Master, my Master | boyxboy | (Book One: The Master Collection)

Epilogue

Ten years later...

Jasper stood in the door frame of the ballroom, staring in at the dozens of guests filling his manor on this lovely evening. He was a grown man now, having just turned twenty-eight years old today. The atmosphere of the day was in good spirits. Everyone was having a grand time, dancing along with the festive music, laughter and cheerful smiles all around. There was not a sullen face in the room. Tonight, he was dressed simple in black trousers and a burgundy button down, a tie fitted under the creased collar. His blonde hair was longer than when he was young, he stood just a bit taller, and a slight masculine maturity could be seen in his face. Surely, however, the years hadn't taken away from the beauty of his countenance.

With a wine glass sparkling in his hand, Jasper took a modest sip and nodded a greeting to a friend coming toward him. She was the same in age as he, and gorgeous in her satin white gown, it's bottom half flowing down around her long legs like a silvery waterfall. Her black hair was cut short again, diamonds in her ears and around her neck, red lipstick brightening up her smile. "Hello, husband," Darcy looped her arm with his, "Are you not having a good time? You are the one who decided upon this gathering after all."

Still surveying the people in attendance, Jasper, in a voice minimally deepened by time, said, "Someone is supposed to be meeting me here if you recall."

Darcy hummed in remembrance, "Ah, yes, so you are still going through with it, then?"

Jasper answered her with a nod. He then raised a glass to his father in the distance. The graying man was moving to the music as well, Scarlett swaying before him as they danced. Jasper could see his sister out there with her newly engaged fiancé, a rich man who appeared to love Beatrice and all her striking beauty. She even had a child, a little girl just peeking five years old, making Jasper an uncle to the young girl.

After the music transitioned from a slow tune to one with a much faster rhythm, the stirring energy in the room rose. Couples continued to twirl, dance as though they would never stop.

Darcy surveyed the crowd as well, only looking for one person. Juliette. She was not dressed as the lowly servant she once was those years ago. Now she was a Lady, having traded in her uniform for a very graceful peach dress that hugged her midsection in a lovely manner, falling around her figure as nicely as a custom gown would, hair curled and tumbling down over her thin shoulders.

Although they'd thought it strange in the beginning, Dacry's parents, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Lancechester, were familiar to the friendship Lady Darcy had with Juliette. In their eyes and to many others, Juliette was an ordinary girl who'd been given permission by Jasper and the Lady to live with them, and while they no longer required Juliette to show herself as a servant, sometimes it was difficult to get her to step away from household duties. She'd grown used to catering to Darcy hand and foot, but - for tonight, at least - she was a single woman attending a festive gala. 

"These damn dogs," Darcy said, referring to the men who'd come without dates, "They are all drooling over my Juliette."

Jasper watched along with Darcy, Juliette clutching her wine glass as a small flock of 'dogs' hounded her on if she would like a dance. "She is here without a man at her side," Jasper made clear, "Of course, there are going to be seekers if they do not know she is in fact here for you."

When Darcy opened her mouth to speak in return, she started over as something caught her attention. She downed her brow in repulsion, a menacing scowl sure to give her early wrinkles. "Good lord, he's here."

Spotting whom she'd spied in the crowd of the ballroom, Jasper met the gaze of this man. He had short cut ginger hair, a navy suit fitted to make him look sharp for this occasion. "I invited him personally," Jasper said, "It is no surprise that he would actually come. The bloody fool."

Darcy unhooked her arm from his, "Just get Edmund out of here already. I grow ill knowing we are breathing the same air."

Looking away from the approaching man, Jasper turned from his wife and started down the hall, knowing full well that Edmund would follow. He walked alone, able to hear the footsteps calmly pacing in his wake. When reaching the door leading into the back of the house, Jasper opened the glass doors and went outside.

The wind was light as he moved further out, leaving the bricks of the solid square and stopped midway toward the garden. The night was alive around them, the distant sounds of birds in the trees, fish in the koi pond splashing below lily pads. Stars dotted the dark sky in a gorgeous display, the moon raised in a crescent form above them.

"To be quite honest with you, cousin," Edmund said, his voice like a revolting stench, "I was rather surprised when I got your invitation to have me out here. We haven't spoken in years."

And they wouldn't speak now.

Jasper waited to hear it, a shot fired, whose echo reached far into the night. The sound pierced his ear, and then a pain-stricken grunt was heard next. He turned to Edmund as the man stood in shock, a hand pressed to the center of his chest. Crimson seeped through his buttoned shirt, the wet bloody substance coating his palm and fingers. Eyes wide, he looked up at Jasper as he fell to his knees.

Edmund's blood leaked out onto the grass when he collapsed, draining out into a pool of red. Jasper glanced down at the motionless form at his feet, no remorse, no regret to be found in his being. He would never forget, never forgive this man for what he'd taken from him. There were too many sleepless nights for Jasper to just go on without any kind of retaliation. He only regretted not taking his revenge sooner. Then again, this hadn't been his initial idea.

From the shadows emerged a man with a rifle. He wasn't a man Jasper knew too personally, he was just someone willing to do the job asked of him...with pay. He was a fit man who appeared to carry a haunting shadow over his head. He was scruffy with stubble, his hair was dark a curled to his shoulders, but was built like a rogue military man. Pushing his black curly hair out of his jade eyes, the man neared Jasper with his hand out, rifle strapped to his back once more.

Without fret, Jasper handed the man his payment, and then stepped over the corpse on his way back to the manor. "Get rid of it," he instructed.

The man nodded sternly, tucking his payment into his back pocket. "As you wish."

Jasper understood acting out in this manner wouldn't benefit him in anyway. It would not bring back what he'd lost, would not put all his pieces back together. But it was something. One step closer to peace of mind. And although there were still years to come until the promise that'd been made to him was fulfilled, and Jasper knew he'd never find somebody who compared to the red-haired boy he'd fallen for, but he'd try to build himself back up from this, from everything – live a long and happy life, thrive with Darcy and Juliette at his side.

Jasper touched at the scar on his arm, "I can make it," he whispered.

And in the end, he would.