A HYACINTH FOR HIS HIDEOUSNESS
THARAH MEESTER
Copyright © 2020 by Tharah Meester
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
Credits
Cover art by Lisa Recklies / www.lisarecklies-photography.de
Translated by Ian Notsnall
Partially edited by Christopher Barnes
Beta reading by Mary D
Images
Head www.shutterstock.com – 4 PM production
Body www.periodimages.com
Background www.shutterstock.com – ExFlow
Acknowledgment
Thanks to the person, who made this novel possible.
I know you don’t want to be mentioned here with name, but I had to get you in this book somehow. You are wonderful and I will pass your kindness on!
Dear reader,
thanks for picking up this novel. It was a long journey to get the boys out to you, but now they are here and glad to take you along!
Yours, Tharah
Contents
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter 1
The glow from candles was reflected in the massive windows. Snow swirled behind the glass. People behind him were amusing themselves, but Hyacinth had no interest in dancing or conversation.
He could see no sense in it. These soirées, to which his family was invited solely because an old friend owed his father an exceptionally huge favour, existed as an aid to finding someone to marry. Which one of these rich, cultivated men would want to marry him? Almost no one paid him the least bit of attention, and he definitely would not have wanted it to be any different.
Thus he stood there on the edge of the grand ballroom with his back turned to the people and observed the guests by examining their sallow reflections in the windows. As usual, one of them stood out somewhat.
It was Gavrila Ardenovic, whom they usually addressed with the moniker ‘Your Hideousness.’ His striking ugliness was the reason. It caused Hyacinth’s gaze to linger slightly longer on the middle-aged man. As always, his shoulder-length, jet-black hair was too copiously oiled and covered half of his face. However, it could not hide his overly long nose which…
With a sidelong glance, he noticed Inspector Hathaway stepping onto the stage. His heart skipped a beat when the music stopped ominously. The man had encountered him in the gutters last night.
“Please be quiet and pay attention!” the brown-haired man with the bushy moustache roared, and the hall became silent. “I have an announcement to make which I am sure will be of keen interest to everyone here!”
The chef de police had seen him arguing with the inspector’s weird son. This suitor whom Hyacinth had spurned as he had each of the others for months, because he could no longer do anything otherwise.
Breathing heavily, he clutched the back of his father’s chair, who in a few moments would drag him outside and let loose on him. His mother, who was scowling at Hathaway, would not preserve him from his fate. Rather, she would be happy to finally be rid of him.
There were only two ways this matter could end. Either his father would kill him on the spot. Or he would throw him out into the street. In that case, things would be even more dangerous for Hyacinth than before.
His eyes filled with tears – tears that he had not wept for years. But at this moment they ardently tortured him.
The inspector continued, and his look struck Hyacinth in the most unpleasant way. “Regrettably I had to witness it with my own eyes; someone present here allowed himself to be compromised in the most repugnant manner.”
Filthy liar! You saw nothing at all! There was nothing to see! Inside he was screaming at the vengeful man who perhaps was costing him his life, merely because he felt his pride affronted.
Murmurs passed through the crowd. Hyacinth held his breath as the people looked around with curiosity. All of a sudden he sensed their glares directed at him. Piercing, painful, humiliating.
“Last night I was called to an absinthe bar. As I hurried through the narrow streets, I discovered a young man offering sexual services for financial rewards.”
The crowd drew sharp breaths. Hyacinth felt as if he would throw up on the marble floor. He was dizzy, as if he’d got drunk again in order to withstand all these things.
“I am sorry to have to divulge his name, however I would like to preserve the ladies and gentlemen present from courting the man who has heaped such tremendous guilt upon himself. Josephinian Hyacinth Black is the mark of shame on his father’s white vest.”
Suddenly it grew horribly silent. His father squared his shoulders and wiped his forehead before slowly standing up.
“I’m sorry,” Hyacinth whispered. Choking back tears, he avoided looking into his mother’s eyes seething with hatred. What must she think of him? At the same time it was precisely this, his broken family for which he had degraded himself.
“That is a denunciation, Hathaway! Do you have proof of these accusations?” Gavrila Ardenovic intervened to everyone’s astonishment.
Hyacinth cast a quick glance at the ever-ailing, deathly pale man, but saw him indistinctly at best. His rangy fingers clasped around the stem of his champagne glass so firmly that his knuckles stood out by their whiteness.
“The tears of guilt are proof enough!” the inspector responded. “Shame on your head, Black! Herewith you are banned from polite society. Live your life stigmatised, as a fallen man in the gutters of the city, but never let yourself be seen here again.”
Abruptly his father grabbed him by an upper arm and dragged him out into the cold night. The large man threw him against a wall of dark bricks and slapped a hand over his throat to squeeze it. “By hell, what kind of damned filth have I raised?”
