Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (8 page)

I took a long pull on the bottle and felt the fool, as the epiphany exploded through my mind and soul. Many would find it very hard to believe, but I had truly not perceived the situation in that light in a very long time. I remembered thinking as a child that, when I grew up and became Earl, then my father’s peasants would be treated differently.

But then so much had occurred to make that seem a hollow promise.

Cynicism had taken hold, and I had watched men of that station get destroyed by monarchs and their own peers whenever they dared challenge the status quo. Yet, one Earl could positively affect the lives of at least his own people. If I were my father, or for that matter, even in his good graces, I could have found a place for those boys. I might not be able to make a difference in the lives of sheep everywhere, but I could save one flock. That was truly the duty and responsibility of my birth that I had forgotten.

I smiled. “I have been told that I am not irreconcilably estranged from my father unless I wish to be, that the matter is perhaps in my hands. I will not know until he says he wishes to see me and we talk.

And besides, I am his oldest and only son, even were he to adopt my cousin. So I will inherit... someday, as long as I outlive him, and fail to give him geat cause to be rid of me.”

Rucker smiled. “I spend my days writing essays and political tracts, a dangerous pursuit in itself. Yet you may be by far the greatest contribution I have ever made to the welfare of others.” He looked stricken at his words. “I… What hubris I have.”

I laughed. “You have shaped me well. I wish I could repay you in some fashion.”

He shook his head. “You owe me nothing; and as we have discussed, I feel you will someday.”

“Do you have any prospects?”

“Nay, I spend much of my time writing and reading. There is much afoot in the world.” He sighed. “I have a small stipend from my father’s estate, and it serves to pay my way here.” He frowned at me, then smiled. “If you were able to gain some sort of stipend from your father and wished to donate to a worthy cause, I know of many.”

“I would be delighted; but though I know he will support me, I do not know what allowances he will make for my personal expenditures. And I may not stay, depending…”

“Ah. Where will you go now if you leave?”

“I have been invited to accompany my uncle to the New World, to the colony of Massachusetts.”

“Truly?” This seemed to excite him greatly. “If you go, you will have to write me detailed letters concerning the English treatment of the Indians there.”

“Of course,” I muttered. I had forgotten there were Indians there, and my uncle had made no mention of them.

“Aye, aye,” he said and dug through papers. “I have been corresponding with a professor at Oxford and a Jesuit priest in France concerning the absolutely deplorable treatment of the Indians of the West Indies and the Spanish Main at the hands of the Spaniards. And there has been much discussion of finding some way to ameliorate the English treatment of the Indians in our new colonies. We must behave better than the Spanish.” With that, he dumped a handful of tracts and pamphlets in my lap, and I knew immediately what I would be doing for the next several days.

I felt more content than I had in months. I still did not know what would occur with Shane, but I had a new sense of purpose; and I vowed I would make the attempt to reach an understanding with my father.

Perhaps the Gods had a plan for me.

Wherein I Return To My Place of Birth

A letter arrived from my uncle two days later. My father was staying with a friend, as was Shane. My father wished to see me. He would return to the family estate, Rolland Hall, before the Christmas twelveday. He wished for me to join the family then. At the moment, my mother was the only member of the family in residence at the manor, as my sisters were in Hertfordshire at the home of Elizabeth’s betrothed. It was now late in the first week of December. I informed Rucker I would remain with him until a week or so before the holiday. Thus I spent most of December in peace and relative tranquility, and learned a great deal about the New World and the colonies: so much so that I was determined to travel there. I urged Rucker to accompany me, and he said he would think on it.

The day finally arrived when I could wait no longer, and I knew I must make the journey to Dorshire. The day dawned bright, but a steady wind heralded another storm. I made excellent time to my uncle’s. Of course, when I reached him, he insisted on accompanying me; and suddenly we were an entourage with a small wagon and several servants. I stifled my initial annoyance; and spent the much slower ride that followed, and the evening, in an inn, pleasantly discussing my uncle’s pending journey to the Massachusetts colony.

