Timothy awoke in the middle of the night to find himself alone. He and Jasper had gone to bed together early on in the night, but it seemed the Master had gotten up.
Again.
It'd been a month and a half since young Ava Goode moved into the manor. She was a bit of a rowdy girl, certainly not like what many young ladies of the nobility were typically looked upon as. Dainty, proper, delicate and rather timid, Ava was lively during the day, and was practically a shadow that followed Jasper everywhere he went. Just like the day before. They'd all taken a trip to the city, and while Darcy and Juliette had wanted to take the girl to shop with them, Ava refused to separate herself from the Master. At this time of night, there was only one place Timothy was sure they'd be.
After waiting a couple more minutes to see if Jasper would join him, when half an hour ticked by, Timothy went ahead and got out of bed. He was in the trousers he'd been wearing during the day, dark hair tied back out of his face. All of the servants were away in their beds, Lady Darcy and Juliette fast asleep as well, and when he reached the second floor, he caught the glow of candlelight coming from the library.
Timothy neared the archway and peered inside, spotting a candle lit beside Jasper's new sofa he'd replaced the previous single chair with. When he entered the library, he stopped beside the Master's left and smiled. The blond man was silently reading a book in his hands, and Ava was lounging closely beside him, her rose-head on his lap as she'd fallen asleep after asking the Master to read her a story. She was in her nightgown, tresses muddled as she snored lightly, and she looked very comfortable snuggled up with the Master.
"Jasper," Timothy kept his voice low, drawing the man's attention from the book. "Come to bed."
With a smile, the Master marked his page and looked up at the dark-haired man. He set his book aside then and placed a hand atop the girl's hair. Touching his fingers lightly through it, he thought momentarily on their night together. "She wanted a story after we finished our sweets," he said.
Timothy nodded and carefully tucked his arms under Ava to lift her. She was like a feather against him. "I will put her to bed," he offered as Jasper stood, watching him stretch as he yawned sleepily. "You head up to the bedroom."
When he received a nod, Jasper stayed behind to put back the books he'd taken down. Timothy held Ava caringly as he took her upstairs. All he really knew about her was that she was the younger sister of Elijah, and just looking at her, he could see the resemblance she had to him from the portrait. He was glad she'd come to Jasper for help, not only because that meant she wouldn't be alone, but having her in the manor with all of them brought a sort of readiness toward becoming a father.
Jasper often spoke of his wariness of raising the son or daughter Darcy would have, but Ava's presence acted as a mild trial, and the way the Master was with her never failed to display his love for children. He was always considerate of her, to the things she liked and disliked, becoming accustomed to her mannerisms, the young girl's personality, but there was something else Timothy was pretty sure made it easier for Jasper and Ava to get along. And that was their connection to Elijah. From Ava's point of view, she likely wanted to get to know qualities about her brother, and while all of that couldn't be taught through the Master himself, there was still something left to learn about Elijah through the person he'd loved in life. If Ava could decipher what made Jasper...Jasper, then she could absorb all that once drew Elijah to the nobleman, and what kept their love from being tainted.
Jasper, on the other, Timothy was more than sure he was taking care of Ava for Elijah, as a final opportunity to do right by the young man he'd loved so long ago and still did.
Always would.
When he reached the little girl's bedroom, Timothy carefully opened the door and pushed it with his hip. He went to the canopy bed against the east wall of the blue and white decorated room, placing her softly down before covering her. This one growing girl was somewhat of a handful for the Master, but he never let it be shown, always only showcasing his understanding and composure to her, and the dark-haired man was content that she could somehow unconsciously display to the Master that he could be a father.
With young Ava here in the Lancechester manor, Timothy was certain having a child of his own wouldn't be too much of a challenge for Jasper. And he vowed in that moment, that he would shelter Jasper and his entire family from anything he could, for as long as he could.
When Ava turned tiredly and mumbled in her sleep, Timothy left the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Jasper was just coming up from the corridor, a weariness in his eyes, but he smiled anyway when he met the other man's gaze.
"Sweet, sweet girl," he said, moving slowly for their shared room, "But she can keep you up all night if she wanted."
