Secrets In The Light

CHAPTER 1

1889 doesn't mean anything for a lot of people. This year might not mean anything for the Queen herself, because it was just a simple one, with the sun up in the sky and the birds singing.

It has been a good year for everyone. Well, that is if we do not count the poor, or the homeless, or maybe the children who died of hunger. For the wealthy, it was a good year. But then again, when isn't it for them?

However, today is not about money, not in the slightest, not for him. Today is about saying goodbye to someone he loved dearly. Today is about stepping up on the ladder and be a man. Today is about becoming something he never wished for to anyone, not even his worst enemies.

Harold George Savile becomes the Earl of Essex. And with the title comes the responsibility he's been running from all his life. At some point, about two and a half years ago, when all he cared about was how to have fun in girl's bed or how much he could drink with his pals, his father decided it was time to prepare him for what might come one day.

The Earl asked his son to pay a visit to his large office that day, and told him with a scolding voice "Listen, Harold, one day, all of this will be yours and when that day comes, I will not be here to guide you. Because when my title passes to you, it means I'm dead. So I need you to take the responsibility seriously and become a man sooner rather than later, son. "

"Harry." was all he said. "My name is Harry."

Looking at his father's lifeless body sitting pale like a ghost in the extravagant wooden coffin, he remembers all the moments his parent was trying to prepare him for what was to come.

'Maybe he knew.', the young man is thinking, while trying to focus on the service the church decided to provide.

George, as Harold liked to call him, was more than a father to him. He was a mentor, a friend, a brother, a mother. He was everything he lost today.

When he heard the news, he couldn't help his tears from falling down his rosy cheeks. That was the first and the last time he cried for this. It was a beautiful day, the sun was almost setting, giving the sky that perfect orange colour as he let the tears stream down his pale face for no longer than ten exact minutes. Then, he left everything behind, London, studies, friends, to come home and accept his title.

That was two days ago. And he hasn't shed a tear ever since.

The truth is that even though he wanted to cry and mourn his father's death, he had promised the old man that there will be no such a thing at his funeral.

"An Earl does not cry. He doesn't have the time." his father used to say.

Harold had also wished for his mother to be present and stand by his side, but that wasn't possible at the moment. Countess of Essex, Emily Anne Savile couldn't even remember her own name, let alone her deceased husband's or her own children's. That is why she is sitting in her room right now, with a permanent doctor at her side and few ladies in waiting to keep her company in that big chamber.

Harold also had wished for his sister to be here today, but no matter how many letters he had sent, there was no answer to any. Anne-Rose Savile has never had a good relationship with the Earl. Ever since she was a little girl, all her father wanted to do was force her into marring big and having lots of children.

"This is the greatest purpose a woman can have, Anne-Rose. And this is what you shall do." her father told her not long before he died, when the young woman decided to visit her ill mother for a few days.

It wasn't then that she decided to never depend on a man to provide for her, but her father's statement solidified her beliefs. The first man she was engaged to was a sixteen year old from Oxford whose parents only wanted to get rich from this marriage. Anne has seen it from the beginning, even though she was too young back then, but her father took a while to realise what had happened.

Afterwards, there was an older man, named John, who wasn't into kindness at all, so when he tried to r**e a seventeen year old girl, and a daughter of an Earl, he was out of the picture faster than he came in.

There were many more to come, but Anne-Rose has never been the one to keep their name in her mind because she has always known the outcome to every single engagement. For the time being, the young woman is visiting the world, walking all over beautiful parks and enjoying the life of a wealthy Earl's daughter.

Today, the future Earl of Essex is alone. Too many people at his side yet no one at all. None that he really cared about. Some unknown cousins, many old aunts, a few of his father's friends and a lot of unknown strangers are accompanying him to George Savile's final moment.

"My Lord." a voice startles Harold in an attempt to get his attention.

At first he looked around him to make sure the certain person was addressing to him directly, but then again, who else would he be talking to? That title has passed to him now. His father wasn't here to help anymore.

