C17 Shattered Souls

Half an hour ago at the earl’s castle…

The servants, nurses, and eunuchs were running around to attend on the need and demand of the former earl of the land, Dynirho’s father. He was struggling to breathe caused by the long time illness he was having, which just like Duke Landon had worsen through the years. Adding the factor of old age complicated the situation

And yet his only son were being hard on him. Not paying a single visit on his sick father, barely walking in thin thread between life and death. Not even his younger sister’s attempt of persuading him works.

Left with no choice, the young ladyship rode on her carriage and set straight into the Anderson’s home, where the alleged current flame and interest of her brother to ask for assistance.

***

Before Lady Francesca could open her mouth to greet the stranger with a very familiar facial features, she was being preceded by her.

“Lady Francesca Chandler, was it?” the young woman asked, which made Lady Francesca nods in response.

“It happens that I am. Not to dishearten you, my dear, but I am afraid I barely know anything about you,” she replied.

The young woman immediately rose up from her seat and offered a curtsy. “My deepest apology for not properly introducing myself; and boldly coming here with no prior notice.”

“Nah. It’s fine as long as you were aware of your actions,” Lady Francesca immediately dismissed the part.

“I am Lady Hariet Syford, the younger sister of Dynirho by nine years,” the young woman started. Then, the Feledencian woman had confirmed the ground on their identical features.

“To be blunt, I am here to ask for a favor. However, we do not have the luxury of time...” Lady Francesca could feel the sudden dropped of enthusiasm on young Lady Hariet’s voice.

“If you may permit Lady Francesca, may we talked about the details later on my carriage. We need to got back into the castle as soon as possible,” she begged.

Her ladyship could feel the weight of the Hariet’s words. With no further ado, Lady Francesca got her hand and proceeded outside and unto the waiting carriage in front.

Dynirho’s sister explained about the worsening health condition of their father and the cold treatment of his brother remained unchanged despite the circumstances.

Francesca learned that Dynirho’s hatred on his father rooted on his unjust action toward their mother, who was once accused of adultery with a commoner when in fact she was just being helpful to those born at the hem of the caste.

He didn’t hear the plea of his wife and didn’t held proper investigation about such accusations and just exile her outside the earldom. All for his wounded pride and in an immediate attempt to put on a strong face amidst such shame among the peerage.

Bandits attacked her carriage, and killed her without reaching the designated exile place. Later, it was found out that the accusation was nothing but a hoax set by the opposing parties who was holding grudge against their earldom.

If only his father was wiser…

If only he had not fell into the enemy’s trap…

Dynirho could only think was the word ‘if only.’ In the end, such if only’s turns into impeccable loathsome towards his father.

Right after the burial of their mother, the broken 18th Earl of Verindale passed down the legacy and position to his son- Dynirho. Even then, the latter could only feel nothing but pure hatred towards the man who’ve valued public appraisal first before family, and ended up with a heavy conscience.

It has been three years now, all the Verindale folks could only wish for the mending of wounds of their former and present leader.

***

As soon as the carriage reach the palace, Lady Francesca and Lady Hariet immediately ran towards the earl’s chamber where Lord Syford was currently at. They witnessed him holding a bottle of booze as if drowning himself with lots and lots of liquors.

A lot of empty bottles were already scattered on the carpeted floor. And most of them were already in pieces as if it was being smashed hard on the ground.

“Get out, Hariet!” he shouted with his back turned on the entrance. He was looking straight at the window but was very sure of who would come to talk him up.

Who could be brave enough to face his drunken and miserable self if not his own flesh and blood? Little did he knew, Lady Francesca was with her sister.

“D-Dynirho...” His name naturally escaped the Feledencian woman’s lips as if done in an instinct. She could not hide her surprised on how unorganized, wrecked, and messed up she could see him now. It was so different on the usual fashionable, and playful vibe he always displays to the society. Perhaps, this one was the more real version of him. Broken and imperfect.

Hearing her soft voice, the earl had felt his rage slowly calming down. Looking over his shoulder, he confirmed his guess. It was her. It was indeed the woman whom he barely known not long ago, yet enchantingly enough had a strong effect on him.

“W-Why are you here?” he asked, trying to calm her tone as not to scare her away. His display of rage on his little sister might had already left an impression about how horrible he was when furious.

Lady Francesca dismissed Lady Hariet first to give them privacy for a heart to heart talk. She understands his burning dark feelings very well as she, herself got a troublesome, selfish, and unreliable father, who caused her so much pain and will cause her more even in the after life.

Gingerly avoiding shattered glasses on the floor, she made her way into where Dynirho was standing at. She didn’t know it too, but her hands automatically wrapped her around his torso. She was hugging him from behind.

“Calm down...” It was all she can say. She was a very conscious type of a woman, but this time, she wasn’t bit bothered on how intimate their positions were.

All she could think about was how to save this man on having future regrets on letting go of the chance to physically confront his father of all the things he wanted to say badly before he would permanently lose the chance to do so, just like she did.

“Francesca...” the earl calmly whispered as he close his eyes to feel her warm presence. They were too close and her warmth sunlight was conquering his cold darkness.

“Why are you--” Dynirho was about to repeat his question at first when Lady Francesca cut him off.

“Shhhh… Does it matter why I’m here?” she retorted, silencing the man.

“I, too, had a father not really worthy of my love, affection, and respect...” she started. Though slightly different, their story were somewhat connected and relatable. Surely, his sister did got the right person for this job.

“Why are you saying such?” Lord Syford stubbornly asked again. The intoxicating smell of liquor were all around them, and yet he was well aware of his sanity. He got a ridiculously strong and high tolerance of alcohol.

“Just listen up,” Francesca commanded and continued.

“Rare chances were one of the things we should never waste. Especially those that will not be forever be there for us. If you have it, try grabbing it. Your father might have been the worst father of all, you still must not waste this chance you have to confront him of your troubles and all your hatred.

“Not everyone has a chance. If you hate him, go ahead and tell him. At least let him know about how you feel no matter how ugly it might be. Ask him of his reasons. We, children, should not be burden with countless unanswered questions that will never be answered.”

Francesca could familiar heavy feels in her chest with every words she says. It was all true to her case. She meant every single words spoken. And it was so powerful that even the cold, frozen heart of the earl was melted.

She got a point.

“I didn’t know you were quite an adviser, yourself huh?” Lord Syford could only retort. “But that was easier said than done. The wounds were too deep to be healed in a matter of a day,” he added as he slowly turns his back to finally face her. Cheeks turning pink with the effect of the liquor but eyes steady.

Lady Francesca knew it. Forgiving was the hardest part. Even she herself was harboring same hatred on her father now. She was in no position to preach about it nor was she in the position to discourage him too.

“Surely, confronting him doesn’t necessarily mean you have to forgive him. It was a matter of a process as you say it,” she concluded.

With a great tight hug, the young man draws courage in finally, after three long years, facing his father and perhaps asked him if he ever felt apologetic and remorseful of his past actions.

Lady Francesca didn’t know too, but she just found herself returning his hug on her with the same intensity. When he left to see his father, she felt a big rush of hot temperature on her cheeks. She was blushing real hard.

‘Did I just intimately hug a man of my age? Not my father, nor brother, nor relatives, but a distinguish man of my liking.’ She was left dumbfounded on her realization. On her age, she was still experimental about this so called thing about romance.