Saturday afternoon is chilly because of the heavy rain. Yesterday, Brent, Kai, and I planned to spend today with the horses for leisurely rides. We love horses and we visit the ranch almost every weekend for them. Sadly, as we were preparing for the hour-long drive, it started pouring.
It had been a couple of hours but it kept coming while the three of us were sprawled on different corners of the receiving area. The main door is a tall and wide intricately sculpted wood with brass knobs, bolts, and knocker on the outside. Patterned glass that stretched from the top of the wall to the bottom served as windows on both sides of the door. The foyer that greeted those who would come in by this entrance was spacious with only a marble round table, three cushioned marble seats, ornamental plants on each of the four corners, and a medium-sized chandelier to decorate it.
Brent was lazily poised on one of the chairs, his feet using another like an ottoman. On the first staircase of the flight to the second floor living room was Kai, playing an app on his phone, while I was lying on the carpet right under the chandelier. I've been staring at the sparkling stones shaped like teardrops. I always loved things that glitter. But the dull light they reflected right now just added to my boredom.
All of a sudden, Kai burst out in the background, "Seriously! I can't ride my horse, can't get a high score, and now I missed Radley's birthday!"
"His birthday is today," Brent commented lazily.
"Well, the celebration's supposedly tonight but he suddenly want it right now because his girlfriend has another party to go to," Kai answered. "There's no way I can get there on time,"
"Sorry, brother. The weather's not helicopter friendly and I don't think Dad would want you to drive across town like this too,"
I sighed at their conversation and murmured, "Rich kid problems,"
"What's that?" Brent asked me.
I chuckled. "Nothing. I just said, 'Rich kid problems',"
Brent stood up and went over to me. He then lay beside me and admired the chandelier too. "And whom did you hear that from?"
"No one," I lied, regretting my joke.
Suddenly, Kai was on my other side now. He also demanded that I speak up. Without much choice, I answered, "Fine. There were these two girls at the boulevard,"
"What were you doing at the boulevard?" Brent asked.
"Did Dad know you were there?" was Kai's inquiry.
"I was taking pictures of the sunset, and yes, Dad knew and he gave me permission as long as Shane went with me," I answered them at once.
Shane is my Protector. He is Dad's cousin from my grandfather's youngest brother, and was especially trained to guard the next heir. When I was born, Shane told me, he was immediately so fond of me that in his gut feeling he knew that I was going to be the one.
"To get a better shot . . ." I continued, ". . . I leaned over the railings and miscalculated my angle. I almost fell so Shane grabbed me but I dropped the camera straight to the water. Not that I didn't care about the value of it, but the pictures were just more important to me so the first thing that I let out was somewhere in the lines of "Aww, my photos!" And then I asked Shane if we could get someone to retrieve the memory card safe and sound.
"He said we have people for that so I need not worry and I didn't mean to say it out loud, but I said I was really excited to use that new one that Tyler bought for me last month. Two girls behind me overheard, apparently. They said I have 'rich kid problems',"
Brent, still looking at the chandelier, gently said, "Who are they anyway? You don't know them, they don't kow you. Just don't mind them,"
"I know," I said back. "But do I really sound that spoiled? Or overprivileged? Too sheltered? Something like that?"
Kai cleared his throat. "First of all, you are not any of those. Second, that is why you won't sound like any of those. And third, you won't see them ever again anyway so you don't have to care,"
I shrugged. "Yeah. But do you think that's why I don't know a lot of people?"
"You mean friends?" asked Brent.
"Whatever you kids call it these days," Both my brothers smiled at that.
No one answered though, so I decided I should just tell them what really bothered me. "I need to find someone to present to the Benefactors. Now, how can I find a single 'soul' when all my friends are wealthy relatives that go to the same elite school that I go to?"
"Ren, it's fine," it was Brent who spoke. "You won't lose the empire if you don't start at sixteen. It's a tradition but not a rule. Besides, the Benefactors can help you with it. You can ask them for a list that you can choose from,"
The rain was still noisily showering outside. It was already getting late for horseback riding so as I gave up my afternoon, I also let my arguments go. None of my brothers understood. How could they, when I couldn't, myself. We were all groomed alike, raised alike, tailored alike. Everything we were taught was for our service to the empire and its legacies. We had the same teachers, same books, and the same father. But I felt different from them.
Unlike them, I love the idea of sitting at the head of the table, taking responsibility, having the last say about a matter, being the last to sign papers, and whatnot. I always pictured myself perched on the highest tower, overseeing every move of every person, making sure they were guided and well-provided for. Ever since I fully understood how things worked in our empire, I wanted to be the heir. My brothers said that none of them did. But something was more important to me than that.
