Peter
I was fairly disinterested in my sister's relationship with the Duke. That wasn't to say I didn't care for her welfare, or that I didn't vow to thrash him if he broke her heart. And yet she'd given me so little privacy when it came to my own courtship with Grace that I couldn't help but feel a little curious. So, after breakfast was finished, and Lottie hadn't returned, I made my excuses to Father and as I passed Alexander I told him I was out for a walk.
"Don't normally take morning walks, Peter," he said in reply.
"Neither does my sister, but it appears we are all on different schedules this morning," I said. "Please tell Mother I am in the garden if she asks after me."
All he did was nod, although I could see in his face that he had numerous questions.
Once I was outside, I crossed the lawn towards the garden round the eastern side of the house. It was breezy and fairly clear today, with sun and scudding clouds. Nice day for a walk, in my opinion. When I reached the hedgerow surrounding the pond in the center, I heard voices. I stopped in my tracks, listening hard. One was a man's deep voice, the other higher and female. I'd found them.
"You're absolutely sure, Your Grace?" Lottie said, sounding pained.
"He knew as soon as he saw my eyes, Lady Charlotte," answered the Duke, ashamed and a little sad. "I was both Elemental and the strange type of being that he was."
"But...he never managed to gain power, Your Grace. Surely that's–"
"My father was a brute, Lady Charlotte," said the Duke, interrupting. "He took advantage of many women. And when he could not have your mother, he went out and sought another, one with her power and her likeness. He forced her into his bed, and the result was me."
I inched closer, intrigued. Who could have done such a thing?
"What happened to her?" Lottie asked after a long silence.
"She fled while still carrying me, and gave birth to me in hiding. Then she pinned a note to my blanket, left me on a doorstep, and threw herself into the sea."
Lottie gasped, and I could imagine her covering her mouth. "Oh, God..."
"A tragic tale, is it not?" The Duke's voice was dry, humourless. "But that was the nature of the beast that was Huntley."
Huntley? I felt my knees go weak at the name. He was Benedict Huntley's son? How was that even possible?
"Does my mother know?" Lottie's words came out hoarse and weak, as if she was afraid to ask.
"Yes," said the Duke after another long silence. "She and your father, along with Lord and Lady Burnham, tried to persuade Lord Radford to not exile me. They wanted him to see that just because my father was a terrible man, and committed horrendous crimes against the Elemental race, I was not going to do the same. As you can see, they were not successful."
"Mama mentioned that Lord Radford always despised Huntley more than anyone else." Lottie sighed heavily. "He holds a grudge against him that is unshakeable."
"Indeed, he does. Any Elemental that lived through his reign of destruction and terror does. I suppose your parents must as well, because he targeted their families so viciously. But your mother has a good heart, a gentle soul, and believes there is such a thing as a second chance." I heard him kick at the ground, the pebbles clicking against each other. "I owe her a great debt. She rid the world of my father so I did not have to."
"Oh, Your Grace..." Lottie's voice caught, and I heard the tears in her voice.
"He was of my blood, but he is not any father of mine," said the Duke bitterly. "It is better this way, that he did not know I existed. As far as I'm concerned, my only father is the Duke of Tonbridge before me."
"How long has Mama known, Your Grace?" When Lottie spoke, her voice was muffled, as if she was wiping tears away.
He sighed heavily. "Years. And I am glad that I chose her to keep my secret. She has not spoken about it to anyone but the Order, and that way it does not get out to everyone else. I am far better off having them think me a recluse."
"That is no way to live, Your Grace. We all deserve love." I heard a sniffle.
"Except for my father," he said, the bitter tone returning. "He deserved exactly what he got."
"Will you not stay for luncheon, Your Grace?" Lottie said, pleading, and I could see her catching the sleeve of his coat, or the crook of his elbow. "You mustn't think you have to be alone...not after that news..."
"I cannot, Lady Charlotte, I apologise." He softened, and they were silent for a moment. "You mustn't worry over me. I promise you it is not worth it."
