Secrets In The Light

CHAPTER 4

Harold recognized her the moment she stepped in. Wearing your family's broach on such a beautiful, elegant, light-pink dress, doesn't help with being unnoticed.

Her brown hair was a light color, looking like it has been kissed by the sun for numerous days in row. He didn't understand why, but especially for this event, she chose to pin only half of it up, letting the rest loose to come down in waves on her shoulders.

And her eyes...he had to wipe his face clean to take a better look at her. Those bright-green eyes could see through everyone's soul without even trying. Everything about her seemed light. Even her voice. A calm tone with a generous amount of boldness to it.

Her skin was something else as well, a pale, milky colour that emanated youth altogether.

Having a young woman asking for a drink in a kitchen because the party is too much to handle was something he never pictured for this evening. A few drunk men and a larger amount of angry women who were trying to hide it with smiles, waiving their fan in front of their faces, yes. Definitely. But a girl who looked as though she didn't belong to this world, never.

He wanted to study her closely, ask a lot of questions and be as bold as he could, but in thiat moment, he was a simple cook. And he was looking forward to see her face the moment the Lord of Essex kisses her hand with respect.

During his speech, his eyes darted for a brief period of time in the crowd to look for her. Especially because he wanted to know what to expect the moment they were to meet. But she was nowhere to be seen. Now he knew why...She hated these things probably even more than he did.

"Here, My Lady.", Harold pushed a glass of his best wine on the counter, after wiping his hand clean from preparing the food.

"Please, do not, ever, tell my mother about this. She will never forgive me.", she pleaded with those red lips that he had found himself staring at.

"I'm just the cook, Miss. What do I know?", he answered, hiding the smile on his face by turning around to take the bread out of the oven.

The food was smelling delicious and he knew it tasted even better. When he had some spare time on his hands, he always used to sneak into the kitchen when the cook was taking a break and prepare something for him for when he got back. It has never been something big, or glamorous as a child, but the simple fact that little Harold surrounded himself with recipes, helped a lot for the future, for now.

Also, he wanted to see where this little game between them would go. After all, she might just be his future wife. It has always been up to him to choose a woman by his side. But time went by and he would always find something to force himself to say no. He's already twenty-four years old. How long was he going to wait to produce an heir? If his sister wants to be free, this is his burden.

"What is your name, cook?", she asked sweetly, taking small sips from the strong wine in the glass.

Harold contemplated for a second there. If he was to tell her his real name, the whole game would be over, but if he was to lie about it, she might get angry later on, when the truth needs to come out. So as he turned back to her, after placing another bread on a thicker cloth to keep the warmth in, he responded with the only thing he knew would make sense.

"Harry. My name is Harry, my Lady."

She looked slightly amused but also content with his name. It felt odd to present himself like that. He hasn't spoken that name out loud in too many years and now, as those letters fell off his lips, it reminded him of the only time happiness has felt the greatest in his life.

"I like it, Harry. Tell me, how well do you know your master?", she asked another question, this time finishing the glass of wine off and pushing it towards him for a refill.

Before giving her an answer, he bent down to retrieve another glass from under the counter and filled them both with the same red liquid.

"You shouldn't speak of him here. The walls have ears. And if he ever hears anyone say his name, the dungeons are always ready.", Harold whispered, leaning closer to her ear.

In that moment he could smell her scent closely for s short second, a mixture of myrtle and strawberries, but at his words, she pushed back a little, placing one hand on her chest in wonder.

"Oh, dear Lord. How am I supposed to marry such a man?", she asked more in a whisper, looking around herself to see if there was anyone listening.

The young man had to bite down on his tongue to reprime a smile, even a laugh, and he decided he was enjoying himself more than he should on her behalf. But he didn't care at all.

"Also, I've heard he doesn't want to be looked in the eye at all costs. Everyone who had crossed him ended up beaten with a whip.", he kept joking around, laughing on the inside at the fear in her eyes.

This wasn't right, he knew, but the moment was so precious, her innocence was radiating out of her through those big, green eyes. He simply couldn't stop himself.

"I've heard his father was the same.", she leaned closer this time, grabbing the glass again and downing it with a big gulp.

'I really scared the life out of her', Harold thought while drinking a sip from his own wine.

However, her words remained imprinted in his mind for the next hour or so. His father wasn't like that. Who could say such a thing? Yes, maybe he didn't like his servants to be talking behind his back, or perhaps he hated when the lower class would even try to look into his eyes, but he was no brute. George Styles was a man of honor and courage. Not a pompous liar like every other man behind the kitchen door.

Margaret came is as soon as she could, after serving the first course to the guests and now it was time for Harold to get out there and find the Baron and his family to have a proper conversation.

