Cry, Even Better if you Beg - Epilog III

Riette von Lindmann.

The embossed letters spelling out the deceased’s name glowed brightly on the grave stone under the glaring afternoon sun. Claudine was stood staring at the name, willing it to change, for some revelation that there had been a mistake and this was someone else entirely.

The ocean blue eyes of the man who bore that name were shut for eternity. No longer could she find the reassuring peace in the quiet depths of those eyes which had always served to calm the chaos that was constantly present in her mind.

The shadows of the trees gr ew long as the sun set. They stretched out across the cemetery toward her, threatening to drag her into the cold. Claudine shivered and hugged herself tight. Her pallid face, half-exposed behind the wide-brimmed hat, bore no emotion.

The countless memories that had been cluttering her mind all the way there disappeared the moment she stood in front of his grave, leaving only an empty feeling and layers of fatigue on her face.

‘I love you, Claudine’

‘Let’s go away together.’

The cool breeze rustled the leaves, as if they were whispering Riette’s sweet words to her.

His warm blue eyes sparkled with pure sincerity seemed to be glistening in the sun. She really wanted to say yes to his proposal and escape this nightmare with the only man who truly cared about her, but he was gone now, went off to fight in someone else’s war, never to return home.

That thought burned in her heart, that Riette was not even buried under this marker, she was alone. Could he even hear her, or was she just talking to the cold wind? The shadows of the trees widened and enveloped her in a chilly, void. She sunk to her knees and let the shade take her in.

She didn’t feel the cold anyway. It is said that when someone undergoes too much bad luck, when there life is nothing but misery, they become emotionless husks, as cold as the stone the marked the death of her love, that’s what she felt now, if she felt anything.

She wished that he could some how hear her answer, for him to know that she wanted an escape with him, for it to be just the two of them.

“Yes.” She said to the ground. The trees whispered amongst themselves, at her proclamation, they conspired as they leaned into one another, whispering their deep, dark thoughts. They knew. For sure. If Claudine was back in that situation, she would still give the same answer in the end. She still wouldn’t change her mind about what she said, even now. Her niggling feelings of regret, however, were about very small things and moments.

She felt today that memories are also torture.

She recalled. Many times she had stood by the front door and watched Riette depart, never once had she waved goodbye to him.

Why didn’t she wave? Maybe if she laughed a little more around him, or maybe simply smiled to show him how happy she was. Would things be any different?

‘Hello.’

She probably started loving these words when they used to share them.

A simple “hello” was all that they had shared on the last day she had seen him. That was the last time they spoke. That brief exchange of “hellos” stayed with her. Now she had so much to say, to ask that they would have spoken none stop for days.

“Why didn’t you give up on me, and how could you love me like that?” Her mind raced with questions, but she shoved them down, letting the lump of it pass through her chest and into the depths of her soul. There is no point in lingering on unanswerable questions.

She laid the scarlet roses at the base of the tombstone. The colourful feathers and ribbons of her hat swayed and bobbed as she got up off the ground

“Hello, Riette.” Claudine returned his greeting, slightly smiling despite her tardiness.

‘Hello, my love’

She longed to hear his voice once more, and hoped he would reply. Those seemingly meaningless words were quietly engraved in the depth of her heart.

It was foolish fancy, but it did not stop her wishing just one flight of crude imagination.

‘I think we’ve said our final goodbyes.’

Claudine dabbed the corners of her eyes before she turned away from the tombstone. Without looking back, she left the cemetery and entered the waiting car. A little redness appeared in her eyes, but the hat’s brim shaded that entirely.

The car took her back to the city. The Brandt’s couple, her parents were expecting a visit from her new fiance today and Claudine was exacted to be presentable for the occasion. Her gaze was fixed on the moving scene outside, butshe paid little attention to the bright blue streets winding through the city outside the window.

Now her life had become a victim of immense confusion.

Her fiance was not tremendously affluent. certainly not by the Herhardt’s standards. He had a reputation as a gentleman and as a landowner on the new continent across the sea. This was more an arranged marriage of convenience. This would never have been acceptable in the past, but her parents, realizing that the instability brought on by the war necessitated a great deal of change, happily selected him as their son-in-law.

Claudine remained indifferent.

The face that Duke Herhardt, who was thought to be dead, turned up alive and married his mistress, the mother of an illegitimate child, was still the hot topic of most social circles within the Berg empire, and Claudine’s name also came up from time to time.

The victim of a “filthy” marriage.

Not all of it was pity or compassion. Claudine von Brandt’s misfortune in losing her fiance to such a woman was met with glee by a sizeable portion of society. But it was just a little fuss in her eyes. She tried not to let it get to her and keep herself away from such conversations.