His hand was taken by Timothy then and he was led into the bedroom. Once the Master had changed from his day clothes, he lied down and yawned heavily, looking toward the other man when he came down as well. He admired his lover in the low glow of the moon, his impeccable physical build, the sharp, handsomeness of his features, even the dark mild traces of hair about his chest, Jasper was taken by it all, and when Timothy glanced his way, the Master smiled with a laugh and turned his back.
"Something amuses you?" he was asked.
Jasper curled up on his side of the bed, pulling the warmth of the covers over himself. "It is nothing, really," he said.
Moving closer to the Master, Timothy pressed himself up behind him, wrapping an arm around the blond man and tucked his nose into the crook of his neck. "You see that I have missed you, have you not? You and I, we have not had much time together since Ava found a home here."
Jasper pushed his bottom back a ways more into Timothy's groin, unable to resist the cheeky smile from taking shelter on his lips. "Has my love acquired a hint of jealousy since the young one has been here?"
When there was no answer, Jasper turned over to face the dark-haired man. He met Timothy's gaze in the nightly surroundings of the bedroom, eyes watching his lips before he took them with his own.
Like any other time their lips met, Jasper's heart leapt with excitement and they laid there, kissing beneath the silence of the entire manor. He had noticed that the time he and Timothy spent with one another was halved since Ava's arrival. Not that either of them were bothered and tormented by the fact. After all, Jasper quite enjoyed Ava's near constant company. She was indeed a sweet girl, an active soul that kept the Master on his toes. She enjoyed the lessons Timothy took part in teaching her, the walks she would take from time to time, and especially the stories that were read to her upon nightfall.
It was known to Jasper that if he could adapt to Ava's need for attention as a growing and curious girl, he would be able to somewhat handle the duties of being a parent. There would be him and Darcy, Juliette and Timothy, and a nanny to help raise and nurture his unborn child, but Jasper made a vow to himself to have a central role in his child's life. And when that time came for him to raise his child, Jasper also vowed to keep Ava close as a new member to his Lancechester name. She was not blood, but she was important to him in a way he hoped she would understand someday.
Timothy released the Master's lips then and their eyes met once more. Both were aware that what they felt for one another was entirely different from the bonds they'd once had with others. With the story and love Jasper had clung to for Elijah since he was a small boy, neither could Timothy simply forget what it was like to fall so heavily for Neville long ago when he was a teenager, but both of them were more than happy with what they had now. No matter that pain they once endured at separate times in their lives, there would always be what they had now to remind them that pain was something that could be quelled, shrouded beneath a form of happiness they themselves accepted and valued so dearly these days.
So, while this love they had was but a refurbished nostalgia of sorts, there was truth in their hearts that what they felt for one another was something good.
Feeling his body embrace with a hand tucked at his lower back, Jasper wrapped his arms around the top of Timothy's shoulders and held fast. He was brought atop the other man, straddling him there in their shared bed as their lips parted, only to gasp down a swallow of air before their tongues met again.
When the dress of the Master's nightwear came up a bit, Timothy's hands grasped firmly onto his bottom, enticing a whine to leave his lover's mouth. Jasper sat up then momentarily and pulled the nightgown up and over his head. When the white garb fell from his hand, he eyed Timothy's hungry gaze. He took the dark-haired man's hands and kissed his knuckles before placing them at his slender hips. For a moment, Timothy merely touched Jasper's flawless, pale skin, burning every portion of his body into his mind.
"Speak to me," Jasper spoke softly, keeping his voice quiet to refrain from any echoes. "Is something wrong, my love?"
"No," Timothy said, turning his thumbs in circles about the Master's waistline. "I only wish to thank you for allowing me to be a part of this family you are building. If not for you, I would still be a lonely, withering man attempting to drown myself within the walls of Reynolds. You did not have to, but you welcomed me anyway."
"I love you," Jasper said, "Do you hear me? I love you, Broderick." The Master gasped then and corrected himself. "I'm sorry, I meant Timothy."
The man bit his bottom lip and sat up, resting his forehead against the slim frame of Jasper's bared chest. "It is all right," he said, "Can you — Can you call me that again? I am afraid I have been fooling myself since the words of love passed my lips a time ago. Timothy, he was a heartless man who sought only blood and retribution for the weak. That boy I once was — Broderick Thorne — he has shadowed over Timothy for so long now. I think I am ready to accept the name of the boy I once was."
