Young Writers Society

A/N: Heya, readers (wherever art ye)! *did I get the Middle English forms right? he he* Well, here I am again, in less than two weeks (as I promised), with the fourth chapter of my biggest project ever! I won't comment on anything else, I'll just let you all read it. But (!) I have a tiny favour to ask of you. If you could be so kind so as to let me know whether you think things go too fast between Rose and William. Please do tell me, I need your opinion on this.

That's all. Now you may read this in peace.

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As I previously promised to Alfred Wright, I met him at the theatre. After showing him my unfinished pieces and sharing my ideas with him, he agreed to hire me to work for The Royal Opera House and Theatre. I had been thinking it over and reached the conclusion that nothing bad could come out from such collaboration. We shook hands and he congratulated me for my new post.

As soon as I left the theatre, I hurried to the other place where I was expected. I had no idea in which direction my relationship with Rose would develop, but I told myself that no matter what she would tell me, I would not feel regret anything at all. I was so pleased by the fact that finally my ideas would be arranged into a play that I could not care less of anything else that night.

I knocked at the door and apologized for arriving so late. Her attitude was similar to the one she showed the first time I had stepped inside of her house. I could not help but wonder if she had been pretending all of this time. It seemed to me that she was indeed interested in nothing more than the material advantages of every relationship that she had. And it saddened me; although I had been certain that any of my feelings concerning her had been gone in that very instant when she had established a wall between us, by putting on that mask of pretending that she had been wearing every time she would act as a seducer.

Once again I was inside the huge manor. The luxury that was inside did nothing but remind me of the differences between us and of the fact that even though she would share my feelings someday, I would never be able to buy her an extravagant palace in the centre of the town, just like the one she was living in. This was not a modest woman before my eyes. She was not one of the women who could live in misery just for the sake of love and honesty, or any other moral values. I knew, although it caused me regret, that she would never choose me over the wealthy dukes and counts that could buy her happiness… No, not happiness, but the illusion of it.

She led me upstairs to a chamber that I assumed it was her boudoir. No words had been spoken until we were alone in her chamber. "So what shall we start with?" she asked me then, avoiding to look in my direction.

I could not ignore the dress she was wearing. She had been always careful with the garments she chose to wear. This one featured a generous neckline, showing more of her pale, blemish-free skin than usually. Poor thing! It was plain to see that she must've spent a good amount of time in front of the mirror. Taking time to dress in such an elegant and seductive gown while I had no intention to take it off of her! Yet her vanity was indisputable.

I watched her sitting on the edge of the bed. Before I even had time to notice it, she untied the strings at the back of her corset, leaving me speechless, and perhaps even more disgusted than before. However, I promised to myself that I would not be the one to judge her by her behaviour. I forced myself to ignore the fact that she was a courtesan. I would not treat her like a cheap woman that moment, nor the moments that would follow.

I stepped forward in her direction. I had to stop her before doing something so deplorable, such as throwing herself in my arms for money. Slowly, I removed her hands from her back, and then tied her corset the way it was before. At first, she trembled under my touch, probably anticipating what was not going to happen. When she realised what I had just done, however, she startled.

"I am afraid that I do not understand," she uttered, being quite confused and irritated. I withdrew my hands, which had remained on her shoulders after I had fastened her dress, gradually increasing the distance between the two of us.

"Forgive me, I should have previously made my intentions clear. I do not need your," I paused, then carried on, "dare I say, personal services."

At the hearing of these, she turned to face me, probably bothered by my refusal. Contrary to what I had been expecting, however, my reaction seemed to have had some other sort of impact on her. She looked ashamed in my eyes. The position she stood in was not comfortable. Perhaps she assumed that I was trying to make a fool of her, while I was merely trying to prevent her from doing something foolish. Still, she preserved that dignity that had always showed in her attitude. "Is this an effort you are making in order to make me feel ridiculed? For if it is, you have succeeded in determining me to detest you." I shook my head, assuring her that it was none of my intentions to make her feel offended. "I honestly do not understand your behaviour. I thought that was the reason you –"

"You thought wrong," I interrupted her. "Does it surprise you?"

"Somehow. I am not used to being refused. Usually men are eager to disrobe me of everything I wear; still I have barely taken anything off of me. What is it that you want from me, if not this?" she asked while standing up. Apparently, she did not refrain from showing her evident indignation.

