Time, Fate, and Love

Society is paradoxical, nothing and no one is ever certain or fixed. This is most evident in how individuals react when faced with perplexing situations and people. Curiosity is an innate part of human nature, therefore anomalies serve as catalysts that motivate individuals to question their beliefs and values and search for transformative/challenging experiences.

That is what Fraser manor was. An anomaly.

And so was Vincent. Always running off somewhere, doing something. With who? And where?

Still unanswered.

I arrive at the breakfast table first. Silas not too far behind me.

"Good Morning again, Eleanor." Mr. Fraser welcomed, sitting at a table filled with every breakfast item one could imagine. Pastries, scrambled eggs, fruit, charcuterie boards, all arranged in fancy china and detailed platters. The aroma of all the delicious flavours fills the air, teasing my empty stomach.

I sit down eagerly as Lilith pours us coffee. "How was your sleep?" Vincent asks, slicing his toast.

I look to Silas for a moment. He ignores me. It was a silent agreement between us to not speak about it.

"This is scrumptious." I say, biting into a pastry, the sugary cinnamon taste melting in my mouth.

"I'm afraid we haven't met, I'm Vincent Fraser. An old friend of your Professor. Osbourne." He introduces himself to Golding, who reciprocates the greeting.

Silence overcame the room save for the sounds of chewing and cutlery clanging on dishes.

"I remember being your age, studying in Oxford, reaking havoc on the professors with Gael and Waylen." He recounted smiling, a nostalgic air around his words. The corners of his eyes, creased and wrinkles etched on his face. Fine lines of memory and time.

"How did you meet them?" I wonder aloud.

He chuckles. "Waylen was a meek young man. Which is a euphemism for- he was bullied... severely." Looking past me, he continues. "One day, he had gotten into a fight and was far from winning it. I got involved and helped him out. Ever since that day, we began to keep each other company. It wasn't until we met Gael, who began attending Oxford a month after we all did, that our companionship evolved into a brotherhood. Gael was always the more confident and social one while I preferred to silently win."

"And Waylen?" Silas asked.

"Waylen was the smartest of all. Everything came easily to him but he never showed it. In addition to his natural abilities, he would work even harder."

"Was?" I questioned.

He gave me a solemn almost ashamed to speak of him look. "We drifted apart."

"Were there any people who were envious of you three? Who gave you a hard time? A rival group or individual from back when you attended Oxford?" I implore, desperate for answers.

"Were there?! Almost everyone in our year group was jealous of us. Of the work we produced, the bond we had with our professors. For the entirety of our college careers, we were undefeated in the marks we received, always top of our class." He explained. "There was one specific student, Kavish Dalal. He loathed us. He was always used to being first in every class, was even Head boy at his secondary school. He was in for a shock when he went up against us. Always fourth place. He played some nasty tricks on us, but nothing we couldn't handle. I felt bad for him because Gael would always go twice as hard on him after he pulled anything on us."

I smile remembering Professor Osbourne, it seemed as though he hadn't changed.

"But that was just Osbourne. He was very fiery in his youth. Impulsive sometimes."

That came back to haunt him, I thought. What a fool, time makes of us. Waiting for old faults to resurface and punishing us when given the chance.

"What of Mrs. Osbourne?" I divulge, eyeing him carefully. My words like a threatening dagger, receive a flinch, something so fast that I question if it even happened. As though the reminder of her was soothing and painful all at once.

"She was a dear friend of ours. But soon that friendship developed into something more with Gael. They married after we graduated, it was beautiful." He admits half-heartedly, clearly more to the story.

"Why did you all drift apart?" Golding pressed.

"Why do all friends drift apart? Time is cruel and fate is unpredictable."

Leave it up to English majors to speak in riddles and dodge questions.

~~~

Night arrived swiftly. The morning had been both incredibly useful and yet utterly futile. It seemed the only information we extracted from him was of his comradery with Osbourne and Waylen and their impressive reputation. Under different circumstances, I would've been completely enthralled by his stories. However, I didn't travek all this say just to come up with nothing. Silas fell asleep on the armchair while reading. I took that opportunity and left the room. At this point I'd memorised Vincent's routine. He was always gone by night.

Sneakily, I pass the familiar hallways and set to explore the rest of the manor. Tall, large windows all line up as moonlight cascades through, its silvery sheen glistening on the walls and floor. Sauntering down, I see a massive ballroom. Its high ceilings embellished with swirls of golden, floral designs and murals of ethereal landscapes and in the center of the front wall was a portrait of a dazzling woman. In the corner of the vast space was a piano covered in dust, I almost felt it ache to be played. In fact this whole house- it emanated a powerful air of loneliness and despair. Two awe-inspiring chandeliers hung from the ceiling, filled with unlit candles. The pattern of candles consistent throughout the ballroom. But there length, indicated they hadn't been burnt in years. I move toward the piano, my fingers skimming the keys. Ambling around, I step on something that cruches beneath my shoes. Looking closer, I realise its broken glass and follow its trail which leads me to a broken photo frame. The photo is of a wedding.

Of Vivienne and Gael Osbourne in this ballroom. I look up at the portrait of the woman painted on the wall and back at the picture.

Vivienne.

Why would Vincent have a portrait of Vivienne in his ballroom? Why was she staring at him at the funeral? Why was he avoiding my question about her?

Folding the picture, I place it in my pocket and run out of the ballroom. I scower the halls in search for Vincent's bedroom. I pass my own once again and reach a flight of stairs. Libraries, wine cellars, offices, lounges, each one more intricate then the last. I reach the highest point of the manor, an astronomy room. Walking in, I look up at a dome ceiling with large windows and a telescope peering toward it. Opposite that was a single bed in the corner. I search high and low for something, anything. I need to know the true nature of Vivienne and Vincent's relationship. Under the bed was a box, I pull it out and sitting on the bed I open it. A stack of papers. Sketches of Vivienne and letters, undoubtedly for her.

'In a world where the thorns of hatred and chaos are widespread, such is the rarity that is my rose.

Oh her loving disposition and calming aura like an angel's warm embrace.

To gaze into those hypnotic swirls of black and brown would be tantamount to that of a portal to heaven.

My precious rose, all the seven wonders of the world couldn't compare for she is all the wonders and more in mine.

The sun and all her stars envy her scintillating sparkle and the moon cowers in her presence.

All the love, all the praise, all the words in existence wouldn't in the slightest pay homage to my delicate rose.

She's a treasure beyond measure and priceless in every sense.

Oh my darling, Oh my rose! So true, so rare don't make me imagine a world where you're not there.

For a world without you is beyond repair.'

Pages and pages of poetry and odes to his rose.

The rose mentioned in the threat. The threat Osbourne recieved before he died- in London.

Vincent and Vivienne were in love. That's why Vincent killed him. Out of jealousy, out of anger, out of love for his wife.