When arms enclosed him inside a tender embrace, Jasper touched his fingers through the curls of his lover's hair. "Broderick," he said, "You are Broderick Thorne, and you are a wondrous man. Look at me, Broderick."
He looked up and met Jasper's arctic eyes through the shadows around his pretty face. They were honest and stunning, so deeply royal with their showings of faint periwinkle, but...in this lighting...beneath this blanket of darkness, there were no lights of reflection to bring about the usual blues of his irises. Instead, Timothy could only compare this delicate shade to those he'd once looked upon...so long ago.
Against the night, Jasper's everlasting blues faded to gray and there Timothy could see the winter clouds Neville once smiled upon him with. A mellow serenity passed over him then, a stillness catching in his throat as a sting attempted to blur his vision. But, Timothy did not want to cry as this gaze meeting him reminded his soul so heavenly of the wonders that once looked upon him.
There you are.
A fair crinkle met the corners of Jasper's eyes then, and they seemed to be smiling on their own. Timothy was almost tempted to speak the name of the boy he swore was looking back at him at this moment, but also knew such a thing would be fruitless.
Before Timothy could think to ponder a silent question, his arms secured Jasper against him, the Master squeezing as well, when a rather abrupt and harsh gust of wind disrupted the hushed volume of the chamber. The lofty windows shook and their latches unhinged, bringing the soaring doors open as Jasper tucked himself into the wall of Timothy's chest.
Shaken from the sudden flurry, the winds rustled through the room, tossing open the covers of a few nearby books, the bed coverings and as Timothy watched on, his breath caught when he witnessed the placement of Neville's old folded nightgown was snagged in the chilly gale. It was always set atop the dresser across the room, and as it was blown to the floor, the winds attempted to carry the thin, once tarnished and repaired material out of the window and into the night.
Catching a baffled sight of this, Jasper unleashed himself from Timothy's embrace and hurried for the wind-tossed garment, able to snag it before it could find an exit into the night, and the moment his hand closed into the nightgown...the wind halted and the suddenness of it all vanished in an instant.
"Oh, goodness," Jasper caught his breath, holding the gown against him as he settled his shakiness. He then secured the windows once more and made sure they wouldn't come open again, putting the room back in order after and refolded and placed Neville's old piece of clothing where it'd once been.
When Jasper brought himself onto the bed, he placed himself at Timothy's side and looked into his lover's eyes...and to the dark-haired man's astonishment, the gray's he'd seen only a moment ago were now Jasper's and Jasper's alone.
"Let Timothy go, my love."
"And be who you were born to be," Jasper said, seeming to pick up where the previous words left off.
Had they been his own? Timothy couldn't be certain.
Light fingers brushed down the side of his face, gliding along his stubbled jaw and a kiss met his lips. "And if ever your heart returns to such fear," Jasper went on, "If you must, reclaim the name of Timothy Creel. But, for now, love as you have before. Let me be your shoulder."
"I am—," the man said, "Broderick. I am Broderick Thorne."
***
"I had a father, Stanley Thorne," Broderick continued, "A mother, Blythe, a younger brother, Jamie, an elder brother and sister, Oscar and Johanna. Oscar was to be married to," he thought a moment, "Tabitha Maze. My sister was to be married to Nicholas Johnson. I hadn't liked him at all. I managed my father's estate and investments; the Thorne fortune rested solely in my hands."
"Broderick," Jasper interrupted, "I think it would do you good to see your family again. Would you like that? To see them all again?"
"My father is dead," Broderick remembered, "And Jamie passed long ago when he was six-years-old. After leaving the way I did, I couldn't imagine any of them would want to see me again."
"I think you should try," the Master suggested. "Your mother is still alive. I'm sure it would do her good to see her son at least once more."
"Yeah...?" Broderick sounded doubtful.
Jasper nodded, "Tomorrow, venture to see her at least. I know Oscar and your sister Johanna still live in the vicinity of Islesbury, but if you are unsure about seeing them all again, the least you could do is see your mother."
"In the morning," he said, "I will go then."
When Broderick laid back, Jasper stayed there beside him, pressing assuring kisses to the side of his face. He was happy that this person he loved could find it in himself to accept the name he was born to have. No matter the heartache that caused him to drift from it, Jasper believed it would do Broderick good to hear such a name, respond to it from now on. By no means would he force the other man to endure it, but it was clear in his requests that Broderick was in fact a name he had been waiting to accept all this time.
