The Emerald of Elche: Part II
The interior of the carriage was warmer than out in the open air, something Esmeralda was grateful for. She sat down on a cushioned seat across from the noble, whose gaze never left her. She was usually used to such stares, but this one disarmed her a bit. Most men’s gaze would drift to her legs or her breasts, or perhaps an even more intimate place, but this man’s gaze never left her face. She kept the smile plastered on her face, trying to appear as charming as possible.
The nobleman suddenly shook his head and slapped his legs, startling Esmeralda a bit. Blushing again, he said, “I must apologize, for I forgot to introduce myself. I am Vicente Pío Osorio, although Vicente will do.”
“You must be a very influential man,” Esmeralda said as she twirled a finger through her hair, trying her best to flatter the man.
“Well my father is, but I suppose that makes me too. I try not to think about it.”
The casual attitude of this man towards his station was sharp barb in Esmeralda’s side. She had had to work hard for everything she wanted, but here was a man who probably had everything he wanted handed to him. On the other hand, he certainly could afford her fee and more. If she played things right, she’d make a fortune this night.
The carriage made its way through Elche and into the richer district of the city. Esmeralda had never been in this part of the city, for it was not the place of a commoner to go there. She was certain that if she tried to work a street corner here she’d find herself in the city jail. Soon the carriage wound its way to the outskirts, to the large estates of the more prestigious nobility. It soon turned into the path to the largest manor Esmeralda had ever seen. It was easily three stories, dwarfing everything around it. The vineyard surrounding the mansion seemed to go on as far as the eye could see, which perhaps wasn’t that far in the middle of the night.
As the carriage stopped near the front door, Vicente noticed her awed expression and said, “My father is the marquis of Elche, one of his many titles.”
It was like a dream come true. The richest man in town had taken interest in her. If she pulled this off, she’d be set for life. Suddenly her blouse was a little bit lower and her skirt hitched up a few more inches, not that Vicente seemed to notice. He merely opened the carriage door and offered his hand to escort her out. She took his hand with a smile and let him guide her into his home.
The inside of the house was even more spectacular. The vaulted ceiling of the entrance hall had a mural of Christ that reminded Esmeralda a bit too much of her time in the convent. Her delicate feet walked across plush rugs and up the curved staircase, following Vicente upstairs. She ran one hand along the ivory balustrade, the material cold and hard against her skin. A maid marched down the stairs next to them, giving Esmeralda the most scathing side-eye she’d ever seen. She was an interloper, a commoner intruding in this place of nobility. She didn’t deserve to be here, yet here she was.
Soon Vicente guided her into the master bedroom. A giant four-poster bed dominated the room, complete with silk sheets and feather pillows. Compared to the usual lice-ridden hay beds she serviced men in, this was a step up. Vicente sat down on the end of the bed and beckoned for her to sit next to him. She sashayed over, letting her hips sway and pulling her skirt back to reveal her legs. Vicente took a look for once, but seemed embarrassed to have witnessed the display. Esmeralda couldn’t help but smirk at his prude nature.
Just as she sat herself down next to him, ensuring she was close enough for him to feel the warmth of her body, he bolted upright and scurried over to the fireplace. She tried not to let her irritation showed. Vicente’s face was red again as he said, “Let me just get a fire going to stave off the night chill.”
Esmeralda lounged back on the bed, running her fingers along the silk sheets and posing her body seductively. She smiled at Vicente as he finally got the fire lit. Then her expression dropped as soon as she saw the painting above the fireplace. A portrait of a young woman hung there, obviously a noblewoman judging by her exquisite gown and jewelry painted in excruciating detail. What caught Esmeralda’s attention though was the woman’s face. Although the woman in the painting had her hair done up and appeared in her later twenties, she was a spitting image of Esmeralda. The young woman bolted upright in the bed, staring at the painting in shock.
“The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it,” Vicente said. He held his hands behind his back and stared down at the floor, even more shy than before.
Esmeralda blinked rapidly and asked the obvious, “Who is that?”
Vicente cleared his throat and said, “That would be my wife, Maria, or rather was. She passed away last month.”
