Some Enchanted Evening Chapter 3

"There are those who have a purpose. And there are those who have split purposes. Those who have split purposes, choose between two roads. Two mask."

It was another day of his new life…or well the life that he was now remembering. It was a warm day, the sky was a vibrant blue, no clouds, only a light breeze that gently rustled the trees and barely threatened the day. The sun was high and beaming in the center of the sky. Everyone was cheerful and happy and preoccupied. Everyone except for him, he was the only one that had absolutely nothing to do.

It wasn't that he couldn't go outside; he could, his wounds had healed enough and he no longer needed to wear bandages. And he could walk on his own again without a cane or getting dizzy. In fact, he was outside with everyone else, enjoying the day and the chirps and crows of nature. But everyone else seemed to be so much busier than him. Each person had a purpose. Each person he watched walk across the lawns, marched aggressively with determination, and all he was doing was sitting under an oak tree, twiddling his thumbs and hiding in the shade so he wouldn't get in the way.

There was only one person that caused a big commotion as they crossed the lawn that morning. It was a woman, with extravagant yellow hair. She'd been heading towards the stables in a riding habit, a swarm of servants at her heels, each servant offering her something different, with eager hopes to please her, waiting on her every whim, hand and foot. But nothing seemed to satisfy the lady as he could tell by her deep frowns and yelling.

The group traveled slowly across the green and with many dramatics. With every pause came more shouting or a body would be shoved to the ground. When they would continue, the desperate sounds of begging arose. He watched with absolute curiosity, his subject, a wealthy woman who had servants working themselves to dust to preserve that image. When the group was finally close enough to where he sat, he was able to hear what all the commotion was about.

"Listen," the Lady snapped. She whipped herself around and held up a blind finger. She was a beautiful woman; pale with rosy cheeks and thick blonde hair. It was piled high on top of her head under a bright pink hat. He could see her bright silver eyes, though a harsh color, as they flashed like the blade of a sword, glaring at all the people that surrounded her.

"I am going on my morning ride and if any of you fools are stupid enough to stop me, you won't have a job here tomorrow," she threatened.

Her glare traveled throughout the group, making every one of her servants hold their protest. He really couldn't tell who she was as she was swept up in the crowd. But from the servants' treatment of her and the glamour and wealth of her riding outfit, he thought, this could quite possibly be the Lady of the house, his lovely hostess, The Barren Lady Courtney.

"But Mama," he heard a small voice whimper. He couldn't see who it came from.

Her eyes lowered and she snarled. "Go away, Spencer! If you want to go riding, do it on your own horse, by yourself!"

"My lady, the young master is too little to ride and still too weak from his accident," a wrinkled, scrawny old man told her. He was dressed poorly, in filthy ripped rags. And his back was hunched, making it unable for him to stand tall.

Silence followed the man's speech for a moment, one he thought, meant a positive outcome. But it was only the calm before the storm. Shades of dark red passed through the lady's face before she finally exploded.

"I do not know when everyone decided that it would be I who now deals with Spencer," she shouted and gritted her teeth at the old man, indignant.

She took two steps towards him and the man instantly fell onto his back, covering his face with his arms to protect himself as though she were a monster.

"I," she roared, leaning forward. The old man still attempted to get away. A little girl quickly knelt beside him to take his elbow, helping him up and pulling him away from the fierce woman's attack.

A young brown haired boy appeared as the crowd dispersed, cleaner than most of the Cassidine servants, he also helped.

"I'm the one that has no power at all and what you ask for is unfair!" She gritted her teeth then pointed at the little boy. "Well if I'll be dealing with you, I tell you there will be change!" She straightened again and dusted herself off as though she'd been dirtied and took a deep breath, closing her lids. It was calm again for a moment as the young children righted the contorted old man. The man looked to the lady before smiling at the young boy in gratitude and moving away.

The lady took another deep breath and opened her eyes again, her eyes instantly moving to the young boy. She grabbed his hand and cleaned it with her skirts. "I'll tell you one thing, if you choose to ride with me, there's no way I'm going to spoil you the way the Duke has been! Oh no Spencer! The disadvantages of having a mother!"

Everyone was silent. The lady stared at the little boy, her breath rising and falling. She turned proceeding towards the stables. It was a moment before the servants scampered after her again.

