Harold Wells was not a man who had a lot of excitement in his life, to say the least. In the early hours of the day, he was wont to read the daily newspapers while drinking coffee in his courtyard and smoking from his pipe, studying the document as though a scientific discovery was contained within it. When the sun shone the brightest and his sister, Rosemary, was still getting ready for the day, in which she would think lots of poetic thoughts, he was walking through the woods that were close to his manor, but not too far away, out of both the fear of getting lost and the fear of missing out on the lunch, which was always delicious and his favourite meal of the day. In the afternoon, after taking a nap that would last for an hour at least and two hours at most, he loved to play golf with other gentlemen, mostly those he had known for years, but if one of them invited a newcomer, he was never opposed to it. Sometimes, he would hunt as well, but the thought of standing in the forest with a gun and patiently waiting to end the lives of rabbits and birds did not enthuse him too much for some reason. In the evening, right after dinner, he listened to others playing the grand piano that was being passed on for generations and sometimes played it himself. After that, he went to sleep, only to continue the cycle the following day.
That way of living was interspersed only by hearing, not witnessing, the endless scandals Caroline was causing. He knew that rumours were not true for the most part when it came to any situation, but all those rumours had to be based on something, and he could not help but judge that woman for her sins. At the very least, he was relieved to know that she had no reason to come near him and his idyllic life, and he was convinced that it would stay that way forever. Unfortunately for him, his wealth and his mild nature had attracted her to him in a time of need, which he was not aware of.
On a hot August morning, someone gently knocked on his door, and despite not being familiar with that type of knocking, he never could have suspected that it would be her. It was the reason why his jaw dropped to the floor when he saw her, noticing her long and shiny brown hair contained within a large hat with false red roses, her face filled with a light beige blush that was a perfect fit for her gentle and pale skin, her plump lips emphasised with dark red lipstick, and her dress that reached her heels, with a red collar at the neck and puffy sleeves, its long and wide skirt with differing shades of red and pink drawing attention to her perhaps a bit too thin yet still pretty figure, made more interesting by its wrinkles and golden buttons and area around the chest. Her smile enlarged her fairness, if such a thing was possible, and even caused her to appear innocent and good, at which he raised an eyebrow. He may have seen that smile on her face before, but something was still not right, and he itched to find out what it was.
"Hello, Harold," she said cheerfully, waking him up from his thoughts. "It is a pleasure to see you."
"Thank you, madam," he muttered. "There is one thing that leaves me confused, though. I am incapable of comprehending this peculiar event. You never seemed to have a reason to visit me, which is why I am surprised by this visit. Would you be so kind as to explain this action of yours?"
Her smile widened. "I am more than willing to offer you an explanation, sir. It has been a month since my husband died, which means that my grief has lessened, but my mind does not appear to be completely prepared to return to its former state, and thus I came here to seek the company of those I never would have otherwise, to immerse myself in a new way of living at least for a little while. I believe it would benefit me greatly because everyone has to change some aspects of their life every so often, and I feel that time has come for me again. What have you been doing lately?"
He smiled as well, albeit less convincingly. "Come in, then. If those are your intentions, I am glad to welcome you into my home, and my sister would be even more glad to do so. I heard you delight in reading thoughtful works of prose and poetry, especially as of late, and she has a similar attitude concerning that field. You two could engage yourselves in relevant activities for hours without interruption. I will brew you some chamomile tea and go on a walk, after which I will go to sleep. I would not want to bother two joyful ladies while they are sharing their joy with each other."
She laughed merrily, her laughter sounding like a birdsong. "Harold, are you certain you do not wish to stay in the house? There must be something on this Earth I could do with you."
Harold placed two fingers on his chin. "I prefer my solitude, but I am not willing to appear unkind. I like newspapers and golf and even tolerate hunting. However, I have a hunch that these are not your favourite things in the world, so the sole area of interest that we share is walking. If you have a topic you would enjoy conversing about, we could go on a walk together. Rosemary is not going with us since she would rather not be disturbed while thinking her profound thoughts if you were wondering about that."
She beamed at him. "That is a marvellous idea. In fact, we could commence our walk right now."
And so they did. The servants were notified of everything, and they did not need to prepare because it was supposed to be a simple walk that would last from noon to two in the afternoon, which it was. They knew that the whole day was going to be full of high temperatures, so both of them were dressed lightly, not sweating much during the stroll. The tall grass and treetops covered with ripe fruits shone with a golden gleam, the bright blue sky had barely any clouds on it, and those that were there were small and not that heavy, and there were many birds and butterflies, dancing in the air with ease, the butterflies flying in circles and the birds singing their enchanting melody with unbelievable tranquillity. It resembled a painting, and she sighed dreamily upon observing it. After several minutes of losing herself in her thoughts, she returned to reality, starting the conversation.
"Have you heard of Stephen Rochester and what he intends to do?" she inquired, her face and voice visibly not having a trace of happiness in them.
