The green hill overlooked the countryside which was blessed with lush plains and a river snaking down the farmhouses below. The sun hung in the distance, bathing the environment with its warm glory. It was the perfect view, just like Howard wanted.

Robert cleared his tight throat, trying to catch some air. Every loved one of Howard was atop the hill, all sobbing into each other's shoulders. The hole had already been dug and Mrs Lithstone’s cry was the loudest of them all. As her tears rolled down her eyes, Robert’s heart ached with pity. He had robbed this woman of the chance of building a happy family. All because of his delusion of making the moonlamp.

“We’re all gathered here to bury a good man. A man of discipline and value. It is a shame Mr Lithstone had to leave us this way,” The vicar said and continued speaking, mostly talking about how brave Howard was and how he fought for his country. There were a few cavalry officers holding firearms and Robert assumed it was Howard’s mates from war.

Robert couldn’t stand looking at the open coffin next to the vicar that contained his friend. Howard's eyes were shut close and he was dressed in his dark green army uniform, his hands crossed over the other. Would he ever forgive him? While he wallowed in grief, Mrs Lithstone was called onto the stage the vicar stood at.

She was swabbed in a black gown and her nose was running with goo. Her eyes were swollen and red because of excessive crying. The vicar handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose into it. Clearing her throat, she began to speak to the people seated before her.

“A week ago, Howard told me he was ready to raise kids and we both agreed that we’ll buy a house in the countryside and start a family.” She glared at Robert who was seated in the front row. “Until this man whore he has been working for decided to lead him to his death. Howard always hid everything he did with his Lordship and for once, I was never happy with their friendship.” She pointed a shaky finger at Robert. “Now, you took him away from him. You’re a monster, a devil, a—“

“Mrs Lithstone, please,” The vicar said, shielding Robert and holding her hands. “This is your husband’s funeral. Let’s give him respect.”

Robert didn't know how he managed to keep a straight face with those insults pelted at him Maybe he had been too lost in his newly found hell that he couldn’t find a way to make facial expressions anymore. He didn’t know what he could do to make up for the death of her husband. And he hated himself a lot more for that. Howard was the closest friend he had ever had.

He was the most loyal person he knew. And yet all he was able to pay him back with was towing him to an early grave. A heavy hand lapped over Robert’s shoulder and he looked over it. Captain Asher was sat behind him, his brown eyes full of pity. He knew that was meant to give him a little bit of comfort. But the degree of hate for himself and overbearing pain churning in him overcame it.

Robert put on a tight smile. That was all he could muster to pretend to the Captain that he was doing fine.

“Captain,” The vicar said, motioning for Captain Asher to come forward. Mrs Lithstone was being led back to her seat by a friend who was comforting her.

Her whimpers were heart bleeding and Robert would give anything to make it stop. He didn’t even deserve to be at the funeral since he was the catalyst of his friend’s death. What would Ella think of him?

She had believed he was a good person. But after what transpired, he doubted she would ever like him again. She didn’t deserve him. Here he was sleeping around with women as a way to try and shield his pain. It was a foolish idea and made him realise how damaged he was.

The Captain gave his speech and when they called Robert to speak on his dear friend, he declined their invitation. What would he talk about? Would he have spoken about how he led his friend to his death? Or how he was the engineer of this drastic fate that had visited them?

When it was time to bury Howard in his grave, everyone walked over to his coffin and placed their flowers. Robert was the last, hesitating to drop the single stemmed white rose flower in his hand. Dropping that rose would suggest that he was ready to say goodbye to his friend. That was far from the truth. He wasn't willing to live a life without Howard.

What about his annoying jokes?

What about his sarcastic laugh?

What about the way he gave him good advice even when Robert didn't know he needed one?

Was Robert ready to say goodbye to that? Was he willing to accept the fact that Howard was gone and nothing he did would bring him back? He wasn't it. He could still remember the day Howard came for his job interview.

What stood out the most was his ability to stay honest with reality. Howard was Robert's discipline factor all these years. He was the one who prevented Robert to go over the bloody edge. And now he was gone.

He would never be able to let go of those memories they cherished. There was a reason they existed. And he would daydream as much as he can of the times they spent together. Howard may be dead, but he knew he was here with him. And always will be.

He settled the flower next to the coffin. And then he spotted a man in a black morning coat standing next to a tall tree, his hat over his greying blonde hair.

What was his father doing here? The Duke was staring intensely at Robert and he looked away and disappeared among the crowd of mourners.

***

"Robert, can I come in?"

Robert knew that voice. It belonged to his sister. He was back from the funeral and it was evening. Burning out his cigar into his ashtray, he hid it inside his drawer and drank a cup of whiskey. He blew his breath on his hand and once he was sure he didn't reek of tobacco. He went to open the door for his sister. At this moment, he was ready to get a lecture on how smoking was bad for his health.

He opened the door for Grace and she walked in. She sat on his bed and gestured for Robert to sit next to her. Once he did so, she rested her head on his shoulder, her blonde hair spread on his black vest.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing my best," he answered.

"I know you're angry at me for the death of Howard," she raised her head and looked up at him with sadness in her blue depths. What made her think so? "I am very sorry. If I had known this would happen, I would have asked you to—"

"I'm not angry at you Grace. Why would I be?"

"B-but Howard is dead because I asked you to save Arthur."

He brought his sister closer and rested her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through her blonde hair. Grace had nothing to worry

about. She was the last person he would ever blame for Howard's death.

"I was never angry at you, Grace. You did nothing wrong." He kissed her forehead.

"What about Miss Featherington? Any news on her whereabouts?"

"Nothing yet."

"Do you love her?" Grace asked. "I saw the photo in the newspaper. I had never seen you that happy with a woman before. Please tell me you love her."

Goodness, this Lady.

"Yes I do," he answered. "Our love is a lot like the one you have with Arthur. Though we never spoke to each other like we were poets."

Grace chuckled. "Don't be silly, I didn't speak that way with Arthur."

"Arthur, my love! Grace my pearl!" Robert mimicked them in the most convincing fashion ever.

Grace pinched his lap. "Don't try to change the topic."

Subconsciously he was doing just that. He highly doubted Ella would feel the same way for him as she did before. Dwelling on the topic would be painful for him.

"Everything would be fine, Robbie," Grace said, wrapping her arms around his back and stomach. "Just have faith."

Faith was something that was out of reach for him. He had no bloody idea of how to deal with this predicament. It was unusual of him considering he was good at making plans. This disaster had plunged him into an abyss of chaos. His mind wasn't in its best form and the only thing he could do was smoke and try to band-aid the destruction he had made.

It never worked and it would truly come back to haunt him later. But for now, he needed women, booze and tobacco. Who knew, with the perfect combination, he would properly be able to have a good night's sleep. Those bad dreams were worst than he imagined.

"Mother is outside, she would like to speak with you," Grace said.

What can it possibly be about?

*****