Cordelia Moriaglu

Cordelia Moriaglu

I walk on the crepuscular hopes.

My dreams are intangible. I remember everything.

This holy diary of mine, a testimony of Beauty and Truth

I do not like the word Hope. It is rather impossible to even think of it.

Hope is for the meek.

For the unworthy. For the one without a past or a future who didn't have courage to live.

I did. And I lost my life.

All left now is a memory.

I will go in two days for the first and probably the last time too - in my family's old mansion. I don't intend to depart after I arrive.

I found my family s history. That i even had one. A family.

The cemetery of the family is not a cemetery.

It is a rose garden with ancient carvings. No body is being buried there.

I'm a detective in my own life. I research my family history. But I shall remain there. I cannot return nor ever be again for others than the call of my Soul.

My uncle's ashes were scattered over the sea.

Cordelia closed her journal and walked forth

Afar - thunder strikes were an announcement of a furious weather ahead. She had set up a preliminary hearing and travel with Rupert - her business friend, a journalist from London. Rupert was long time friends with Cordelia and now he was going to be her help , friend and support for the logistics of this journey. To her mansion. Her ...new home.

Cordelia had received a letter upon the retribution of property from a distant lost uncle in time. Timothee Vermeer Moriaglu. Timothee Vermeer Moriaglu was the last of the family crest. He had passed away in an accident in Palestine by airplane ✈️ and the will was found by the long term housekeeper of over 20 years, Mary. Mary received too a large sum of money as written in the will. But she chose to remain on the property. She could not feel to separate just yet.

Mary was the only waiting for her there. There was Gerard, a butler and house Gardener, as well, but he departed after the news. Now only Mary remained. The property was - basically - empty.

And full of objects. History. Traces in time

Something worthy of discovery. Of a new life.

It fit her. She was a journalist. A writer. It was actually perfect - she thought. It would make and shape her writing - this place. It was for long term and no other plans were further ahead than this relocation.

...I found my family s history. That i even had one. A family

She was to travel light. Rupert is coming with her and she will be ready in a day . A day in that will change her life forever.

The departure day.

Monday at 7:22 a.m. , Cordelia was just outside on Lavenier Street when Rupert called her from a coffee shop.

"This place! It's open since 6 am. Could buy pastries and coffee. Want some?"

" Just coffee. Thank you very much Rupert."

" I'm 15 minutes distance. We can depart just a tad before 8 a.m."

At 7:49 the black Pontiac swiftly left the street to ruminate on the contorted small streets up to the large highway. The two were in calm spirits. New clouds were gathering up on the horizon - sign that the 3-4 hour route was not going to be that sunny today after all.

" I wanted to meet you here, you know." said Rupert driving hands on the wheel.

" Here?..." Cordelia looked confused at the man.

" Here in this place in your life. Do you remember when we were both writing for FT as young fresh employees. You started to tell me of your family mystery. Well - now you have it. 8 years later. A huge estate"

Cordelia looked down. She was noting something in her notebook. Quite precise and detailed.

" Yes....." She seemed preoccupied.

I cannot get over what happened to him. I wished I could have met him. Spend time with him - you know.

I mean - really. He was an incredible and interesting character from what I learned of him ......from others."

"....And he has some letters for you"

"Yes.

Mary found them. I look forward to reading them."

Rupert was silent. They both parted ways with the Financial Times. They both have started independent journalism and work in different sectors in law.

In particular Rupert was a good fit for a new law position at the embassy. The U.S.A in London.

But he didn't take it just yet. He was going to be offered an answer this month.

As for Cordelia, she was still with the FT. Until the morning the letter came in.

She spent a week whilst her lifetime purely changed. Then a month writing with an imposter syndrome at the FT. Her usual schedule.

She didn't felt to belong there anymore after the letter came in. Something had changed deep inside her. It was unexplainable

The land was calling

The history.

The belonging to someone or something else.....another version of her.

Another version of her.

The route in England was beautiful. Silent. Towards the North of England in a serene, rather less popular area. But nevertheless the estate was worth at over 2.4 M pounds ;

and it's gardens alone without the art and the carvings - at over 5 M pounds.

The estate had large gardens.

English Gardens.

Misty Gardens. The moist humid mornings were the most to live - and experience.

She looked it up. But what offered her real time information was just Mary - by a phone call. She used the landline of the property.

Since then she kept in contact with Mary.

It was another world

That of a slow pace in life.

Of land. Of property. Of history. Land was power in heritage England.

Mary liked Cordelia's voice and calm demeanor.

Cordelia was a serious work oriented woman. She always was pulled towards the mystery. But now - she was actually part of it. This was a reality. Not something she even ever wanted. Mary was definitely attached to Cordelia's uncle and wept deeply upon the news of his accident.

She worked for this man as this manor all her life. The manor Was her life.

Sir Timothee Vermeer Moriaglu left her a fortune of about 500.000 pounds. Just money. Enough to settle on a new path in life if she wanted.

She didn't want. Not yet. She needed time to feel things over.

She was expecting for the arrival of long awaited Cordelia at the property. To settle as possible in a new role with her.

Mist of morning was announcing a new life.

A new chapter...

///

To be continued

Fin