Andrew knew that, of course. Everyone knew that. Della was ill. She’d been ill for years. Andrew wondered if that’s all they’d been telling anyone who asked about her welfare. He wondered if that wastruly all Morley knew about her.
“It’s quite a loss,” Morley continued. “She had such promise. Such prospects.” He shook his head, and then he was back to sifting through his work.
Andrew was astounded. So much so that he didn’t dare speak, lest he ruin this entire visit by letting the vitriol he felt fly from his mouth. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have doubted the level of callousness these people were capable of. Even now, it felt as if the very air he breathed was contaminated with it. Like he might be influenced by their evil just by sitting here.
He realized that an unusual amount of time had passed since anyone had last spoken, and he supposed he ought to fill the gap of silence with something. A comment on the weather, or a compliment on the exquisite grounds they kept. Something. Anything. He couldn’t, though. There was no way for Andrew to continue conversing with someone who spoke of Della as if she were dead.
Describing vibrant, brilliant, perfect Della as a loss. He couldn’t even imagine it.
After a few more moments of interminable silence, Andrew had decided the only thing to do was excuse himself. Before he could move, the study door flew open in a rather forceful manner. He thought there must be some emergency. There’d be no other reason to interrupt the man of the house from his work. He didn’t see Morley taking too kindly to an intrusion like that.
To Andrew’s utter surprise, he watched as the viscount’s face softened. His expression went from enraged to mildly irritated in an instant. He couldn’t imagine what could cause such a spectrum of emotions so quickly. Andrew turned his head. Oh. Well. That explained it, then. Standing in the doorway was someone Andrew hadn’t even considered as he attempted this ill-fated trip to Morley House.
The future Viscount Morley. He’d be the third, if Andrewremembered correctly. David. Andrew’s first friend, and someone he’d not spoken to in over eight years. He appeared to have already overindulged in spirits, even though it was only the early afternoon. His coat was hanging off one shoulder, and his cravat was askew, some of the buttons on his shirt were even undone. There was no telling where he’d gotten that light-blond hair, when Della’s was so dark. Much like their father’s.
“Father,” David slurred. Andrew wondered if the other man had even noticed his presence in the room.
“David,” Morley acknowledged. The thinly veiled irritation was beginning to come to the surface. His face had turned a mottled red, and Andrew could see veins in his temples starting to bulge.
It seemed it wasn’t good for a man’s health to have an heir like David. What a pity.
“David,” Morley repeated, his tone as docile as if he were talking to a child or a lost dog. “You remember your friend Andrew, don’t you?”
Andrew wouldn’t have called them friends. Not anymore at least. Friends rarely went eight years without speaking, and that, regrettably, was why Andrew didn’t have many. Besides, in his adulthood, there was no reason for Andrew to befriend a future viscount. They might have played around the same estate as young boys, but their paths couldn’t have diverged further.
David seemed to look him over, squinting his eyes in what Andrew assumed to be an attempt to ward off double vision. David approached, Andrew stood. David extended a hand, and Andrew met him halfway because his bleary eyes seemed to be severely lacking in depth perception at the moment.
“Been a while,” David said.
“So it has.” Andrew nodded. He let his hand go.
“I’ll be taking the carriage again this evening. After dinner.” David turned to speak to his father as if Andrew had simply vanished.
“And I suppose you’ll be needing more money,” Morley sighed.
Andrew wasn’t sure what he was watching, but it felt like he was trapped somewhere he shouldn’t be. Intruding on a private moment of a rich father spoiling his equally rich son. David simply nodded.
“You should join me at the club tonight, Lockhart. Enjoy yourself for once in your life.” David smacked Andrew on the shoulder. The invitation felt sincere, even if the words themselves were less than kind.
“I’d love to,” Andrew said, despite the fact that he’d most likely hate nothing more. He didn’t belong in that club any more than he belonged in this palatial house, but it was an opportunity, he realized. He’d come here today to find some proof that Della’s family wouldn’t do this to her. This outing might just be his opportunity to find some proof that they actually had.
David left the room as abruptly as he’d entered, and Andrew was once again in a battle of silence with Morley.
“My apologies for his behavior,” the viscount said. It was so reflexive, Andrew got the hint that he made this particular speech often. “You know how young men are these days.”
Now that, Andrew didn’t understand. He and David were only a few years apart, and he was long past considering himself a young man. He’d been a young man when he’d left England, thinking he’d never return. Since then, he’d studied and worked and done enough around the world that he’d grown bored. David was still clearly acting the part of a young man, though. In a way Andrew had never been permitted to.
“You could join us for dinner, if you’d like.” Morley smiled in a way that set Andrew on edge. He was so polite. It was almost certainly artificial. It was a thin veneer that Andrew knew he had to break through. He feared there was something malignant lingering beneath.
“Thank you for the kind offer, but I have business to attend to this afternoon.” Andrew smiled at his own words. The power of Della,shining through once more.
“Very well then.” Morley stood up, shook his hand again. “It was good to see you, Andrew.”
He left the room without another word, striding down the halls with his head held high. He nodded at the butler and the footman on his way out, waving off their still unnecessary bows. Andrew would come back later. He’d go on this galivant through the night with David.Enjoy himself for once, he’d said. The arrogant prig. He wouldn’t enjoy himself, but maybe he’d find something useful.
Andrew headed toward home. He didn’t have business to attend to this afternoon. Not really.
He had a letter to write.