Amy has returned to the party right after having finished her third glass of wine, which left Harold in a rather shaken up state of mind. Nevertheless, he put on his vest and jacket and sneaked out to the salon, acting like he has never left.

Lord and Lady Anson were sitting at a round table, accompanied by their two daughters, eating in silence. The Baron seemed a bit troubled, his chin was moving constantly, even though he wasn't putting any food in his mouth, like a nervous gesture, and the deep wrinkles on his forehead told Harold that the age was not the only reason for his worries.

Next to him, the first born of the family looked happy, as happy as a widow can be. Harold has heard about the misfortune that hit their family, especially the oldest of the children.

Facing the Baron, his wife was mostly agitated. The young man assumed the reason for her nerves, but he couldn't admit it yet. Mostly because he was nervous as well. Yes, he was holding all the power, being able to say yes and no, or perhaps not give a definitive answer at all, but he was not that kind of man. He was not the man to get a hold on his power and decide to keep it.

And the nineteen year-old daughter was such a beauty, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She was the only one smiling at the table, her white teeth on full display. How could he deny a woman like this?

His feet carried him to their table, and as he approached their proximity, Amy's smile faded instantly. She couldn't believe her eyes. What was the cook doing here? Was he going to reveal anything about the wine drinking from earlier? But...he promised not to.

As she quickly stood up from her chair, all eyes turned to watch her sudden moves. Her mother started to worry even more when she noticed her daughter pushing away her plate.

"Harry, what are you doing here?", she asked, widening her eyes at him, to signal a pleading for his silence.

But when her mother's face turned whiter than lime, the girl's mouth parted and she decided to take a seat back at the table. To Harold, though, the comics of the moment could only leave a smile on his face.

"Your Lordship, I'm extremely sorry for my daughter's behavior. Please, be so kind as to excuse her manners.", Catherine stood up, bowing her head more than necessary to show her embarrassment.

But the young man simply responded by taking her glove-covered hand into his and place a gentle and polite kiss on the back. He continued doing so with Mary and the moment he ended up taking Amy's hand into his, he whispered a soft "My Lady", barely recognizable, but he knew she was carefully listening.

To the Baron, he just shook his hand, manly and strongly, before everyone was waiting for the Earl to speak anything.

Lady Catherine was genuinely livid by her daughter's behavior. Now what was the Earl going to think about her? About the family? She thought she had giver Amy every lesson possible on how to behave, but as it appeared, everything was in vain when it came to the moment her daughter might get engaged.

"May I join you, Lord Anson?", Harold asked, looking into the Baron's eyes for consent.

As he darted his look further into the small group of four people, he noticed the embarrassment and worry into the girl's eyes. Her sister wasn't better, but her smile held some kind of amusement to it.

"Of course, My Lord. It would be our pleasure.", Baron Anson replied shortly, taking a chair out for the young man to sit in.

Amy on the other hand, she couldn't believe her eyes. The cook she has just spoken to approximately one and a half hour ago was now sitting in front of them, pretending to be the one and only Earl of Essex. Maybe he really was, but then why would he be standing in the kitchen at his own party, covered in flour, better filling a girl's glass of wine rather than celebrating with all the nobles?

She needed to see for herself that he was the Earl indeed. Not that she wouldn't believe her parents, but she had to be certain there isn't a young man in that kitchen that resembled this noble man in all aspects.

"Amy, Lord Savile asked you a question, darling.", her mother nudged her left foot under the table, letting her know there was going to be a talk later.

She was too caught up in the moment to listen to whatever anyone had to say. She needed to get out of here quickly, or else, she might just embarrass herself further more.

"Please, excuse me for a moment, My Lord.", she stood up for the second time and with rosy cheeks, she stormed out of the big salon, straight through the kitchen doors.

Now, Harold was forced to sit at this table, listening to her mother's constant excuses about her daughter's behavior, but all he could do was laugh.

"Don't worry, Lady Anson. There is no need for apologies. This whole event is making me feel rather dizzy, myself.", he tried to reason with her, leaning back into the chair and starting to eat his meal in peace.

In the kitchen, Amy was being met with even fewer people than before, but what shocked her the most was to see the round woman behing the counter, with a dirty apron around her, instead of the young boy she has had an encounter with. Still having the adrenaline running through her veins, she stepped forward and places both of her hands on the countertop, getting the attention of Margaret on her.

"Can I help you, miss?" Margaret absently asked, being more preoccupied with preparing all the necessary food.

"Yes, actually. There was this young man here earlier. The cook?" she asked boldly, in a hurry to eventually find out about the situation in all its glory.

