In Magician's Embrace [BOOK 1 of Price Family Saga]

6. Chapter (Meeting Sir Dodger)

*sennight - a week

As the twilight descended, Travis halted before his ancestral home. It had been a sennight* since his last visit, yet an unexplained compulsion drew him back to his family's haven. His London townhouse left him feeling desolate, and Lady Kendall's soiree remained a distant prospect. He whiled away the days tending to the estates, scrutinising ledgers, and pondering upon his newfound comrades, Felix and Daniel.

Travis endeavoured to maintain their erstwhile camaraderie, though he discerned an occasional trace of worry etched upon Daniel's countenance. Undoubtedly, the burden of upholding his lineage and title weighed heavily upon him as well. In an instant, a recollection of his youth materialised before his eyes.

"Where is father, Travis? Where is he?!"
"In the woods! He ventured thither, bearing arms!"
Moments later, the reverberation of a gunshot reached their ears, prompting Corinne to open a decanter of whisky...

Shaking off the distressing recollection, his gaze fixed upon the figure standing at his doorstep, beseeching him with a horrified expression.

"Do aught amiss befall us?" Travis inquired of his majordomo, who cast a swift glance towards the manor.

"My Lord, it would be inadvisable for thee to venture within..."

Travis' foreboding intensified, compelling him to hasten towards the manor.

"I beg you, sir!" the majordomo called out, breathlessly endeavouring to keep pace.

Travis flung open the doors and strode inside, impelled by a gnawing disquiet. At first, nought met his gaze, until he espied her. Adorned solely in a nightgown, askew and a tit hanging out of the cloth, she struggled to rise, grasping a meagre stool afore her. A prominent stain besmirched the once-pristine carpet, its grimy nature betraying its origin as regurgitation. Corinne herself resembled a spectre, her visage gaunt and hollow, yet her lips stretched into a haunting smile. Unrestrained laughter escaped her lips, her body continually succumbing to the floor.

Her son stood transfixed, beholding a scene befitting a nightmare, wholly estranged from his own existence. Deep within, where his heart beat, a lump swelled gradually, reaching a crescendo before exploding. The convulsions of this outburst resonated even within the tips of his fingers. His lips contorted, and he advanced, positioning himself over her prone form, issuing forth a cry that caused the servants, who would later recount this tale to their kin, to profess that they had never before experienced such a chilling sensation.

"What have you wrought upon thyself, mother?!"

In that instant, her laughter ceased, replaced by a gaze fraught with terror. Travis pivoted towards the shelf of the main escritoire, adorned with vessels of fine crystal holding a myriad of spirits. He seized a pair, one in each hand, and bellowed: "Is this your sole amour, dear mother? It won't last much longer!"