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Carmen Berzatto, handsome, clever, and rich, seemed to combine all the elements that made a great lord: he was stunning, with golden curls, piercing blue eyes and a mischievous smile. His shoulders were broad yet not so much so that they looked off putting in a dress. He was also well read, with knowledge of art, culture and the latest philosophical ideas, though of these he cared little. Truth be told, that which captured his mind the most was French cuisine, and if circumstances were different, if men ruled the world and women were merely their loyal subjects, he would’ve been content to spend the rest of his life as an accomplished chef in France.
But alas, this was not the case. Carmen knew what a man’s place was in the world: to be seen but rarely heard, to marry a fine lady, and to provide her with a viable seed so she could have her heirs.
The night was fair, and the Lord was spending his evening like most others, at a ball in his mother’s estate. He was seated towards the men’s side of the room, in ornate chairs, surrounded by his cohorts: Lord Jerimovich, devastated after the recent death of his dear wife Lady Tiffany; Lord Neil Fak of the infamous Fak clan, jolly but hopeless dimwitted, and of course, his best friend, Lord Marcus, currently single and a hot commodity.
As Lord Berzatto gripped the ornate pale blue fan and flicked his wrist to circulate some air in front of his face, he could not help but think of the person it had belonged to: his dear brother, Michael. Carmen missed him terribly, it had only been a month since his passing and yet it felt like only a day had gone by since he’d arrived back in Chicagosbury for the funeral. As Carmen’s eyes glistened with fresh tears brought on by the painful loss of his dear brother, he shut his eyes and pushed them away. He knew it was unbecoming of a man to grieve a brother for too long, especially at a ball.
Just when he was about to ask Lord Richard if he would accompany him to his chambers so he could retire for the evening, a Lady crossed the great divide between men and women to approach them. Lord Carmen found her handsome, with espresso colored skin, and brown eyes that sparkled. Her black velvet suit hugged her hips in a way he certainly did not dislike, which made her all the more tantalizing. A hush fell over the gentlemen as she approached.
“Evening, Lord Berzatto,” the stranger said with a curtesy. “I thought it best to introduce myself. I’m Lady Adamu.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the lord said, offering his gloved hand. The lady took it and planted a kiss on it, causing a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aaahs’ to emanate from the other men.
“Oh what I would give to be your age again, Carmen,” Richard whispered to him, shielding his mouth with his fan. “I can’t remember the last time a lady has even glanced in my direction.”
“Patience, dear cousin,” Carmy reassured him, “we will soon find you a wife.”
“Forgive me but may I speak to the lord in private?” the lady asked. “There are urgent matters I must discuss with him.”
Lord Jerimovich’s sparkling blue eyes widened in shock, “why, that is entirely inappropriate! The lord has only just made your acquaintance and yet you already demand an audience with him? You haven’t even written your name on his dance card yet! I never-”
“Oh do settle down, my dear,” Carmen stopped him, placing a hand on his wrist. “If the Lady wishes to converse with me she may.”
“But my lord, you are so young-”
“Richard,” Carmy insisted, “I am not a little boy anymore, I am a man now. I can have a conversation with a lady without needing a chaperone.”
“But my lord-!” Richard insisted.
“Oh let us go speak with the ladies, darling,” Lord Marcus offered, getting up from his chair. “My ass aches from sitting anyway.”
Lord Richard grumbled but eventually gathered his skirt and followed the others to the left side of the room.
“Well, go on then,” Lord Carmen demanded, pointing at the now empty chair next to him. “What do you wish to discuss?”
“I have a proposition for you,” the lady said, taking a seat next to him. “Your mother wishes you to marry Countess Dunlap, does she not?”
“She does,” Carmen sighed, fanning himself harder. He looked over at the Countess who was standing on the other side of the room, enthralled in conversation with the other ladies. “She is of slightly higher status, so of course my mother is obsessed with her. Though I guess she’s not the only one, my brother wished to see us together, too,” he added in a whisper.
