The Wings of a Butterfly

.:7:.

It was strange. Frederick walked out of his study, holding the blue rose in his hand, fighting the temptation to address his servants again about if they’d seen anything odd. He had asked about the letters before, but all the servants had sworn him they didn’t accept anything from someone asking to bring it to his rooms. No one seemed to have noticed anything, and there hadn’t been any strangers in the manor either.

The place was buzzing with activity though… Frederick had as many servants as his father used to have and his older brother had, and he wasn’t half as important. There were guests as well, walking in and out as if they lived here, friends and family and the occasional merchant who couldn’t find the proper entrance.

Thoughtfully, Frederick walked into the garden to find some peace, and he looked up at the room of his study. If there weren’t strangers, bringing him letters and this rose, maybe it was someone he knew? Like…

He shivered at the thought. He hoped not! None of his friends, and certainly none of his staff, would ever be able to love him the way the letters had promised him. To hold him between strong arms… To kiss him, caress him, and give him all he needed.

Frederick opened his eyes, realizing he had lost himself in a daydream for a moment, and finding a silly little smile on his face. He sighed, again something he had done so frequently lately, and went back inside. The letters had promised he would know soon. So he would wait. There was nothing else he could do, on this matter.

On other matters, there was plenty to be done. There was his birthday, in only a few days time. It would be nothing special, since he was becoming twenty-six, and his father had passed away just a few months ago. But his mother would be present, as would his brother, and they would probably be all over him because he hadn’t married yet. Oh, how he hated those arguments…

Every year it was the same story, and it would be even worse because his father never had the chance to witness his wedding. Oh well, it was too late for that now, and he had other things to think about.

Going back to his study once more –he was attracted to that room so often now– he looked at his desk to see if there were more letters or presents. Sadly, there were none. As he looked up to his mirror he had that strange sensation again, the feeling of being watched. It didn’t make him turn around… it wasn’t as if he felt eyes in his back. There was something odd, with the mirror itself. It made him want to look behind it. He even had the urge to break it once, when the feeling had been so strong… But it would be nonsense. There was nothing behind it but a solid wall –he’d checked it the other day, he had to admit.

Still holding the rose, Frederick went to his bedroom to undress and wash before going to bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep much; the nerves about his birthday dinner would keep him awake. Just as it had done for the past few nights, and would do until the day had come.

The day came, and Frederick was utterly exhausted by the lack of sleep. Going through the check list for the final time assured him everything would be ready, and the supper would be sophisticated and satisfying. He wished it would be over soon.

As the first guests came in –his sisters with their spouses, his brother with his wife, and a few friends– Frederick was too busy socializing to worry much. Only when his mother arrived –dressed in black, still mourning over his father– the mood changed dramatically. Frederick knew he shouldn’t be relieved, but he couldn’t help himself when he realized this wouldn’t be about him not being married, but about his father having died so recently. The nerves just dropped away.

After spending the appropriate amount of time on his mother, Frederick retracted to welcome the other guests. More friends, some aunts and uncles, even the woman he was supposed to be engaged to. Henrietta was a handsome lady, kind and calm, and even though she was willing to marry Frederick, she wasn’t keen on it, just like him. But as the parents requested, she would oblige sooner or later.

Frederick welcomed everybody, and then took a few closest friends aside. “I pray this evening will go by quickly, Wentworth,” he sighed dramatically. “I wish I had more peace. Really, Percy,” he turned to the other man, “I need rest.”

“You need good company,” protested Percy quietly, so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Like Wentworth keeps me company every day and night. We could spend more time with you, if you please, would that make you feel better?”

“I do need company like you found in each other,” agreed Frederick. He dropped his gaze, sighing softly. “But I can’t believe it will make me feel better if I have you two with me. It will make me feel lonely, I’m afraid.”

His friends made sounds of compassion, and pressed close against his sides. “Poor Frederick!” said Percy, rubbing his hand over his friend’s back.