There was a woman, probably in her middle fifties, wearing a long, black dress with a yellow scarf wrapped around her neck, probably to get attention. That's not something you would wear to a funeral, not when a very important member of society was welcomed into God's hands.

"Yes, madame." he turned around, finally taking a better look at the short, round, old woman.

After being well educated in London for about four years now, he has managed to just take a look at people and see right through them and their titles. And just throwing a glance at this woman let him know she doesn't hold any pompous title to her name, so it wasn't hard to simply call her 'madame'.

"I am sorry for your loss, Sir. His Lordship was one of the most kind person I have met in my fifty-seven years of life. I cannot believe he is gone." she kept rambling, making Harold's brows twitch in confusion.

How could this simple woman have met his father, when all he did was surround himself with people that only had their mouth filled with money and titles?

"Thank you, ma'am.", he kept his answer short, not sure whether to say more or keep quiet.

Harold wasn't in the mood to talk to people. Not because he was upset, but because they had nothing good or wise to say about his father and it would only cause him anger rather than closure. Maybe if he had his family next to him, he would have been able to carry out a somewhat normal conversation, but as it happens, he's alone. So he simply turned his back to the woman, slowly trying to pay attention to the service.

"He was very proud of you, you know?", the old woman insisted, stepping in front of him to get his eyes on hers.

The way she spoke about the Earl, so vividly and shamelessly, like she has been a long lost acquaintance, even though her clothes were telling him otherwise, woke something inside him and pushed him to turn to face her one more time and ask the question he really wished to have known the answer to.

"How did you know my father?" he pushed his gloves-covered hands into the pockets of the warm coat he was wearing above the very expensive black suit.

"The former Earl of Essex was a good man. He always cared for the people around him. You were very lucky to have a father like him." she avoided the question, with a somewhat grace, but at the same time, with some knowledge Harold doesn't have at the moment.

However, he needed to know what has the woman been referring to in order to get some sleep tonight. It seems everything people might say today could be an unsolved misterry about the deceased man.

It wasn't that his father hasn't been kind or loving in his time, but those words have always seemed too strong to be defining him whatsoever. He never cared about the poor, or the homeless. He never asked his children about their desires in life, nor did he ever listen to them. And that was because he always knew best, or at least that was what he kept telling his family.

A bad father couldn't describe him either. He never raised a hand to his wife, and neither did he yell or become violent.

So there is where Harold was able to place him, just in between.

Perhaps for the young Harry, his father was everything he has ever dreamed of becoming, but for adult Harold, that was far from his dreams.

Up until a year ago, the father was everything to his son, maybe he still is in some ways. But the thrill is long gone.

"My Lord, if you don't mind, I was wondering whether you might need extra help in your household. I have nothing left back at home and I'm not getting any younger. If there is anything I can do, please, let me know.", her voice was barely audible by the end of her request and Harold figured out how nervous she might have been to ask something like this.

This might just be an opportunity for him to find out more about this woman and her relationship with his father throughout the years. But then again, the reason this old woman approached him is still unknown to him. Was it to get herself a workplace? Or money off the old dead man?

Harold could easily offer her a place to work. His father was the owner of one of the most luxurious hotels in all London and their own residence there is in need for servants.

Their enormous house is Essex is something his father had promised to Anne-Rose long before she was even born, so Harold decided to occupy the one in London to be closer to the hotel and let his sister have this house for whenever she wanted to come back.

The Savile Hotel has been a treasure of Mr. George Savile. He built it for his wife before she turned up ill. She has always liked to walk around the gardens, welcome the guests and drink a nice coup of tea in the lounge of the hotel. But as time went by and memories became a lost star in the sky, the hotel has lost Emily Anne Styles to an illness nobody knows about.

Up till this day, the Lord is known as 'The Earl With a Mad Wife'. Another title to the list.

"We shall discuss this after the ceremony, ma'am. Now if you'll excuse me, I have businesses to attend to.", he excused himself politely, just like his father taught him to.