Sensing the lord’s grief, Lady Adamu leaned closer to him. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss, my lord.”
The young man sniffled, “thank you. I miss him dearly, but my pain cannot be described, for there is no word for a brother who loses another. One can be a widow or a widower, but nothing describes the loss of one’s own blood. It vexes me greatly.”
Lady Adamu nodded, “I understand. I lost my mother when I was quite young. But of course, for that there is no word.”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. What did you wish to propose?” the lord asked, changing the subject.
“Well, it is my understanding that the Countess is uninterested in you, is that right?”
“It seems that way,” the lord exhaled, shifting his eyes back to the Countess, who had her back to him. “She has yet to ask me for a dance this season. Although to be fair to her, I have been away for some time,” he looked down at his fan and rubbed the crystal beads at the end with his thumb. “I don’t know if you’re aware but I was once heavily involved with the Duchess of Yorkshire.”
The lady nodded once again, “I hear she’s terribly powerful.”
“‘Terribly’ being the operative word,” the lord remarked. “She courted me incessantly, and in the strangest of manners. One moment she’d say I was the ugliest man she’d ever laid her eyes on and the next she’d slam me against the wall with a kiss… strange to think that love could hurt so deeply,” the lord mused, his gaze turning to the side as if the Duchess would simply appear before him.
“My dear brother’s passing ended it all. When I informed the Duchess that I needed to return home to bury my darling brother, she was furious. She told me to not bother coming back. Nasty woman,” he spat.
“Quite,” the lady agreed, “returning to the matter of the Countess, you must marry her soon, must you not? After all, you are getting up there in years-”
The lord smacked her lightly with his fan, offended. “Why, I’ve never heard anything so rude in my life! I will have you know that I am barely twenty one, and still have some years before I become a spinster!”
“Still, the arrow of time marches on,” the lady reminded him, rubbing the arm he’d hit.
The lord fell back in his chair, distraught. “Yes, fine, I must marry. Was that your proposal? That I hurry up and ejaculate somewhere before my balls shrivel up and die?”
The lady chuckled, “not quite. You see, I am in a similar predicament. I wish to marry Lord Luca of Windsor, but he doesn’t seem the least bit interested in me.”
“Oh, well that is to be expected,” Carmen remarked, glancing sideways at the lord in question. His stark blond hair glistened in the moonlight, his bodice showing off broad shoulders. “He is stunningly handsome, and I hear his dowry is the highest for miles. You will have to climb mountains to get his attention.”
“That leads me to my proposal,” the lady took a deep breath before finally laying out her plan. “What if I, well, pretended to court you?”
The lord furrowed his brow, “pretended?”
“Exactly. We’d dance, I’d pay frequent visits to your manor, perhaps even write you letters. I believe that if the Countess sees us together, she’ll grow green with envy thinking that you’ve fallen for another. And if Lord Luca sees us, he too will covet that which he may perhaps not have. What do you say?”
The lord placed his fan on his lap, deep in thought. “Well forgive me for saying it, Lady, but this all seems awfully unchristian.”
Just as Sydney opened her mouth to argue, the lord interrupted her, “I love it.” He handed her a small decorated piece of stationary, “here is my card. Write your name on there.”
“Thank you, my lord,” the lady said, taking out her fountain pen and dipping it in a nearby ink pot, “you will not regret this.”
“Well, I’d hope not. Here comes my dear cousin, and may I remind you he is terribly overprotective of me. Not to mention vengeful,” Carmy said ominously as his relative approached.
“Have you finished with the lord?” Richard asked, his brow in a scowl. His arms strained against the dainty sleeves of his dress in a way that was almost comical.
“Yes,” Lady Adamu said, getting up from the chair. Just then, the band began to play, and she looked over at Carmen. “May I have this dance?” she asked, offering her hand.
“You certainly may,” Lord Carmen agreed, graciously standing up and taking her outstretched hand.
“But, my Lord!” Richard whispered angrily, “what of the Countess?”
