A Season of Masks and Masquerades

Chapter 54: A History of Dales

Edward was the most gleeful boy one could come across as a child. He was happy, he laughed, smiled, jumped in joy and cracked jokes. But that was until his mother died. 

After the Duchess of Dales died, everything changed. His father, the late Duke of Dales changed, the light of his eyes was gone and replaced by a void that only consumed and never reflected, whatever was sent to it, that is to say, he stopped showing any emotions at all and that was beyond comprehensible for his young son. 

Edward had always remembered his father as a full man. Everything he did, he did a lot. He loved without limits, and so did he hate. His happiness was the most majestically expressed and his anger was equally enthralling. When he laughed, he laughed with all his heart, and he was also not afraid to cry. He had cried his heart out when his father, Edward's grandfather, the old Duke of Dales, died. It was ages ago, perhaps when Edward was only a young boy of three or near four, yet, he remembered the grief that he so wholeheartedly expressed without hiding a peck of it. Not because he was old enough to understand what it must mean to lose someone or what pure grief looked like, but because when his mother the Duchess died after a few years, and Edward was by then old enough to know he was not reading it wrong, the late Duke did not grieve. 

Not even a little, not at all. 

One would think he would cry and grieve till the end of the world because he truly did love her, he loved her more than anyone had loved anyone. Yet, that day, he did not cry. It was as if he had stopped feeling anything at all. His eyes were dry like the African desserts and his face was still and empty like that of a beautiful yet unfulfilling marble sculpture. 

That day, he stopped feeling and Edward had only learned one thing all his life- his father was right. So he stopped too. 

Ever since then, Edward had known one truth, he would never be able to feel happy again, love was of course a far cry and not to mention the most futile thing that broke at the nudge of a wind. 

His father remarried his mistress after some years of loneliness, maybe, he learned to love her too. Edward did not know nor did he care to find out. He had learned all he needed to know and it was the very knowledge of love being a rare emotion and if that was not painful enough, the fact that it can be so easily broken, lost and also found again, made him know for a fact that it was not for him. 

But that was of course a thing for yesterday. 

Today was love and today was the truth and anything that he had known before was of course nothing but a lie. And there was no place for lies in his new life. 

And if there was any proof needed for the change in him, it was the smile that had found place on his face. A smile that represented happiness, but also his impatience, his expectations, his plans, his desires, and his fears.

He couldn't wait to get married already, make Esther his Duchess, make her his wife. She was like an intoxication, he was desperate for her, but of course, there was only so much he could do than wait for the two days to pass. If it was upon him, he would have abducted her and kept her in his room till the forty-eight hours passed, or locked himself up in her room with her, but that was not possible. He had so much to take care of. 

He hadn't got the chance to as much as take a long full breath in the two days, he had businesses to close, matters of the Dukedom to wrap up and weddings to plan. It was fortunate he had his sister, she took it on her to ensure the nuptials are arranged most marvellously and soon the two days that he had assumed would feel like ages, passed. 

He couldn't meet Esther those two days but he did make sure to send her flowers. He had assumed she would like the gesture however he had not expected the glee Eleanor witnessed and told him of. The way she explained the blush on her cheeks and the light in her eyes, he could picture it all and then he knew why lovers bothered to express their love with dead blooms.