Not many people were keen on George Savile. He was a man who liked the truth, a man who always spoke of it. He liked justice and loyalty so if you were lacking any of those things, being in the presence of the Earl himself would have been impossible.

The fact that the old woman with a yellow scarf not only knows his father, but can speak of him on a personal level meant she is something deserving of Harold's attention.

For now though, he would simply like to have a glass of old whisky and a nice conversation with a friend. If only he could find a friend somewhere, because the whisky is waiting patiently for him in the saloon.

Right when the service was over and the crowd of people finally decided to leave to their own lives, the young man remained still in front of his father's marble grave.

"I hope to make you proud, father. I'm going to take good care of your legacy, don't worry. We're going to be alright.", he spoke, tapping slightly onto the gravestone before turning away, leaving only the tall tree to watch over his father's grave.

Upon arrival into his home, all the servants, from the maitre of the house to the cook, they were all lined up in front of the large porch, their heads bowed to the ground, elegantly welcoming their master home.

But to Harold, they were all just a path to his bedroom, where he could drink his sorrow away and sleep the after headache off. However, he knew that this part was essential to becoming respected among the people sustaining the house and so he walked with his head held high, dressed in the same expensive black suit that imposes dominance. His face expression is rigid as well, just like his father's was. Maybe that is the only thing he genetically inheireted from him. Everything else, the green eyes, the rose lips, the curly hair, all of it is from his mother.

At the end of the long corridor where a big portret of the late Earl George lies, the same woman with the yellow scarf seems to be waiting for him, her hands crossed to her chest and her head prompt in the air. This time she doesn't look scared or terrified of Harold, but rather pleased seeing him walk with so much dignity.

"My Lord, it's good to have you home.", she says with a small smile on her thin lips.

Harold couldn't understand what is she doing here, why is she such an intruder in times when the only thing he wanted to do was isolate himself? But nonetheless, his father taught him to be polite, so that's what he will do.

"Madame, I'm sorry to be such a nausea, but it has been a long day. Perhaps our conversation could wait for another time?", he asked, hopeful to finally be able to get his hands on a glass of whisky alone.

"Tomorrow it the inauguration of the electric light at The Savile Hotel.", she simply stated, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

To him, this was a surprise. Not only did he forget about the event to honor his father tomorrow, but also he should have already been there by now, making sure everything runs smoothly.

The old woman noticed the surprise in his eyes, but didn't care to explain herself or the way a normal citizen knows about such a luxurious event. She simply looked into his green eyes.

"How do you know about that?", Harold asked back, his brown frowning together in confusion.

But even with the question in hand, the lady decided not to answer, and in fact avoided the matter at all costs. At this point Harold became impatient and angry at her behaviour, not because he couldn't avoid her simply and get on with his life, after all, he is a noble, but because this woman's eyes hold something of the unknown that he was eager to find out.

"I believe it's high time you get in your vehicle and head to Savile Hotel, don't you, My Lord? There are important people waiting for you.", her steps took her closer to him, maybe too close for someone of her wealth to be standing next to an Earl.

But the closer the proximity, the better he could take a look at her beautiful chocolate skin. And right under her right eye, there was a barely noticeable scar, hidden by her age.

Before finally deciding to listen to her and head to the hotel to take care of things himself, there was only one more curiosity he knew he might have the chance to satisfy from her.

He was aware the woman might not tell him everything and that's what the real mystery to her persona was, but he has found himself intrigued by it, not angered anymore. So before offering her a real job at this beautiful hotel she keeps talking about, he wanted to ask one more question.

"Why the yellow scarf at a funeral?"

Her expression lightened for a moment, making her scar a bit more prominent. That's something the woman hasn't expected of the Earl's son.

'Maybe he is smarter than I thought', she tells herself in an attempt to justify his question. But nevertheless, she answers him cryptically.

"Your father wouldn't have it any other way, Harry."