“Maybe we can find you some company,” said Wentworth, looking around. “There are men here, some single, and I assure you one of them will be willing to be your special friend.”

“But it is not any man I want as my special friend,” objected Frederick feebly. “You see, there are these letters—”

“Come with us,” interrupted Wentworth, who wasn’t listening at all. “We are going on a tour around all the handsome men in this manor, and you will tell us which of them draws your attention.” He raised a hand when Frederick wanted to protest, silencing him. “No protests, young man…”

Frederick knew all the guests, and there would be no one to draw his attention in the way Wentworth implied. But, he played along; even if was only to keep his friend from suggesting other ideas. Followed by Percy, his arm hooked through Wentworth’s, they walked through the hall towards the garden.

Suddenly, it seemed as if time stopped. It seemed as if they were walking through syrup, slowing down, and there was an odd sensation of being frozen for a fraction of a second… and then it was all over. The three men shook themselves, and continued their path.

As Frederick had expected, none of his guests attracted him. It was almost time for dinner, and still he hadn’t seen anyone he wanted to sit next to. They were on their way to the dining room when he saw the figure in dark red, and he stopped walking. “Who is that?” he asked almost breathlessly.

Wentworth and Percy craned their heads to look at who Frederick meant. “I never saw him before…” said Wentworth. “Would you like me to ask him his name and purpose?”

“Please,” nodded Frederick. There was something odd about the man. Something in the way he moved, and was standing there, as if he was indecisively about what to do next. He looked so sophisticated, the clothes so rich, but the fashion was unfamiliar. It looked alright… but there was something Frederick couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Yes, ask him who he is, and where he’s from, Wentworth.”

The young man stepped towards the stranger with large, determined steps. “Good evening,” he said, bowing slightly. “My name is Wentworth Beaumont. Welcome to Doccemere Feld.” The estate was called Dogmersfield Park after its recent restoration, but Wentworth wanted to tease the stranger a bit.

The man didn’t respond to the little inside joke, and answered the bow. “Pleased to meet you, sir, my name is Julian Lewis.”

Wentworth blinked at the words, and pulled his mouth in a mocking smile. “What a delightful little accent,” he said. “Where are you from, Mr. Lewis? Wales?”

“Indeed,” said the man, almost too quickly. “I’m here to meet the honourable Frederick Vane.”

“Really…” Wentworth looked Julian up and down, and even walked slowly around him, taking in all detail of his costume. “The tailors in Wales are ahead of their time, are they not, Mr. Lewis? Or behind… No one wears those elaborate buckles these days…”

“I like them,” said Julian, allowing the man to look at him. “And it suits me, don’t you think?”

“And cocky as well, those Welsh,” said Wentworth haughtily. “Hmm… Stay away from my friend until he approaches you himself, Mr. Lewis, I do not trust you.” With that, he left the man, and walked back to Frederick. “He says he is Welsh, and his name is Julian Lewis. He is odd.”

“What is odd about him?” asked Frederick, hiding behind his friend’s shoulder and peeking at the tall man. “He is handsome… He looks so strong and powerful, and a bit shy at the same time.” With a delighted shiver, Frederick tore his gaze away. “You wanted someone to draw my attention, didn’t you?”

“He is dressed strangely,” tried Wentworth. “All those buckles; they are completely out of fashion, but they look like they are crafted recently, by a very skilled jeweller. And he does not have a Welsh accent at all…”

“Did you ask him where he came from, or did you merely suggest he was from Wales?” As Wentworth confirmed the latter, Frederick nodded. “I will find out more about him,” he said. “Now let’s retract to the dining room. Wentworth, Percy, please take Mr. Lewis with you. He is—” His words got stuck in his throat as the man took something in his hand. “Oh my word…”

It was a pale blue rose, and Julian looked at Frederick, as he smelled at it. Frederick felt like he would faint, staring at the man, jaw dropped a bit. He recovered quickly, and cleared his throat. Time for dinner.