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Second half of chapter 2. I still haven't sorted out names for places so again suggestions welcome. It was quite hard to write dialogue between the brothers at times without it sounding...wrong. Gay characters are fine, but incest is less good, even if they're not actually related.
They stepped out of the station building and into a wide street teeming with life. People flocked either side of a cobbled road where coaches, cabs and carts hurried passed. On the other side, wide shop windows displayed a variety of wares. The air was awash with sounds and smells, and the organic human and animal ones mixed with the stranger chemical and mechanical ones. It was enough to make both to make both Milo and Tobin stop at the top of the station steps and stare. Never had either seen so much life in one place.
The Earl's coach was a reasonably large vehicle, but at the same time austere, embellished only by a small livery on each of the doors. It was drawn by two smart bay carriage-horses which stood patiently waiting.
“What is the League?” Milo inquired as they walked down towards it.
“The League is the League of Concerned Citizens,” Peterson replied. “It's a group of folk who are against the rise of machines and technology in society. Trains, factory machines, engines, that sort of thing.”
“Why would anyone be against technology and progress?” Tobin was bewildered.
“Well, now, most of them are from the cottage industries, textile workers and the like who have found themselves replaced by machines. Must admit, I have a fair bit of sympathy for them really. It can't be easy having your livelihood pulled out from under you like a cheap rug. They've got the support of the sorceresses too: they hate the idea of men doing things for themselves you see. When they're just standing outside and chanting, they're not so bad. But they've been getting more violent over time. They block traffic in the streets, stopping men getting about their business; they break into the factories, smash the machines up; one gal even threw herself under a train last week. What's that going to achieve, I ask you, apart from a senseless mess?”
Neither boy could answer this. Already they were finding the city a bigger and more curious place than they could have imagined. They sat down and the coach set off smoothly; even on the cobbled streets the motion of the wheels was less pronounced compared to the coach at home. Milo looked out the open window, enjoying watching the city go by. They passed a large plaza with stone eagles standing at each corner, and a magnificent statue standing in front of an equally beautiful pillared structure that Peterson advised was the court house.
The coach moved on from the centre of the city and on towards the gardens that Milo had seen earlier. They crossed on an ornate bridge over a small river, a tributary to the larger one that bisected the city, whose banks were lined with stately weeping willows. A couple of swans were gracefully floating on the clear water, while couples walked hand in hand on well-kept paths above them.
The houses coming into view now were large and elegant with neat and colourful gardens. There was very little traffic on the road now, just their coach and a couple of gentlemen on horses. The coach turned up off the wide avenue and up a hill. At the summit was just one house, larger and more ornate than the others. Where its gardens ended there were only fields beyond. The coach travelled down its driveway and pulled up in a wide courtyard edged with precisely trimmed box hedges.
The earl was standing on the steps of the house as they approached. He was a tall man, younger than their father with short cut sandy blond hair and a neatly clipped small beard. He smiled as they approached and held out his arms in greeting.
“Welcome! How was your journey?”
“It was fine, thank you,” Milo replied politely.
“First time on a train for you, was it? How did you find it?”
Milo glanced at Tobin, who was still looking a little pale. “I don't think it was quite what either of us expected,” he admitted.
The earl laughed and gestured them into the house. They stepped into a cool entrance room of panelled dark wood. Mounted on the walls were the heads of many animals: deer, foxes, wild cats. They stared down from above with glassy eyes that seemed to follow them as moved through the room. There was a small pool and fountain set in the centre of the marble floor, and sound of the running water echoed constantly. The effect was a show of power and wealth without being opulent or ostentatious.
“You've grown considerably since I saw you last, Milo,” the earl was saying. “I suppose that's only natural. It must be five years since we last met. I think I see even more of your mother in you now than I did then.”
Milo nodded silently, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. It had been a long time since anyone had mentioned his mother out loud at home.
“You must be tired from your journey,” he continued. “Why don’t you rest for the rest of the afternoon? I hope you don’t mind but I have invited a few people over this evening, to introduce you. You’ll meet my wife and daughter then too. I’m afraid they are out shopping at the moment.”
They had no objection to this idea so the earl took them himself to a pair of rooms on the second floor of the large house. As they walked down the long hallway, decorated with several portraits in extravagant frames, the earl chatted constantly with Milo. Tobin hung back from them, feeling forgotten.
