A Night at the Opera {Private 18+} {Squeeze and Blue}

[b.lueeyes]

The lord took a deep breath and cleared his throat, slowly coming back to his own. Slowly. He swallowed thickly and reached out to take the sachet, the soft leather sliding against his tired, the joints red from overuse, long fingers curling around the supple fabric. He took it carefully, pulling it towards him with a curiosity in his eyes but an almost wary look as well. This man...had offered him money, had offered him to live for just about...nothing.

 

He opened the sachet, gazing down with tired eyes as he delicately touched the contents within, pulling the sheets out halfway. There was an instant recognition in his eyes, from the fact that his teachers in Russia had used nothing but this. Ashford breathed out deeply and brought his nose down to smell the parchment, before pulling back slightly, looking up at the man with sceptical, doe eyes. "You brought me vellum? Truly?" Of all the gifts, it was actually...thoughtful. Useful, and obviously of the highest quality. Ashford straightened, holding the sachet with an almost air of hesitance. It was a gift to him, but what was his reasonings? He had not even accepte-

 

Oh.

[SqueezeBabe]

He continued smiling banally at the lordling, waiting for the penny to drop and the realisation to flicker in his eyes. It seemed slow in coming and he suppressed the irritation that was rising. Was the Lord Ashford really that... dense? He understood what it was like to be socially awkward, and his own ease was only the result of many years of practice; However, it seemed that the lordling was truly inept... If he wasn't able to exert some sort of influence on society he'd have let the Duchess have him... but he couldn't afford for that woman to gain any extra standing in society as a result of Ashfords music.

 

He cleared his throat softly, "I trust you enjoy your gift, and rest assured, it is entire that, a gift... but if I may be so rude as to broach the subject of my offer?"

[b.lueeyes]

"Your offer?" Ashford asked, standing up straighter, before his eyes flickered towards the envelope that was resting on the floor near the grand's back leg, where he had left it in favour of his work. The musician thought quickly, his eyes once again finding the glittering green of the man before him, the sounds riling up in his mind again. "Of course, your offer that's...why you're here..." he murmured, moving to sit down, setting the sachet by his stool, his ink stained hands coming together before him, a lock of hair flopping over his eyes.

 

The lord wanted very much to accept his offer; but he was still so...of course, he needed the money and the social support it would give him, but Ashford had this feeling, that it just wasn't for the music. At least the Duchess had come to him because she liked his music, she thought his music was grand and both ethical and unethical at the same time (which it was) and she was always urging him to write, but really...the feeling from here was never really there either. And this man... Ashford didn't need to look up at him again to have the green fill his mind, notes chiming away in his head like clockwork.

 

Dare he say the word? He didn't have a muse, any attempts at taking one, finding one had failed, but the colours, the way he spoke, the whole demeanour of him...had caused this influx of ideas. So what did that mean? Did it mean that this was the right decision, did it mean that Ashford wanted to know more? Did it mean he-

 

"-I accept." he heard his voice murmur quietly, before he even realised he was speaking. Ashford sat up, turning to look at the man once more, his mouth dropping open very slightly, looking almost as if his own mouth had betrayed him. "B-But yes...I accept."

[SqueezeBabe]

He smiled, his teeth showing. "Ah well, that is most excellent news. Whenever you're are ready, you're more than welcome to send Edward to my estate and we will draw up a suitable contract of sorts... You of course will receive a generous monthly stipend, and you are also more than welcome to relocate to my estate if it pleases you. I think you'll find that I have a piano that will be more than adequate for your needs... And please do not worry, I will let the duchess know that I have become your new benefactor..." He bowed slightly to the lordling, "Now if you'd excuse me, I have intruded upon your time far too much as it is. Do not worry, I'll see myself out..." he tilted his head again and made his way from the room.

 

He kept the smile from his face, opting for the passive neutrality that was his default look. He would delight in telling the Duchess that she no longer was the patron of the Lord Ashford... He didn't allow himself to smile until he was in his carriage and on his way home..