And so, once the morning sun was upon Banemount's autumn skies, Jasper lay watching as Broderick prepared a travel luggage for himself. He would be going alone due to his insistence that the Master stay behind. With Darcy nearing the end of her pregnancy now, he thought it best Jasper stay just in case the baby arrived a week or two early. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence.
Leaving a kiss against Jasper's tired lips, Broderick stood with his luggage in hand. "It should take me two days to get there by buggy, but I will try not to be long."
"Take your time," Jasper smiled sleepily, "I'm sure your mother misses you dearly, so do not run so quickly from her. Safe travels, my love."
Broderick gave a nod and kissed Jasper once more before heading out.
When he stepped into the corridor after closing the Master's chamber door behind him, Broderick made his way through the morning lit manor down to the main floor. There were servants getting a start on their daily duties. He spoke not a word to any of them as he went on, but halted at the side doors to the stables when the handsome footman Wade rushed over to him. "Will you require assistance, Mr. Creel?" he asked.
"No," the departing man shook his head, "And it is Thorne," he made clear. "My name is Broderick Thorne."
As if recognizing the mysterious name of the lost noble boy, Wade merely stood back at the doors and watched Broderick leave the manor. He readied himself a horse and buggy and started on his way. He couldn't lie and say he wasn't entirely nervous about revealing his existence to his family, but there was also a piece of the nobleman that was mildly thrilled just the same.
He and his brother Oscar hadn't had the best of relationships when he was younger, but Johanna, his only and eldest sister, had loved him even with her often detachments from the house. And Blythe Thorne, his very own mother, while she wasn't much of an attentive one, there was no question in Broderick's heart that she had loved and cared greatly for all of her children.
He traveled the majority of the day, stopping in villages only so his horse could rest a while, eat and drink, before getting a move on once again. After spending the night in a hotel that brought back memories for a short time, Broderick finally found himself entering territory he had once been so familiar with. The closer he got to the lands surrounding Islesbury, the more he could see how things were expanding. There were homes in places that were once vacant, new farmlands in the country outskirts, factories in their respective operating lots, but growth was something to expect when more than a decade went by since the last time he'd been in this area.
While he rode through the city of Islesbury atop his buggy, Broderick passed by a winery shop with a bit of font on the front window that read: Local 'Royal Thorne' sold here. It'd been there for years, this he knew, and it wasn't run by anyone in his family. The shop was owned by a family that contributed to the sale of his great-great-great grandfather's wine.
It wasn't long until he was beyond the populated, bustling city and on a lonely road headed north. By this time, it was nearing sundown, but the sun would still be visible for a couple more hours.
After a while more of travel up the country road that led to the Thorne property, Broderick began to see the massive edifice of the place he'd once called home. The manor itself was just as forlorn as it'd once been, large and gloomy with a royal ambience, but there was much more vibrancy and vegetation to the land, more sculpted trees and flowers to the garden out front. If anything, it was being taken care of quite nicely.
When he rounded the buggy up to the curve of the circle shaped, cobblestone passage before the main entry of the manor, Broderick got down and looked up when he heard the door open after a moment. A young man answered the door, one much younger than he by about ten years, and he was dressed accordingly in a servant's uniform, dark blond hair cut and styled out of his face. Given Broderick was dressed like a nobleman but had traveled alone, it seemed the servant wasn't too sure how to address him.
"Welcome to the Thorne residence," he said anyway. "May I help you?"
"Pardon my unannounced visit," Broderick apologized, "But I would inquire who calls this place home?"
"Master Oscar. Do you have an appointment to speak with him?" The young servant lowered his head. "It is my regret to inform he has stepped out with the Misses."
"What of Blythe Thorne? Is she around?"
"Yes, sir. May I ask who you are? Master Oscar does not take kindly to strangers, and Lady Blythe is for tea inside at the moment."
Broderick breathed for a second, seeming to require a short time to gather some courage. "I am her son," he finally said. "Has she spoken to you of—."
"You are Broderick?" the servant stared hard at the man before him, taking in the resemblance he had to the man he called 'master'. "Is it really you? Luna and Romani have told me so much about you."