Realization hit Esmeralda like a brick to the face. The strange looks, the odd behaviour, everything that had thrown her off by this man could be explained by this one fact. Vicente was treating her differently not because he was some prude noble but because when he looked at her, he saw his dead wife. She felt more uncomfortable than ever. It was one thing to let a man have his way with her, for that was a simple exchange or service, a moment of pleasure for both participants. Once it was done, that was it. This, however, would be something different. It was not lust or passion driving this man, but affection and devotion for his late wife. Emotional attachment was not something Esmeralda knew how to handle.
Vicente slowly approached her and sat down next to her, keeping enough distance to show he wasn’t looking for something intimate yet. He blushed again, the redness a seemingly permanent fixture on his cheeks, and said, “I know this may all seem strange to you, but when I saw you on the street and how much you resembled my sweet Maria, I knew I had to speak with you.”
Esmeralda struggled for words, forcing a smile on her face in the meantime. Dear god, what had she gotten herself into. She relaxed her posture a bit to make Vicente feel more comfortable and said the only thing she could think of. “Well, I’m flattered.”
Vicente licked his dry lips, avoiding eye contact with Esmeralda. Clearly flustered, he tried to speak and ended up rambling instead. “I don’t know how to phrase this, but… uh… I was… well… I was wondering--”
The nobleman’s rambling was cute, but if he continued on like this she’d be stuck there all night. Perhaps that wasn’t the worst thing, but she needed to assert herself a bit or else she might not get paid this night. Even though this man was having difficulty expressing what he wanted, Esmeralda had a good idea. Here was a loving husband, a man missing his wife, and perhaps also missing their love-making. She leaned forward and placed a finger over Vicente’s lips to silence him. He was a little startled by the gesture, but shut up immediately. “Say no more. I can fulfill your every desire. Tonight, you and your dear Maria shall be reacquainted.”
After sliding slowly off the bed and back to her feet, Esmeralda ran her hands up her body and watched as Vicente sputtered at the sight. He was a bit overwhelmed, but that would only make the next part all that more exciting for him. She slid one arm of her blouse down, revealing more of her tanned skin and the side of her breast. She watched him from the corner of her eye as she slid the sleeve a bit further.
Vicente suddenly jumped to his feet and rested a hand on her arm, stopping her from disrobing. “You don’t have to do that for me.”
Esmeralda scrunched up her face in confusion. What did this man want then? “I thought you required my services?”
“Services?” Vicente was genuinely puzzled by her question before his eyes went wide and he held his hands out as thought he’d been caught in the middle of committing a crime. “Oh dear god, you’re a-a-a…” He didn’t finish his sentence though, gulping loudly and slumping down on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry. When I saw how much you looked like my wife, I did not think of why you might be out that night. I’ll pay you for your time, but I just wanted to talk. I just want to be with my wife one more time.”
Well this was not what Esmeralda had expected at all. Vicente hadn’t even known she was a prostitute. The naivety shocked her, almost as much as the fact that he had taken her all the way to his manor just to speak to her. She had been ready to sleep with him and he’d turned her down. Did this man not want to be with his wife again? The decision baffled her. It went against everything she knew of men. Not sure what to do, she just sat back down on the bed and asked, “So what would you like me to do?”
“Just listen,” Vicente said. “There are so many things I wanted to tell my wife that I never got the chance to say. It would unburden my heart if I could tell these things to you. It might feel as though I am telling her these things instead, seeing as you look so much like her.”
Esmeralda could do nothing but nod her head, so bewildered by the situation she had gotten herself into. Thus she spent the rest of the night just sitting there and listening to what Vicente had to say to his deceased wife. She listened as he spilled out his heart to a woman he hardly knew, removing a burden that he had held since his wife’s passing. Esmeralda had slept with many men, experiencing so many moments of passion and pleasure, but nothing proved as intimate as this. She was witnessing this man’s very soul, his undying love for his wife that continued to defy death. Even though Vicente spoke the words to her, she felt like merely a receptacle, like a priest listening to a man’s confession. The whole experience left her feeling empty inside, for here she was seeing true love and knowing that she’d never feel anything like that in her profession. The best she could do was try not to focus on Vicente’s words, but that proved near impossible. By the time morning came and Vicente had her sent back to town, with a sizeable purse of gold at least, both of them were in tears, although Esmeralda made sure not to let hers show until she had left the manor far behind.