“The Countess may gargle my ballsack, Richard,” Carmy declared, letting Sydney lead him to the center of the room.
The three men stood in stunned silence as they watched the pair get in position and start to dance. All eyes were on the couple, especially those of the Countess and the Lord of Windsor.
“This is going swimmingly,” the lady whispered to her dance partner.
“Well, your skill certainly helps,” the lord remarked, pressing his chest against hers.
“What in the actual fuck is going on?” the Countess demanded of Richard, furious. “I’m supposed to be the one courting him!”
“Well perhaps you should’ve taken more of an initiative, Countess,” Lord Jerimovich uttered before taking a sip of wine, “I thought all you women were supposed to be proactive.”
“Do not lecture me on the characteristics of my sex!” She hissed, “I demand to have his next dance!”
“Fine, here,” Lord Jerimovich said, handing her the card, “but you may be too late.”
Meanwhile, the Lord of Windsor approached Lord Marcus and placed his fan in front of them to hide the movement of their lips from prying eyes. “Who is that dancing with Carmen?” he inquired, bewildered.
“Lady Adamu,” Marcus explained, “she’s caused quite the ruckus, I believe.”
“Well I do love a woman with a penchant for the dramatic!” Luca said with a twinkling laugh.
“I’m afraid you might be too late,” Marcus whispered, “they seem transfixed by each other.”
And they did. As Carmen let Sydney lead him around the room, his chest only a few inches away from hers, his left hand interlaced with her right, his heart soared with something he hadn’t felt since his brother’s passing, joy. There it was, filling up his chest, making his feet hit all the right steps, fueling him.
“I must say I am having a marvelous time,” he whispered to Sydney, leaning closer.
“As am I,” the lady agreed, “you are a terrific dancer.”
“Oh, please, you’re the one who’s terrific,” he said, desperately wishing to close the gap between them. “You dance with such… freshness. It’s wonderful.”
“Thank you,” the lady whispered back, “though I believe I’m a better cook than a dancer.”
“You cook?” the lord asked, amazed. “I’m a cook as well! Oh, I must have you over for a luncheon! I make an excellent braciole, if I do say so myself.”
Lady Sydney smiled, her white teeth gleaming like pearls against the dark waters of her skin. “Sounds wonderful-”
Just as they were about to further discuss their plans, the music stopped, and both the Countess and the Lord of Windsor approached them.
“May I have the next dance?” the Countess asked of Lord Berzatto rather brusquely, extending her hand.
“My dance card is empty, if you’d like a replacement,” Luca offered, holding up his card.
“I’d be delighted,” Sydney said, taking Luca’s card and writing down her name.
Carmen felt a chill in his chest as he watched Sydney whisk Luca away. Even as he pressed his body against Claire’s, the wretched cold refused to leave him, as if the fire inside him had been extinguished.
***
“This is tremendous, my Lord,” Lady Sydney remarked, cutting herself another piece of braciole, “truly exquisite.”
“Thank you, my lady,” the lord replied, dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief. The lady looked dapper in her navy blue suit and ruffled shirt. The lord tried not to think about what laid underneath, supple espresso colored breasts he could cup into glory. “It was my brother’s recipe, we made it every Sunday.”
“How delightful,” the lady remarked, signaling for one of the servants to pour her some wine. The servant did so, then went back to stand in line with the others.
“Would you not like some?” the lady asked before taking a sip.
“No, thank you. My brother, he,” the lord tucked a curl behind his ear absent mindedly, “struggled with overconsumption of spirits. I’m resolved to abstain.”
“That’s awful,” the lady said, setting her glass down. “I am of course referring to your brother’s condition, not your resolution to remain sober. That I find quite noble.”
“Thank you. I’m the only one in the family making the effort, I’m afraid,” Carmen sighed. “Mother has been known to overindulge in spirits as well,” he explained, adjusting his hair. “One Christmas she became so inebriated she drove her carriage directly into the dining room.”