Maybe it was the influence of Henry Barden that really made me who I am. I loved the way he looked at the world and its people, how his humility had been passed on to generations after him, and how genuinely in love he was with the poor and the needy. He knew that his purpose was more than just generating money. He wanted to make the world even just a fraction of a percent better if it was the last thing he had to do.
Since the charity was existent and thriving, prioritizing it had become a job only for its executives. In the three years that I'd been tailing Dad all over the empire, we visited Barden Benefactors only three or four times. For many generations, the Bardens weren't as serious as the Benefactors were at helping the less fortunate. They would just depend on the division for a project to work on and focus more on their jobs. It was contrary to what Henry wrote in his journal.
"My benefactor pointed a direct finger at me when he chose me. It was not an encounter of chance but a product of the careful planning of the Lord of the heavens. So when I and the generations after me would choose their soul to aid, they shall befriend them, mentor them, and share lives with them, just as Arthur did with me, where my own father had fallen short."
I wondered at which point the real legacy had gotten lost.
Ironically, the Legacies were the humblest in every generation. Cousins were the ones who flaunted extravagances since they weren't expected to be prim and proper. A girl my age, Rachel, was featured in a blog about rich kids who were active on Instagram. She advanced to the Educators but until now, she was having trouble with the professors because she was in and out of the Institute.
Before dinner, I was in front of my laptop looking at Instagram and Facebook posts about Radley's party. He's one of our cousins from Dad's cousins who is a Protector like Kai. He turned twenty-one today so he had their house turned into a bar of sorts, filled with disco lights and alcoholic drinks. Dad didn't raise us to flaunt what we had but neither did he forbid us to enjoy the privileged life from time to time.
Radley's girlfriend posted a photo of them together, sipping a cocktail drink from a martini glass. I saw another featuring a girl in the act of taking her top off. It was obviously a wild party and I was glad Kai didn't make it. He and Brent are grown men, nearly twenty-one themselves, and more matured than most Barden kids their age, but still. I get jealous of the thought of any of them having girlfriends or enjoying a life with friends who wouldn't care about me.
As I frowned upon another uncivilized photo, I received a text from Shane telling me that my memory card had been retrieved and my shots were safe and sound. He said he'd bring them tomorrow so I replied a "thank you". Just then, a knock on my bedroom door came.
"Come in," I said and got delighted to see that it was Tyler. I ran to him and greeted him with a hug.
"Easy there, you're getting bigger, Sunshine!"
"I'm still your baby sister, though, don't deny it!" I playfully climbed onto his back, which he lowered for better access. Once I was settled on piggy-back, he faced us toward our reflection at the glass door to my balcony.
"Are you really turning sixteen?" he said in amazement. "One moment we were chasing you around the house in your baby towel and the next . . ."
"Apparently, I don't have a say,"
He sighed and put me down. "Come on down. Dinner's ready. We're having a lot of potatoes,"
"Ty," I called as he walked toward the door, expecting me to follow. When he turned, I continued, "You have friends, right? I mean, aside from cousins,"
My oldest brother put one arm around my shoulder. "When you graduate from the Institute and start working, you'll know it's impossible to not have friends,"
When I nodded and faked a smile, he saw through me. So he added, "What do you say, I let you meet one of mine? One of these days,"
This time, I smiled for real.
We went to the table to find the other guys already messing up the place. They are all of legal age, mature, with responsibilities, but when gathered together, they are still boys. And they were actually talking about a video game when I got there. As they made noise around the table while I picked at my food, all I could think about was that out there, there's a soul for me. But I wouldn't be able to find them if I keep locking myself in this fortress of comfort and privilege.
I excused myself after finally gulping some potatoes down but instead of going to my bed, I went to the back of the house where the library was. Photos and copies of Henry's journals were compiled for the Institute and we had e-books of them. But I preferred the original ones. Dad himself taught me how to handle them carefully when I finally had access to them, after being chosen as the heir.
I randomly picked out from the selection on the shelf. I took it to the nearest table right under the light.
This one goes way back. I smiled in anticipation of the pictures that Henry's words would be painting on my head again of his time. The time that I wished I was born into. Simpler times. Fresher air. Less responsibilities.
But upon second thought, there'd be no cameras or earphones so maybe my era isn't so bad.
I opened the first page and was delighted to see that my hands brought me to Henry and Charity's courtship days. I loved to be reminded that it could still be real and pure. That one can still find someone faithful. So again, I read.
"She wants to marry me. I can see it in the way she looks at me, the emphasis on the word 'future' when she talks about it, the way she stresses 'family', and how she would tell me over and over that she loved children. She is ready to give her agreement, if only I would ask.
I will. People do not consider her an ideal wife but I do. I will marry her and have children with her. No one can stop me. No, not even Reneid."