Margaret widened her brown eyes, but then came back to reality, slowly shaking her head while still minding her own business.

"I am the cook, miss. There's no man in this kitchen. Now if you'll excuse me, I have dishes to prepare.", she answered back, walking over to the front of the counter and preparing all the white plates with silver decorations for the noble men behind the door.

Returning to the table, Amy realised a single truth from Margaret's words : The Earl of Essex was the cook behind the counter indeed.

Her eyes couldn't belive it, but more importantly, now she remembered exactly what statement she has made about his late father. If only she could apologise to him, maybe this way, the tension between them could ease off.

"Pardon me for my leaving, Your Lordship.", she excused herself again, on behalf of everyone at the table.

But Harold didn't want to hear any more of these pathetic words being thrown at him. After all, it was his fault her behavior was inappropriate, not hers.

"Enough with the excuses. You mother has spoken to me about a marriage arrangement between the two of us, Miss Anson. But before I am to give your family an answer, I would much appreciate it if I could talk with you first.", he explained directly, looking at her from above, waiting for her to get out of her chair and come with him.

"Of course, My Lord.", she answered, still sitting in her chair, looking at him.

"Alone.", Harold added walking to the other side of the table, softly touching the back of her chair to help her out of the tight spot.

Amy was taken back by his request, but she didn't question it at all. She knew better than to go against a powerful men, with her parents at the table at the same time. It would be such a lost war.

The young Earl led them to the huge balcony that, given to the fact that everyone was eating at the moment, was surprisingly empty. For a short moment, they both took the time to admire the beautiful gardens layed in front of them. From the gorgeous looking flowers to the perfectly cut grass, everything looked in its rightful place.

"I only have one question, Miss Anson. Do you want this marriage?", Harold asked the single thing he wanted an answer to.

If the chances were she didn't agree with the arrangement, or worse yet, she didn't want it, he was never going to force it on her. He might want an heir to his legacy, but that could wait if this young woman wasn't ready for a commitment.

"Of course I do, Sir.", her answer came out quick, her eyes not even daring to look into his. Her glance was everywhere but on his.

"Don't lie to me. Please."

Harold knew from the moment he asked the question that her answer would have been the one her parents wanted her to give, not the one that she wanted. And he wanted honesty more than anything. Living with a person that has been lying from the beginning was not something he wanted to sign up for. Yet again, he has been lying to her as well back in the kitchen, partially.

"Sir, if you want me to be truthful, then I will. This marriage might not be the thing I want from the bottom of my heart, but that is not because of you. My mother has been talking to me about this moment ever since I was born. And I know for a fact that if it isn't you, there's going to be somebody else in just a matter of weeks. ", her voice came out strong, something Harold didn't expect.

For Amy, the courage she needed to speak to him like that, about her mother, about this engagement, it practically drained her of all the energy she had left. Maybe the reason for her boldness was those three glasses of wine, or perhaps the joking, young cook back in the kitchen, but no matter what it was, she felt like to him, she could say everything that was on her mind. After all, he was the one to ask.

More than that, she would love to see his deep, green eyes one more time instead of the pavement or the boring trees outside. Because compared to his eyes, everything seemed boring. He was a handsome man indeed, Amy couldn't deny that. No matter how much she was trying to hide the beginning of her smile, she failed miserably. This tall, green-eyed, curly-haired man wanted to know whether she would give her consent to this marriage or not. That was something no one else has cared about until now.

"I'd rather it be you, My Lord.", she finished off, before turning to face him slightly shy for what felt so wrong at the moment.

Amy's cheeks turned red in an instant as he took a step closer, letting her feel his scent, a sweet combination of musk and fine tabaco. Using his index and middle finger, Harold held her chin up, his dark green eyes meeting her light ones at last.

It was something he had been waiting for ever since she left the kitchen, and when she ran off from the table, back in the salon, something grew heavy on his heart.

"Look at me, Amy Grace Anson. I don't want to be deprived of those beautiful eyes of yours. Ever.", he spoke softly, caressing her rosy cheek with his thumb.

That was the exact moment she realized everything he previously said in the kitchen, the dungeons, the whipping, that horrible man he was describing, it was all a lie. Perhaps more of a joke, but nonetheless, her heart felt lighter to know she won't have a monster as a husband, but a kind, reasonable and maybe even loving man.

"Yes, My Lord.", Amy said, briefly interrupting their eye contact to softly bend her head forward before getting back into the initial position.

"Harry. You can call me Harry.", the young Earl urged her, taking her hand into his before returning to the salon to announce the news to the family.

Maybe this wasn't love at first sight, but Harold strongly believed that someday, love would come knock on his door.