“My word!” the lady exclaimed, placing a hand against her chest. “And she survived?”
“Barely, but I’d had enough. I left for Yorkshire the next morning,” he said, taking a sip of water. “From the frying pan into the fire, as they say.”
The lady didn’t know how to respond. She simply cut herself another piece of braciole.
“May I ask, how did your mother pass?” the lord inquired, praying he wasn’t being too forward.
“She suffered from a very strange illness… these terrible ulcers would appear all over her skin. None of the doctors could quite figure out what it was, only that it wasn’t leprosy or herpes but something else. She passed when I was eight,” the lady explained.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the lord said, reaching a hand and placing it on her wrist. “Though I must say, it is comforting to find a kindred spirit, one that has also felt grief. It truly is such a horrible emotion, it can make one feel…completely isolated,” he concluded after a while, “but I am glad to know I’m not entirely alone.”
The lady found herself enjoying the lord’s touch. His hand was warm, the heat somehow trespassing the fabric of his gloves.
She was about to say something else when the sound of boots stomping on hardwood floors made them both look up.
“Afternoon, son,” the lady said, her jacket covered in mud. “Who’s this?”
“This is Lady Adamu,” the lord explained. “I invited her for lunch. Sydney, this is my mother, Lady Donna.”
“Pleasure,” the lady said brusquely, shaking Sydney’s hand. “I’m afraid my son may have misled you. He’s spoken for, I’m afraid. The Countess is to marry him soon”
“You should tell her that,” the lord remarked, “she asked me to dance for the first time just last night. She’s had all season to do it.”
“Carmen, what have I told you about speaking out of turn?” His mother chastised him. She turned to Sydney, “forgive him, lass, Yorkshire has seemed to fill his head with newfangled ideas that I do not approve of.”
“Well at least I’m not a pathetic drunk!” the lord bellowed, standing up.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, mister!” Donna chided him with an accusatory finger.
“I should go,” Sydney announced, “lovely to meet you, my lady.”
Donna stood in stunned silence as she watched Sydney hurry away. “Well congratulations, darling, you’ve scared off yet another suitor!”
“And you killed my brother you cantankerous drunken whore!” Carmen yelled, throwing his glass at the wall and running off to his room.
“Men,” the lady scoffed, “always so emotional.”
***
The following day, Sydney went over to Luca’s manor for tea. They took it in the drawing room, sitting on plush couches with ornate cushions and drinking from the finest china.
“Thank you so much for having me, my lord,” Sydney said before taking a sip of her tea, “I must say, I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time.”
The lord gave her a twinkling laugh. “Is that so? I was unaware of your existence, I’m afraid. Then again, this town is awfully big. I suppose it’s impossible to know everyone.”
“Quite,” the lady agreed, picking up a small sandwich from the chair. “If I may be so bold as to ask, do you have any… other suitors?”
“Why, of course! Half the country seems to be interested in me,” the lord shrugged in a way that added. “Though if I may speak candidly, I’m not leaning towards anyone yet. I’ve never been as obsessed with women as others of my sex, to tell you the truth.”
The lady raised an eyebrow, “is that so?”
“Yes. I suppose I've never been so… mystified by the whole ‘women’ thing. I simply enjoy spending time with my boy friends. Though that just may be my youth speaking.”
The lady nodded but narrowed her eyes. Something was wrong here.
Before she could say anything else, one of the servants arrived carrying a silver tray with an envelope in the middle. “A letter from the Lord Marcus of Heberdshire, my Lord.”
“Ah, thank you, Spencer,” the young lord said, picking up the envelope. “Marcus and I are dear friends. He always writes me the loveliest of letters,” he explained as he opened up the envelope and unfolded the paper inside. “Oh, listen to this. ‘I was reading a passage from the book of Samuel and thought of you. He speaks of these two men, Jonathan and David, who were dear friends, much like we are.”
Dear friends? Lady Adamu thought to herself, incredulous.
