Epiphany: Reminiscence

II. Lily Flowers

Somewhere in England, a village called Barton Le Clay could be found, not too far from the capital. It is a quiet village, surrounded by marvellous hills. As a child, Lucia found its likeness to a waterfall of green, which would be an excellent choice of words, given the beautiful forests scattered around. Many probably guessed it by now, but this was indeed the place where she, our protagonist, was given birth to and grew into what she is today, but now, it's only her aunt's family that continues to live in the old house of the D'Heur's. Together with her husband, Christian, and their son, Lucas, Flavia is the only family Lucia still has, alive. And even if they were not related by blood, their bonds run way deeper than that.

Their house was old, a true traditional residence dating from the 17th century. In comparison with the houses build by the common people these days, it was big. But because it was that big, it also required a lot of attention. It was build near one of Lucia's treasured hills, hidden between old trees that told of a great history, behind it a small forest stretching. Between that green, the house could be easily spotted, its windows reflecting the rays of the sun. It was part of the inheritance of the D'Heur family, the land now divided between Lucia and Flavia, even if Lucia wanted to pass it all on her aunt's name. Staying there from time to time was enough for her, reminding her of the joyful days she spend as a child with her mother and father in this house, while they were still alive.

However, much to Flavia's contempt, the manor was isolated. It was build at the edge of the town, originally outside it, as the fashion designed the great families at that time. Were something to happen in this house, the neighbours wouldn't be the first ones to find out about it.

A good example of this would be today.

In the middle of the day, when the sun was at its peak, a black Range Rover silently made its way on the alley hid by trees. That alley lead to the D'Heur manor, connecting it to the main street. Coming out from the tunnel of fags and oaks, the final destination came into view. The car stopped in front of the old gates that once used to have a beautiful silver colour, but now only reflected the sunrays in its rust. From it a black haired man descended, dressed into a simple red T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, a brown jacket completing his attire. The light of the sun fell directly on his skin, reflecting into his beautiful green eyes. The one that just arrived in Barton Le Clay was none other than Ethan Arey, the saviour of the blue eyed beauty going with the name of Lucia D'Heur.

He inspected the mansion in front of him, recognizing it as the right place. It took him longer than he thought to find out about this place and the ties it had with Lucia. His eyes now fell on the garden, full of flowers. But he was looking especially at one kind of flower, the lilies. They cared not for the season and tried to bloom even now, in the beginning of autumn. He couldn't help but smile, probably because they resembled Seraphine and Lucia as well.

Entering the premises, he headed to the front door, quickly knocking on it. The door was nearly ancient, being the original door. Even though it was made of wood, it kept on existing all these years, proud of its place in this noble house. The knock sounded creepy, like in an old movie. You almost expected a vampire to open it, welcoming you into their humble house. Instead, a blonde woman in her thirties came into view, her eyes meeting Ethan's. At the sight, he couldn't help but put on an arrogant smile, which was just too usual for him. The reason of that smile was the paleness that the woman gained when she's seen him. She hurried to lock the door, visibly scared by the appearance of this man, but it was futile.

"Not so fast, Madame Chester," Ethan grinned, placing his feet in the door's way, making her unable to close it. Seeing that she was losing this small fight, she decided to retreat, letting go of the front door. Her steps quickly found their way to the kitchen while her hands tried to reach for the phone. But just as she placed a finger on it, her hand was caught into a gentle grip that threatened to turn into a tight one if she didn't retreat once more from this battlefield. To an outsider, that pose could have looked like a scene from a fairy tale, where the prince invited the princess to a waltz. But that only if you ignored the scared look on Flavia's face, of course.