[b.lueeyes]

The lord stared at the doorway for a moment, his mouth hanging open just slightly at the words. The admission, what he had said about contracts, and relocating and...it seemed like far too much for just a simple word 'yes' to bring. He shook himself from his reverie as he heard the soft footfalls on the stairs and he flew from the room, abandoning his studio for the first time in two days, and practically flying down the stairs after the man, who was already just out the door.

 

"Viscount!" he called after him as he reached the bottom of the stairs, but by the time he was at the door, the man was already situated in his carriage. Ashford took hold of the door frame as he took in the sight of the indulgent, triumphant and almost...decedant smile upon his face, those already otherworldly eyes bright and glittering with something that the lord couldn't place. He watched then as the carriage pulled away, his eyes caught, unable to look away until it was out of sight. The lord turned his eyes down and fell into a crouch, placing his head in his hands by the doorway, breathing out deeply.

 

"My lord!" Edward said, and Ashford felt a hand on his shoulder. He brushed it off, standing, and pushed past the man as he approached the stairs slowly.

 

"I accepted, Edward." he murmured quietly, almost distantly. "You will need to go...and sort out the contract, and I myself have work to do. Go tomorrow; I will accompany you...I did not see the work I was promised at the theatre, and I want to know..." he cut himself off, hurrying back up the stairs. "And bring me tea!"

 

Slamming the doors to his studio, he leant back against them, his eyes finding the sachet innocently lying by his stool, and he covered his mouth with an ink stained fist. What was he doing? What was he getting himself into?

[SqueezeBabe]

He leaned back into the plush seats of the carriage, contemplating his next move against the Duchess. The woman would be livid, but there would be naught that she could do about it. She currently lacked the financial backing to out-bid him on this occasion. She would either have to accept defeat gracefully or reveal to the aristocracy that her family no longer had any money. She was probably banking on the Lord Ashford to produce a musical work of art and cash in on the resulting popularity; not a bad investment really...

 

The smile was still on his face as he walked up the stairs and into his house. He'd go to the library and celebrate with a very old bottle of wine and a good book. He signalled to his manservant and gave him instructions to make the necessary arrangements to accommodate his latest acquisition.

[b.lueeyes]

Ashford did not end up getting his tea.

 

The rest of the day had been a fill of music and parchment; he didn't end up using the vellum, because it was of such a quality he would only use it for his finished products. And this...was far from a finished product. It was missing so much yet. Edward was beginning to worry that something had happened to his lord, as Ashford stayed mostly confined to his studio for the most part of the evening, until finally towards midnight he left his room and collapsed on his bed, intent to sleep away the rest of the night with relative ease. And so, it put Edward at ease to know he was indeed sleeping.

 

Upon waking in the mid hours of the morning, the dark haired man was greeted with a rather large and hearty breakfast, and tea, along with the news for the day. Ashford bathed and dressed in some of his better clothes, requesting them himself, and in the end, pulled Edward aside. "We are...heading to the Viscount's this afternoon, are we not?" The lord raised an eyebrow to the manservant. Edward nodded.

 

"Yes sir, I shall prepare a carriage for you."

[SqueezeBabe]

He decided that he'd take breakfast in the garden. Several roses and begun to bloom and the still morning air was sweet with their perfume. He sipped delicately at his cup of tea, a faint smile playing around his lips as he remembered the Lord Ashford running out of tea. Such a thing would never happen in his household, his servants always taking care to make sure there were adequate supplies of everything. There was even a cellar under the house (unbeknownst to most) that was full of supplies in case they were ever under... attack. He shuddered; revolutions could be such messy things.

 

The lording would hopefully make an appearance today. He'd already sent a letter off to the Duchess the day before, informing her that the Lord Ashford was no longer under her patronage. He was expecting a quick response from her, but there would be naught she could do about the situation. He knew, that she knew, that the Lord Ashford hadn't been able to produce any music whilst financed by her. He could almost argue that he was doing her a favour by buying a bad investment from her and thus allowing her to save face... until the lordling released his latest masterpiece, and it would be under HIS patronage...

