over to it and picked it up. It was his favorite book. Faust.

     "Is this yours?" he held the book up to Isabelle.

     "Oh yes," she hurried over and took it from him, "it's my favorite."

     "Mine to. Would you read it to me?" He sat on the ground in front of the fireplace, "while I dry off."

     Isabelle smiled, and sat down next to him. She cracked open the book and began.

     Darius knew the book so well, he didn't need to listen to her as she read. But he did anyway. And as he gazed at her, he noticed the way she crinkled her nose when read of how unsatisfied Faust is with his life. And she sighed whenever Mephistopheles played another trick on Faust. Finally she cried as Faust committed himself to a terrible, horrible, immoral life.

     Darius couldn't help but wonder if he was following the right path in falling for this lowly girl or if he should be satisfied with Charlotte. Oh, Charlotte, he hadn't even thought of the soul since he met Isabelle. And maybe that was a sign from the heavens. Maybe Darius knew who he should marry. Maybe sitting here, in the dim fireplace listening to his favorite book be uttered by the sweet voice of an angel was enough for him. Or maybe he'd elevate this woman into his society, make her one of his own. Yes that's what he would do. He was determined to bring Isabelle into the society of all that he knew. But would she like it there? There was only one way to find out.

     "Isabelle, would you come back to my house with me? There are some people I would like you to meet."

     She smiled, nodded, and they left- trudging through the mud again.