I've already read this before. I knew that they had an argument about her motives. Arthur suspected that she might've just loved Henry for his money and Henry accused Arthur of being a misogynist. That wasn't the word used and I don't think it was already coined back then but Henry could've given its dictionary meaning describing Arthur's treatment of Charity. At this point, my super-great-grandpa was angry with his business partner-slash-mentor.
He said that my super-great-grandma wasn't feisty but courageous. She wasn't insubmissive but smart and wanted her suggestions at least considered. She wasn't too opinionated, just the right amount of it. As I read more about Charity I realized that she was a modern woman, born in the wrong century. In many ways she was like Dad's wives, only loyal and faithful. I wish I could've met her.
I flipped the pages to find the conclusion of the story. In other words, the happy ending. I'm a sucker for happy endings.
"We were married yesterday and it was the happiest day of both our lives so far. The wedding dress was beautiful but it did not dampen the radiance of my now wife, Charity. I love her with my whole being and she will be a reminder for me every day that God does give people what they do not deserve. She is the embodiment of grace in my life and I will treasure her forever.
The best part of our wedding was when she accepted my vows and gave me hers. The second best was when Arthur danced with her to show us both that he is happy for my happiness and that he was wrong about her.
This morning, before we set forth for Charity's childhood home, where we are visiting now, Arthur came to see me. We sat down at the porch of my house, now also Charity's, and he told me about the part of his life that he would rather not speak of.
It was his life before he was great. It was the one and only life that he had been capable of love. He didn't have the fortune he has now, but he had a woman. That was, however, until she left him for another. He said she made him fall in love with her when she has yet to realize that inheriting a large estate also came with Arthur's father's debts. Then when she met a more desirable heir, she used the same charm that Arthur had fallen for.
He never married after that. Now I understand why
That was the last page of this particular tablet. It was still a happy ending for me. Henry and Charity ended up together, Arthur was happy for them, and he was saved from an awful woman. What happened next was history. Our history.
Arthur eventually paid up his inherited debts and restored his family name's reputation. That much I knew. But come to think of it, I never really cared what happened to the woman that was Arthur's ex. Maybe because she wasn't even named in Henry's diary.
I felt sad for her. Some might think that she didn't deserve compassion but I couldn't help it. The same way that I couldn't help but wish to meet my mother. Both of Dad's wives were "vile women", as perceived in the empire circles. But do we really get to call people such?
My back started aching a little from being hunched over the diary. I straightened a bit, yawning in the process, and stretched my hands up. I didn't let go of the notebook because I didn't feel the need to. It was pretty light and I was gonna put it back anyway.
My head was held back that I could see the cover of my ancestor's diary back-lit by the light from the library ceiling. I realized it was a thin cover, delicate and worn out. As I was admiring how such a sensitive material defied the destroying powers of time, I noticed something.
Words. Faded ones.
I stood up and moved towards another table where a desk lamp was set. I turned it on, put the notebook right under the welcome bright light and opened it at the very last page.
That last leaf was slightly stiffer than the others. Also the back cover, as compared to the front one. The ink used to write down the part that I have been reading was, upon closer inspection, smudged. Very slightly, but definitely.
It had been soaked, I concluded. This end of the diary had been wet at some point and dried up. So the faded words at the back cover were ink transfers from the last leaf, a dying copy of Arthur's heartache.
I was prepared to let it go when I took one last glance at the bottom of the page.
Henry was a cobbler, yes, when Arthur Reneid met him. But according to himself, he knew how to read, write, count. In fact, he loved to learn. And I have seen, in years of reading and re-reading his own account of his life, that he was articulate. It made me admire how his punctuation marks were always on point.
But that last line:
Now I understand why
Years of reading and re-reading, yet only now had I realized that the sentence was actually not finished. There was no period nor any mark. The last page was, apparently, not the last page.
I never had reason to investigate the space between the back cover and the adjacent leaf but I did now. And sure enough, there were bits of paper jutting out of the spine. It was neat, obviously carefully torn out. Which meant two things. One, someone did it on purpose. And two, I haven't read everything in Henry's diary.
For the second time, the tablet was held against the light. Because a quill was used to write on these pages, only one face could be used or else the ink would soak through. Therefore the transfers on the cover wouldn't be a mirror image. It would be as my ancestor had written it.
It was such a work. I strained my eyes, stiffened my neck, and spun my head as I wrote down every word or phrase that I made out. When it proved to be more strenuous to bend my spine, convex and concave, over and over again, I decided to just trace the words on the cover itself as I held it up the light.
It was easier but still took me about an hour. I needed to be careful because I only had the one chance to squeeze these words out. I realized I should've used a pencil when I was already halfway through. When I was done, I twisted and stretched out to release tensions that I might've gained. My head was aching a bit and I was so sleepy but I couldn't put this down now. The names and curious words were too interesting.
