Requiem

This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives, the union of one rich gentleman and the daughter of another, aged, gentleman in need. And yet the morning of the wedding day felt much calmer than Mr. Greyheart expected. Nobody seemed to be in a rush to get the guests, if there were any but the family and the servants seemed to go on with their usual chores as if a wedding did not require anything but to move into a church and agree to be one’s most loyal house mate. If only it were so easy, he wouldn’t have come all the way to Enfield.

Walking into the living room area, he found his future wife, Helena, reading and sipping on her morning tea. She was dressed in a simple, pale pink dress with a subtle flowery pattern that made a great contrast with her big blue eyes seemed to engulf him completely. She genuinely looked like a woman, at least one that abode to society’s rules.

“You surprise me, Mr. Greyheart. You woke up rather late this morning.” started Helena feeling annoyed now that she had to see his face.

“And you woke rather early. I was under the impression you liked to stay in bed until early lunch?” he fired back.

“I do, yes. I cannot sleep until after early morning, something you will have to get used to after the wedding. One of the many other details you never asked my mother,” added the woman, one of her eyebrows rising as if to tease him for his lack of better judgement.

Mr. Greyheart chuckled under his breath, which to be sincere sounded like he was trying to cover a growl, before he sat next to her.

“I’m sure we can come to an accord, one way or another.”

“I’m sure you could have done better if you would have chosen a woman from the city. You do know my family won’t die of hunger if you pack and leave.” she said although from her tone it was obvious she knew what his answer will be.

“I’m sure you would have liked me to be your former lover, Mr. Sickney but I am not. Unfortunately, nothing seems to be working in a way that pleases us.” replied the gentleman with a tinge of annoyance.

He waited for her answer but it did not come. At a second thought, he wondered if mentioning her dead lover wasn’t just a bit much and he was considering apologizing when she opened her mouth.

“Life is a vicious cycle of chasing what we cannot have while running away from what we do. Marriage was never on my mind, so I cannot give you the reply you want.”

“I’m sure your mother gave it enough thought. Having one daughter is still easier than five.”

“I suppose so. But that does not give her the right to push her farther than her possibilities.” the young woman said, her eyes narrowing as she remembered whose decision was in the first place to marry.

Mr. Greyheart looked closely at Helena and although he didn’t smile, his eyes squinted a bit. He was amused.

“Mrs. Eastorwine wants the best for you and so do your brothers. It seems they found me fit to take you in.” said Mr. Greyheart in a joking matter which only offended Helena.

“I am not a child, Mr. Greyheart. I am a woman and I decide my future, not my family. I define who I am and who I will become, not the decisions taken by the force of circumstance.” She said in a pissed off tone.

“It is what it is. We shall not dwell much on this subject since it is out of our reach now.” he said, giving a barely audible sigh.

Mr. Greyheart was not an ugly man, not at all, and he seemed to have a preference for dark coloured clothing. Helena’s eyes fell over his chest, noticing how he didn’t show any bit of skin and liked to dress properly from head to toe. Her sight went up to his face and she couldn’t say he was in any way like her former lover; Mr. Greyheart was a dark haired man with dark round eyes, thin lips that seemed to be stuck in a frown and a pale, ghostly face. To be frank, he looked like he had nothing to live for, more so than her heartbroken brother.

“One should not admire another with such intensity, Miss Eastorwine. Not so bluntly,” said Mr. Greyheart awkwardly, feeling like he was placed under a magnifying glass.

“I am only acknowledging my future husband’s looks. You are free to do so too, if you wish.” she replied in a calm tone, as if her impression of him got better after balancing what she had before with what she was going to have soon.

Mr. Greyheart had to only look into her eyes to see everything he needed. It wasn’t so much about her education or her body but of how empty those blue orbs looked. She could have been the ugliest, poorest and most uneducated woman in the whole Britain but he would have still found her attractive because of that emptiness. It made him feel as if she could show him the past and future if he’d stare long enough.

The spell broke when she chuckled, the sound making him blink and retaliate. He coughed and moved in his seat awkwardly but she gave him no mind and returned to her book.

