They knocked, but no one answered.
"He's probably drunk," Johnny explained.
"Why does he drink?" Edgar asked.
"I don't know."
"Then wait for me here, I'll be right back."
Edgar knocked again, and this time he got an answer. A hoarse male voice told him the door was open. Edgar turned the knob and entered.
The room he found himself in was poorly lit and smelled stale. There was also an unbearable stench, like vomit. At a small table sat Thomas Grey, his coachman. In front of him was a nearly burnt-out candle and a bottle of wine.
"Thomas?" Edgar asked. "Thomas Grey?"
"Yes, it's me," the latter replied, still with his back turned.
"I'm here to ask you to return to your old job," Edgar explained.
"Coachman?"
"Exactly."
"I'll return, but first let me tell you something," Thomas said, still facing away from him.
"Go ahead."
"Sit down."
"I'm fine standing. Just tell me everything, and then we'll go. Do you want a raise?"
Thomas laughed.
"You always think about money," he said. "But I've always wanted just one thing: to be as close to you as possible."
"I don't understand..."
"Being your coachman was a way to be close to you," Thomas explained.
"I still don't get it."
"I'm your father."
Thomas turned around and looked him in the eyes. They shared the same gaze. It was the first time Edgar had noticed. An identical rebellious tuft of hair on the forehead. Identical blood. Not noble, alas. Edgar remained in that room for a long time, listening to his biological father. Thomas told him everything: the secret love for his mother, the unexpected return of those feelings, the passion, and the sleepless nights with her in the barn, away from everyone.
"Did you love my mother very much?"
"Yes, and I will always love her, wherever she is," Thomas replied. "Now, you can fire me for the second time."
"I don't intend to fire you."
"I just want to be close to you."
"It will be complicated. My father..."
"Your father has known everything for a long time," Thomas interrupted.
"And he never repudiated me," Edgar thought aloud.
"Why should he have?" Thomas asked. "He was sterile but wanted a son very much. With your birth, he would have had everything he'd always wanted."
"I didn't know he was sterile... They never told me anything."
"They did it only to protect you, not to confuse you, to help you grow with a clear identity."
"But I'm not really the nobleman everyone thinks. I'm the son of a coachman."
"No one will ever take your nobility away from you, as long as no one ever finds out about this."
Edgar nodded. The old man extended his hand, and Edgar shook it.
While the two were sharing all of this, Johnny was eavesdropping behind the half-open door, which seemed to suggest nothing good was about to come.