Jason eyes moved back to the boy and the old man. He watched the man bow deeply at the feet of the boy. The boy shook his head viciously and patted the man's frail shoulder and held his hand out to shake the man's hand as he stood.

"Thank you very much for trying," the boy said quietly. "Please convey my thanks to everyone else."

"There's not a thing I wouldn't do for you, Young master," the man replied fondly and began to hobble towards the stables.

It grew silent again except for the more peaceful sounds of the day; birds chirping, bees humming and polite conversation. Jason closed his eyes again, putting his hands behind his head, and rested against the hard trunk of the oak tree. He wondered if he had a mother as cruel as that woman. Was she looking for him? Could he find her if he looked hard enough?

He sighed, knowing that if he had any purpose at all in the world, it would have to be in his past life. He would not find it now or here which meant, his current purpose was to find out his past. Of course that would be hard, and he would need help.

"Wretched mother," he heard a puny voice mutter. "The worst of them all," Jason cracked an eye open to see the young brown haired boy approaching the tree. He did not leave with the group, Jason realized, which made him respect the boy instantly.

Spencer moved closer to the tree, slowing by the outskirts of its shadow. Jason eyed him. He looked older than Jason had expected. His features were more for a man than a small boy. His hair was dark and shiny, almost black but very fine. His eyes were the same silver as his mothers, harsh, difficult to gaze into without flinching from their intensity. He stood proud, his shoulders stout and squared, his face grim magnified by a deep frown.

The boy stood there for a while, outside the shade of the tree, in the sun, his eyes cast to the ground, puzzled. His face seemed to age right before Jason's eyes. The wind rustled his hair and his clothing as it blew by. His shoulders began shaking suddenly, frantically, as Jason watched tears begin to pour from his eyes.

As time expanded, Spencer started to fade away and in his place he saw the back of another boy, much taller than Spencer, his hair the same kind of black, dark as night. The boy's clothes were ripped and torn; his shoulders were shaking as he looked down the ruins of corridor. Gold and grime was everywhere, there were splatters of blood, standing out like surrendering flags on white columns. The boy turned then, his expression brave, a sad smile on his face. "We'll be alright," he whispered. "I'll always protect you."

The words weren't in English, but he understood them. His trance ended and the present and Spencer returned. What had just happened? Was it a memory? Was he imagining things? Who was the boy?

"One day, I hope she goes away for good," he heard Spencer mutter to himself. Jason, shook off the shock of the daze, just enough to return his attention to the sniffling boy. Who protected Spencer, he wondered. And who protected the boy from his trance if he'd been protecting him?

"I hope you get your wish," Jason heaved. He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. His heart ached for the boy.

For all the time he'd been there, Spencer must not have seen him because he jumped, so frightened and embarrassed, and looked around startled. With exaggerated slowness, Jason stood. He still felt some pain in his head, especially when he changed elevations. He stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight, revealing himself. Eyes wide, Spencer titled his head to look at him.

"Hello," Jason offered first. "I'm Jason."

Spencer looked away with a scowl and tucked both his thumbs beneath his blue suspenders. He cast his eyes across the greens, toward the barn.

"Good day, Sir," He muttered unpleasantly. His cheeks pinked and he was tense with annoyance. "I am glad to see you're awake. I'm Stefan Nikolossovich Cassidine. The boy you saved."

"Well I'm glad to be awake," Jason said, friendlily. "I don't like sitting in bed."

An awkward silence fell between them. Spencer's eyes stayed at the barn his mother had disappeared into. He could tell Spencer would not allow himself to look at him and that there was anger in his face. He had no desire to speak to Jason. Not even the desire to thank him.

Which was odd; Jason didn't like being thanked but he also didn't like being hated for no reason. Did Spencer know something that he didn't? Did he know him before the accident? Was he part of his past? "I thought your name was Spencer," Jason queried, hoping that something would strike gold and the awkwardness would leave.

"It's a nickname from my mother," Spencer responded tightly. "Only friends may call me so commonly."

"Oh," Jason murmured. "Then what do I call you?"

"Young Lord," Spencer bit out, and stiffly looked to Jason. A menacing glint flashed through his gray eyes. It was brutal and rubbed Jason raw. Betrayal flowed from Spencer's eyes, and hate, choking him with it. Jason was the one that had to look away this time.