Lottie drew in a couple shuddering breaths, and then there was the Duke's footsteps, crunching over the gravel. Quickly I about-faced and rounded the bend at the same moment he emerged, and instead entered the opposite direction. Lottie was slumped on a bench underneath the trellis, hands over her face.
"Lottie?" I tried to feign surprise, as if I'd come across her unexpectedly.
Her head shot up. "Petey? What are you doing here?"
"I decided to come out for a walk, and found you here." I noticed the tears streaking her face, and still more pooled in her eyes, ready to fall. "What's the matter?"
"You just missed the Duke, he was..." She took a deep breath, trying very visibly to calm herself. "He was only here to disclose an earth-shattering secret."
She was being a bit dramatic with those words, but that didn't make the Duke's admittance any less true. "What did he say?"
"Oh, Petey, it was awful..." She blinked, and more tears came out. "To find out that Benedict Huntley was your father...I cannot even imagine the blow..."
I said nothing. To hear it from him was awful, but I took a moment to imagine what it must have been like for him when he found out. He must have been thunderstruck, as stunned as Mother or Lottie when they found out.
"I know why he didn't want to say anything around Mama..." Lottie swallowed hard, wiping at her eyes. "He saw she only wanted to protect me by pretending she didn't know him...and I think he wanted to honour her wishes, knowing that..."
"He realised the connection between our family and Huntley, Lottie." I rubbed her back gently, and she leaned into me. "He must have not wanted to reopen Mother's old wounds."
"But he could have said something!" She tilted her head back, eyes closed. "Or Mama could have! I am not so delicate that I cannot take a bit of honesty! It would not have changed how I feel about him, not in the least!"
"Perhaps he and Mother thought it would, and that was why they didn't. It is reasonable of them to want to protect your feelings. It's what families do."
"Oh yes, of course that is what you would say!" Lottie's eyes whipped around and met mine. "Protect poor Lottie, because she has such fragile sensitivities! They both knew, Petey! And they let it go on, all this time!"
"Lottie, you cannot blame them. It carries far too much weight. And it complicates things. What if Huntley supporters find out that he has a son, and that son lives, only under a different name? What if they decide to target us again, finish what they started? It would be disastrous for everyone involved."
That, more than anything, seemed to quell her emotions a little bit. She took a deep breath in, and held it for a bit before letting it out. "I am being unfair, aren't I?"
"If anything, it is good to know you are emotional about the subject. It means you care." I shrugged.
"Oh, Petey." She once again leaned against me, wiping at her eyes. "If only you knew what kind of things he said...they were too horrible to believe..."
I put my arm around her, resting my chin on her hair. I couldn't tell her I'd eavesdropped on more than half their conversation, nor that I felt the impact of the Duke's admittance, like a punch to the stomach.
Instead, all I said was, "I cannot possibly imagine."
||
Charlotte
I was quiet over dinner. The Duke's confession still ached, a pain I felt right behind my sternum. I knew Petey had heard everything we said – I'd seen it in his face when we'd come across each other in the garden. In a way, I was glad he did. At least now I wouldn't have to tell him, and he had heard it from the Duke, so he knew it was true.
Mama found me sitting alone and staring vacantly at the floor after dinner, when we'd left the dining room to allow the staff to clean up. I felt the cushions sag a little as she sat down next to me, and it took a moment for her to speak.
"Are you all right, my darling? You seem very quiet."
"I am, Mama. I'm all right." I wanted to ask her about the Duke, about the letter she received, everything. But as Petey had said, maybe it was opening old wounds. Maybe, for the time being, I had to let it lie.
"You do not have to keep things from me, Lottie. Remember that."
"Yes, Mama."
I had to restrain myself from letting it all come out on the spot. Mama had seen and experienced so much, more than anyone should in a lifetime. Papa told me once that long before Petey or I were born, Mama was plagued with terrifying nightmares. She often woke in the middle of the night, screaming for those she was unable to help.
"It's nothing, Mama. I expect I'm just tired."
Mama smiled, just faintly, and rested her hand on my knee. She rubbed it gently with her thumb a couple times, and then stopped as I took it and held on tight.
"I think I'll turn in early, if that's all right."
