Chapter 3: A Shattered Bond
1650 Words
The next morning, the Emberwood mansion was just as magnificent and stifling as it had been the day before. The sun shone brightly outside and this light reflected on all the gilded corners and all the shiny furniture. The servants were rising quietly in the halls, the soft noise of their feet was covered by the thick carpets. To Dorian, brightness seemed to be unbearable, as if the light was showing him the imperfection in his existence.
He sat in the grand library with towering bookshelves, and there was no place for comfort in the room. The note from the previous night was still in his pocket and it felt like a ton of bricks. It was the first time he had felt like he was fighting against the life that had been thrust upon him but it left him uncomfortable. Who had left it? And why?
His thoughts were intruded upon by the sound of high heels on the marble floor. He glanced up and saw Lyla enter the room, her crimson dress changed to a morning gown. She was as poised and majestic as before but she dominated the room.
“Good morning, Dorian,” she replied coldly. “Or should I say Lord Blackthorn?”
He flinched at the title. It was rather like a mockery of his name than anything else.
Lyla didn’t wait for a response. “Father wants to see you. He’s in the sunroom.”
Dorian nodded and stood up. “Of course.”
When he got to her, she did not move to the side. He had to get out of the library and he had to get close to her to do so, and the smell of her perfume was still in his nostrils when he got to the door.
---
Lyla’s father, Nathaniel Emberwood, was placed in a chair in a large room with a lot of plants and fancy furniture, all in sunlight. Still, the temperature was rather high and the man himself looked like a bossy cold commander. His sharp eyes looked at Dorian as he came in.
‘Dorian,’ Nathaniel said quietly but there was an iron in his tone. “Sit.”
Dorian did, sitting on the edge of the chair. He was fully aware that he could not afford to relax around Nathaniel.
“You have been here for almost one year now,” Nathaniel started. “And yet, I fail to see any meaningful input from you to this family.”
Dorian swallowed hard. “I do my best to—”
“To what?” Nathaniel cut him off. “Blend into the wallpaper? Be invisible?”
Dorian could see his anger rising and he suppressed it as best as he could.
Nathaniel moved his chair closer to the table and looked the man straight in the eye. Let me remind you of the reasons that have brought you here. This was a business marriage. We were expecting a great deal of money from your family and this marriage was the way of repaying it.”
Dorian’s fists were tightly balled, but he had them tucked in his lap. The memory of his family’s disgrace—of its ruined name—was a knife that prodded him painfully in the chest.
“You may be a Blackthorn now,” Nathaniel went on, “but do not let it make you feel that you have any right here. You are no more than a duty we have performed.”
Dorian looked at Nathaniel and saw the same rebellious look as the previous night. “That is all you wanted?”
Nathaniel gave a wicked smile. “No. I wanted to see you here to tell you that Lyla’s credibility is somewhat ambiguous, and your company does not help her. Stay out of her way. It is not appropriate to embarrass this family any further.”
Not waiting for an answer, Nathaniel waved him out of the room with the same hand.
---
With his mind full of emotions, Dorian went out of the sunroom. He understood that he never married Lyla for love – it was a business deal. But hearing Nathaniel spell it out so bluntly was more than a little painful, although he could not say why.
Later that day, towards the evening, he saw Lyla and Edwin in the drawing room. Lyla was sitting on a red velvet settee and laughing at something Edwin had said. Edwin was close, far too close, he had his hand on her back and he was leaning over. Dorian’s stomach turned. He had heard the stories about Lyla and Edwin Whitcombe, a rich and handsome man, who was interested in her before their wedding. He had wanted to believe them as mere rumors. But how she turned around and kept herself away from him, that look of disdain in her eyes, it was difficult to think otherwise.
Dorian stopped moving and felt his heart rate increase. For a moment he thought of challenging them, but the sting of the previous night was still too vivid to him. He looked at them, then he slowly walked away without announcing his presence.
He retreated to his room, his heart heavier than the previous days he had spent in the mansion. Events from the previous night to that moment kept playing in his head over and over again. He thought about how his life would have been if he had not been married to Lyla. How there was a better possibility for him to be happier in Ashenrow, the place he spent a lot of his childhood. He started to have flashbacks of his childhood and his friends he called family. Then an idea struck him. He thought of Isla, his best friend as a child. He had seen her a few months back when he passed by Ashenrow. She was the smartest person he knew as a kid and she still was when he met her. He wanted to meet her and ask if she had any idea about what was going on with him. He made up his mind to leave the next morning to Ashenrow.
---
Dorian left the mansion as early as he could. It wafour-hourours drive to Ashenrow. Most of the journey was spent on a road with forests on either side of It. The change of environment improved his mood a bit.
Dorian parked his car by a familiar street. Not much has changed there so he figured that Isla still lived in her old house. The streets could have not looked the lightest different – the grimy, crowded walking canyons were equally far from the pristine image that Emberwood depicted. But for some reason, Ashenrow was so much cozier, so much more familiar than that big house had ever been.
He strolled around aimlessly, the note in his pocket feeling like a brick in the pocket with every passing second. Its words echoed in his mind: They are far from the truth but at the same time they are very near. Do not focus on the gold and the glass. Trust no one.”
He turned a corner and got a cold feeling. The air appeared to become more dense, the darkness more profound. He stopped, his gut telling him that there was something he did not like about the situation.
Suddenly, outlines of people came into view. They walked without speaking, their faces covered by hoods. Dorian’s breath hitched in their throat as they closed in on him, their actions smooth and unexpressed.
“Who are you?” he asked in a tremulous voice.
The figures didn’t answer. However, one of the figures then moved closer, its hand extended out. In it was another slip of paper, the same as the one he’d discovered the previous night.
Dorian’s heart raced, and he paused for a moment, before speaking. He extended his hand and took the paper slowly. The figure retreated into the darkness and was all but invisible in the darkness as if he had never been there.
He opened the note, hands sweating profusely.
“The truth lies in the shadows, The obvious is right; What is hidden remains hidden.”
Dorian’s pulse raced. What did it mean? And who was sending these messages?
He had not had time to read the note when a shout echoed behind him.
“Dorian!”
Turning around he saw Isla Fairweather her hair was messy and her eyes looked panicked.
“What are you doing here?” she asked roughly pulling him by the elbow. “It’s not safe.”
“I could ask you the same,” he said and pocketed the note.
“Come on,” she said, dragging him back to the safety of the street.
---
At Isla’s small house, the two remained in awkward silence.
“You should not have come back,” she said after a while.
“I had to,” Dorian replied. “Things at the mansion…” He was speechless for a moment, and could only stutter out a few words.
Isla watched him for a second and then gave a dramatic sigh. “You always did have a habit of walking into trouble.”
He couldn’t help but smile faintly at her familiar teasing tone. However, the smile disappeared when he took the note out of his pocket and gave it to her to read.
“What do you make of this?” he asked.
Isla looked at the note, and her forehead creased. “This isn’t good, Dorian. It means someone wants to convey a message to you or some kind of a message or warning to you.
“Warn me about what?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But you need to be careful. This warning shows that the Emberwoods do not like people to investigate them.
- Writer