“After Johnathan dies, David says ‘I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan, very pleasant have you been to me, your love to me was extraordinary, surpassing the love of women.’ (2 Samuel 1:26). Isn’t that just lovely?” he remarked.
Damn, these dudes gay as hell, she concluded in her mind. “Lovely, indeed,” Sydney replied, taking a sip from her cup to hide her worry.
***
“Thank you for taking me to the postal office, Countess,” Lord Berzatto said, his hands on his lap. They were inside the Countess’s carriage, an all black structure with a plush interior. The Countess wore an all grey suit, with a ruffled white shirt and her top hat. Carmen had decided on wearing something modest, a yellow drop waist dress with white accents.
“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” the Countess replied, waving a hand as if to dismiss the matter. “My driver is awful, I’m afraid. I picked him up in Yorkshire, he’s an absolute maniac.”
Carmy laughed politely, “I’m sure he’s perfectly adequate.”
“You were in Yorkshire too, were you not?” Claire inquired, lighting up her pipe.
“Yes… I was being courted by the Duchess at the time-”
“The Duchess Davina Fields?” the Countess interrupted him, “I hear she’s got more money than the Queen by this point!”
Carmy nodded, “money cannot buy class, unfortunately. She’s a wretched woman.”
The Countess took a drag from her pipe and exhaled a ring of grey smoke, “ah, that’s a shame. Was she more wretched than our schoolteacher, Mr Dinglebottom?”
The lord laughed, “no, Dinglebottom was on another level of cruelty.”
“I sat behind you in his class, you know,” the Countess commented, taking another drag from her pipe.
“Is that so? I’d completely forgotten,” the lord said, tucking one of his golden locks behind his ear. “I wish you’d conversed more with me when we were children.”
“Well, I did try,” the Countess retorted, “but if you remember, you were awfully shy.”
“I was,” the lord admitted. “But then again you had so many friends, always following you around… I wanted that kind of connection, too. The closest thing I had to that was… Michael.”
The Countess nodded, “a great man, your brother. Truly a great man. As I recall he was of a particularly lively sort… the kind so lively that he would set a place aflame simply to watch it burn.”
“That he would do,” the young man laughed, “he really would.”
“Forgive my not making a mention of him earlier,” the countess said, looking down for a moment. “I feared that the memory of him would cause you too much pain.”
“Nonsense, my lady. I quite enjoy thinking of him,” Carmen replied, smiling. He really did enjoy thinking of his dear brother, although he was gone, he found great solace in the memory of him, the stories that people shared where he took center stage. Carmy fought back tears as he thought of all the things he could’ve said to Michael before he’d taken his own life, ‘I love you,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘please don’t do this.’ The words stuck in his throat like a piece of food too big to swallow.
“Speaking of diseased brothers, would you like to accompany me to a banquet?” the Countess asked completely unprompted.
Lord Berzatto was taken aback. “What did you just say?” he asked, furious.
The Countess knitted her eyebrows, then, thinking the lord hadn’t heard her properly, repeated: “would you like to accompany me to a banquet?”
“No, say the first part,” Carmen demanded, “the part about ‘diseased brothers.’”
“Oh, don’t be such a bore!” Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes. “‘Twas merely a jest.”
“A jest?” The lord demanded. “You dare jest about my brother’s passing? Have you lost your mind?”
“No, but I’ve certainly lost my interest,” the Countess said before knocking three times on the ceiling. The carriage came to a stop. “Get out,” she ordered.
“Make me,” the lord replied, narrowing his eyes.
***
Just as Sydney was about to retire to her chambers for bed, one of her servants rushed to her side. “My lady,” he said between pants. “Lord… Berzatto… at the door…urgent…”
“Oh do catch your breath, Iago,” Sydney asked him, “did you say Lord Berzatto is at the door?”
“Yes,” the servant replied, finally able to breathe normally, “he’s in quite a state. I suggest you come at once.”
Sydney followed her servant to the front entrance of her manor. Upon having Iago open the door she was startled by a peculiar sight.