He scowled. "Everyone has heard of him, Madam Proust. Of course they are going to know about a bloke who earned himself a fortune through gambling and be aware of how foolish an idea that was, slowly opening a void of addiction that will swallow him and his earnings in the end. That does not mean that all of us can judge him, as some people who are willing to despise and mock him are no better themselves, too focused on getting words out of their constantly open mouth because they are so in love with their voice that they often fail to notice the moronic meaning of what they are saying, and if they were as profound in all aspects of life as they were when it comes to literature, they would know better than to talk all the time and oftentimes appreciate their silence way more than their words, designed to affect people either positively or negatively, believing foul attention to be better than none. They, as well as other such persons, have themselves opened voids of addiction they would not crawl out of even if they could, enamoured with false mirth and sensual affection and gold and jewels, their hearts coated with thick ice that no one could ever dream to pierce through, and whose wickedness will catch up to them someday, letting them die alone and unloved, the same way plenty of wretches with lesser fortunes and bigger hearts did, only in a better grave, which will mean nothing in the afterlife, where they will forever repent over what they have done."
Her face paled a little due to what he said to her, even after all the years she spent getting insulted by self-righteous individuals all the time, and his words scorched through her skin with such an impact that her veins could not help but boil inside her as she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her emotions. The birds and the butterflies have already gone away by then, which meant that everything became silent, and that silence engulfed everything around her, which caused her head to fill itself with nervous thoughts, wondering what to say as to seem unaffected, especially thanks to the shame she felt from being affected at all. To help herself, she stared blankly at a tree for several minutes, emptying her mind until Harold called her name since she had not moved at all during that time, which made her smile at him with a smile that was convincing enough to fool him.
"Do not worry yourself with what I thought during that time," she said plainly. "Although I admit that it was a bit duplicitous, what I meant to say was that my friends and I were not too glad to hear that he is planning to buy the mansion across me for him and his family to live in."
Harold shrugged. "Perhaps something can be drawn from that reaction. People do not particularly love to face their mistakes most of the time, and every person knows to deride a gambler, no matter how worthy they are of doing it."
Caroline nodded.
"How is that going, if I may ask?" she said a few seconds later.
"You may," he replied with a smile that was not forced at all. "He is supposed to arrive in your neighbourhood the following day if the preparations go well, which means that, if you are willing to welcome him, you will be able to do so soon."
"And where do you know that from?"
"Stephen is a friend of mine, although we have drifted away ever since he began to gamble. I am certain that you want to know why he took interest in it, which is why I will tell you about it without you asking. As you may have expected, he was not in debt of any sort. He simply saw that the affluent love engaging in that activity and that gambling could make him affluent himself, as he had had no ties to high society beforehand, except for talking to me from time to time. He would never dream of allowing me to borrow him money, which prompted him to invest a small fraction of his budget, and thus after several attempts, he got what he wanted. I do hope that I can free him from his shackles. Last week, I saw him at a club once more, and this time, he invested more than before. I know that I said that it never ends well, but it would make me an enemy of his to not even try to do anything about it while he is losing himself to his addiction. He is quite the gentleman, and it would devastate me to witness not only his downfall but also the downfall of his wife and two little children. The door of redemption is open to everyone at every point in their lives, and I am certain that one day, Stephen will be more than willing to walk through it."
"It pains me to hear what you are going through. Not every person can survive in the harsh world of addiction."
"I know that you might consider me weak for feeling this way, but my heart is filled with envy at your vivacity and perseverance amidst all the evils you surround yourself with."
"I do not. I myself wonder how I have come this far in life and how I am still alive at forty-five. I apologise if the mention of this event hurts you, but I heard your mother died of tuberculosis at the height of her youth, leaving you and your father and sister all alone. I heard that she was kind and loving and that all who knew her had at least some respect for her. May she rest in peace."
Harold's face went red as he took his handkerchief, bending his head towards the ground, burying it in the fabric, which slightly muffled his loud sobs. She had heard that his mother passed away when he was little and when Rosemary had not even been born, but although she had never felt that pain herself, she was able to partially imagine it. A few minutes later, his tears went away, and he returned his handkerchief into a pocket of his suit, he let out several deep sighs to calm himself, which worked since he looked at her with a blank facial expression.
"Allow me to ask you how you are planning on welcoming Stephen."
Caroline shrugged. "I had not planned much of anything, except for the fact that I will restrain myself from judging him."
"I admire your kindness, madam," he said dryly.
She giggled. "Thank you, good sir. What are we going to talk about now that we said everything we could about Stephen?"
Silence was the answer, and she did not mind it. She had to admit to herself that her mouth was a bit dry and her head a bit exhausted from all the talking she did, which happened to her from time to time. She allowed herself to wander through her thoughts for the rest of the walk, stopping only to admire the beauty of nature, just like him. When they returned to the manor after those two hours that looked more like two minutes, they ate quickly and went to bed, not knowing what to do next and yearning for nothing more than rest.