Chapter 16

Kurt heard the door open downstairs and immediately left the room. He was determined to talk to Edna today, as he realized that she was the only one who could tell him about John. Moreover, she continued to help him run the household economy.

"Good morning, Edna!" Kurt found her in the kitchen. She was dressed in an apron as she brewed fresh tea.

"Good morning, Mr. Rhein," she replied with a respectful smile. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I wanted to thank you for the excellent tea."

"I'm glad I have been able to please you," she said, smiling once again. Kurt appreciated her demeanor. She had worked as a maid her entire life, yet possessed such great dignity and simplicity that she seemed like a much nicer person than the high society ladies with titles and wealth. She did her job without acting as a lackey or fawning.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked, noticing that Kurt was looking at her thoughtfully.

"Edna, may I speak to you frankly?" Kurt asked. "Last time I was tactless, but..." Kurt paused; suddenly, to his surprise, he realized that his prepared speech had flown completely out of his head. "I received an invitation from Mr. Fenrir to one of his receptions, and I've never been there before. I wouldn't want to offend him with a refusal, but I also don't want to lose face. I thought maybe you could give me some advice on how to behave there?" Kurt looked expectantly at Edna. He liked his verbal maneuver.

"I don't think I have the right to give you any advice, Mr. Rhein," Edna said slyly, keeping a respectful tone of voice.

"But I'm asking you for some," Kurt insisted. "These receptions are known throughout London! I can't go there without knowing anything!"

Edna stared at Kurt for a few moments and finally spoke. "Well, Mr. Rhein, I'll try to answer all your questions," she added hastily. "If, of course, they are not beyond the limits of what is permitted."

It was like a balm to Kurt's soul; finally, he had the opportunity to talk about John. "What are these receptions for?"

"Mr. Fenrir is a very lively young man; he likes to invite friends to his house, that's all."

"But I, for example, am not a friend of Mr. Fenrir. Why did he invite me?" Kurt asked.

"Maybe Mr. Fenrir wants you to become his friend," Edna retorted.

"And how many friends does Mr. Fenrir have? It can't be that everyone who visits his house is a close friend."

Edna fell silent. It seemed that Kurt's questions touched on topics she didn't want to talk about. "Mr. Fenrir has friends and acquaintances, but I cannot know how many," she finally replied.

"It's useless," thought Kurt. "She has honor and will not gossip about John. Even considering John's arrogance and his love for various antics, she isn't going to tell me anything. Although, maybe he treats her well." But Kurt had nothing to confirm or refute this hypothesis.

"Is that all you wanted to know, Mr. Rhein?" Edna inquired politely.

"Yes, thank you," he said, hiding his disappointment behind a respectful smile.

***

On Friday evening, which was rather warm, Kurt got into a carriage and went to the house of John Fenrir. He was self-collected, if not tense, but his curiosity and a desire to see John were irresistible.

This evening was almost identical to the one Kurt had attended before. Ladies in elegant dresses and wealthy young people tried to emulate John. Kurt was even getting bored, and disappointment gripped him more with each passing second. Only the thought of seeing John, even from a distance, kept him there. However, at the back of his mind, he still couldn't comprehend why John had invited him. Not that he believed that John would deign to explain, but Kurt didn't believe that it had happened with no ulterior motive.

John finally appeared on the stairs, and Kurt for a second became blind. More precisely, he didn't see anyone around, except John. This obsession lasted for a moment, but it seemed like forever, and more than that, Kurt wanted it to be eternal.

His heart fluttered with renewed vigor. But Kurt made an incredible effort, shook himself, and looked behind John. There were two young men. When John came down, they hid in the house. Kurt immediately remembered the conversation he overheard in Solar restaurant, but he had no time to think it through as John descended the stairs and headed straight to Kurt.

Seeing John approaching him, Kurt felt surprised at first, then scared, and finally utterly confused. But he managed to pull himself together, catching his throbbing heart and hiding it from prying eyes in just a few moments. Kurt was even proud of himself.

As John walked up to him, Kurt felt the magnetism of his eyes, but not as strongly as before, and he was able to resist it. He smiled confidently and openly.

