“I intend to keep that deal,” Selina continued, a warm, genuine smile spreading across her face.
The tension that had been coiled in Lucy’s chest since they arrived at Langridge finally began to unfurl. She smiled, a real, radiant smile that reached her eyes. “Thank you, Aunt Selina. That means more to me than I can say.”
“Don’t get too sentimental,” Selina winked, regaining her usual spark. “I expect you to be a very difficult student.”
Lucy giggled and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
The house felt unusually still, holding its breath with her. She moved from room to room, checking Anthony firsthand, then Daniel. Both lay deep in their slumber, tucked beneath warm covers, their chests rising and falling in steady rhythm. Relief curled in her chest.
Yet, when she reached Brook’s chamber, it was empty. Her heart sank. The candlelight danced across the floorboards, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally toward her. A thousand small scenarios crowded her thoughts, and for the first time that evening, she allowed herself to consider that her unease might not be unfounded.
Brook had been unusually quiet all day. The usual spark of mischief that danced in his eyes, the restless energy that made him impossible to ignore, seemed to have dimmed, replaced by a heavy stillness that was obvious.
It had started during dinner. Something was wrong. The thought clawed at her mind, insistent and troubling. She had always known Brook to test limits, to seek attention in ways both exasperating and endearing, yet this was different. It was as though he were carrying something alone, a burden he had chosen not to share, and it unsettled her more than any tantrum or outburst ever could.
She shut the door to his empty room gently and made her way down the hall. She went from room to room, checking carefully.
“Where could he be?” she murmured to herself, her voice catching in the stillness.
Following the faint echoes of movement, she finally reached the main library. The door was slightly ajar, and she could see the dim glow of the lamp within. Pushing it open, she found Brook slouched in a corner, his small frame hunched.
“Brook,” she said softly, stepping inside, “you are starting to worry me. What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be wandering about at this hour.”
Brook looked up at her from where he sat on the ground. “I want to be alone.”
“Why?”
“I said leave me alone,” he muttered. “You’re leaving anyway.”
Lucy sat down slowly beside him, letting her skirts spread lightly across the floor. “Brook, right now, I am not leaving, not until I understand what’s troubling you. You don’t have to tell me everything at once, but you must let me help you.”
Brook shook his head and sighed in response.
“How did you find out I was leaving?”
He shrugged, eyes fixed on the wall. “I overheard you talking with Father and your auntie. Do you really need to go?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “I found what your father needs, what you boys need.” His gaze shifted away from hers, vulnerable and unreadable in its intensity. “In a way, my work here is done. I’ve done what I came to do. Now, it’s up to you to make the rest work.”
Again, Brook remained silent.
“What is it, Brook?” she asked again, genuinely concerned.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted. “I would like to be left alone.”
Lucy smiled, a faint, tender curve of her lips, but her eyes stayed on his. “No, Brook. Not yet. Not until I know you are understood, and that you can trust the choices being made for you.”
For the first time, he seemed to consider her words, the rigidity of his posture softening ever so slightly. He pressed his hands against the rug beneath him, staring stubbornly at the floor,
“I’m not leaving, Brook,” she said again. “You can tell me anything. No matter what.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, but still, no words came. Lucy’s eyes narrowed, and she realized that the tactic that might work for Anthony would not necessarily work for Brook.
“Then I shall have to resort to extreme measures,” she said and rose to her feet, reaching for the nearest quill on the desk. “If you don’t confess to me right now, I will draw right on your face. A bull, perhaps. Or a terrible moustache. A mark that will haunt you for the rest of your days. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”
Brook’s eyes flicked up at her, incredulous. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I absolutely would,” she said, daring him. “Try me.”