After another slow day of travel, we at last reached my birthplace, just before sunset. I gazed upon Rolland Hall from the road beyond the south pasture. I quickly realized I was regarding it with the eyes of a stranger. The great house, adjoining structures, lawns, gardens, and surrounding countryside all looked the same, as if I had never left; but the entirety of it was as if I were remembering a dream. I recalled it all quite clearly, but felt nothing other than a purely rational recognition, with no emotion at all. I was thankful for this.

The servants did not make as much of a fuss over my arrival as my uncle’s had. Any who would have fussed over my arrival, such as my nanny, had departed before I did.

I was informed there were other guests for the holiday: my mother’s sister, the recently widowed Dowager Lady Graeland, and her son, the new Lord Graeland, who I had always known as a sallow youth named Percival. They had often visited when I was young. Percival and I had not been friends. In the days before Shane, when I had been starved for companionship, I had talked poor Percival into climbing a tree, and he had broken his arm. I had been strapped for it, and not permitted to play with him again. He was apparently now as much a grown man as I, and married. His bride, the new Lady Graeland, was with them.

To my amazement, my bedchamber was exactly as I had left it; well, a little cleaner. I shooed the maid out and immediately performed a habit I had learned in this very room: I slid a chair to the door and under the knob. Its legs settled into the grooves in the floor they had made one night when Shane had tried kicking the door open while in a drunken stupor. I was apparently home.

On a whim, I tried on several coats from the closet, and found that none of them fit me. I had indeed widened markedly across the shoulders. They were woefully out of fashion, anyway. The court of Charles I I was a modern one, and the fashions were more in keeping with the rest of Christendom now. I dressed for dinner in the clothes I had purchased in London with Teresina’s money.

My uncle knocked on my door. “I thought you might not wish to go down alone,” he said quietly.

“I do not wish to go down at all, but I thank you for your company.”

He watched me strap on a sword belt and my favorite rapier.

“Marsy, you will not need that here.” The look I gave him stopped his words.

He shrugged. “Shane will remain in London.”

I was equally relieved and disappointed, but I had expected as much.

“Lovely, I am sure that will cause some amount of bitterness,” I said.

“I care not what Shane feels about that matter, but I am concerned the others will hold ill will over it. He has, after all, been the good son.”

“Would you prefer him to be here?” he asked with concern.

“Nay, nay, we will leave him there, thank you. If I am not to kill him, I would rather not see him.”

We were down before many of the others, except for my mother.

She sat on a settee, a skeletal figure swathed in pale pink satin that managed to be more deeply hued than her white skin. She regarded me through a haze of laudanum, while her nurse tried to explain who I was. The understanding that I was her son finally dawned; and then that look of disapproval I remembered all too well pinched her features.

I paid my respects with a forced smile and the exceedingly clear enunciation I use for idiots and drunks. She managed to glare at me.

She said nothing, however. I recalled being told at a very early age that the nanny whose lap I dearly loved was not my mother and this cold and hideous woman was. I had been disappointed, more so when I became old enough to understand that other mothers loved their offspring. I hoped she ran out of laudanum before she died.

My aunt wafted into the room in a cloud of blue satin, and reminded me how regal my mother had been capable of appearing once upon a time. They were very similar in countenance. Thankfully there was no commonality between them in demeanor. My aunt embraced me and bid me welcome, before asking of my journey. There was no sincere emotion in it, but she was at least cheerful and polite in paying the courtesy due a guest. As I had often been a guest in gracious homes, I felt at ease in her presence. I knew how to deal with strangers I wished to get on well with. Thus I regaled her with trivial tales and complaints of my journey from Florence, rarely touching on the truth.

My sisters arrived. They paused in the doorway, like two dogs unsure of an intruder’s intent. Was I to be barked at, or licked, or both?

Elizabeth had grown into quite the beauty, with all the regal air my mother had once possessed and, once she made up her mind to enter, all of my aunt’s social talents. Her hair had darkened into a pleasant brown, like my mother’s. Her eyes were not my mother’s hazel, though, but the vivid blue of many of my father’s family, a color I shared with my uncle.