“I’ll see you about six,” the earl said, as he left them. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
The two rooms they had been assigned were considerably bigger than the ones they had grown up in at home. They were at the back of the house facing west and looking out over the fields beyond the garden. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the wide windows, lighting up a large blue glass vase of flowers that had been placed on the windowsill. There was a door between the two rooms that was currently open, allowing them to see into both at once. Milo sat down on the bed, sinking slightly into the feather mattress.
“Which one do you want?” he asked Tobin, who replied with a wordless shrug. “What's wrong? You're not still feeling sick, are you?”
Tobin shook his head. “I'm fine. I just... I don't think the earl likes me much.”
“Well, he doesn't really know you. I mean, last time we saw him, we were only ten. Just try not to go on too much about trains and you'll be fine.”
Tobin was unconvinced. “He seemed happy enough to talk to you. I might as well have been invisible.”
“Did you try talking to him? No? Well, then you can't hold him solely responsible, can you?” Milo pointed out. “Come on, pick a room.”
There was little difference between the two rooms: they were furnished identically, with one a mirror reflection of the other. One was decorated in shades of blue, the other in green. Tobin chose the green room on the basis that Milo was currently sat on the bed in the blue room. Something had occurred to him that would explain the earl's behaviour and even the possibility that it might be true left him feeling shaken and angry. He did not want to voice his fear to Milo though, not until he felt he actually had some evidence to confirm it.
Their luggage was delivered and put away. Milo made some effort to make the room seem personal, but the items he set out only ended up looking out of place. He found paper and ink in the bureaux and sat down to write a letter to his father. It was not easy and he decided against putting most of the day's events down on paper. His father would want to hear that they had arrived safely; he did not need to know about people rioting outside the station, or about Tobin's strange sullen mood. He looked through the open door at his brother, who was sat on his bed, apparently deeply engrossed in a book. They had not said a word to each other since they decided rooms.
It was coming up to six in the evening and Milo was just wondering if they should make there way downstairs when there was knock at the door. A maid in a neat grey dress and starched white pinafore entered.
“His Lordship requests you downstairs; the guests are arriving.”
Milo followed her into the hall and was joined a moment later by Tobin. Milo was pleased to see his brother had made the effort to change his clothes and tidy up, but he still seemed morose.
“Cheer up,” he muttered. “It’s a party we’re going to, not a funeral.” It very nearly was a funeral though , Milo thought. We'd be burying you about now if I hadn't gone for the sorceress. That thought awoke memories of the rainy afternoon nearly a week ago now and suddenly he couldn't bare the distance between them. He reached out and touched Tobin's arm. “Whatever is bothering you, you can talk to me about it.”
Tobin stopped. “I'm sorry, it's nothing really. I'm just feeling homesick, I guess.”
Milo felt relieved. “Is that all?”
“Yeah. Silly, isn't' it?”
“Not really. Living here is going to take some getting used to. It's so much bigger than home; I fully expect to get lost on the way to breakfast tomorrow.”
They followed the maid down to a spacious ballroom. The glossy marble reflected the light of the three crystal chandeliers hanging above. Along one side of the room tables had been laid out with plates of food; on the other two large windows stood either side of a glass door that led out onto the garden terrace. In the far corner, a string quartet was playing quietly against the background chatter. As they entered, a servant with a silver platter handed them each a narrow glass of sparkling wine.
Milo caught his brother staring hungrily at the table of food.
“I don’t think it’s just there to be watched,” he pointed out. He watched Tobin scurry over to a waiting servant, but having eaten two lunches already today he did not feel inclined to join him. He looked around at the other people in the room. Besides the serving staff, there were about twenty other people in the room, mostly adults considerably older than he was. Looking at the clothes of various guests, made from rich brocades and heavy velvets, Milo could not help but feel somewhat shabby. The fashion for men at the moment seemed to be fitted, double-breasted jackets worn over wide collared shirts while women wore expansive gowns with voluminous sleeves that sat off their shoulders.
“How are you enjoying yourself?”
Milo jumped and turned to see the earl approaching.
“Very well, thank you,” he replied politely. Looking round, he noticed the earl was accompanied by a woman he recognised as the earl's wife, and a young woman he guessed must be the earl's daughter. Milo had met her, years ago when they had visited Blackwater Hall, but she had been a girl then, still wearing skirts that just covered her knees. Now she stood before him as a young woman, in a full length gown of soft peach silk. Round her neck she wore a ruby pendant that matched the flaming red of her hair. She had cut it since he had seen her last. Instead of the long tail he remembered it was cut into a short bob, the ends caressing her bare shoulders.
She smiled at him sweetly.
“I see you remember my daughter, Felicity.”
Milo nodded. “It's a pleasure to meet you again,” he said quietly.
