Of Fairytales and Happy Endings

Chapter 5. The Son of a Duke.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." ~ Jane Austen

Chapter 5.

The Son of a Duke.

March progressed into April. The leaves budded on the trees, the grass covered the bare earth and the wild cherry trees blossomed. Derwen Goch was transformed from the wet marshlands into a bride of spring.

One morning, just as the sun was beginning its ascent into the heavens, a horse and rider made their way past the manor and taking the abandoned road arrived at Llys Gwyn Castle. The rider dismounted and took a deep breath as he set his blue eyes upward at the imposing building. He was a young man, speaking of some twenty and five years of age. He wore no hat, and showed a head full of blond hair. His figure was healthy, having a strong build while at the same time being lean and elegant. Everything about him spoke of how he was a man of fashion, a man of society; how he was man of good breeding and proper upbringing. His name was Charles Errol and he held the title Lord Woodworth, son of the Duke of Denster.

Charles led his horse around away from the gate and up to the castle tower that stood higher than the rest. There he came up to a hidden door and pushed it. It opened with a loud creak. Charles shook his head at how the silly thing was once again unlocked. It was a large door, big enough for the horse to fit through.

Inside the darkness was illuminated by the flickering light of two torches. The flames cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, which rose high upwards The tower was completely bare, save a post standing by the door and a winding staircase leading to the top of the tower.

"It is all so positively medieval," Charles muttered under his breath. He tied his horse to the wooden post, speaking gently to the creature how he would not be gone long. Footsteps behind him spoke of someone coming down the stairs. Soon a man came walking down the stairway.

"Raj, good to see you," Charles greeted the man.

"Welcome, Sahib," Raj replied with a bow. "My master is not expecting you."

Charles gave a bored smile. "I know."

"My master does not like surprises," Raj added.

"I know that too," Charles informed. "Please tell him I have arrived."

"Of course I will, Sahib," Raj gave another bow and proceeded to climb up the stairs, Charles following close behind. It was a long journey to the top but at last they came to a large, heavy, oak door. The servant reached over and gave a loud knock.

"Enter!" A deep voice called.

Raj cracked the door open. "Your cousin has arrived and wishes to see you."

"He's back from Oxford?" The voice was coming from a lone figure sitting in the shadows of the dark room.

"It would seem so, Sahib. He told me to inform you of his arrival."

"And don't even think of turning me away," Charles hastily added, pushing Raj aside. "You do not want me to have climbed those confounded stairs completely in vain."

"You have a way with words, Charles." The voice was emotionless and cold. "Come in if you will. Raj, you may leave us."

Raj bowed and departed. Charles walked into the room, which was small and round. The lack of corners caused one to feel uncomfortable, as there was no place to really hide. A single bed stood in on one side, with table and chair beside it. A rough wooden cabinet with a basin and pitcher was in another area and sitting by the only window in a large wooden chair was the man Charles had come to see. A candle burned on the table and was the only light source in the room, for the window was shut with heavy shutters.