It was like any other day in the Cornell household, servants getting ready the lords and ladies ready for the day, cleaners making sure everything was spotless, chefs preparing the family's first meal. The only difference was the time of the day the first meal was served. It was very untypical of the family to have breakfast that late in the day, order and on time were things that the viscount was very adamant about.
The young daughter of the viscount saw nothing was served, and the more remarkable thing was the fact that she was the first one to arrive the dining hall. She knew she did not miss Hida's reminder about the change from breakfast to brunch. She definitely did not forget that. It was the first time they had brunch in years, she could hardly remember the previous time. Just as she was about to ask Hida about the meal, her brother came speed-walking into the hall, mumbling things about hunger.
"Where are Mother and Father?" He turned to his sister who only shrugged. His disappointed expression never failed to amuse Aerwyna. It was subtle, but nothing that she could not notice. A quick frown with his back lightly hunched forward and then instantly returning to his normal posture, hoping no one noticed. It was something he had been doing since the day he understood the duties of being the heir of the title. That day was also the day he stopped being playful, stopped engaging in a game of knights and princesses with Aerwyna and started becoming serious like their father.
"You are allowed to frown and be disappointed, Anchor. You don't have to act like a man all the time, at least in front of me." Aerwyna told her brother. "Anyways, while we are waiting, I've been wondering how in the bloody hell did you manage to get your hands on that house?"
"Language, Wyna." Anchor remarked. "Well, dear sister. That is for me to know, and you to find out." Aerwyna could not help but let out an unladylike groan while her brother smirked. The siblings surprised their parents with a trip in the outskirts of Manchester. Anchor volunteered to make arrangements for the accommodation while Aerwyna planned the surprise.
"Why so mysterious? Is it someone I shouldn't know? Or is it something that you've done that no living thing should know?" She pressured him. She knew her brother well, too well even. Pressuring him would make him nervous, making him nervous would cause him to talk non-stop and causing him to talk non-stop would end with the truth she had been waiting for. Aerwyna watched her brother tense up as she took a step closer to him, seeing him getting weaker and weaker with every step she took.
"Alright fine! Aerwyna! You win!" The heir to the viscountcy exclaimed with his hands up in surrender. "Do you remember George?"
Her heart dropped a little, just a little. Of course she remembered George, the second son of Viscount Chilston. How could she forget the boy with the side-swept blonde hair, who was also known as her first love? Love was too strong of a word to describe him; Aerwyna was his secret admirer. "What about him?"
"He was the one who helped me find the house. His third cousin owns the house and was more than happy to offer his home to Mother and Father."
"How very nice of him."
"George or his third cousin?"
"Both." Aerwyna answered instantly, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart.
"He told me that he is still unmarried and was extremely gutted when you failed to notice him at the party last night." Anchor nudged his sister, which he received a light slap on his forearm in return.
"Anchor, stop. It is never going to happen. Past is past, I have moved on." The younger one said. "Though funny enough, Father did not take me to Lord Chilston's family last night."
"But he has not. You know, he was the worst secret admirer who you will ever meet. His very-not-secret gestures and awfully obvious face when you were present, everything just came down to him liking you. And you do too."
"I've moved on."
"But he has not."
"Forgive, forget, Anchor. Forgive, forget." Aerwyna said, looking down. She tried so hard to hide her pain, buried deep inside for years. "I have forgotten about George. I have forgotten... what he did to me. I have forgotten about everything." As if time was on her side that moment, the viscount and his wife entered the dining hall, greeting their children with tired smiles. The servants began to place their food on the table once the family settled.
"Penelope apologises for not being able to having brunch with you. The child was a bit restless last night." Anchor smiled. He could not wait to be a father to a young child, no matter boy or girl. Growing up, being a father was probably the last thing on his list. But ever since Penelope announced her pregnancy, he could hardly wait for the day when he could hold the tiny human being in his arms. The family began to engross themselves in conversation, except one. Aerwyna's mind was cluttered with thoughts about the suitors and his brother's friend who was once her admiration.
"Professor Weston is coming in later. Are you prepared for your lessons?" Viscount Eversley asked his daughter, bringing her back to reality.
"I believe so. I am looking forward to having those lessons."
"I have never asked you this question before, but do you like him?" Like? Aerwyna was confused by that word, not since her conservation with her brother. The question caused Anchor to look at her in the eye, she knew what he was thinking and he was wrong.