"Tell me, Jason, are you one of my Mother's friends?" Spencer interrogated, with a speculating smirk. "I have never seen you before that day I almost drowned, and since you were conveniently there when I was drowning, I've assumed that you are possibly a man my mother cohorts with."

Jason lifted a brow. "I'm not," he answered, but he wasn't too sure if that was the truth.

Could he have been Lady Courtney's lover? Did she have lovers stashed away on the shores of Wyndemere, ready to save her son? It was a sad thing that Spencer knew his mother took lovers if she indeed had any. Children his age didn't need to know about all the bad in the world yet. That love didn't stay preserved for years,that people lied and cheated.

"Oh," Spencer breathed, his shoulders sagging with relief and the tension between the two of them leaving as another breeze rolled by. "Apologies then," Spencer held his hand out.

Jason took it, surprised by how firm the shake was.

"I am very thankful regardless," Spencer said. "I don't really know how to swim. Father said he will teach me when I am older but I'm sure he's changed his mind now."

"Yes," Jason chuckled. "Living on an island, knowing how to swim would be a good idea." Spencer smiled at him, no hate lingered, only admiration. "Can you tell me, what were you doing in the water that day?"

The smile fell and again and he cast his eyes towards the barn before returning an answer to Jason. "I had an accident," He rushed. "I told you I don't know how to swim."

"I don't believe that, young Lord," Jason said. "I believe there was a different reason."

"Spencer," he corrected. He sighed. "I will tell you if you want, since you do deserve to know. You saved my life, after all." He said quietly. "But only if you promise not to tell my father."

"I promise."

Spencer nodded towards the trunk of the tree and moved into the shade to sit. Jason followed; already humbled by anything the boy would tell him. He had speculations, but was certain that it involved the boy's mother.

He sat next to him besides the tree, folding his legs and turned to the boy attentively.

"That morning, I got a message from a servant," Spencer began. "It said that my mother was calling for me. I didn't go to her; I hid of course, since I knew why she was calling me. I had knocked over a jewelry box when I was spying in her rooms." His face grew stricken. "The box broke and so did a lot of the jewelry in it and I didn't want to face her so I ran to the shore but I only stopped running cause I couldn't breathe," he sighed. "And I fell asleep, and the next thing I know, Mama was screaming my name from across the beach and there was thunder and lighting and rain!"

Spencer paused and gulped. "This big huge," he eyes widened as he showed Jason the wave's height with his hands, "tall monster wave formed and it ate me! My mama-," Spencer broke off. "She left me as I was calling to her," his voice quivered and fell to a whisper. "I- I screamed really loud and then I saw you. You were standing on the cliff and you jumped in but then another wave hit and I don't remember the rest."

Jason tried to imagine himself saving Spencer. He pictured himself running out of the woods at top speed, the boy's eyes widening as though hope had arrived. He'd dive into the water while mountains of crashing waves pounded at him, making it an obstacle. But he would have been determined, and would've torn through the water with ease, getting to Spencer quickly.

Once he got to Spencer, he would have wrapped an arm around his waist and start to swim to the surface, punching a shark in the nose on his way. He would come up, touch Spencer's forehead, healing him from any lung damage and the boy would open his eyes, gleaming with thanks and admiration. Suddenly, another wave would hit and he would let go of Spencer and land on a rock. His brain would be splattered on a rock, quite the grossest scene for a heroic rescue. Spencer would be screaming, and the waves would settle instantly.

It was unimaginable was what it was. He could not see himself at all being a hero. He could not picture himself risking his life for a stranger. It was all too odd. He wasn't a golden boy, he wasn't a hero. From what he knew about himself, he was a brute. He didn't like talking much, but books, people in books were okay.

"I sat by your bed for days," Spencer told him. Jason looked to him, the boy's eyes were sad, troubled. "I held your hand. I spoke to you."

"You didn't need to do that."

Spencer nodded and took his hand. It was a small hand but warm, caring. An odd sensation fluttered in Jason's chest. He wanted to protect this boy.

"I did," Spencer said.

The feeling thickened and Jason cleared his throat to push it away.