Her eyes, observing the colorfully bright streets passing by through the car window, suddenly reverted to their calmness. Their arranged summer wedding was supposed to take place at her new fiance’s estate across the ocean. Everything was ready to go, and all that was left to do was for her to climb aboard the boat and sail to the new continent.

The car stopped in front of a hotel On an avenue lined with high end shopping centers. Here, she was supposed to attend a social event with her mother before heading back to the Brandt mansion.

“Welcome, milady.” Said a maid. She was watching her with placid eyes.

After adjusting her hat in place, Claudine got out of the car in practiced grace. They came naturally to her now, but years of practice as a child was painstaking work. SShe confidently up the steps, waited for the doorman to open the hotel door for her, and then walked right in.

The huge, luxurious chandelier gleamed and shone above her head, casting golden light around the foyer, giving everything a very rich hue. Today as usual, the world of affectation was looking beautiful in all its splendor and sophistication.

She loved this world despite its deceptive appearance.

The world where everything was crafted with such loving elegance. The life she was familiar with, and was comfortable in.

Claudine suddenly stopped in the middle of the lobby and closed her eyes.

Was she hesitating?

Or, was she trying to forget something?

No one knew.

It was hard to tell, but deep down, she felt ready to move forward with her life despite her illustrious past.

She blinked her eyes open and resumed the step into the dazzlingly beautiful world she loved.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

The car carrying the Herhardt family drove out from the university grounds and towards the park. Together, they took a stroll in the park, enjoying the spring flowers that tinged the air with the sweet smell.

They walked together like an ordinary family of three. They seemed happy enough, a couple who loved each other doting on their little child. It seemed like something out of a fairy tale: a family who had finally found one other and live happily ever after.

Mark Evers knew otherwise as he watched them as they walked. He was one of the few people that knew what Duke Herhardt had been doing that very morning ad it left him with a slight uncanny feeling.

After moving to Ratz, the Duke was very much a business man. He attended important events and fulfilled his duties as the Duke with an air of professionalism, however he clearly kept a strict line between formality and socialising.

The aristocrats of these formal circles found this to be an insult to their honour and they were very much outraged. They did not dare confront the Duke directly on this, they were not imbeciles and knew that to question a man who appeared to be doing his job damn well, would only look bad on them. They considered the Dukes family was his Achilles’ heel and looked to target the Duchess and his son.

They ordained to spread malicious rumours about the Duchess and spoke of the boy with less than favourable words. Their dirty talk spread like the plague and since the Duke did not put stock in such none sense, he ignored them, which only made them worse as the days went by.

That was, until now. Once word spread of what the Duke had done this day, it would stop these vicious malcontents and halt their back room whispers.

Count Stein, who was one of these ringleaders, who spread news that would spoil Duchess Leyla von Herhardt’s reputation and stated that her son was nothing more than a mongrel child of unclean blood, went bankrupt today.

One by one, the Counts tobacco business and other meagre venters, collapsed right out from under him. The Duke had finalised the decisions that very morning and the Count would no doubt be finding out the news just now, as the Duke slyly stole a bite of his wife’s ice cream.

After the Duke had dealt with some other small affairs in the mornings meeting, not batting an eye, or raising a glass to victory, he returned to his family to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, just as if nothing had happened.

The ruthless man’s telltale sign was no where to be seen. No one would have guessed he had just toppled an empire with a swish of a pen, but the impact will have a profound domino affect on all those who had spoken ill of his wife and child.

Mark Evers stifled a laugh. The Duke caught sight of him and gave a discreet wave of the hand.

Immediately, he withdrew, and went wandering aimlessly, enjoying the nice weather in the beautiful afternoon light.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

They were resting in the shady canopy of a tree which flowers were a delicate shade of pink. Leyla sat facing the tree and Matthias laid his head in her warm lap. Two seconds was all their son was able to sit still for before he started running in circles around the tree.

“You look tired.” Leyla said, examining his face.

Just a single “hmmm” from Matthias was all he could muster. His mind was elsewhere.

“You’re very busy these days,” Leyla carried on.

“Perhaps a little.” Matthias said softly and closed his eyes.

“What were you busy with today?”

“Just…nothing,” Matthias shrugged. “It wasn’t anything special, but important either way.” he continued in a tired voice.

He had never been this hostile toward business associates in the past, he liked to show generosity. The last time he saw Count Stein, he gave him a chance to recount his words and show humility, one last chance to gain his favour.

But the couple’s attitude remained unchanged after they openly slandered his wife and son. Last night, during a social event, Countess Stein shamelessly snubbed the welcome Leyla had extended, leaving her embarrassed in front of the whole gathering.

They had tried to hide their little whisper groups out of Duke Herhardt’s eyes but Matthias’ six senses were always directed toward his wife, Leyla von Herhardt.