"I'm very glad that he is my professor. I am sure that he and I will be great friends." Aerwyna finished her meal quietly, hoping to leave the dining hall to avoid her brother. Never once in her life felt so insecure around her own brother. When the family was done with their meal, Aerwyna slipped out the room as quickly as possible and strolled to the very place that would calm her. Wandering around the library — from English to French, from tragedies to romances, from poems to plays, these were all the books gathered from the last few centuries by her ancestors and each book was beloved by every single person in the house. The young lady was still unable to get out from her thoughts, when she said she moved on, she doubted herself. She did not know what she truly felt. Was her beating heart a sign of lingering feelings or nervousness? It could be both. The more she thought about the conversation and George, the more stressful and apprehensive she got. Aerwyna was so deep in her thoughts that she found herself humming unconsciously. The soft humming gradually turned to singing a folk song.
"Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly
Lavenders green
When I am king, dilly, dilly
You shall be queen
Who told you so, dilly, dilly
Who told you so?
'Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly
That told me so
Call up your men, dilly, dilly
Set them to work
Some to the plow, dilly, dilly
Some to the fork
Some to make hay, dilly, dilly
Some to cut corn
While you and I, dilly, dilly
Keep ourselves warm
Lavender's green, dilly, dilly
Lavender's blue
If you love me, dilly, dilly
I will love you
Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly
Let the lambs play
We shall be safe, dilly, dilly
Out of harm's way
I love to dance, dilly, dilly
I love to sing
When I am queen, dilly, dilly
You'll be my king
Who told me so, dilly, dilly
Who told me so?
I told myself, dilly, dilly
I told me so"
"That was absolutely beautiful, my Lady." A voice snapped her out of her world. Aerwyna slightly jumped in shock and turned towards to the owner of the deep voice. She was speechless, slowly processing everything and recovering from her shock. "My sincerest apologies for frightening you, Miss Cornell."
"We have to stop meeting like this, Christopher. Or should I say Professor Weston?" Aerwyna smirked at him.
"'We really should, Miss Cornell." He chuckled a little. "And please, Christopher would be fine. I like to think we are equals, even in lessons."
"Only if you call me Aerwyna. I like to think we are equals as well and I would prefer to keep it that way, Christopher."
"As you wish, Aerwyna. Now should we begin?" He dipped his head in respect, an act which ignored the agreement between them of being equals. The young professor watched his new student settled on one of the exquisitely crafted wooden chairs. He allowed his eyes to wander around the room, he was in awe. "You have treasures here, Aerwyna. These must've been kept for hundreds and hundreds of years. I see you and your family have taken good care for them."Aerwyna only smiled with her eyes following her young professor's every step, hearing his comments of every book he came across.
"The Merchant of Venice. Delightful. Ivanhoe. Good one. Robinson Crusoe. Excellent writing. Hamlet. Classic. Pride and Prejudice."
"One of my favourites." Aerwyna cut him off almost instantly.
"As do I. I see we have more in common than we think, Aerwyna. Romeo and Juliet."
"Another favourite of mine." She cut him off again. She knew her behaviour would have her scolded by her father, telling her that that was impolite and rude. She stared at Christopher who said nothing but grinned in response. He walked over to a seat across from the young lady's. "So what are we doing today?" Aerwyna caught herself in surprise, this was the first time that she was excited for her lessons. When she was younger, she did not necessarily dread the lessons, her past teachers were all great. But there was something about this particular professor who was sitting across from her that made her enthusiatic about whatever they were doing. Aerwyna saw Christopher furrowed his eyebrows and rubbed his chin.
Christopher saw Aerwyna's puzzled expression and chuckled. He knew what she was thinking. "Spontaneity is my speciality, my Lady." Aerwyna raised her eyebrow. "I am not your typical professor."
"I can see that very clearly, Christopher." She remarked and nodded, gesturing the fact that his age was the most obvious characteristic that differs him from other professors.
"How about we start with a book? One that you normally would not read or touch or even look at."
"My choice?" She asked with her right eyebrow raised. He only nodded. Aerwyna had always thought the basis of teaching was preparation, but Christopher left the comfort zone and usual standards of teaching and created a method of his own. He was not an ordinary professor, like he said. It was somewhat refreshing. There was one particular section she never dared to go to. She preferred romances about knights and princesses, star-crossed lovers, and with a touch of drama. That section — 'the gory section' as she called it, held her brother's favourite literature which often contains bloodshed and adventures. Aerwyna did not particularly want to read a story with corpses floating on the sea of blood, hence eliminated any publication she knew would involve that image. Glancing at the titles, she picked one which at least looked the most interesting to her and returned to the desk.
"Gulliver's Travels, Jonathan Swift." Christopher smiled as he run his hand over the hard cover.
"Have you read it before?" Aerwyna asked him, noticing his grin.