"Not every man that wishes to make conversation with you wants to take advantage of your recklessness. But to answer your question, I would like you to stop ignoring me. And if is not too much that I ask for, I hope that someday you will return my feelings for you."

"What feelings are we talking about more precisely?"

"A simple 'infatuation' is too weak a word, but it would be too soon, too inappropriate of me to name it 'love' either. Let's just say that I would like you to accept my invitations. I would very much enjoy going to the theatre with you tomorrow afternoon, and share a cup of champagne after."

"Absolutely not," came her answer – short and precise.

"But before that, I would like to get to know you better tonight."

"I refuse. I think you should leave," she said, gesturing me towards the door. Unintentionally, I grabbed the wrist of her hand.

"I will still pay you, if that is one of your damned concerns," I emphasised, raising my voice. How pretentious of me to insist, to even think of the possibility that she would sacrifice her time on such a simple man that only wished to enjoy her presence, rather than taking advantage of her foolishness and immorality. It was my turn to become irritated, because she successively failed to see my true intent.

"It is nothing like that, but…" She stopped and let out a small sigh. I realised I was still holding her hand firmly, therefore let go of it. "Why do you insist, William? I have nothing to offer you." The tension that had been established previously seemed to have been eased the moment she adopted a submissive attitude. She was no longer regarding me with contempt.

"Because there is something about you that I can not decipher. You are like a closed book and I want to be the one to open you and read between the lines."

"You would, indeed, make a good writer," she said as she positioned herself in the armchair and then indicated me to sit down as well. I was now sitting on the opposite armchair. We were facing each other, an arm's length and a small table separating us.

"Is the grand courtesan starting to fall in love with the new writer of the theatre?" I asked, a self-satisfied smirk beginning to grow visible on my face.

"Mister Wright has not hired you. Yet."

"You are wrong. He did, a few hours ago, as a matter of fact." She looked at me, a little surprised by what I had just said.

"I see. You – the writer; I – the actress. I assume that it would make it even harder for you, should you ever try to stir my interest."

"On the contrary," I allowed myself to play with her, since the atmosphere had become loose, "it would make it easier. Imagine the things we could do when the curtain falls." Before I even noticed, we were playing the roles of the seducer and the seduced, which switched between the two of us, from time to time. I have no idea of how or when, but I had just crossed a barrier that had been previously established between us. She was no longer unapproachable as before.

"That is next to impossible. Let us not talk in hypotheticals. I never mix business with my personal life. I assure you, you will not make an exception."

"I dare to contradict you," I carried on with confidence. "Before you will even realise it, I shall seduce you right before your eyes."

"I doubt it." She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. I leaned against the table that stood between us, approaching her. She instinctively pulled away from me, sinking in the armchair.

"I am sure of it. Should you doubt it, I will prove you."

I watched her smiling daringly. "Truly? How?" she asked, propping her arms on the table and closing the gap between us. With that, she had just thrown out a challenge to me. My mind came up with a scheme of seduction.

"A simple kiss of the lips and you shall be mine," I playfully added, grabbing one of her hands by the wrist. Although what I had just said was a joke, I could not prevent myself from wondering what taste were her lips made of. But then she quickly withdrew her arm, resting against the armchair again, making it impossible for me to find out what her lips tasted like.

"Let us stop this nonsense." For the following moments, we did not say anything, only stared at each other. I did not wish to break this silence, but it seemed obvious that what I had just said made her feel uncomfortable. "You'd better ask me anything you want to know before the night is over. It might be the only chance you will ever have." I was not prepared to risk, thus I decided to stop this game of acting, of being who we were not.

Re-establishing the distance between us, I added, "Tell me about your past, Rose."

"There is nothing interesting to tell, William." I startled at the hearing of my name. I realised that she had never called me by my name that way before. There was something in her voice, in the way she uttered my name, that surprised me. For the moments that followed, I just continued to glance at her insistently, mesmerised by her simple company. She had thrown away that mask she had been wearing, being just herself. "Why do you always look at me this way? It is intimidating, I must admit," she finally asked. I could have sworn that a barely visible blush was beginning to colour her cheeks.

"I apologize," I startled, as if I had just waken up from a dream, "you fascinate me." In that instance, I knew that I had a chance with her and that there was still hope left. I could bring out the best in her and make her mine, not in the possessive manner that she was probably used to, but in a way in which our characters could complement each other and melt together as pieces of puzzle.