From the side, Papillon crossed his arms in front of his chest feeling quite accomplished. His plan to redeem the Lair’s name was going smoothly, although he expected it was not going to continue so.

When the dress arrived, Mrs. Eastorwine gleamed with happiness that her husband and children haven’t seen in her in a while. But when they finally got to see it, her eyes narrowed into a mean glare as her youngest brother, Alfred, started to clap.

“A lot better than expected! And look at these lace sleeves! Wonderful!” he exclaimed, being far more excited than his mother.

“It does look very elegant. You’ll make a great picture in it.” her twin, Matthew, added, nodding to himself in approval.

As they continued to dote on how Helena will look, while the bride seemed to mind nothing but her own thoughts, Mrs. Eastorwine realized someone was missing.

“Where is Blaise?” she asked feeling a tight knot form in her stomach since her oldest brother was missing.

“He went to bring grandma. Said she’d be more than happy to take a look at Mr. Greyheart.” answered Matthew with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Mrs. Eastorwine gasped as if that was worse than the colour of the wedding dress.

“Someone go and stop him from embarrassing us!”

“Let her come. She has every right to be here after all the help she gave us.” Helena said calmly. She was taking the whole event a lot better now that she knew there was no escape.

Mrs. Eastorwine’s talent to fore feel bad events prepared her for the moment a police man came to her door with the body of her daughter, cold and soulless. Of course, the events that followed affected the family more than Helena’s original death but that was, after all, their choice. They chose to get grandma involved and risk their fortune for one soul and they were never going to regret doing so.

Having grandma in the house with Mr. Greyheart present was not a good idea. She could feel the aftermath already and it was dreary.

Mr. Greyheart was outside, in the garden, exploring all the little stone paths he could find. They were many to his surprise and they all seemed to lead to the labyrinth.

“Hello, sir! You must be Mr. Greyheart! The groom is out and about, not thinking about running away, I hope!”

Mr. Greyheart was speechless at the sudden casualty thrown at him by such a young boy.

“Do not be offended, sir. I’m Wolf, the gardener. Jeremy Wolf. I’ve been living here ever since my parents gave up on me. Money and all that. I am a part of this family and residence.”

He must have been barely of age yet he looked older. He had light brown hair and bright blue eyes and he was dressed far more expensively than any gardener Mr. Greyheart had seen before. Jeremy seemed to shine with positivity and good will, something Mr. Greyheart did not quite know how to handle.

“Is this environment good for a boy? As far as I know, the Eastorwines have monetary troubles.” Mr. Greyheart asked finally getting over his sudden appearance.

“I get three meals a day and a room to rest my head in. Mrs. Eastorwine is a woman of word and she gave me more than I can ever repay. You are one lucky man, sir.”

“Her daughter does seem a bit peculiar, though.”

“Of course she does! She was brought back from death, nobody has the right to judge her. Let me tell you something, sir. Miss Helena is a wise woman at her age but she is a woman of 24 year old, young and ardent. She dreams of real love and a real marriage alongside a man that treasures her as she is. If you plan on disappointing her, you should get back into the carriage and leave.” advised the boy, his face growing grim at the mention of Helena.

“Should I be threatened by the opinion of a mere servant?” Mr. Greyheart asked feeling like he has been already too nice with this boy.

“This mere servant’s opinion can save your life.” said the gardener, his face looking like he suddenly grew several years. “This labyrinth that you admire so was not done for beauty but for keeping the monster entertained.”

“What monster? What are you talking about?” asked Mr Greyheart, narrowing his eyes at the young boy.

“Some monsters are kept inside cages when caught but most monsters like to hide in plain sight so that they never get caught.” said the boy, lowering his voice into an almost whisper, as if he knew somebody was eavesdropping.

Mr. Greyheart frowned as he glanced at the labyrinth. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t see any shadow looming over it nor coming out.

“Would you mind explain-” he stopped when he noticed the gardener left already, as silent as a cat. Mr. Greyheart sighed and unconsciously looked up at Helena’s bedroom window.