"Do you ride horses," Jason asked, already knowing the answer. He just needed something to change the topic and maybe even something to put a smile on the boy's face.

Already, Spencer's eyes lit up. "I do! Papa said we would go riding, but something has gone wrong with Great- Grandmother and he had to go to London."

"I can take you." Jason thought for a moment, realizing something. "…But I don't have a horse."

Spencer jumped up. "Yes you do," he shouted in excitement. "The servants found him and I've been watching him for you! Come on!" He grabbed Jason's sleeve, trying to help him up. "You're far too heavy!"

Jason chuckled and stood up on his own. He followed the boy as he ran across the lawn towards the stables, happy that he found a purpose for the day.

THE FRONT DOOR to the extravagant Jacks Mansion opened with a bang then soon after closed with a slam, with the Earl of Ritroburgh, Lord Jasper Jacks's face on the other side of it. He sighed, since he knew this would happen. It happened every time they went to The Webber's townhouse for dinner.

"Skye," he called out then sighed, again. He knocked on the door but she did not answer. "Darling?"

A minute passed before the door finally swung open. His strikingly beautiful wife stepped out with a growl, gritting her pearly white teeth, her red hair.

"You," she started, wagging a finger at him, "are UNBELIEVABLE!"

It would be the same topic they argued about every week; their damned visit to the Webbers for dinner. "Skye," Jasper pleaded. "What is it?"

He knew that just once he should reject the invitation, prevent this from happening because of course it never really worked in his favor. Sure, after fights as big as this they would make love, but it wasn't really love they were creating, more like anger. Then after, Skye would pick herself up, put her clothes on and leave the room with her head held high and without a word to him. And she wouldn't say a word thereafter for days. It was a difficult process, a preventable process but he never ever did it differently.

"You know what," she accused and spun around, going back inside. His eyes widened, knowing what was coming next, and he caught the door before she could slam it, shocked that she was angrier than usual.

"Darling, you're not making any sense!"

"I'm not making any sense," she scoffed, trying to push the door shut, even if it meant breaking a few of his fingers. "You know what doesn't make any sense? Why you drag me to dinner with those people every week!"

"Because Steven Webber is my best friend," Jasper growled back. "That's why."

"Oh I don't think so," she shouted, trying her hardest to get the door closed, leaning all her weight and the weight of her dress onto it. But he was stronger and got the door open with one nudge of his shoulder. He stood in the doorway, a dazed expression on his face, his chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily.

"Well then," Jasper said, readjusting his cravat that had been rustled in the struggle. "Now, we can talk."

"Like I want to talk to you," She scowled and picked up her skirts, moving in a flash to the sitting room.

He watched her saunter off, enjoying how glorious a sight it was. The skirts of her blue gown swayed as she moved her hips, the gold embroidered bottom trailing behind her. She walked tall, and though she was angry, her steps were quiet and graceful, as though she was floating. He tried to hide his sheepish grin, admiring her secretly. She didn't realize how appealing she was to him when she was angry.

She disappeared into the parlor and he sighed, heavily, "Skye dear!"

He followed her and found her standing in front of the brandy cart, a glass already in hand, and pouring a large amount of brown liquid into a tall glass from a sparkling crystal bottle.

"You shouldn't be drinking that so late," he admonished.

She halted, blinking at him, the bottle still in hand. "Oh no, my lord," she probed innocently. "Well you'll have to excuse me. I've just sat at a table across from Lady Sarah Webber for hours. I deserve a drink."

She set the bottle down, raised a glass and a brow to him, then threw her head back, drinking majority of the glass in seconds.

"You are so unkind to Sarah. I'm telling you, it disgraces you."

"Sarah is it," She smiled falsely. She set her cup down on the cart hard. The noise startled Jasper and he jumped. "Well, looks like you and your lover have lost all manners of propriety."

"Nothing is going on between me and Sarah. You are my lover and I am yours, Skye."

She smiled again, that same false innocent smile and said mischievously, "You don't know that."

He froze and she all but laughed out loud at his expression. She lifted her skirts and flopped into a seat.

"What," he asked, his expression frightened.

"Well to be honest, you don't know about my affairs."

He cocked his head. "Are you claiming that you are betraying me?"

"Only if you've done it first."

"Well I haven't."