"Good evening, Mr. Fenrir. I was surprised to receive your invitation, but still, I decided to accept it," Kurt said and, with surprise, noticed that John was staring at his face.

"I liked your joke at the charity ball, and I thought you would fit in well here," John replied, still studying Kurt's face.

And then Kurt felt a long-forgotten ardor, but he experienced it in a new way, with all his guts. "What joke?" Kurt feigned surprise.

John smiled in response as if he understood and easily guessed it. "Come on, stop pretending. Although, I have to admit that I underestimated you. You managed to marry my younger brother off on your maid," John grinned. "Broke the engagement and exposed my precious stepmother in such a light. She even closed her gallery out of shame."

Hearing this, Kurt felt a pang of guilt.

"Of course, making a fool out of my little brother is an easy task," John said and glanced at Kurt, who still pretended that all this didn't concern him. "Come."

Kurt took a step without thinking and followed John. They entered the house and went to the second floor. The guests were not allowed here. The stairs to the second floor were hidden behind a closed door.

John and Kurt came into the large living room, and there was quiet. At the table in the center, three men were sitting, silently playing cards. Kurt didn't like their faces. He didn't like labels, but in his mind, the words "rascal," "sly" and "swindler" seemed the most appropriate to describe this trio.

They looked back and quickly scanned Kurt from head to toe, and Kurt felt like he had already been robbed.

"Let's play poker," John said, rubbing his hands together as he gestured for Kurt to take a free seat. Though Kurt didn't have much love for card games, he remembered that poker was more a game of faces than cards, so he unhesitatingly waded into the game.

It was rather amusing. In almost every round, the trio lost money, and it went to Kurt or John. After five rounds, they immediately folded. Now it was fun for Kurt to play. John was often lucky, and cards went to his hands. Sometimes it seemed to Kurt that John manipulated the cards. But the main thing was - and that was why nothing else mattered - Kurt could shamelessly gaze at John, allegedly trying to unravel his bluff. His heart, yearning in a dark cage, was sinking into languor, eagerly memorizing every line of John's beautiful face.

Kurt could not help it; he admired his face, so confident and strong-willed, with expressive cheekbones and mesmerizing eyes. John was so young, but arrogance and contempt already disfigured his face. Kurt looked away only for a second and saw it. John's expression and his gestures were filled with self-righteousness and contempt for everything around him.

Kurt felt uncomfortable. It seemed to him that he was sullying himself even by sitting at the same table with John. His heart fearfully curled up, not wanting to give up the illusion of beauty, but his eyes were merciless to the heart. They looked and saw all this ugliness, but the heart didn't want to give up. And then Kurt felt sympathy that overwhelmed him from the inside, and it felt like the feeling was flooding him, and it would spill out through his tears. But then he stiffened. Now he felt sorry for John. His ugliness made him miserable in Kurt's eyes, and the worst thing was that John didn't know how ugly he was.

"I'll pass," Kurt finally said. He had a good combination, but he didn't want to play anymore. The huge living room had turned into a stuffy little room he was anxious to leave. But not because he was afraid of John; he just didn't want to see what happened to a man who had become so dear to his heart. And though he understood that it was cowardice, he let it slide.

"A perfect game," John said and leaned back, satisfied. The trio, sitting sullenly at the table, could not agree with him.

"Unfortunately, I have to leave," Kurt said calmly. "Thank you for a lovely evening. Gentlemen," he nodded respectfully to the sullen trio, who without enthusiasm nodded in response. "Mr. Fenrir."

"It's quite early," for some reason, John said. Kurt thought he was upset, but his expression remained the same.

"But I have something to do. Don't bother, I know where the exit is," said Kurt. "Goodbye."

The disappointment was cruel. Kurt walked through the garden to the door and wanted to be home as soon as possible. His soul was aching. It might seem from the side that the gentlemen in the living room on the second floor were worthy young people, and John was as always incomparable, but Kurt now saw otherwise.

He could not explain how. This vision embraced him completely, and he felt he had seen these people through.

The following week he again received an invitation to John's house.