“Likewise. I trust you had a pleasant trip here?”
Still making small talk, they walked away from the doorway and earl and his wife. Milo noticed he made no attempt to follow them. Suddenly he felt strangely self-concious, as if he was alone with her, instead of being in a room full of others. Still, it also felt good to talk to someone his own age that was not his brother.
“I was very sorry to hear about your sister,” Felicity said suddenly. “Shana seemed such a sweet girl. I would have liked the opportunity to get to know her better.”
“We all miss her greatly,” he replied, wondering how much she knew about Shana's death. Felicity's expression showed only remorse and sympathy so he guessed she did not know the manner of his sister's passing. “Sometimes it all seems so unreal. I keep expecting to see her walking in the gardens or sitting down to breakfast.”
She touched his hand. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to awaken bad memories. This is isn't the place to talk about sad things. What do you think of the city?”
“It's... big.” He laughed. “Sorry, that wasn't much of an answer. But everything round here really does feel bigger, more vibrant, more alive. We'd never get anything like this at home.” He gestured to the room. “We don't even have any neighbours. It's all just fields.”
On the other side of the room Tobin had finished his meal and was idly listening to the musicians. He was not convinced by the cuisine of -. Everything seemed to be very light and insubstantial, not like the food from home. Mrs Hale's scones could knock a man out if thrown with enough force and her pastry settled in your stomach like a rock settled on a lake bed. It was very satisfying cooking. Still he was hungry enough that anything would have tasted good and there was no shortage on the wide tables.
Most of his earlier mood had evaporated with his hunger and he wondered how much of it was simply feeling sorry for himself. Milo was right: people here simply did not know them. His brother was both older and more outward going than he was, it was only natural that they would prefer to speak with him to begin with. Tobin was not shy, but because he was nervous about what people thought of him, and struggled to make small talk he was often perceived as such.
As he stood there, he became aware of someone watching him. Looking over without moving he could see two young women standing a short way away. They were blatantly looking at him, and giggling.
“Is that him, do you think?”
“Why Lady Georgina, I do believe so,” her friend replied.
She turned towards her companion and whispered something before giggling into her fan. Tobin could not make it all out, but one word had stood out clearly. Feeling his face turn red with humiliation, he turned and hurried out of the room. No one tried to stop him.
As the evening wore on Milo found himself introduced to all the people in the room. They passed by in a whirl of names and faces, and he thought that if he remembered even one of them tomorrow he would have done well. He found he was enjoying himself though, even if the experience was a little overwhelming. Felicity had been his guide through the social interactions of the event, and he was grateful for her company. Many of the guests had now left. The few people remain were speaking to the earl by the doorway. Milo found himself standing alone with Felicity in the centre of the ballroom floor.
“Did you enjoy your evening?” she asked with a smile.
“Very much so. I think I’m going to enjoy my time here.”
“I hope so. Well, I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast.”
As she walked away, Milo realised how tired he was feeling. It had been a longer and more eventful day than he had experienced in a long time. He followed Felicity across the marble floor and bid goodnight to her father. The earl was anxious to hear that Milo had enjoyed his evening and seemed pleased by his response.
“By the way,” he added. “I did not see your brother leave earlier but he does not seem to be here anymore.”
Milo realised he had not thought about Tobin since they had arrived. He looked around the room but it was clear the earl was correct.
“I’m sorry,” he apologised on his brother’s behalf. “I’m sure he meant no offence.”
“And of course none was taken,” the earl assured him. “Good night.”
Milo returned to his room feeling annoyed. The dividing door between his room and Tobin’s was shut, so he pushed it open with knocking. Inside the room was dark and the curtains were drawn. He could just make out the shape of his brother in bed.
“That was rude, don’t you think? Leaving without saying goodnight.”
“I didn’t think anyone would notice,” came the sullen reply.
“The earl did. I had to apologise for you. I don’t appreciate having to do that.” He sighed and tuned away. “I’m not going to let you spoil my evening.” There was nothing further from Tobin so he closed the door behind him and went to bed.
Milo awoke later that night. The room was quite dark, but there was light seeping through the gap under the dividing door. Slipping out of bed he squinted at the carriage clock on the desk and saw it was a little past half one in the morning. He sighed and pushed open the door. In the next room the gas lamp was on, and he could see his brother lying with his back towards him.
“Tobin? Do you know what time it is?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He did not look round and there was a distinctive hitch in his voice.
“Are you crying?”
