“What did you do in Wales?” Catherine murmured when Mary was out of earshot. “Did you imbibe and whoremonger?”
Leonard stopped walking abruptly and stared at her, mildly offended by the insinuation. While he had never been a saint, he had certainly never been a drunk nor a whoremonger. The query was merely another reminder that his sister had been hardened in the absence of their father. Young Catherine would never have spoken such words.
“What a thing to ask!” he cried. “Why would you pose such a tawdry question?”
Catherine hung her head, shame filling her lovely green eyes, so akin to his own. Leonard knew she did not intend to be cruel but that her own heart was filled with sadness still, despite her efforts to appear aloof.
“I do not understand what you must do in other towns which you cannot do in Pembroke,” she sighed. “I would prefer you do not leave with such frequency. I feel as though you leave on a whim.”
Guilt touched his gut once more and Leonard nodded understandingly.
“I see.” He truly did understand his sister’s grievance. She had been left alone in a house with a melancholic mother and servants who could hardly be considered friends. Leonard faced her.
“I will limit my unnecessary travels henceforth,” he told her earnestly. “However, when I cannot avoid it, you must make an effort to make acquaintances of your own. You cannot remain in Brookside, alienated from the world. It is not sound for your mind nor soul.”
Catherine scowled slightly, her bottom lip forming a pout of defiance.
“It is easy for you to say,” she mumbled. “You are charming and adored by all. The townsfolk speak of me as if I am a leper.”
Leonard’s eyebrows shot up, shocked by the confession.
“I daresay that you have concocted such a silly notion in your own mind. I have never heard anyone speak ill of you!”
“You would not, would you?” Catherine retorted. “You are most loved. No one would dare fall out of your favor by telling you what they think of your queer sister.”
Catherine brushed by him before he was permitted a chance to speak and Leonard was left alone to gape after her in amazement.
Surely she cannot believe that,he thought and as his slow gait took him toward the house once more.Or have I simply been too far removed from the comings and goings of the household?
More shame touched him at the thought that his family might be suffering when that was truly the last thing he ever wanted. Leonard entered the estate through the kitchen and nodded to the servants scrambling about, presumably to make his midday meal.
“Your bath awaits you, Your Grace,” Beatrice told him softly. Leonard nodded at her.
“Thank you, Beatrice. I will attend to it shortly.”
A part of his heart urged him to find his sister and ease the concerns which apparently plagued her but he also realized he knew very little about the matter.
I will investigate the rumors which she speaks of,he vowed, although he was quite sure his sister might have exaggerated matters in her own youthful mind. Catherine was more like him than he cared to admit and often times, she would make mountains out of molehills.
He wandered from the kitchen, toward the front stairs. It would have been just as simple to use the servant’s steps to his quarters but he had a stop to make before addressing his bath which was undoubtedly cooling with each step he took. He walked through the long hallway and crossed the oak doors of the study to stare ahead. The portrait of his father remained staunchly erected behind the wide desk and Leonard was flooded with a fusion of pride and wistfulness.
Eventually, Leonard’s own picture would hang in replacement but he could not bring himself to order them switched, not when it still felt as though Aylmer Hervey lived inside the dark, paneled room. It was not an eerie feeling but one which filled him with comfort.
“I will do you proud, Father,” he said aloud, his head tipped backward to stare up at the portrait. “I will ensure the future of this duchy and the happiness of this family just like you have. I will follow my pursuits to their fullest, just as you have taught me.”
It was a speech he made every day, if he was inside the manor house, secretly certain that the late Duke could hear his proclamations. He missed his father dearly and he hoped that the man had found peace in Heaven above. It had been a long and arduous illness which had claimed him and Leonard knew it pained his family to watch such a powerful man wither away into a shadow of his former self.
A gentle rap at the door caused him to turn and Leonard stifled his annoyance. Most everyone in the household knew he should not be disturbed while in his study. He reasoned it must be a matter of importance.
“Who is it?”
“Jacob, Your Grace.”
“You may enter,” he sighed. “What is it?”
“Your Grace, forgive the intrusion,” Jacob, the butler mumbled, his eyes cast downward. He knew better than anyone that he was not to disturb the Duke in his study.
“What is it, Jacob?” he demanded again, wishing he would get to the point. He did adore the servants, most of them long-time employees of the duchy but some of them were failing in their advanced ages. Even so, Leonard knew he would miss them when their old age claimed them. He forced himself not to think of such grave matters. The duchy had suffered a great enough loss for the time with Aylmer’s passing. He hoped that he would not be forced to witness another burial in the coming months.