"Of course. It was one of my brother's favourites, he would always bring this specific one on every trip our family had. I never understood why he was so obsessed with this book, until I picked it up and read it. It was absolutely wonderful,' He responded and there Aerwyna caught his blue eyes were glassy. "But, I have not picked this book up and even look at it within the past year."
"Why not?"
"Because when my brother travelled to France for a meeting with other colleagues, their carriage was atttacked. All that was left were their bodies and this book." As soon as he finished, a single tear dropped on his cheek. Right away Aerwyna felt her heart sank.
"I'm sorry, I should not have chosen this book. I shall choose another one."Aerwyna said in a rush, getting up with every inch of her body filled with guilt. Just as she was sauntering over to the wooden shelves, she felt a hand took hold her wrist with his glazed blue eyes stared into her guilty brown ones.
"It's perfectly fine Aerwyna. This is about you, not me. I should not have let my emotion get the best of me. You choose this one and we shall read this one. Besides I do not mind recalling the contents."
"But-" She began protesting, yet he interrupted her.
"It really is fine. It has been a year. Come on, sit down and start the lesson. Shall we?" Aerwyna was convinced, but decided to give up and sat down.
"I'm terribly sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine losing someone you care so much, especially someone you grew up with." She told him. She watched Christopher open and flick through the book and another tear failed to stay in his eye. That was it. She stood up again and snatched the book out his hands and closed it, discounting any remarks on her impoliteness she could hear in her head.
"What are you doing?" He asked, obviously shocked by her sudden action.
Aerwyna shook her head, "I feel bad. Really bad. It is our first lesson and it has not officially begin. I, with my stupid hands and mouth, already made someone cry. I cannot bear to see someone cry over something I did wrong. It is my fault, I should not have chosen this book. Out of all of them, I have to choose this stupid book! I'm sorry Christopher, I really am."
"Aerwyna, listen-"
"No, listen to me. It was foolish of me to do this. What happened to your brother was a tragedy, and I am sorry that I reminded you the misfortune. The only way to fix this to never choose this book again and get another book. I care about you, not only because you are my professor, but also because you are my friend." Aerwyna explained while the young man in front of her looked at her with his mouth slightly opened, completely speechless. Walking towards the shelf, sliding the book back and once again glanced at the book titles. She pulled another one out of its place. It was slightly thicker, heavier and overall it seemed a bit more boring.
She turned back to her new professor, he was frozen in his seat.
"Christopher?" Aerwyna asked.
"I'm sorry, my lady. I see you picked up another book. What is it?" The daughter of the Viscount held the book up for him. "The Canterbury Tales. Another classic." He took the copy from her, examining it. "Marvelous. Sit, my Lady. Let's begin."
"I really am sorry, Christopher. It is all my fault." Aerwyna apologised again, looking down at her skirt.
"There is no need to apologise, Aerwyna. It was never your fault, you have no knowledge of the incident. But thank you." He said, she looked at him questioningly.
"Why are you thanking me?"
"Because you made me realise that rather than avoiding the book, cherish it. Thus I am going to pick that book up again sometime after this lesson. Are you sure you do not want to read 'Gulliver's Travels'? It is an excellent one."
"No. At least for now. I would like to read that at some point. I am still recovering from the fact that I made you cry." Christopher laughed. Aerwyna could hear that was a sincere one, no sugarcoating.
"I assure you, I cried even more when I heard the news. Those tears are just moments of recalling memories. It is totally fine. And I hope you recover from the horrible image of me tearing up." They both shared a soft laughter.
"The Canterbury Tales." He began.
"Prologue.
When April's gentle rains have pierced the drought
Of March right to the root, and bathed each sprout
Through every vein with liquid of such power
It brings forth the engendering of the flower;
When Zephyrus too with his sweet breath has blown
Through every field and forest, urging on
The tender shoots, and there's a youthful sun,
His second half course through the Ram now run,
And little birds are making melody
And sleep all night, eyes open as can be (So Nature pricks them in each little heart),
On pilgrimage then folks desire to start."
"Beautiful writing." Aerwyna cut him off before he could continue. "Sorry." Ignoring her unnecessary apology, Christopher tore his eyes away from the page and smiled at her.
"It is, isn't it? I mean it is only prologue and it is already this beautiful, the rest will be exciting. And Aerwyna, do you know how many times you say sorry today?"
She shook her head. "No, sorry."
"You just did it again, none of it was your fault. You apologise way too much, Aerwyna."
"Well, I guess there will be lots more to come, Professor Weston."
"That word should be banned in our lessons."