"Luna and Romani?" Broderick almost couldn't believe it. "They are still here?"
"Yes, please," he gestured for the man to enter, "Come inside. Please, Master Broderick, I will take you to Lady Blythe at once."
When he was followed inside, the doors were shut and the servant who was presumably the one to watch for the arrival of guests led him further into the house. Still there wasn't much difference about the manor itself, but he did note the dark shadows that seemed to float through the halls and open rooms like evening never left the premises.
"Oh, Master Broderick, Lady Blythe will be thrilled to see you. She talks about you all the time, almost as much as Luna and Romani. Those two, they always seem to find a time to utter your name."
This was news that reassured Broderick. Given those two still worked under the name of Thorne, it was a certainty that they were still together and undiscovered as the lover's they'd confessed themselves to be when he was young.
He and the servant passed by the office where Broderick remembered handling his father's work, the music room where he'd practiced all his instruments, the dining hall and the library. Simply walking through the halls he used to run about as a small boy, it brought back so many memories of his childhood here. It hadn't been the greatest, but he'd made the most of it with the two women that'd essentially raised him, and with the toys he'd had.
Taken up to the second floor, Broderick was directed to the open doors of a balcony overlooking the side view of the manor. Already, as they got closer, he could see a woman sitting in a black iron chair at a table. Before her, the evening lit land of the Thorne property was bathed in low sunlight, green, flowery vines coiled about the bars of the rails that grew up the side of the manor walls. The woman sitting was plump, dressed in a light blue gown, black and mostly gray hair braided up into a style with expensive clips and jewels shining in her tresses. In front of her was a platter of freshly baked pastries, biscuits, and a brewed tray of tea with a pretty china cup on a small dish.
Not far from the woman also stood another, this one wearing a servant's dress. Her skin had a slight brownish tan, and her long black hair was in a ponytail.
"Lady Blythe," the male servant leading the way said, stepping into view so he could be seen. When he bowed respectfully, he placed a hand over his heart as well, and went on ahead. "I apologize for disturbing your tea, but I would be honored to introduce to you Master Broderick Thorne."
At the mere mention of the name, both Lady Blythe and the woman beside her looked quickly in the direction gestured, and both seemed to automatically recognize him without fret.
Romani. It was Romani who'd been beside his mother.
"Broderick?" Blythe voiced, and she rose up from her chair. She was sixty years old now, and there were lines of age in her face, but even at her phase, she still managed to cling to what beauty she could. When she laid eyes on the man behind her, her green eyes began to water almost instantly and she hurried for him. "Oh, Broderick, it's you. It's really you, isn't it!? I'm not dreaming again?"
"It is me, mother," he said, taking her hands when she seemed to struggle a moment to be near him. "I've come to see you again."
"Oh, thank god," she hugged him the tightest she could, just tall enough to where she lined up with his sturdy chest, but that didn't stop her from squeezing him with all she could muster. "My boy has come home at last. Oh, look, Romani, my boy is home."
Broderick met the eyes of Romani, just sixteen years older than he. "Yes, he has," she said with a quivering smile, tears blurring in her eyes.
"Come, come. Sit, sit," Blythe gestured to an empty chair at the table she'd been seated at. "Your brother will be so thrilled to see you when he gets home. Yes, he will, and Johanna. Oh, Romani, write to her at once, would you, dearest? You must tell her, tell everyone my boy has come home."
"Right away, Madame," Romani hurried on, but not before Broderick took her hand and offered a kind smile and nod, one that brought on even more tears of joy from her.
When they were alone, Blythe poured Broderick a cup of tea herself, placing it before him, "Your father, bless his soul, he would be just as gladdened of your return, my beautiful boy. When you — when you went away, we were frantic, so very frantic, Broderick. But you've come back to see your mother. Yes, yes, you have." She looked up at him sitting beside her, and touched his cheek, "Look at you, so handsome, my boy is."
"I'm sorry, mother," Broderick said, and while he was going to continue, Blythe stopped him.
"No, Broderick, my boy, it is your father and I who are so very sorry. We have wanted to tell you this for so long now."
"An apology?" he asked, not having expected this.
"Yes, for all the things we did. For all the things we didn't do. Will you listen to my plea, Broderick?"
"Y—Yes, mother."