Tobin sat up, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his nightshirt. “It’s shameful, isn’t it? I’m not a child any more. I haven’t cried since Shana died.”
Milo came and sat next to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked kindly.
“It's just... today was really awful. The train journey, the earl, and then that party. And now I can't even sleep.”
“Come on, it wasn't that bad was it? I mean, I know the train wasn't much fun for you, but the party was interesting I thought.”
“It's okay for you. You're not a... a...” his voice choked off.
“A what?”
“A bastard,” Tobin mumbled, looking away.
Milo was shocked. Though the difference in their births had never been a secret to either of them, it had never meant anything to them either. This was the first he had ever even heard Tobin speak about his origins.
“What makes you say that? No one knows anything about your birth family. Maybe you were left at that church because they had died, rather than they felt any shame in you,” Milo said, before wondering how that last comment could possibly bring any comfort. “Besides, it doesn't matter. You're just as much father's son as I am.”
Tobin nodded miserably. “I know that, and you do, but I don't think anyone else here accepts it. I was worried that was why the earl was ignoring me, but I had no way to prove it. Then I heard the lady in the yellow dress, Lady Georgina, I heard her whispering about me to her friend. They thought I couldn't hear them, but I could.”
Milo put his arm round his brother's shoulder. He felt guilty now for his earlier outburst.
“I'm sorry. No wonder you left early. Why didn't you say something?”
“I don't know. Any way I thought about phrasing it just sounded petty in my head.”
“So crying yourself to sleep was a better idea? Look, even if someone has the wrong idea about you, it doesn’t mean that everyone thinks that way. The earl was worried when you disappeared without saying anything. And he wouldn't invite you if you weren't welcome, right?”
“I guess not.” He sighed. “Do you really think coming here was a good idea?”
“I do, and you did this morning. If you really have changed your mind I'm sure you could get a train back tomorrow, but I think you'd be wasting an opportunity. And I'd miss you.”
Tobin smiled. “You're right. I can't give up and go home now.”
I'm not particularly happy with the last bit of dialogue between Milo and Tobin, but was getting fed up so I decided to put it up and see what people thought. I can always re-write it later.
They stepped out of the station building and into a wide street teeming with life. People flocked either side of a cobbled road where coaches, cabs and carts hurried passed. On the other side, wide shop windows displayed a variety of wares. The air was awash with sounds and smells, and the organic human and animal ones mixed with the stranger chemical and mechanical ones. It was enough to make both to make both Milo and Tobin stop at the top of the station steps and stare. Never had either seen so much life in one place.
The Earl's coach was a reasonably large vehicle, but at the same time austere, embellished only by a small livery on each of the doors. It was drawn by two smart bay carriage-horses which stood patiently waiting.
“What is the League?” Milo inquired as they walked down towards it.
“The League is the League of Concerned Citizens,” Peterson replied. “It's a group of folk who are against the rise of machines and technology in society. Trains, factory machines, engines, that sort of thing.”
“Why would anyone be against technology and progress?” Tobin was bewildered.
“Well, now, most of them are from the cottage industries, textile workers and the like who have found themselves replaced by machines. Must admit, I have a fair bit of sympathy for them really. It can't be easy having your livelihood pulled out from under you like a cheap rug. They've got the support of the sorceresses too: they hate the idea of men doing things for themselves you see. When they're just standing outside and chanting, they're not so bad. But they've been getting more violent over time. They block traffic in the streets, stopping men getting about their business; they break into the factories, smash the machines up; one gal even threw herself under a train last week. What's that going to achieve, I ask you, apart from a senseless mess?”
Neither boy could answer this. Already they were finding the city a bigger and more curious place than they could have imagined. They sat down and the coach set off smoothly; even on the cobbled streets the motion of the wheels was less pronounced compared to the coach at home. Milo looked out the open window, enjoying watching the city go by. They passed a large plaza with stone eagles standing at each corner, and a magnificent statue standing in front of an equally beautiful pillared structure that Peterson advised was the court house.
The coach moved on from the centre of the city and on towards the gardens that Milo had seen earlier. They crossed on an ornate bridge over a small river, a tributary to the larger one that bisected the city, whose banks were lined with stately weeping willows. A couple of swans were gracefully floating on the clear water, while couples walked hand in hand on well-kept paths above them.
The houses coming into view now were large and elegant with neat and colourful gardens. There was very little traffic on the road now, just their coach and a couple of gentlemen on horses. The coach turned up off the wide avenue and up a hill. At the summit was just one house, larger and more ornate than the others. Where its gardens ended there were only fields beyond. The coach travelled down its driveway and pulled up in a wide courtyard edged with precisely trimmed box hedges.