 

He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes against the faint breeze that ruffled his hair. The next few months would be interesting to say the least.

[b.lueeyes]

The early day did not yield much to the townhouse staff, other than being watched over meticulously by the young lord as they cleaned what he would let them of his studio, leaving whatever they were told to and making sure they didn't anger him. Ashford himself sat on the piano stool, or paced through the room to view their work, otherwise he was moving things around on the wall, making sure they were placed correctly for his viewing from the piano particularly.

 

Edward was overjoyed when his master finally ate something, the composer chomping on pieces of buttered scones and pushing through numerous fruits before settling on tea. By the time noon came around, Edward was readying his master for their journey to the Viscounts estate, yet...his master seemed distant. While he had been distant for the past week, it was...distant in a way that he was not usually when in his company. Perhaps it had to do with the happenings of the past week as it were. Ashford's newfound music was unexpected and unusual; the man rarely concentrated so much on languid sounding music, particularly something sounding almost...patient and easy.

 

Ashford Saint-Clare was not a patient man, nor easy, nor languid. He was quick tempered, sharp, confusing. Edward did not know what to think.

 

The carriage bounced in an easy rhythm towards the outer-citylands, Ashford alone in his transport. His coat a warm grey, yet his undercoat a darker burgandy with gold trimming lining the edges. For once, he had picked his own clothes instead of being hurriedly shoved into them by Edward, and he chose them...Ashford truly did not know why he chose them, he simply did. He ran a hand absently through his dark hair. Secretly, he wanted to make sure he looked presentable in front of the other man, particularly after the last time they had met- it had not been very modest on his terms.

 

And...while he did not quite know what awaited him at the Viscounts estate, he was feeling a small rise of giddiness in his chest at the prospect.

[SqueezeBabe]

He's just finished getting the servants to make the final preparations for where the lordling would be residing within his estates. Though it had not yet been formally agreed to, he didn't doubt that the Lord Ashford would move. The room was large but simply furnished, but each piece of furniture though simple looking was exquisite in it's own right, all expert examples of their particular craftmanship. The Viscount firmly believed that to have something made, you had it made well, after all, he needed his possessions to last for as long as he would. Opposite to where the bedroom was, he had that particular room converted to where the lordling would do his work. An original grand piano was moved in there, and the floor to ceiling bay windows that allowed the sunlight to flood the room, overlooked the tranquility of his gardens. He gave a small smile of satisfaction, as far as he was concerned, the quarters were perfect for one such as the lordling and his retainer.

 

"We shall receive our guests out in the gardens" he instructed his manservant quietly as he left the room. The day was warming up as they were heading into summer, so he decided that he'd slip into something a little more comfortable for the outdoors. A simple linen shirt that opened at the front, a loose fitting linen pants and soft leather shoes, almost like slippers. The linen was cool against his skin and much more comfortable than the frippery he was often forced to wear. He tied his hair back into a low ponytail with a black ribbon and made his way out into the garden, taking a seat under the pergola where he his guests would be guided to.

[b.lueeyes]

The ride went by quicker than expected; one moment the young lord had been staring out the window at the city folk as the carriage flitted through the streets, and the next the door was being opened for him, revealing the great entrance to the viscount's estate. Taking a deep breath, he gathered the satchel bag he had brought with him, tucking it under one arm as he descended the stairs, breathing in the scent of air that wasn't filled with the scent of smoke and river-decay.

 

"The viscount awaits your arrival in the gardens, Lord Saint-Clare," one of the servants informed him quietly as he was led through the halls, knowing that Edward would not be far behind him after he had seen to the horses. Ashford gave a small nod, thinking on how it was rather hot here in the country. Yet, he had dressed himself and as such he would...have to deal with the consequences. If it did however become to hot, then of course he would remove his jacket.

 

Striding through the hallways, the musician kept his head high, but could not help but be distracted by the extravegant but strangely intriguing decor. Everything seemed to be of the highest of qualities, nothing out of place and nothing at all anything other than opulent. Ashford thought back to the viscount's invitation. Was the man truly expecting him to agree to stay in such a place? Even without the extravagance of the rooms, was he truly utterly expecting his total compliance?

