Secret

Fog lay around Maron Manor on this November morning, The bare trees stood like spectres outside the bureau window. A few snow flurries began to fall.

Lord Egbert was seated at  his bureau, immersed in  what seemed like important papers.

Now that the bright, sunny days of Summer were but a distant memory, Egbert set to put his affairs in order. It was a problem he didn’t want to face. His solicitor. crabby old Sir William, from Smith & Sons had advised him repeatedly that it was time, now that he was in his fiftieth year.

Stroking his grey goatee, Egbert murmured, ‘Fifty is hardly old age for an eligible, land-owning gent like me.’    The thought brought a smile to his semi-wrinkled countenance.

Maron was a large estate, blessed with rich pastures and abundant  harvests. He could continue just as he was for many a long year. His ancestors had lived mostly for three score years and ten. Not bad in 1945.

Not having heirs to pass on his riches to was beginning to become a serious problem, or so his legal advisors claimed.

‘There must be an heir somewhere,’ was the regular refrain from Smith & Sons. ’Didn’t you sow any wild oats in your youthful days, Egbert?’ Or sometimes when they were in a more lighthearted mood they would regale him with the promise that there was still time. 

Lord Egbert knew that there was indeed bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. But this knowledge was known only to him. Not even crabby old William was let in on this secret. But Egbert had now a major dilemma and only he could solve it.

A hundred miles away in the rolling hills of Avondale had  lived a well -to-do woman, Lady Anna. Anna was an upright woman who lived a righteous life with her husband, Lord Charles.

In their younger days, Egbert had been Anna’s suitor for many years. Their courtship was long and uncertain. Anna’s father grew impatient and advised Anna against prolonging the courtship. Anna was distraught. She loved Egbert and longed to be his lawful wedded wife. Just before their courtship ended Anna and Egbert expressed their love through physical union. Discovering she was with child, she quickly acceded to her father’s order to end her courtship with Egbert and marry her father’s choice of suitor, namely Lord Charles. Being many years her senior, and having sustained serious injuries on the battlefield in World War 11, Charles was uncertain whether he would be able to father a child, an heir for his estate.

On learning that Anna was with child so soon after their hastily arranged marriage, Charles was ecstatic, knowing that the ancestral line would be intact. Their son, Theodore, now a young man in his thirties, lit up their lives.

Before her untimely death, Anna advised Egbert, at a garden party at her estate, of the fact of having birthed his son, a son conceived just before the termination of their courtship. Remembering that  distant, sunny afternoon in June his heart leaped with joy. But joy was shortlived.

The secret lay heavy on Egbert’s shoulders. It was a precious, personal memory in his life of happier times with a woman he deeply loved. A spirit of regret often took hold of his thoughts. Nothing could allay his sense of having been wronged. A son and heir to his massive estate lived just one hundred miles away.

He envied Lord Charles, now in his sixth decade the joys brought to him by Theodore. He did not wish to dishonor the memory of Lady Anna or defile her reputation.

The bells of Saint Cuthbert’s Church in the neighbourhood that chimed out the midnight hour often woke him. Then he would light his wax candle and descend the creaking staircase to his bureau to gaze at Anna’s beauty in that precious, sepia photo.

He appeared to have developed a new sense of purpose. He wanted to honor the memory of the woman he loved. But more than that he wanted to acknowledge his only son.

It is here that the trail goes cold on the susequent events at Maron. Future historians may well unearth some historical documents that may illuminate past happenings at Maron.

Legend is the only source at this point in time. According to legend, Egbert’s ghost can still be heard descending   those creaking stairs, where a candle flame often flickers. in dilapidated Maron Manor, at the midnight hour.

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