Hyacinth lost all ability to breathe and looked with shock into his father’s ebon irises.
“Joseph!” his mother hissed and, to no avail, attempted to hold back his father’s arm. “You’ll kill him before everyone’s eyes! They’ll take you to prison, and what shall become of me?!”
She didn’t care about him, only about the good reputation she’d never had.
“Please stop,” Hyacinth wheezed and gave his father a hard shove against the chest. Everything began to grow murky. The snowflakes dancing wildly through the air caused him even more lightheadedness.
“What were you thinking, you accursed piece of shit?” His father shook him violently and ignored his panicked resistance. Would he actually kill him in front of all these people and the inspector who was likely standing there in the ballroom enjoying his revenge? He wouldn’t put it past him. He wouldn’t put anything past that man.
“I only wanted to help you.” It was the truth. He had meant well, wanted to procure a little money that he couldn’t have obtained any other way. Because he was stupid. Without education, without talent.
“You have ruined us! Just look at how they stare at us. You have confirmed their prejudices and behaved like the vermin they expected!”
Ever
ything spun ever faster, ever more violently. He would certainly lose consciousness soon and lose his life at the hand of his own father. The man loathed him so much that he would rather kill him in public, and without regard to the consequences, than to throw him out. And it was all one and the same to his mother. As indifferent as the guests were, some of whom followed them outside and others of whom had gathered at the windows, it made no difference to them; they only wanted to witness how this matter ended. And it would end viciously.
“Enough,” a hard, cold voice brought an end to the scene.
The hammer of a pistol was being cocked. In the dead silence that followed, Hyacinth heard only the pounding of his heart.
After a brief hesitation he was unhanded and would have dropped faint to the ground had not a bony hand grabbed for his arm and pulled him upright. Struggling against approaching unconsciousness, he sank against Ardenovic who intervened as if this matter actually concerned him.
His father appeared to be on the verge of attacking the man. The vein on his temple throbbed wildly. “What do you fancy yourself to be? I can dispose of my wayward son as I see fit.”
“Then try it, Black. Of course, if you believe I would have scruples about shooting you dead, you are mistaken,” Ardenovic replied, and with absolute serenity held the pistol pointed at his father. “I intend to marry the boy.”
Hyacinth’s breath caught short. Ardenovic wanted to take the shame from him? Place him under his protection? What would he gain from that?
The crowd murmured, not seeming to believe what it had heard and what was occurring. Just as little as he did.
This evening had turned into a nightmare which seemed worse than the many evenings before. One he knew he would not wake up from.
His fingers were still grasping the black fabric of Ardenovic’s clothing, hiding his face in the man’s chest, whereby his heart beat much more calmly than it should have, considering the situation. Ardenovic had slung a slender arm around Hyacinth’s waist, firmly holding on to him.
“You want to what?” his father demanded incredulously. His forehead wrinkled with deep folds, giving him a menacing look.
“You heard me. I’ll pay the usual dowry.”
The crowd gasped because this man was prepared to pay for a compromised boy. Hyacinth wished they would all simply vanish instead of listening and further humiliating him.
His parents exchanged irritated glances, then his mother spoke: “We accept your offer.” After everything, it would be her greed that saved his life.
His father snarled in a low tone. “Have the money sent to us and do it quickly so that I no longer have to be brought into contact with this filthy thing. The bastard shall not bear my name a day longer.”
With these words which bore into Hyacinth’s soul, his father turned and took his wife by the arm. Neither one looked back at him again, and although he despised his parents just as much as they him, it hurt deep inside that he meant less than nothing to them.
*
Hesitantly he stepped into the narrow row house which appeared to be cramped between many others. Ardenovic had rung a priest out of bed, and they had exchanged their vows.
As if in a trance, Hyacinth had repeated what was spoken to him. He hadn’t thought twice because he knew the marriage was his only possibility of not landing on the streets, where he wouldn’t survive a week.
Now he was standing in a dismal room stuffed full of books, magazines and papers. They lay wildly strewn over the floor. In some places the papering on the walls had come loose. The windows were dirty, scarcely allowing any moonlight through. When Ardenovic lit a lamp, the piles of books cast dark, eerie shadows.
“Don’t knock anything over,” the man instructed him coolly. “Into the bedroom.” He pointed with the lamp in the direction of an open door.
After a dry swallow, Hyacinth began to walk and had to pay close attention to his steps. Places where the carpet peeked through were rare. At least the small bedchamber appeared tidy, so he sat down on the bed.
Ardenovic placed the lamp atop a dresser on which lacked a mirror. His fingers nestled on his cravat. “I should articulate a few rules for clarification.”
Hyacinth nodded, though it escaped the other man’s attention.