Poor Mr. Greyheart did not expect to see anyone since he remembered having left Helena in the foyer, and yet his eyes were met by the dark stare of a hag. He jumped in his spot, a tinge of genuine fear tingling his bones.

“Mr. Greyheart! Oh my, Mr. Greyheart!”

Mrs. Eastorwine’s voice shifted his attention and made him realize he has been silly. It was just an old lady -who, now that he look once more, was not there anymore- and she was probably cleaning the room.

Mrs. Eastorwine’s cheeks were flaring as she seemed to have done more than her usual share of physical activity. Her hair was let loose, which was nothing since it was short anyway. She looked in a hurry but his shaken form made her figure out she was too late. Just like him, the plump woman glanced at Helena’s window and gave a heavy sigh.

“Oh, Mr. Greyheart this is all my fault for not taking measures immediately. I’m really very sorry.” apologized the woman with worry in her eyes. She seemed tense all over and Mr. Greyheart was rather surprised he finally saw her in actual distress since he arrived.

“I’m afraid I do not understand, madame. If you could be clearer then I’d profoundly appreciate it.” he said.

The surprise was even greater when Helena herself walked out dressed in what was a night gown, her hair only half done and fire in her eyes.

“Do not apologize for grandma as I myself am not apologizing for you, mother! Better go inside and greet the pastor. He has arrived early, to our misfortune,” said the young woman throwing a quick annoyed look at the gentleman. “Your servant may be searching for you, Mr. Greyheart. Don’t make him wait.”

Mr. Greyheart narrowed his eyes at the tone she used with him but decided on not making any comments with Mrs. Eastorwine still there. He nodded at the ladies and left quickly, taking one last glance at the window on the second floor. This family was ultimately odd.

Pastor Rubbard was a docile, soft voiced man with no real character. His parish was not on the Eastorwine land but very close, enough to make acquaintance with Mr. Eastorwine and his family. His likeness for the family was every so often disrupted by their eldest, grandma as they called her. Mr. Rubbard had never, in his 10 years of preaching in Enfield, heard them say her name.

Grandma was an old woman, slightly crouched by the harsh years she had to survive through. Although she looked like a hag, Mr. Greyheart noticed that she was the family member that Helena took after; the dark hair, the round eyes and the semi pale constitution.

Standing in front of the pastor, quite dignified although his suit was not custom made nor was it elegant, felt a bit awkward. The brothers were present, watching the groom like hawks. He heard the youngest snicker and saw the twin roll his eyes at the whole event but no reaction from the oldest. It almost looked like he was the one person that was content his sister was getting married.

“Ah, Mr. Greyheart, I’ve got to admit I never imagined Miss Helena will get married to someone like you.” the pastor said, his voice sounding weaker than his constitution. 

“Yes well it seems that is the latest subject on the property.” grumbled the groom.

“No, no, don’t misunderstand me sir!“ the pastor added quickly, “But you need a strong and well built confidence to marry a woman that not only has been engaged in mortifying events but has such a sensitive mind. She is still just a child.”

It did not seem so when the doors opened and Helena entered. It took an incredible amount of time and self restraint to walk down the isle and stand next to Mr. Greyheart, who was still a mere stranger as long as Helena cared. Taking a glance at the room, nobody was there except family, servants and the neighboring family, who looked bored out of their minds.

The ceremony seemed to take longer for both the groom, who glanced several times at his trusted Papillon and the bride, who was standing very still, looking ahead as if she was in a trance. She did look gorgeous in the dress even if it was quite unconventional.

But for Helena, it was more like a funeral. She was giving up on her life, her body, her pride, but not her heart. The words sounded more like notes of a requiem or verses that foresaw her death as an individual. It was saddening but her mother's sniffs of happiness seemed to assure her it was for a noble cause. It was all for family and regaining their freedom. 

Turning to look at her now husband, she waited for him to raise her veil and looked into his eyes with such intensity that the man almost took a step back.

Those eyes were not of a person that gave up anything. Those were the eyes of somebody that could finally show what she has been hiding. But the ceremony finished. By then it was too late.