Remember Me (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Forever Hold Your Peace

England, 1888
15th Life
The marquess and the valet
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The snow had started to melt. Spring was arriving, bringing with it long-missed sunshine and blooming flowers. As Edmund Holland wandered through the gardens that surrounded his home, he smiled, occasionally stopping to inspect a plant that had begun to poke its way through the ever-decreasing snow. His gardens were his pride and joy, and he took great care in ensuring their upkeep.

Straightening from his inspection of a bed of quickly growing tulips, Edmund pulled his watch from the pocket of his coat. It was nearing late afternoon, and he would soon have to return inside. A small group of his cousins were coming for dinner, invited by his mother, and she would expect him to be there to greet them when they arrived.

Edmund absolutely despised these dinner parties—he had since he first began attending them as a teenager. His parents had hosted dozens of them a year, the guests always made up of the wealthy social elite. His mother still talked of the time the Duke of Cambridge had visited, back in 1867 when Edmund was only a toddler.

As a child, he had found his parents' parties intriguing, mainly because he had not been allowed to attend—to his young mind, an air of mystery had surrounded them. He would often sneak away from his nanny and hide at the top of the grand staircase, watching as the fancily dressed guests arrived and were led to one of the sitting rooms by the butler. He attended his first dinner party the summer before he turned eighteen, when he was home from boarding school. He remembered being rather disappointed by how boring it truly was and dreaded attending them afterwards.

When his father fell ill and died only two years later, and became Edmund the new Marquess of Exeter, he was expected to continue his parents' tradition of hosting lavish dinner parties. Edmund had never anticipated becoming marquess so soon—he had been barely twenty years old at the time, and believed his father would still be alive for another decade, at least.

Edmund had undoubtedly failed at maintaining the reputation of his family estate as a social household. He had guests over occasionally, but very rarely hosted any parties, and never to the degree his parents had. It had been five years since he inherited his father's title, and it seemed he had all but destroyed the standing of his estate, Wybourne Hall, as a sociable home. His mother had insisted he invite his cousins over for dinner, and he knew she would raise hell if he did not.

"It shall be a reunion, of sorts, before the wedding," she had said. "It has been so long since you have seen some of them, and it will be nice to do some catching up."

Edmund, of course, had been unable to invite all of his cousins. His mother came from a large family, the ninth of twelve children, and while most had gone on to have only one or two children of their own, one aunt had had seven children, and another uncle five. It was rather unreasonable to invite all eighteen of his maternal cousins, and so he had invited eight, knowing some would be unable to make it.

He checked his pocket watch again as he approached the front doors, sighing. He had about an hour and a half until the first of his cousins were expected to arrive. A footman opened the door just as he reached the front step, closing it behind him as he entered into the main entryway.

Wybourne Hall was a grand house, with four floors and dozens of bedrooms, sitting rooms, and drawing rooms. There was a masterful library on the house's west side that spanned two floors, and a ballroom on the east, where receptions and parties had often been held. Hundreds of paintings hung throughout the house, some from as far back as the early 17th century. Over twenty servants maintained the home, not including those who worked outside and in the stables. Wybourne was the largest house in the area, and his parents had been incredibly proud of it—his mother still was.