“No more absinthe, no more opium and no more other men. You are now my property, and I expect you to be loyal to me.” He coughed into a hand he held to his mouth, removed his jacket then took some medicine. It was in a small, nearly empty bottle. “Since you have given yourself to strange men in gutters, I am sure it will be no problem when I demand my marital rights?”
Hyacinth felt woozy. Had the moment now come to say that he was a virgin? Should he explain that he only took these guys in his hand or his mouth? Would Ardenovic take that into consideration?
Fundamentally, he knew the answer. This man would spare him no more than his father had done all those years.
“No,” he choked forth and forced back bitter tears.
“Good, then put that on and lie down,” the man demanded roughly and handed him a white night shirt.
Trembling, he did as he was told and slipped under the covers – beneath the piece of fabric which offered no protection.
With so many nights spent in self-loathing, barely believing he could stand his life because of the disgust with himself, it was the one night in which nothing had happened that became his doom.
For months he had no longer allowed any man to come near him. On that night he had been out seeking a drop of absinthe when Hathaway’s son accosted him and was turned away.
Ardenovic laid down beside him while Hyacinth stared stolidly at the wall. He did not wince as a frigid hand was placed on his hip. The fingers that touched him trembled subtly while they stroked over his waist and slipped further down to pull the night shirt up. He proceeded gently but simultaneously emitted a sound which let Hyacinth know that he would tolerate no resistance. He explored his thigh and pushed his legs apart.
Hyacinth was afraid that it would hurt and attempted to relax. Ice-cold, oiled fingertips moistened his entrance, forced their way into him to which he nearly responded with a sharp inhalation. He was able to maintain control of himself and yielded to Ardenovic when he lay upon him.
How could a living body feel so terribly chilled?
He shuddered under the weight of the man who was cautiously taking possession of him and gasped for breath.
Ardenovic moaned as he slid deeper inside and coughed fitfully.
The pain Hyacinth experienced by being expanded in this unfamiliar manner was nearly unbearable, and hot shame flushed his cheeks. To stifle a scream, he sank his teeth into the white pillows under him.
He had never been so near to someone before and although the nights in the gutters had taught him better, he had held on to the hope that he would experience his first time with a man he loved…
Now the burden of this wishful daydream had been taken from him – Ardenovic took this weight from him by pulling back and thrusting a further time, then breathing heavily while coming inside him.
Everything burned within him, and he only wanted to be released. He felt ill. The world was swirling before him.
Not until his husband had pulled back and settled down beside him did he perceive that Ardenovic had hardly touched him during their brief encounter.
A peculiar, never before experienced emotion flooded his body. Tears ran down his cheeks. He wept without a sound so as not to betray himself, not to let Ardenovic know how terribly weak and despairing he felt.
Furtively he drew up his legs, wrapped his arms around them, rolling himself into a bundle. He wished he could dissolve into nothing.
He didn’t. Instead, for the remainder of the night he lay in the strange bed with the strange man, whose coughing and wheezing kept him awake.
Chapter 2
“Gavrila!” Perkovic roared and hammered a fist against the glassed front of the grimy row house. “Gavrii!”
With
a snarl Gavrila swung himself out of bed and threw the smoke-drenched clothes from yesterday evening over himself.
The boy was lying under the cover. He wasn’t moving, but his irregular breaths revealed that he was awake. He had been for a while but had obviously made an effort not to let him know.
Instead of approaching him, Gavrila washed his face in the washbasin then let in the lunatic who would otherwise be sure to shatter one of the dust-covered windows.
Perkovic stumbled in and staggered over to the kitchen counter to pound his wine bottle on the bar. “I have come to an important realisation!”
“If it isn’t the realisation that you’ll no longer knock on my shitty windows early in the morning, I don’t want to hear a word of it.”
“Shut your mouth and listen! We have someone down at the morgue who drowned in the Meln.”
“Why does that interest me?” he hissed between clenched teeth and wiped his damp forehead then stroked his fingers through his hair. He felt nauseous whenever he thought about that damned corpse-viewing place. He didn’t want to hear anything about the dead within.
Perkovic raised the bottle to his mouth, but noticed with a groan that he had already emptied it. “This will be of interest to you when I tell you what I found on him.”
“Perhaps you’ll spit it out before I lose my patience, hmm?” He joined Perkovic at the bar and braced against it so as not to allow his dizziness to knock him off his feet.
“I felt the bloated fellow a bit more closely and by doing so…” The maniac interrupted himself and stared as if startled by thunder in the direction of the bedroom door where the boy had just appeared in its frame.
His blond curls were uncombed, his face displayed suffering and his clothes were dishevelled as if he had made little effort to arrange them or didn’t have the strength to do so.
Gavrila became aware of what he had done to him last night and was overcome with the sensation of having to throw up on his shoes. The thought of what his brother would think about this inflicted him in the most unpleasant way and made the muscles in his neck tighten.
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