Elias entered softly, closing the door behind him with care. “Is this a retreat, James, or shall I be allowed to trespass?”
James turned with a slight smile. “Trespass is always permitted to you, Elias, if done quietly. I was only thinking.”
“You often are,” Elias said, taking the chair nearest the window. “I hope it was not last night’s chaos that kept you brooding.”
“No,” James said, “though it sharpened a few concerns. Laurence’s antics are neither surprising nor new. But I confess, I find myself wondering whether any of us are... well-placed.”
Elias gave a dry chuckle. “That sounds remarkably like something I would say.”
“You are rubbing off on me,” James replied, then added more seriously, “There are moments, Elias, when I look at all five of us and wonder—has any one of us secured what we truly need?”
Elias tilted his head. “You have Longbourn, for instance.”
“Yes,” James said, after a pause. “I do. And I thank heaven daily that I am not compelled to earn my bread by some other means. But it is not entirely secure.”
“You refer to the entail?”
“I do.” James moved to pour himself a glass of water from the decanter at the sideboard. “As you well know, Father cannot alter the succession, but once the estate is mine, there are legal steps by which I could dissolve the entail—should I marry and have a son.”
He did not look at Elias as he spoke, but the words carried weight.
“Have you thought of it, then?” Elias asked, voice low. “Of dissolving it?”
“Not with any eagerness,” James admitted. “But I cannot ignore that the estate, as it stands, serves only one of us. You—you would make a fine magistrate or representative for a borough. Kit could easily expand his studies into a career in medicine or animal care, if someone funded the training. Miles—well, even Miles could be helped with a curacy in a respectable living. And Laurence—” He broke off.
“Laurence is adrift,” Elias supplied gently. “But not irredeemable.”
“No,” said James, and there was something tender in the way he said it. “But five sons and only one guaranteed future—it’s a poor arrangement. I should like to change it, in time.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Then Elias said, “You would marry to do so?”
James looked up. “Wouldn’t you? I mean, if you were in my place and had found the suitable person.”
Elias gave a slow smile. “It is a curious thing, brother. Between the two of us, I think we are the least inclined to chase flirtations or courtships, and yet we are the only ones pressed on the subject by everyone around us.”
James raised his brows. “Perhaps because neither of us has shown the least sign of romantic misjudgement.”
“Or judgement at all,” Elias said, dryly. “We are both beyond twenty-three. You are five-and-twenty and the heir of a respectable estate, yet have not so much as whispered a preference for any young lady of Meryton or Hertfordshire.”
James snorted. “Have you seen the Meryton assembly rooms lately? Half the young women there practically hunt for a match, and the other half eye me like I have been pre-wrapped for convenience.”
“You prefer to be an inconvenient suitor?”
“I prefer not to be cornered into a marriage simply because I stand to inherit land and linen.” James set down his water glass. “What man would enjoy being wanted for his acreage?”
“Not you,” Elias murmured, “and not me, either.”
James’s expression softened. “You, at least, have the luxury of mystery. The second son—quiet, clever, and unencumbered. You have more freedom in choosing your path than I ever will.”
Elias looked thoughtful, his gaze drifting to the window as though the summer light beyond held some answer to the uncertainties he pondered. “Yet no path comes with guarantees,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the reflective depth that James had always associated with his brother’s careful nature. “I work with Uncle Phillips, true. But the law is a long road and not a noble one—not, at least, as we practise it here. And as for affection...”
He trailed off, a subtle shadow crossing his features that prompted James to watch him with quiet concern, his own expression softening in fraternal sympathy.
“Have you ever come close?” James asked gently, his tone inviting confidence without demand, leaning forward slightly as though to bridge the silence between them.
There was a long pause before Elias answered, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the parlour walls, a faint wistfulness touching his eyes that spoke of memories long held in gentle reserve. “Once. A long time ago.”
James did not press him, respecting the weight of the admission with a patient nod, though his curiosity deepened with affectionate understanding. He only asked, “And she did not return it?”