Sarah was not as attractive as our sister. I assumed that, at seventeen, she had reached her full growth in both height and bosom.

Both were short of Elizabeth’s measure in those areas by several inches.

She still shared my blond hair, but she had my father’s misty grey-blue eyes. Unlike Elizabeth, she did not flow into the room in a rustle of satin to embrace me and welcome me home. She entered diffidently and kept her distance.

I did not have time to approach her, as they had been closely followed by my cousin, the new Viscount Graeland, and his bride. He was still as sallow and knock-kneed as I remembered. Thankfully, the new Lady Graeland turned out to be a sweet, red-headed girl named Constance. I was immediately informed that she was with child. I complimented Graeland, as that seems to be what new fathers expect for accomplishing a thing they would dread with anyone but their wives. The Graelands three then pestered me for tales of my travels, and I mentioned cities I had visited and lived in. They, in turn, asked banal questions that made it apparent they had little understanding of geography or politics. Thankfully, they would never travel and embarrass England.

Finally my father put in his appearance. I stood, and there was an awkward silence as we studied one another. He appeared much as I remembered; a little thicker about the middle, perhaps. I supposed his hair was a little thinner, but evidence of this was not available, as he was wigged. I had only seen him without a wig a half-dozen times, and his periwigs were as unchanging as the sheep pasture. There were dour lines about his eyes and mouth: not the crinkles of a man who laughs often, but the furrows of one who frowns a great deal. He finished perusing me and gave a small nod. “Lord Marsdale.”

“Lord Dorshire.” I nodded and bowed in return.

He nodded again, more to himself than anyone, and asked the butler to see to dinner being served quickly, since he had been so tardy and made us all wait.

I wanted to scream. Here we were after all these years, and all I received was a mere acknowledgement. I supposed I should be grateful he still granted me the title he had bestowed upon me when he inherited his father’s.

I followed the others into the dining hall, and took a seat at the middle of the table, with Elizabeth on one side, Lady Constance Graeland on the other, and Lord Graeland across from me. I quickly seized upon asking Elizabeth about her betrothed and her pending nuptials; and though it earned me the grimaces and glares of many at the table, I was left to eat in peace while she prattled on through three courses.

At some point, my aunt smiled and said cheerily, “That is enough, dear,” and there was another awkward silence.

“Will Shane be home for the holiday?” Lady Graeland asked. “I am sure he will want to see Lord Marsdale. You grew up together, did you not?”

I was thankful I did not have food in my mouth, as I surely would have spat it onto her husband’s plate in surprise. I thought my father was going to choke; and only his brother’s pounding him on the back seemed to alleviate his duress. I studied everyone else. My aunt seemed ill-at-ease, but Lord Graeland appeared as confused as his wife over my father’s reaction. My mother was in a haze. Elizabeth looked unhappy.

Sarah was the image of contained fury.

“Nay,” my father gasped when he could breathe again.

“Oh, well that is unfortunate,” Graeland said carefully, his eyes darting about, as if the truth of the matter were a fly he could possibly get a glimpse of.

“I am afraid I am to blame,” I said pleasantly. “It is best if Shane and I do not occupy the same building.”

“Why?” Lady Graeland asked with startling naïveté.

“One of us will kill the other,” I replied in the same pleasant tone of voice.

“Do you think you are capable?” Sarah asked, as if she did not feel I would be.

“Aye. How many men has Shane dueled?”

She did not reply.

“Killed?” I added.

She blinked at that.

“You?” she asked, as if I should not be questioning my betters.

I counted, and remembered to add Vincente. “That I am sure of their death, and that were not merely wounded with the possibility of recovery, nineteen.”

I studied her. She swallowed and would not return my gaze. I let my eyes drift to my father, and was amazed to see a smile twitch across his lips. He quickly masked it with a sip of wine. The rest were silent and appalled, except for my uncle, who was trying very hard not to laugh.