"Yes, darling." She kissed my knuckles gently. "It has been a very long day."
Petey caught me at the top of the stairs, his expression concerned. I wish everyone didn't worry about me so much. I was no longer a child, and with any luck I would be marrying a Duke in a short time.
"You will get a chance to ask Father and Mother about everything, Lottie. It seems there are many reasons to do so now."
"I don't want to bring back the past for Mama," I said quietly.
"The past is a part of us, Lottie. And no matter what we do, we cannot change it. But if anything, it helps us understand a little something about ourselves." Petey rubbed the back of his neck.
"You are wise beyond your years, Petey, has anyone ever told you that?" He was much like Mama that way, internalising pain and suffering while keeping a cool outer appearance.
"Not until now."
We were silent for a few moments, and then Petey spoke again.
"There is someone else you can tell, although I have a feeling she already knows."
"Who is that?" I had a feeling I knew what he was about to say, considering who the Duke mentioned before.
"Aunt Cath. There is no one else I would trust more with a secret that large."
"And she's our godmother," I finished, and Petey nodded. "That's brilliant, Petey."
"I wouldn't go that far–"
"Stop being so modest," I said, giving his bow tie a tug as I passed. "Most times you have enough sensibility for the both of us."
||
As a result, the next time Papa was summoned to the Order for a meeting, I asked if I could come along. He gave me a strange look, as if I'd just told him I'd made a bid for a seat in Parliament.
"Whatever would you want to go to an Order meeting for, Lottie? They are horribly stuffy and boring. Even I dread going." He shuddered his distaste. "And most times Arth–Lord Radford storms out before it is over."
"I want to go see Lady Burnham. There's something I want to speak to her about."
"Not having suitor trouble, are we?" His eye glinted at me as he took a sip of his tea.
"No, Papa...only...I wanted to ask her for some...female advice. Not that Mama wouldn't give it just fine, but..." I hesitated.
"She's biased because she's your mother?" Papa raised a brow, and I nodded. "All right, then. We'll leave after we are finished with breakfast, and I'll have you taken straight there."
"Thank you, Papa."
"Why is it that Lord and Lady Burnham are our godparents, Papa?" I asked on the way to the train station.
"It was your mother's decision," he said, without looking up from his paper. "She and Aunt Cath have known each other for a very long time. And they've been through many experiences together. Should something happen to us, they are who you would turn to. There are no two people I would trust more."
I said nothing in reply. I knew Mama and Aunt Cath told each other pretty much everything, and there were practically no secrets between our two families. I even believed they'd conspired to match Petey and Grace together, when it came to it.
"I'll only be a little while, Lottie," he said as the cab drew up in front of the Burnhams'. "It is likely Arthur will end it sooner if he does not agree with us."
"All right, Papa," I said.
He gave me a single nod as I climbed out, and when the cab pulled away, I started up the steps.
Their butler, a stocky man with eyes as green as mine and a constant fluttery look about him, answered the door. He bowed, stepping aside to let me through.
"Lady Charlotte, what a pleasant surprise this is." He straightened. "Are you here to see the Lady Burnham?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I am," I said, wondering how exactly he could tell. "Is she here?"
"She will be home in a few moments. Had to go out for fresh flowers, I think," he said as he showed me into the drawing room. "You are welcome to wait in here until then."
"Thank you, Mr Burton."
As he bowed out, my eye caught a painting above the fireplace. It was of two fair-haired young people, the man standing at the woman's shoulder. Both of them were well-dressed, and looked out of the painting with the steady grey gaze of Air-Elementals. On the woman's lap sat a blonde, fair-skinned child, with bright blue eyes and one hand stretched up to touch her mother's chin. It was none other than Lord and Lady Burnham, with Grace on her lap. But no Alfred, not yet.
"Lottie?" said a voice from the drawing room door, one that made me jump. Grace was looking in, expression slightly puzzled.
"Grace." I smiled as she came forward to embrace me, and I wondered if this was how it had been when Mama was young, visiting her closest friend in this manner. "How have things been?"