"Well," she sighed, leisurely "I obviously don't believe you."

"And like I would believe your claim," he smiled at her and moved, kneeling before her chair. His bright eyes shone with laughter and he lifted her hand, adorning it in soft kisses. "You love me very much, Skye."

"You're confidence is admirable, Jax," she replied primly but her voice was edged with desire. "Really, they reward slow children for such confidence."

"This argument is pointless," he whispered huskily, moving his onslaught to her forearm. "I am married to you and I shall remain faithful to you until the day I die."

"Well your secret love for Lady Sarah is certainly undermining your pledges," she mumbled. "It seems as though you wish to be married to her rather than me."

Jasper made a face and pulled away. He stood, straightening himself rigidly. "Must you say such things? Your jealousy is poison," he scolded with disdain and walked to the brandy cart.

She lowered her lashes, feeling guilty. Jacks poured a drink for himself, his back to her, his anger unwavering.

Just then, their butler Nestor entered the room. "Two letters were delivered this evening for you, my lord."

Jacks set his glass down and took the letters from Nestor, eying him suspiciously. "Do you know what these are about?"

"Not an inkling."

"Well thank you, Nest. You can go to sleep now."

"Goodnight, my lord." Nestor said as he bowed and left the room.

Jasper eyed the letters. He hadn't been expecting anything in the post. With Skye's eyes on him, he set one letter down and ripped open the seal of the other. He unfolded the letter, an expensive stationary and read:

Dear Jax,
I've made plans to visit England. I know that it shall be a risky endeavor since I have many debtors after me in the country. But I find it high time that I visit you and my sister-in-law. Also, I have important confidential business that I must conduct in London. I am weighed with a great responsibility and hope it will be alright to call on your hospitality. I shall arrive by the end of the week. It's been years since I've seen you last,
Love,
Your brother Jerry

He grinned, giddy that his brother would be coming for a visit.

"This is excellent," he exclaimed.

"What is," his wife asked.

"It appears that Jerry is coming for a visit."

"What," Skye whined. "No! Just when I thought this night could not get any worse!"

If there was anything that could get Skye's mind off of Sarah Webber it was a visit from Jerry. Skye hated Jerry with more flavor and more diction than anyone else on earth. She really had no serious reason to hate him, according to Jax. But Skye saw it differently. When Jerry was around, Jacks often found himself in trouble.
He'd almost been killed many times because of Jerry. Whenever Jerry was in a jam and needed a scapegoat, he thought no better than to give that position to Jacks. And worse of all, he had kept Jax from their wedding for hours because he had landed himself into quite a bit of trouble in the country and needed Jacks to fix it for him. Basically, Jerry was dependent on Jax and Jax felt it was his duty to help his brother because they were family.

Jerry was older than Jax by a few years. He'd been in line to inherit the family title before Jax But he was ran out of the country before he could inherit. He had been involved with some kind of dangerous criminal activity, and owed more money than he was worth on some sort of wager. Jax couldn't even pay it for him, even if Skye allowed him to and Jerry could never pay it himself, so he fled the country, moving to an exotic war-torn country.

"What's his reason for coming," Skye asked, suddenly feeling dizzy.

"Business."

"Yes," Skye snorted sarcastically. "The business of robbing us blind!"

"My family needs no reason to visit. Remember that darling."

"Yes I know but, Jerry_"

"Not another word." Jacks raised a hand. He tucked the letter under his arm, pressing it to his side, and walked to a desk while opening the other letter. "We've argued enough for one night."

Skye sighed and put the back of her hand to her forehead. She swayed again, feeling dizzier and lost her balance but caught herself. She reached out to the chair in front of her, steadying herself and sighed.

"What's wrong, Skye."

"Nothing, just Jerry; the mention of his name is enough to make me faint!"

"Skye," Jasper admonished. He pulled a card from the second envelope. "That is uncalled for!"

"No," she snapped. "What's uncalled for is your brother's existence."

"Look at that," he held the card up. "The Duke of Wyndemere is throwing a ball to honor a mystery guest. It's a masquerade." Skye perked up. "Still feeling faint?"

She gave him a glare that promised an endless amount of pain if he did not stop talking. "Maybe we can bring Jerry," he smiled sweetly.

She paled instantly.