 

The sight of the gardens was both a welcome one and one that almost made him stop short. The beautiful, flower lined patio was richly coloured and abundant. He could see that it was very well maintained, yet...it seemed to have an almost wild quality to it; yes it was cared for quite well but it was allowed to take it's own course. Ashford stepped out onto the patio, his eyes spinning over the Italian landscape beyond; the man's grounds were truly something. He swallowed once as he caught sight of the man, and moved a little closer before bowing just slightly, moving to greet the man. "Viscount Lucius, I do hope I have not kept you waiting long."

 

(I'm a horrible person

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. But shit went down and stuff had to be handled but I am BACK)

[SqueezeBabe]

He was momentarily lost in thought as the lordling approached, and he stood to greet Ashford, tilting his head in a small bow. "Not at all Lord Ashford," he answered, "my garden is one of the few places where I could quite happily wait til the end of time and not be bothered by its passage." He gave the lordling a genuine smile; he was truly proud of his gardens, the wild yet tranquil look had been perfected over the decades, this particular garden being his second favourite. His rose garden was of course his true pride and joy... there would be time enough to show the lordling its beauty.

 

He invited Ashford to sit with him, his servant bringing over a jug of iced tea. Ice in itself was an exteavagance, the estates having cellars deep enough and cold enough to allow the freezing of water. Ice of course was easy enough in winter when it was not needed, but over the years the estate and cultivated a system where ice was available during the warmer months too. Condensation beaded on the side of the glass before the lone drop trickled down the side.

 

"Shall we begin discussing the terms of my patronage? It really is quite simple; anything and everything you wish for, a generous monthly allowance for "incidentals" and that if it pleases you, that you stay... here, though that in itself is not a requirement. The only thing I wish from you is that you write music." The man wouldn't even have to do that, it was just a pleasant bonus that he did. "Any questions?" He asked with a smile, not quite able to keep the predatory look from his gaze, his green eyes glittering intensely.

[b.lueeyes]

He swallowed once, if a little thickly, and moved to sit in the seat that had been pulled out for him by one of the servants. Attempting not to seem as if he was hurried, Ashford moved to sit; bright eyes sliding over the crystal glass as it was set in front of him. This was indeed a stunning garden; an incredible estate to be sure. This man was not only extravagantly rich but overly-so it seemed. Was that why he was able to simply push his patronage onto others? Was it as a way to keep public opinion? Or was he simply thinking far too much...?

 

Clearing his throat, a beat of sweat sliding down the back of his neck from the heat; he had not expected it to be so humid in the outer city, the composer took a single sip of iced tea, letting the coolness soothe him. As the lord spoke, he sat back in his seat a little, his hand resting on the glass, one finger tapping occasionally, a slow but noticeable rhythm. He could never quite keep his hands still. "Viscount...are you saying that you open you home to me? We have barely made acquaintance and I am not the most..." he turned his eyes away for a moment, "...serene guest, shall we say?" It was posed more as a question, unintentional on Ashford's part, yet how was he meant to explain such a thing if not delicately?

 

The young lord knew full well that he could not simply say no to the man, not with his standing in society, and most certainly not with the Duchess on his back. He did not wish to continue in her patronage; she was a vile woman...but the alternative... Ashford felt like a young buck being led away by an older stag into the wild; not knowing what kind of predator would be around the corner... or was it a wolf that was leading him away? He truly didn't know, but he just needed...some sort of clarification. "I fear I would be a burden upon you; it is quite possible, very much so given the most recent circumstances of my composing. It has not been a pleasant few months. I do not wish to give you false hopes; music does not always come so easily."

 

Was Ashford trying to convince the Viscount to back out of the deal, or was he convincing himself that he couldn't live up to his expectations. That, the young man did not know either. Feeling some more sweat tricking down the back of his neck, he fought the urge to wipe it away, instead choosing to sit up a little straighter.