The letter was beautiful, and so was my morning. I did not write back because I was scared that if I were to write back, she might lack the timing to reply to me. I would live waiting for her letter. Either way, the last seminar was today, and already the house was well decorated, and father had bought new lighting. In the past few days, it did not feel like there was an occasion, but today, I surely realized, yes, the day was nigh... it was finally arriving.
"Willock, did you take your suits? Oh, and you need a haircut; your hairline is terribly lined. Jackson, could you groom him, please?" Mother stated; she seemed to be more anxious than I was.
"Mother, I am fine... do not be anxious."
"It is a princess coming to our building; I believe you should be worried."
"Of course... Charles took the suits."
"You sent Charles, dear?"
"Yes."
"Oh dear, Jackson, would you send one of the guards to fetch Charles and make sure he carries the suits? We have to ensure they fit before the day. Dear, many people shall be at the wedding; there should be no room for error... do you understand?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Now, leave. Attend the seminar at Bavdon church; your father wrote to them. The journey shall be long for you... you need to prepare."
"Yes, Mother," I stated. One of the qualities I loved about Mother was that she never neglected my needs for Charles or my little sister. She always made sure we all got equal pieces of something; she always did... I'm sure if I were in the viscounts, I would be the lesser being.
"Mother, over here," I stated, leading her into the guest room. I wanted to give her some money; I always gave her any money I had. I just felt responsible for her in all ways. I knew Father had given her money, but it was usually only when needed, and he barely added anything for her own personal welfare. She would be sad and walk out to embrace the cold outside in solitude, as if wishing the cold would sink into her and make her sick until she died. I saw it, and when I was old enough, I confronted Father about it. I confronted him for being selfish with the family's money. I told him that he was selfish as he would drink and enjoy the money, while Mother worked herself up, eating the same food, not having time to enjoy the luxuries that her fellow married royalty women did. Father was mad, but he knew it was true. So, he gave her rights to the fields and access to that money. However, it was still not enough. Despite giving her access to the field, he stated that the money should be used to buy food for the house. It was like giving someone something and taking it away through another strategy. But I never confronted him for that, for then, I was in my studies. But deep down, I felt bad. So, when I would head to the Lake of Tigris, I would steal some from Father's savings and give it to her, and I would see the shine in her face. She was beautiful. She had brown eyes that turned a little dark at night, but she had the golden heart. She would help anyone, even if it meant sacrificing her own piece of meat. The first Duke, Father's brother, was lucky to have her as a suitor and wife before Father inherited them all. But Father did love her, I assume. However, Father barely slept in her room; he always laid in his or worked himself and slept in the library. Mother would just say, "he is tired." And one day, the Times had stated that the marriage of the known Duke of Bavdon was crumbling into unthinkable debts. The walls seemed to be hard to build, the Duke's smile was no more, and the wife seemed to still put on the poker face of a lady living under the arms of a man. I remember reading the paper while seated on one of the armchairs in my school. Father never bought Times papers; anyone found with them would either be banished, lose their job, or receive the biggest of lectures. Then, I did not know of marriages and being together. I always thought that people who were father and mother should live separately, as they are responsible for taking care of us, and the thought of being big and old never ran through my mind. However, now is when I realize, yes, their marriage seemed to have crumbled long ago. Now they speak, one word and one statement, like, "how has it been going?" "Nice." It was all small words, and now I look at it, I hope they were not putting on a facade. Maybe this was the hardest thing about marriage. And then a thought came into my mind: if I were to die without any heir, my brother would take over my wife…, hell, that would never happen. But death is inevitable; you just have to embrace it when it knocks at your door. "It's all I have earned. Get your hair done, do your nails, drink the best of beers… I love you, Mother," I stated and left for the church... a seminar, a seminar.
After about four hours of being taught responsibilities and respecting the marital bed and boundaries, I took the carriage as I headed home. On my way, however, I saw a little boy selling The Times newspaper. I had not read it in a long time, so I did not know what they had published in that issue. Of course, Father hated that paper; you could never see such a thing in the Duke's household. Sometimes I hated his obnoxious style of ruling; he just hated the technology of knowing about the world. But either way, I opened the paper quickly so that I could throw it away before I arrived near our house.
Times Square, 18… (they always write the year; what's the point? I guess it's for documentation).
Times Square, London
When King Henry the second married his wife, it brought the happiest of memories. Oh, so you remember, the girl was from the Duke of Scottish descent, who died in the Battle of the Lads back in the day. When history seems to repeat, we embrace it so much.
Dearest citizens, the time has come to place our gifts on the upcoming wedding of our dearest Princess and the Duke's son, Willock. The time may seem long, but tomorrow it is.
Consider the beautiful delicacies of well-roasted Italian meat, pastas, and the commonly English foods that are well laid and well prepared by the King's kitchen staff. Is it a sorry sight to miss?
Tomorrow is a very important day to many, and to others, it is terrifying indeed, as the now left bachelors will have chances to meet royalties from other nations who shall come to embrace the joining of the Duke and the King's family. This means there will be plenty of delicacies to choose from. I hope the Viscount's son, who fights and grunts in addition to the various flowers, in wish of the hand of the princess, finds his star with whom he shall finally enlighten the room. May God have mercy… for a little displeasure, a little shove off character, and your name, in addition to your honors, will tarnish into unthinkable breaks.
Let's meet and celebrate with our loved ones.
Congratulations to the Duke's son and the King's dazzling daughter. May you be blessed.
Let's head to the Baron's boy Rich...
The rest was rumors about the Baron's son who had impregnated a girl in some town in Italy. Italians took impregnating their own seriously, and I knew the boy would have to face the music of his actions. I wished my brother would be more careful. I wonder how many girls he has slept with since reaching maturity stage. Father dares not even warn him about that, as he always did with me. But I knew my consequences; they would be brutal. A son of a bastard faced the worst consequences; society never forgave that. He would live in the worst regret.
After reading, I threw the paper away and just laughed inwardly, realizing that the same trauma I had of Father seeing me with such paper was still within me, even in the knowledge that I was yet to be married, or rather to marry. The Times Square wrote the words quite well. I thank God they did not dare write any scandal about us; now the dice was rolling in the Baron's house. Any rumors made everyone avoid you; the boy would surely have no girl yearning to have him. But the Viscount boy, the Viscount boy would have many seeking his hand. He was not as bad-looking; he gave flowers to the princess. How sorry of him... maybe that is more of the reason why he punched me; he felt I was the cause of the princess's change of heart. Anyway, of course, everyone respected the Viscount; the name Harvington demanded respect. That is why he laid grounds in the central part of the city, some miles away from the palace. A Viscount indeed. He had his money, and power was not something he needed to command, for it was an aura that came off him whenever present. I was also sometimes scared in his presence; I respected him as much. The princess sure took much to choose me, or maybe she thought that I was a Viscount as well, but I was a Duke... scratch that, a bastard. I needed to fit in the suit; I had chosen an Iraqi style. I was sent the note that Amir and his sisters were on their way, so I needed to wait for them. I had already told the house manager to prepare court rooms for them; I needed them to love the place. The house was not as huge as the Viscount's, but it sure would contain many. Many of my friends were coming; I just needed to wait.