At this, she laughed. "Don't flatter me. It is something I cannot stand. You said you wanted to know about my past, did you not? So let's just resume to that." For the following minutes I was silent while listening to the story of her life. She told me about her childhood. Apparently, she had been poor before becoming what she was. She did not have any relative. Her parents had died long time before, and she had been an only child. I must say, I was surprised and truly impressed by her story. Scarlet had been right regarding what she had said to me about her past.

All of a sudden, I could somehow understand why she had chosen to be what she was. Having heard of so many unpleasant aspects of her life made me place her in another light, made me see her from another point of view. It is hard to describe how I felt then, but in that moment she was not just an immoral woman anymore, she was human, she had a heart that still beat and this simple fact made me fall in love with her, one step at a time.

We talked over various matters. It was past midnight and I still could not get enough of her stories. However, I knew when to stop. Taking the money I had in one of my pockets, I handed them to her. Unfortunately, the condition under which she accepted my company could not be ignored.

"Please, there is no need," she refused to take them from the start. "We are friends, are we not? I could never accept them." I insisted, considering that it was the duty to myself to keep my promise. In the end, she still did not give up. The moment she refused, I fell in love with her. I knew, deep down in my soul, that she would've not refused any other man, and it boosted my ego to know that I was not just any other man to her.

"Will you at least consider my previous invitation?" I asked her before I left.

"The one with theatre and champagne?" I approved with a nod. "I have to think about it." Then I bid her goodbye, kissing her hand fondly, and headed for my humble apartment.

For once, I was not disappointed. I was ready to forget about her past and respect her for what she really was behind her mask, beyond what she pretended to be.



'My dear Ralph, would you be as kind as to indulge me a night spent by my own? I shall make up for it another day. Let me miss you for some days, because this way our reunion will be more powerful.' I read the note one more time and made sure that I had written it in the most heartfelt, convincing manner. I did not wish to hear any objection to it. After that, I asked Annette to deliver the message to the count and, taking another paper, my thoughts switched from one man to another. I was almost convinced that this would not happen ever again.

There was a particular attraction that I felt for that William. Since I had been with Ralph, I hadn't been permitting my heart to beat for any other man. The count had everything I had been dreaming of. He offered me luxury, comfort, everything that I had lacked in my early adolescent years. I had been craving money so intensely, that I had almost forgotten how it felt to be seen as a woman by some handsome man that did not had any moustache, nor a beard, nor any grizzled hair.

It almost made me want his lips on mine. But I quickly removed this thought from my mind. Nonetheless, I could not deny the feeling I had gotten every time he stared at me, as if his glare would undress me of every layer of confidence.



His blue eyes, and that wise, know-it-all glance had been imprinted on my mind and had been haunting me for some time, until I decided to write him a note in which I informed me that I accepted his invitation, and even after. In fact, this was the reason I refused Ralph's company. Lately, I had been denying him quite often. I was not proud of what I was doing. I had been lying to him. Although he had treated me awfully in the past, I could not be unthankful to him for what he had given to me.

Finally, I took my pen, dipped it in ink and wrote: 'If you still wish to share a glass of champagne with me after the play, meet me at the theatre tomorrow evening.'

I was curious to find out what turn would my relationship with William take after one more evening spent together. Perhaps that, after all, it was curiosity that stirred my interest, not attraction, as I had previously thought.



While I was dressing up, Annette knocked at my door to tell me that I had a visitor. I was surprised to discover William waiting for me in the main hall, with a large bouquet of roses of all possible colours. I accepted it with pleasure, and then went upstairs to take my overcoat, my hat, and gloves. He complimented me for the way I looked that night, but I quickly reminded him that I disliked flattery.

We did not talk too much. I could not help but wonder what could have happened if the count would've come to my place by surprise, as he always did, and found me with another man. I would've lost what I had strived for years to build.

Why could I not stop from feeling guilty, no matter what I did or said?

"I thought we were supposed to meet at the theatre," I told William on our way to The Royal Opera House and Theatre.

"And I thought I'd make you a surprise."

"You should know by now that I do not like surprises."

"I see two possible reasons for this: either you've never had any pleasant surprises lately, or you did not have time to prepare your lines."

"Or I wouldn't risk us being seen together," my mind spoke. However, I kept that to myself. He seemed so pleased that I finally accepted his invitation that I did not wish to spoil the moment. Or perhaps it was my imagination, making up scenarios. Still, no matter what, I was not prepared to risk my relationship with Ralph.

