When Dorian stepped into the house, the head maid, Marguerite took his coat quickly and placed it neatly on the coat stand, as if she had been rehearsing the motion all morning. He didn't even glance at her, Before going to the drawing room like he usually did, Dorian climbed the staircase and made straight for his art gallery.
Nathaniel was already there waiting. He knew Dorian too well this was always the first place Dorian went when he returned from anywhere. The gallery was filled with finished works and unfinished works sketches scattered in corners, and the air smelled faintly of oil paint and pigment, there were also some corners of the walls and some other surfaces that had been stained with paint.
Dorian sat in a chair opposite Nathaniel, though he didn't acknowledge him, his eyes swept around the gallery as if Nathaniel were invisible, which made Nathaniel almost felt like he actually was invisible.
Finally, he broke the silence. "How did the meeting go?"
Dorian's gaze shifted lazily to him. He didn't answer. Instead, he stood, fetched a new canvas, and began laying out the tools he would need to start another piece. His movements were sharp, deliberate, dismissive.
"As usual… boring," he said at last, in that cold, casual way of his.
Nathaniel smirked knowingly. "I know. You always find meetings boring. But what was the main subject of discussion this time?"
Dorian began mixing paint without looking up. "The meeting was about the death of Duke William. They were deciding what to do with his province. Some greedy dogs had their own ideas whether it should be handed to nobles, merged or given back to the lord, for the time being . They argued like carrion birds fighting over a corpse."
Nathaniel leaned forward, intrigued. "And you? What do you think should be done?"
Dorian's brush hovered over the untouched canvas, his voice low. "I think his death should first be investigated."
"How did he die?" Nathaniel asked quickly.
Dorian's lips tightened. "So… his body simply did not wake up. If he were human, I'd call it natural. But a vampire does not just close his eyes and never rise again. That is not normal." His eyes flicked to the white canvas before him, then back down to the paints. He hadn't made a single stroke yet.
Nathaniel watched him quietly. The way Dorian spoke calm, detached, yet carrying an undercurrent of suspicion always unsettled him.
"Do you think someone killed him?" Nathaniel asked.
"That's for the high council to decide " he answered.
As Dorian settled on the stool and began mixing the shades he wanted, something glinted in Nathaniel's eyes. Malice, and a little mischief. He leaned forward with that sensuous smile of his.
"Oh, Dorian," Nathaniel whispered, "do you know who's still alive, waiting for you to join them?"
Dorian froze for the briefest moment before answering, a sly smile finding it's way to his face as he imagined the plight and frustration she must be reeling in."I do".
Nathaniel chuckled. "Then when are you going to meet her? Lady Eliza is already restless and frustrated."
"I thought she must really love to wait, seeing how she came earlier than I told her , so I'm just granting her what she loves".
His words were flat, final, and he pressed the brush to canvas. The stroke was harsh and red, like a wound opening. Nathaniel laughed softly under his breath, but Dorian didn't even glance at him.
Nathaniel walked across the room, he glanced once at Dorian, then out at the bright colored sky and sighed to himself. This will be a long day, for lady Eliza at least.
Three hours later, Dorian still hadn't left the mansion. Lady Eliza, meanwhile, was in the drawing room, her patience worn thin. She had been waiting since eleven in the morning for him to return. He had promised to have tea with her that afternoon, now it was past three, and she was pacing back and forth like a trapped bird, her skirts whispering against the floor.
Her frustration boiled over. She marched to the door and caught sight of a maid passing by.
"You! Come here!," she snapped, her voice sharp as a whip.
The maid froze, flinching visibly before shuffling forward, her legs trembling, head bent low.
"Where is Dorian?" Eliza demanded her voice high pitched and her face red with anger and frustration.
The maid raised her eyes timidly. "M-Master Dorian…"
"Yes, where is he? I saw his carriage return!" Eliza's voice rose, biting.
"Y-Yes, my lady, he has returned. B-ut he is in his art gallery."
Eliza's jaw tightened. She had half a mind to storm into the gallery herself, but she knew Dorian too well. He disliked interruptions, and she would not risk appearing desperate. Her pride would not allow it. She drew herself up and said coldly, "Then bring me something to eat."
The maid bowed quickly and scurried away, almost tripping in her haste.
The poor girl trembled as she prepared a light refreshment, terrified of upsetting Lady Eliza again. She knew one wrong move could cost her dearly. Hours dragged by.
By the time, Nathaniel had left and returned returned to the mansion, the sky was already dim. He didn't bother seeking anyone else he went straight to Dorian's gallery.
There he found him, still on over his canvas, paint staining the gloves on his hands. Dorian didn't even turn his head when Nathaniel approached.
Nathaniel tilted his head to look at the painting. His brows furrowed it was strange, almost haunting. One side showed a delicate lotus rising from mud, fragile but beautiful. The other was similar in form, but twisted, darker. That lotus grew not from mud but from blood, its petals sharper, poisonous.
"What a wonderful piece!" Nathaniel said dramatically, "as expected from someone as gifted as you are".
"You just complement, what you see on the canvas, without knowing what it symbolizes " Dorian said in a calm tone. Which made Nathaniel stare at the painting with concentration, trying to read a meaning to it.
Nathaniel eventually gave up trying to understand it. His mind was too shallow for such things. Instead he smirked. "You remember Lady Eliza is still waiting, don't you? It's already dark."
Finally, Dorian set down his brush. He looked at the clock. Nearly seven. His expression didn't change, though a sigh escaped him. He seemed to debate with himself, whether he should see how much longer she can actually wait but then on a second thought he didn't like a stranger staying too long on his mansion, then said flatly, "Tell her she may leave."
Nathaniel raised a brow. "You mean you're not going to see her?"
Dorian didn't answer. He only turned back to the canvas, his strokes harsher now, as though the question itself annoyed him.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the maid was with another tray In hand as she was going to meet lady Eliza in the drawing room. Her hands trembled as she made her way dreading lady Eliza's temper, sw had gone twice already and the last time, lady Eliza behaved as though she was ready to end her as if she was the reason why Dorian bailed. Just then Arabella appeared, graceful as ever.
"I can help you with that," Arabella said softly, noticing the maid's panic. She reached for the tray.
The maid flinched at first but then, relieved, handed it over quickly. "Th-thank you," she stammered, before bolting away. She had no wish to risk Lady Eliza's wrath a third time.
Arabella carried the food toward the drawing room with quiet composure, wondering why the maid was so afraid to serve a guest, she also wondered why the guest had been in the mansion for such a long time.