"As well as you can expect," Grace said with a sigh as she pulled away. "With the new developments on the Elemental front, as always. What do you think of our family portrait, by the way? I saw you looking at it when I came in."
"Very...large," I said, unable to think of anything else.
Grace smiled. "Yes, it is that. Mother thinks we should have it updated, or even have a photograph taken. Alf is completely missing from it, although he was present in some form."
"Was he?"
"She was still carrying him when this was done. About six months along." Grace sighed and ran one hand over her face. "Then again, who has portraits like this done anymore?"
"We do," I said, which got a smile out of Grace. "Mama says that in theirs, they have no children at all. If anything, we are in desperate need of an update."
"I suppose so," said Grace, with a bit of a laugh.
Just then, my eye trailed down and I spotted a yellow dog at the man's feet, ears floppy and tongue lolling. "How about the dog?"
"Our family pet, for fifteen years," she said, her voice sad. "She was my constant companion as a child. Father got her when I was three."
"What about Alf?" He was a sweet boy, I would admit, but as all brothers are, a bit of a nuisance. And considering their age difference, Grace must have been very lonely before he came along.
"They weren't the same thing at all, if that's what you're asking. Alf babbled constantly as a baby. At least Pam was quiet most times."
"Pam?" I said, and at that, Grace's cheeks flushed. "What is it?"
"I only call the dog that because her full name is too embarrassing to repeat."
"Well, what was it?"
"Pamplemousse," Grace said, her expression mortified. "It was in one of Mother's old French books, and I asked if that was what we could name the dog. But at the time, I had no idea what it meant."
"I must say, I never would have thought to name my dog Grapefruit."
"Neither would Alf, apparently. He never let me live it down, not even to this day."
I was about to reply when the butler came back. I straightened, which made Grace turn around. He bowed when he noticed the both of us looking at him.
"The Lady Burnham returns, miladies."
"Thank you, Burton," Grace said, taking a deep breath. "You're here to see Mother?"
"Yes," I answered, just as Lady Burnham entered. Her outfit was a light blue-grey, and it matched the current colour of her eyes. In one hand she carried her silver-topped cane, one that disguised her limp so well it hardly seemed she needed it at all.
"Lottie, my dear, what a pleasant surprise." She smiled, and gave me a gentle embrace as she reached us. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"
"I must ask you something, Aunt Cath. It concerns my suitor." I looked down at the floor, wondering how to best phrase it.
"The Duke, yes." Lady Burnham nodded knowingly. "Well, sit down, my dear, do. What is it that seems to be bothering you?"
I hesitated for a moment. Petey had mentioned that Aunt Cath already knew everything the Duke told me, from his relation to Benedict Huntley to his exile from the Order. I doubted she knew about what happened to his mother, but that was not my story to tell. Instead I told her about the conversation we'd had, and that he'd finally revealed something he had only disclosed to a very small circle of people.
"Well," she said, after a very long silence, with no sound except the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. "I do see how it would be hard to tell anyone that secret. You are lucky to have never met anyone such as Huntley, Lottie. I believe the Duke was right to tell you when he did, though you may not agree. But it is the reason we are so afraid that there are supporters of his still alive, even after two decades with not even a whisper."
"Do you suppose..." I had the feeling Mama had mentioned the visitor to the ambassador. "Do you think Wittenberg is one?"
"His Excellency?" Aunt Cath's eyebrow went up, and her expression was similar to Papa's when I'd mentioned him. "With those from the mainland, Lottie, it is very hard to tell. Germany especially. But if your visit with him was anything to go by, I would certainly feel it safe to say he must be watched."
"What are we to do, then? Lord Radford said we cannot probe too deeply, lest he find out and escape from under our noses."
"He's right about that, at least," she said, an edge to her voice. "If I were to give you any advice, it would be this: trust only those closest to you. It is what got us through the last time, and if it is one thing that Huntley did not break, it was our bonds to each other."
"Will there be another Huntley, Aunt Cath?" I asked, when we hadn't spoken for a while.
"I hope to God that there is not, my dear," she said, her hand tightening on the head of her cane. "Because if there is, it means we have much more to fear than we thought."