Lord Berzatto was standing in front of a black carriage, his dress was torn, his hair covered in blades of grass, and his knuckles were bloody. A bruise on his right cheek bone was turning from red to purple.
“What on Earth happened to you?” Sydney asked, bewildered.
“The Countess had the audacity to make a jest about my dead brother, so I beat the shit out of her and her driver, stole her carriage, and now I’m here,” Carmen explained before taking Sydney’s hands, “I know we’re supposed to be pretending to be in love, but I do not wish to marry the Countess. The truth is, I do not wish to marry anyone but you. You understand me in ways no one else does, we share similar pains, similar loves… I cannot let you go, Sydney, and in fact, I will not.”
Sydney smiled, her large eyes filled with tears. “I cannot let you go, either. Luca is… well, I don’t think he’s interested in me, or any woman for that matter.”
Carmen shook his head, shedding some blades of grass, and chuckled. “He showed you one of Marcus’s letters, did he not?”
“He did!” the lady exclaimed. “Are we in agreement that they are both, shall we say, friends of Oscar Wilde?”
The lord chuckled, “oh, we are in complete agreement about that.”
“Fantastic. Even if that were not the case,” Sydney clarified, “I have become quite fond of you. Your vitality, your fierceness, your passion…you’re intoxicating.”
The lord took a step forward, “am I now?” he teased.
The lady took a step forward so their noses were merely inches away from each other, “you are.”
“Then kiss me,” the lord pleaded. He closed his eyes, and she closed hers. Just as their lips were about to meet, the sound of hooves forced them to stop and turn around.
Lady Donna got off her horse, clearly in a state. “Carmen, what the actual fuck are you doing?” she demanded, rushing towards him. “The post office sent a currier to tell me he saw you beat the shit out of the Countess and her driver, then steal their carriage?”
“She spoke ill of Michael,” Carmen explained, “she…” his eyes filled with tears, “she made a joke about him. About my dead brother!”
The lady knitted her eyebrows, “well what was the joke?”
“She said, and I quote, ‘speaking of diseased brothers, would you like to go to a banquet?’” the lord repeated without a hint of humor.
Donna’s mouth parted in abject horror. “That disrespectful, insignificant whore!”
Carmen nodded, “quite.”
His mother sighed, defeated. “I-I’m… I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you, son. I know those words cannot fix much if at all, but quite frankly I don’t know what else to say. How can I even begin to repair that which has been broken for so long?”
“You can start by allowing Lady Adamu to take my hand in marriage,” he said, taking Sydney’s hands in his.
“We’re skipping the courting stage, are we?” Sydney asked, bemused.
“Oh fuck the courting stage,” Lady Donna said with a dismissive hand gesture, “love does not care about time.”
The young couple looked at each other. “Leave us now, mother,” Carmen instructed, “we have much to do.”
“Alright. But do wear a condom, dear, I do not wish for a grandchild so soon,” Lady Donna advised.
Carmen rolled his eyes, “be gone, mother!”
The lady put her hands up in surrender, “fine. I’m off.”
As soon as they watched her horse ride out of the gates, they turned back to each other. “Right, where were we?” Carmen asked with a lopsided smile.
“This,” Sydney said, closing her eyes and finally kissing him. His lips were soft, and had a salty taste, but it was not unpleasant. He rested his wrists on her shoulders, and she grabbed him by the waist, as was customary for men and women to do.
Lady Sydney and Lord Carmen were married only a few months later. Countess Dunlap was not invited, but she could not have attended anyway, she contracted syphilis from a prostitute at a whorehouse outside of town and succumbed to the illness soon after. Marcus and Luca decided to move in together and start a school for Wayward Boys, which they still run to this day. Everyone says they’re the best of friends. And as for Lord Jerimovich, he did eventually remarry. His new wife, Lady Jessica, is one of the most handsome in Chicagosbury, and they take care of Richard’s child, Evie, together.