After dinner, when the men gathered in the cigar room. Matthias approached Count Stein with cigar in hand.

“This cigar is proof of your families good word, Count Stein.” Matthias said politely, examining the cigar between thumb and finger, rolling it slightly. ”Would you say it’s as good as your bloodline?”

“I…don’t get your meaning.” Count Stein frowned while asking in a defensive manner.

“What meaning is there?” Matthias let out a billow of grey smoke toward the ceiling. “Such pure bloodline producing such pure tobacco, your business must be well coveted.”

“I guess so.” The Count said. “There have been some that have wanted a part of my business, but you’d have to be a rich man.” He let out a chuckle that was echoed by the stooges he had standing around him.

“Well, this cigar is fine work and a testament to the purity of the Stein bloodline.” Matthias said appraisingly.

The laughter faded away. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t get your meaning.” The Count asked

“Well, if the cigar was made by someone of, say, mongrel stock, would it taste as good?” Matthias pantomimed a sigh. “I just wish I could enjoy pure bread cigars like this more often.”

“Are you trying to make threats because of your wife?” Count Stein was starting to get agitated by Matthias’ little game.

“My, quick witted aren’t you.” Matthias smiled then stood up straight, giving a very lordly baring that was hidden until now. He exhumed authority and the playfulness of his words were gone. The Count took a step back in suprise. “I’m not joking with you, Count Stein. This talk has certainly made me interested in the tobacco business. In Your business.” Matthias said with a deep authority. His gravitas was so subtle, no one noticed Count Steins stooges slowly edging toward him.

“I believe Duke Herhardt can distinguish business and social gossip, if you wish, we can talk in the morning, when its more appropriate.” The Count said confidently. He probably thought he could scam the Duke out of some of his money and make him the butt end of a lot fo social gossip.

“Even so,” said the Duke, standing firm and tall. “I have very little patience for people like you, who would slander a good ladies name just to win some petty attention from these grovelling sycophants.” Matthias tossed the half smoked cigar into an ash tray. “Every little flaw can be used as an advantage and you are rife with flaws Count Stein, even ones you think are your strength.”

“Duke Herhardt!” The Count declared.

Matthias brushed ash from his crisp, black suite and approached Count Stein, murder in his eyes. “I am a deeply passionate man when it comes to my wife and my son.” Matthias looked out the door of the cigar room, where he could see into the sitting room and his wife. She stood alone, at the edge of the paired gatherings. “Everyone makes mistakes, Count Stein, everyone. Some are worse than others, some condemn a man.” Matthias paused. “I look forward to tomorrow, when even emperors may find their empire razed before their helpless eyes.”

Giving a bowed to Count Stein, Matthias strode out of the cigar room and went to fetch his wife. The party had soured and any prospect of building bridges was dashed before ground was broken. He really waited patiently. However, the pair brought doom upon themselves by spreading further slander about Leyla and Felix when a simple gesture of apology could have saved them.

“Then, What is this wrinkle for?” Her soft touch brought Matthias back to the present. He opened his eyes and looked up into hers. They were pools of deep curiosity and looking into them made his heart itch with warmth. But he closed his eyes again after grinning a bit to avoid the boring topic. There was no reason to let Leyla know that Stein had gone bankrupt.

“Are u feeling unwell?” Leyla asked worriedly.

“No,”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Alright. Get some sleep, then.” As Leyla’s soft fingers traced his face, Matthias closed his eyes in comfort. They tingled his face and sent him into a trance. He didn’t feel sleepy, still, he nodded his head obediently.

His tender-hearted wife would showered him with unending affection when her husband looked even slightly unwell. Now he knew how to put it to good use. Scars on his body could prove useful on occasion.

Even while it made Matthias feel bad, but he loved the moments when Leyla would seem heartbroken and upset, only for the fact that it gave him a sense of purpose.

At that time, it seemed that he was the only one in her world, when there was no one else in the world but the two of them. It was like this most of the time, even when they walked crowded socials, or bustling museums and art galleries. Even when Felix ran around them, laughing and giggling at his silly games. There really was no one else in the world but them two.

“Don’t get sick.”

He felt a gentle twitch in his ear from a faint, hushed voice. Leyla’s hand that had been holding his cheek a moment before was now gently stroking his hair, an action which was her own special way to show her love for her husband.

There was peace and quiet until his wretched son destroyed the atmosphere. His beloved wife, who had been kind enough to give her lap as a pillow, had to leave to comfort their fussing baby, leaving behind a cold rolled shawl for him to use instead.

Matthias slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to look at them, his chest slowly being filled with disappointment while myriath of thoughts started to swirl inside his head.