I smiled as we got off the chaise, not offering a reply to his remark.



I escorted Rose to the theatre and we took a seat in the lounge. Tonight's play was a comedy. For once, I did not see any tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She was truly enjoying our time and I liked to believe that I was the reason of her happiness. In some way, it flattered me. I somehow wished that the play had been a tragedy; that way I would have known for sure whether just being in my presence pleased her.

When the play was finished, I had a small conversation with Alfred Wright. I did not wish to let Rose wait for me. He informed me that I was expected the following week to work on the play and the acting.

After that, we both went to a high-class bar in the centre of the town and ordered a glass of champagne, as we had previously agreed upon. Compared to her previous behaviour, she was unexpectedly silent and refined. It bewildered me in a way and made me want to know more about her in another.

"Have we exhausted all of the topics of conversation already?" she spoke after a while. I did not bother to answer, since admiring the beautiful woman before my eyes in silence was enough to satisfy the fondness I felt towards her. "Can you not take your eyes off of me for an evening? It makes me feel uncomfortable. I could almost swear that you're doing it on purpose."

"Considering how much you dislike compliments, expect none from me," I uttered in a light, teasing tone.

"I was not seeking for your compliments!" she said, revealing an apparently upset expression. I could not help but laugh quietly to myself at her attempt to be serious, while it the smile that was beginning to catch shape on her lips was becoming more and more obvious. In the end, we both burst out laughing like two silly children.

"Nor my money. Your refusal last time we met surprised me," I replied when we both settled down.

"I could not," she stated. "How much of a deprived woman do you think I am? Besides, we are friends, are we not?" I smiled discreetly at the hearing of the word 'friend'. "I told you before, I do not mix friendship with business either, remember? So," she added right away, "your dream is finally coming true, right?"

"What dream?" I asked in return.

"To become famous. Isn't that what all of you artists dream of?"

"I suppose. Well," I rectified, "I do not know. It is not my goal in life, but perhaps. I have never thought of it before. I write to express myself, it is a way of living for me, not a means of earning fame."

"Oh, you talk like a genuine artist. You are such a modest person, I can not help but wonder what you must be thinking of me."

"I do not see you in any way," I tried to sound as convincing as I could. I wanted her to know from the start that I would not treat her like others had formerly done. "How about you?" I switched the conversation to the previous topic. "What are your dreams? What do you hope for?"

"Nothing," she bluntly confessed. "I have no dreams. No expectations," Rose said while looking away.

"You have none?" I tilted my head to the side, curious to find out more about the woman before my eyes.

"What good to dream if your dreams never come true? I have learned from experience never to expect too much of life," she carried on, staring at an empty space. "The moment you realise that they will never become real is the most painful, trust me."

She pondered for a while, not saying a word. I felt the need to light up the atmosphere, to make an uplifting comment. "Though, had I not been a dreamer, we wouldn't have been here and now." At this she laughed softly, turning her head away from me.

Whirling again towards me, she added, "You dreamed of me accepting your invitation? Why, you must really enjoy my presence!"

"I do," I quickly replied. Her hand being on the table, spread towards me, I took it in mine.

"You are flattering me again." For a flash of light, I thought I saw her blushing. "I have been a little too tough, have I not?"

"I suppose so. But I have been misjudging you also."

"Apologies accepted," she said with a smile. Her eyes descended upon the glass of champagne, attempting at grabbing it, instant in which I noticed that I was still holding her hand. I quickly withdrew mine, releasing hers, watching her as she finished her drink. "You know much about me, William," Rose spoke, after a while, "yet I know nothing about you. Do you have a family? Why did you come in this town?"

I explained her the reason I had moved to this town, told her about the family I had left behind, we took the time to get to know each other. And somehow, somewhere between her our questions and answers, I noticed that I had madly fallen in love with her.

The image of her in my mind was completely different from this of a courtesan that I had before. She was charming, seductive and, at the same time, surprisingly amiable. There was a certain refinement in her, a way of being that I suppose every man looks for in a woman. It was her mysterious charm and apparent innocence that intrigued me. She was a puzzle that I could not solve, almost like a challenge, but there was also something more than that.

I studied every move of hers, everything that she said to me. I wished to know everything about her. The truth was that I could not get enough of her.