For two days, he’d wavered between going and not going, and then curiosity had got the better of him. Fenella had been a young girl when he’d left Scotland. Sweet natured, if a little wild like him. She’d loved her uncle Mungo, as he’d loved her.
“We are to visit Bath, then return to London for a night before heading home,” Fenella said as plates of food and a pot of tea arrived at their table.
A friend of their family had asked Fenella to travel with them. A man his brother respected, apparently, and who had a daughter his niece’s age. They were best friends.
Mungo thought his brother rash to let her leave him for so long, but it had not been his choice to make.
“And you’ve had a good time here and will be heading back to Scotland with many memories,” Mungo said, taking the cup Fenella handed him.
His fingers felt large and clumsy holding the small, delicate cup covered in pink flowers. It better suited a woman’s hands than his. He’d found that forgoing the handle and gripping the entire cup worked best.
“Oh aye,” she said. “I’ve done so many wonderful things and purchased lovely gifts for them back home.”
“Have you, now.”
“We attended the theatre last night. It was a pantomime.”
He smiled and bit into the wedge of cake she’d put on his plate as she chatted about all she’d seen. It was always like this. He and Polly sat and listened, laughing when she made them, while Fenella talked.
Her father had been like that. Calder could step into a room and command everyone’s attention. Mungo had always been the exact opposite. He didn’t like people to notice him unless he wanted them to.
Looking at her brought back memories of when they’d been children. Boys running wild, until they’d grown apart. Two brothers so different, there was no way they could remain close. The difference they’d once celebrated became a wall neither could breech.
“Granny would like to see you, Uncle, especially since Grandpa has passed.” Fenella looked at him like she always did, with a touch of sadness in her eyes for what he’d walked away from.
He’d known his father had died, as his mother had written that to him in a letter. He’d mourned the man briefly, but they’d never been close, and he was the reason he’d left, which meant Mungo could return if he wanted to.
A hard man, the late Calder Fraser Sr. had been someone who disliked having his word challenged, and the single timeMungo had done just that there had been no going back. He’d thought his brother would have his back in this, but he’d been wrong there too.
He knew his mother wished to see him again because she asked him to come home at the bottom of every letter she wrote. But the truth was, he didn’t know how. So much time and distance lay between them now. To his mind, it was just better to leave well enough alone.
Yes, his mother was getting older, and were she to die before he saw her, he’d never forgive himself, but the thought of going home both terrified and excited him. He told himself the Nightingale family would not survive without him, but he knew better. It was he who would struggle without them.
“I write to her every month, Fenella.”
Her face screwed up in displeasure. “She’s your mam, Uncle, and deserves that from you. Father too. You and he are brothers. You need to talk. So many years have passed. Surely?—”
“Leave it now, lass.”
She exhaled loudly, looking like an angry child.
Fenella, he’d quickly come to realize, had a lot of his brother in her. She got straight to the point and then proceeded to hammer it home until a person yielded. Mungo was not really someone who yielded to anyone or anything anymore.
“I’ve asked both you and my father what happened between you, and neither of you will tell me.”
“I’m not discussing him with you, Fenella.”
“It’s been many years since you left. Surely you’ve both changed and grown since then?”
His sigh was loud and weighty.
“I love my father,” she said softly.
“As you should, because he’s your father.”
“But you don’t?”
“I do, because he’s my brother, but that doesn’t mean we like each other very much, Fenella.” Mungo knew only honesty would do now.
