Into Chaos Hurled (Book 2)

Two - The Past Binds

Peter

It was a very nice service. Since there was no coffin, no body to speak of, there was simply a headstone, in the shape of a Corinthian column with Uncle Robert's name carved in a flat square section near the middle. He hadn't been very old either. Only thirty-nine. Father delivered a very nice eulogy without breaking down once, and there was a moment of silence. It occurred to me that there would be many families doing the exact same thing, for their loved ones lost forever. Perhaps that was why the silence felt so heavy.

I gave Mother my arm, and she slid her hand into the crook of my elbow for the walk back to the car. It was taking a while for us to get used to, especially Mother. She'd grown up in the age of transport by horse-and-carriage, and I still remembered the first time Father showed it to her. Her face had lost all its colour and she seemed about to faint.

Stanley, our newly-hired chauffeur, was already standing next to it with the door open. Our former coachman, Reid, had resigned to go into the service. It had happened right after his first attempt at driving, which I suspected was why we were still getting dirty looks from people when they recognised us.

"Hello, Stanley," Mother said as I helped her into the back seat.

"Milady." He nodded.

"Ca-Lady Burnham tells me you've invited Grace out for shooting, Petey," Mother said after a long silence, still waiting for Father and Lottie to join us.

"That's right, I have," I answered, feeling my cheeks and ears flame with heat. Among my family – and Grace's, I had a feeling – my infatuation with her was no secret.

"I knew you two would always get on well." She gave me a smile and a pat on the cheek. "Any special occasion, may I ask?"

"I..." Now I was beginning to feel a bit flustered. Of course at one point I would confess my love for Grace. "No. Only a social meeting."

This time, when she smiled, it was softer. "Petey, you can tell me the truth. You are my son. I know you better than anyone, and right now I know when you're hiding things."

I shook my head. "Mother, I'm not...that is, I don't–"

"It's perfectly all right." Mother placed her gloved fingers over my mouth. "It's completely natural to feel this way, my darling. Believe me, I know."

"Must you mention it to Lady Burnham?" I wished our mothers wouldn't talk so much. It made me not want to say anything else about it.

"I will not say anything more unless you want me to." Mother took my hands and squeezed them gently. "You never know when you might need one last-ditch effort."

"Thank you, Mother." That wasn't much reassurance, but it was better than nothing. Besides, Grace wasn't so oblivious that she hadn't noticed it. I was sure she had, but wouldn't let on until the right moment.

||

We got home to find Lowell waiting for us outside, his eyes searching the drive in a rather agitated manner. It was similar to Mother's way, her two-toned eyes flashing with silver and gold.

Father was first out of the car, donning his tall black top hat. "Mr Lowell, you seem distressed. What's the matter?"

"Telegram, milord," he said, giving Father a shallow bow. "Came only minutes before you yourselves arrived."

"Right." Father gave a heavy sigh. "Well, I suppose we'll have to have a look, then."

We followed Father and Lowell inside. The telegram was resting next to that newfangled telephone that had been installed in our house last year, and while Lottie and I were becoming dab hands at using it, our parents and the staff seemed to still not know what it was. Lowell picked up the envelope and handed it to Father, who took it and sliced it open in one movement.