I took a final neck twist and finally read my discovery.
he found it difficult to trust Charity even when she is always vocal about loving me. It was to the advantage of his suspicion too that she was the one who had introduced herself to me. Adeleide, as Arthur said, attracted him with her forward and outspoken attitude.
I asked him if he had any news about the woman after she married the Caster heir. He said that for years he had, but it broke his heart even more.
He found out that she had given birth only six months after she was wed. He knew the child was his because they had been together one night. He said he was aware it was wrong but he couldn't stop himself because he couldn't stop her. And he loved her. She didn't tell him it bore fruit because she had met Douglas only a few weeks after their passion.
Arthur went after Adeleide the moment he realized the child could be his. She denied it profoundly and didn't even let him see his boy. But years later, he received correspondence from her confirming his suspicions but asked him, as her death wish as she was slowly fading from an unknown illness, to not reveal the truth lest their son would suffer the consequences of her sins.
He knew it was true and I agreed. I thanked him for confiding with me and I promised to heed his request to never speak of it again. And as for me, I silently vowed to hold close to my family.
I closed the notebook and stared at the cover. Suddenly I was aware of the little sounds around me in the library. A scratching here, a scuffling there. I knew I was imagining those out of paranoia. I unearthed an empire-changing revelation after all.
Arthur Reneid had an heir!
Everything he owned was given to Henry. There was no problem with it because he had no living relatives and no wife and children. He died of old age so there was no cause for suspicion of foul play. And they were partners. Whatever they achieved, they did together, so it all made sense. Everything was just right.
Not to me, though. The time that I was named the heir, I was happy. I made my father proud and my brothers sighed in relief because now they were sure they didn't have to go through it again. But from time to time I would get this feeling of doubt. Not of my capabilities nor my worth. I just had a feeling that maybe there was a possibility that all these weren't for me. I never told anyone that. Now I think I know why.
The door opening startled me and I involuntarily clutched the diary to my chest in a defensive position. Someone was walking closer and closer and I figured if they caught me like this, they'd know I was hiding something. So I put back the diary flat on the table and took my phone out, pretending to be playing on it.
A while later, Kai's tall figure appeared from behind a shelf. He was already in his pyjamas and dressing coat. It's his turn to check on me tonight. After I accidentally slept in the library when I was thirteen, Dad assigned a night for each of them, himself included, to make sure I got back in my room. Nobody needed another panicked search operation.
Kai looked different from us, being adopted and all. He was the tallest, blonde and blue-eyed. He took from his mother's model-pretty genes rather than the Bardens' dark looks that I could only describe as classy. All my brothers are good-looking so I used to convince myself that I must be too.
"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked with a reprimanding tone.
I yawned at the word "bed". The discovery tired me, apparently. Then I answered, "Just needed to read some more. Now I'm really sleepy, thankfully,"
Kai sat beside me and I hoped he didn't notice how I stiffened.
"Which part is that?" he asked, pointing at the diary.
"The love story," I answered.
He nodded slowly. Then, "About that, Ren. You're aware that sooner or later, Dad's gonna accept suitors for you and you're gone have to entertain them, right?"
I noticed the concern in his voice. He's technically my cousin but the connection between us is just as much as with my biological brothers. Kai knew I dreaded this part of my life.
"He doesn't tell you who to date," I pointed out, still in denial of what's to come.
"There are six of us. He knows that at least one would pick an heiress of sorts. And we're not gonna go behind the empire steering wheels, Serena. You are,"
I shrugged, feigning indifference. "I'm fifteen, Kai. I'll just cross the bridge when I get there,"
As we were walking down the hall to where the bedrooms were, I asked my brother, "You have friends, right?"
He looked at me a little surprised. Still he answered, "I do, as a matter of fact. And aside from Rad, if that's what you're asking,"
We both laughed at that. He then told me stories of how he met a Lindsay at a concert and a Rob at the video store. They'd been hanging out ever since. As I listened, I felt happy for him.
I had put the diary back in its rightful place on the shelf. But at around two in the morning, I got up, with the help of my alarm clock, and went back for it under the dim lights. I still didn't know what to do with the new information but I sure didn't want anyone else to find out yet. What if they tear off the back cover too?
Successfully, I was able to retrieve the notebook and when I was safe in my room again, I hid it in my chest box.
It was an antique one, heavy, made of dark, hard wood and not in use anymore when I found it in one of the spare rooms. Dad said one of his grandmothers owned it. He readily gave it to me when I asked for it. I got help from one staff member to restore the lock and voila! I have a treasure box!
Thereafter, it housed my own diaries, my unsent letters to my mother, my secret Bible (no one ever mentions it over here) and other sentimental things. And today, I add to my collection the secret mystery of Arthur Reneid's heir.
I slept soundly again after, knowing that no one else would be looking for the missing diary. I'm the only avid fan of Henry this generation.