“Do not dawdle now. You have been gone for too long a while. Mother need not have one more moment of worry on your behalf.”
“I do not dawdle!” he protested. “I merely attempt to see against the sun’s rays. Moreover, how can she worry when I am but a few yards away from her?”
“A likely story, the sun in your eyes,” Catherine jested and they laughed. Her smile faded slightly, only to remain softly on her lips and she studied her brother intently.
“You look well, Leo. I daresay the journey did you good. Was it everything you needed? Do you have a better hold upon your senses now?”
He nodded slowly, squeezing her gloved hand gently against the crook of his elbow.
“It was necessary to clear my thoughts before returning but I must confess, there were some allowances for pleasure.”
“I am not shocked in the least,” Catherine replied, shaking her long, blonde tresses so they fell about the ruffles of her blue dress in a waterfall of curls. Leonard marveled at how much they resembled one another. They were ten years apart in age but much closer than that length of time would suggest.
In their youth, they had spent hours frolicking in the tumbling streams near Brookside and hunting in the wooded areas. Despite her fairness and dainty appearance, Catherine was much more a son to the late Duke than she had been a daughter. Perhaps it was the downfall of having an older brother but she was a tomboy, much the chagrin of the Duchess of Pembroke. Lace and bows lay in muddy puddles, marking the wake of Lady Catherine from the time she was old enough to run.
Soon, she will be married off to a man of status and he will be caught with his hands as full as an inept juggler.Leonard mused with affection. He admitted to himself that he looked forward to seeing such a union. His sister deserved a strong man. If her future husband could not hold his water then he would not be worthy of Catherine’s affections. Leonard idly realized that he would also have his own woes finding her such a match.
That is a matter for another time. I dare not broach the notion of marriage with her today. In my weariness, the idea of such a conversation galls me.
His mother’s robust frame came into view as they rounded the wisteria and Catherine called out to rouse her attention.
“Mother, see who has returned!”
At once, Mary, Duchess of Pembroke, turned her regal head to stare in the direction of the voice.
“Leonard!” the Duchess breathed. “My son has returned from his travels!”
She scrambled to her feet, her long skirts brushing against the loose soil of the garden and she rushed to greet him. Leonard strode toward her, his hand extended to take hers.
“Mother,” he said cordially, taking her dirty glove to his mouth. “You look well.”
She beamed at him happily, her aqua-colored eyes bright as she nodded.
“As do you, Leonard. I am pleased you have returned safely.”
Leonard chuckled, releasing her hand and falling back alongside his sister.
“Alarmists - you both are,” he announced. “I was merely gone a month. There would not have been time enough for the mails to reach you if I should have had occasion to write but I will retell every detail of my journey until your minds are at peace.”
“Yes. You must regale us with tales of your travels,” Mary agreed. “After you are fed and bathed. I daresay you are rank, my dearest son.”
Again, he laughed, grateful to have a family who knew him so well. He doubted very much that he reeked as his mother claimed but it amused him that she teased him. It had been a long while since he had seen her in such a cheerful state. Great ease filled his heart as he saw that perhaps, the worst of their seemingly endless grief might be at its end.
“Had I known you would return today, I would have seen that there was quail for supper but I daresay it is quite late in the morning for such a request. I will try, however, I promise nothing,” Mary continued as she studied her son’s face for an indication of his sentiments. Leonard shook his blonde curls, his long hair flapping against the gentle breeze beneath the brim of his high, black hat.
“I need nothing fancy, Mother. A cold soup will suffice, perhaps some soggy bread and water. I have grown rather fond of such meals in the trenches of Wales.”
“Indeed!” Mary huffed but she caught the teasing glint in her son’s eyes and sighed. “You must not jest with me, Leonard. I fret when you are away. For all I know, that is precisely where you find yourself, entrenched in filth and disease.”
“I am aware how you worry, Mother,” he told her kindly. “I assure you, I faced no danger. I would not add to your anguish. My travels were quite comfortable, although there was no quail to speak of.”
Mother and son held a gaze, an unspoken truce falling between them. It was not difficult for Leonard to guess what his mother thought of when he journeyed from the duchy. Before the death of Aylmer, Leonard had found himself in some rather perilous situations. Perhaps he had been inspired by an inherited rebellious streak, one passed from father to son, which encouraged him to engage in often reckless behavior. Leonard had oft made questionable choices which did not permit his mother easy rest at night.
That was before Father passed. Now I have my family and the duchy to consider. I would never endanger myself and compound Mother and Catherine’s worries, no matter what temptations may find me.
“Come along then,” Mary declared, content with what she saw in her son’s face. “We shall find you some tepid soup.”
Leonard laughed merrily, grasping Catherine’s arm again. Her children followed the Duchess toward the main house and exchanged glances of amusement.