The earl was standing on the steps of the house as they approached. He was a tall man, younger than their father with short cut sandy blond hair and a neatly clipped small beard. He smiled as they approached and held out his arms in greeting.
“Welcome! How was your journey?”
“It was fine, thank you,” Milo replied politely.
“First time on a train for you, was it? How did you find it?”
Milo glanced at Tobin, who was still looking a little pale. “I don't think it was quite what either of us expected,” he admitted.
The earl laughed and gestured them into the house. They stepped into a cool entrance room of panelled dark wood. Mounted on the walls were the heads of many animals: deer, foxes, wild cats. They stared down from above with glassy eyes that seemed to follow them as moved through the room. There was a small pool and fountain set in the centre of the marble floor, and sound of the running water echoed constantly. The effect was a show of power and wealth without being opulent or ostentatious.
“You've grown considerably since I saw you last, Milo,” the earl was saying. “I suppose that's only natural. It must be five years since we last met. I think I see even more of your mother in you now than I did then.”
Milo nodded silently, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. It had been a long time since anyone had mentioned his mother out loud at home.
“You must be tired from your journey,” he continued. “Why don’t you rest for the rest of the afternoon? I hope you don’t mind but I have invited a few people over this evening, to introduce you. You’ll meet my wife and daughter then too. I’m afraid they are out shopping at the moment.”
They had no objection to this idea so the earl took them himself to a pair of rooms on the second floor of the large house. As they walked down the long hallway, decorated with several portraits in extravagant frames, the earl chatted constantly with Milo. Tobin hung back from them, feeling forgotten.
“I’ll see you about six,” the earl said, as he left them. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
The two rooms they had been assigned were considerably bigger than the ones they had grown up in at home. They were at the back of the house facing west and looking out over the fields beyond the garden. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the wide windows, lighting up a large blue glass vase of flowers that had been placed on the windowsill. There was a door between the two rooms that was currently open, allowing them to see into both at once. Milo sat down on the bed, sinking slightly into the feather mattress.
“Which one do you want?” he asked Tobin, who replied with a wordless shrug. “What's wrong? You're not still feeling sick, are you?”
Tobin shook his head. “I'm fine. I just... I don't think the earl likes me much.”
“Well, he doesn't really know you. I mean, last time we saw him, we were only ten. Just try not to go on too much about trains and you'll be fine.”
Tobin was unconvinced. “He seemed happy enough to talk to you. I might as well have been invisible.”
“Did you try talking to him? No? Well, then you can't hold him solely responsible, can you?” Milo pointed out. “Come on, pick a room.”
There was little difference between the two rooms: they were furnished identically, with one a mirror reflection of the other. One was decorated in shades of blue, the other in green. Tobin chose the green room on the basis that Milo was currently sat on the bed in the blue room. Something had occurred to him that would explain the earl's behaviour and even the possibility that it might be true left him feeling shaken and angry. He did not want to voice his fear to Milo though, not until he felt he actually had some evidence to confirm it.
Their luggage was delivered and put away. Milo made some effort to make the room seem personal, but the items he set out only ended up looking out of place. He found paper and ink in the bureaux and sat down to write a letter to his father. It was not easy and he decided against putting most of the day's events down on paper. His father would want to hear that they had arrived safely; he did not need to know about people rioting outside the station, or about Tobin's strange sullen mood. He looked through the open door at his brother, who was sat on his bed, apparently deeply engrossed in a book. They had not said a word to each other since they decided rooms.
It was coming up to six in the evening and Milo was just wondering if they should make there way downstairs when there was knock at the door. A maid in a neat grey dress and starched white pinafore entered.
“His Lordship requests you downstairs; the guests are arriving.”
Milo followed her into the hall and was joined a moment later by Tobin. Milo was pleased to see his brother had made the effort to change his clothes and tidy up, but he still seemed morose.
“Cheer up,” he muttered. “It’s a party we’re going to, not a funeral.” It very nearly was a funeral though , Milo thought. We'd be burying you about now if I hadn't gone for the sorceress. That thought awoke memories of the rainy afternoon nearly a week ago now and suddenly he couldn't bare the distance between them. He reached out and touched Tobin's arm. “Whatever is bothering you, you can talk to me about it.”
Tobin stopped. “I'm sorry, it's nothing really. I'm just feeling homesick, I guess.”
Milo felt relieved. “Is that all?”
“Yeah. Silly, isn't' it?”
“Not really. Living here is going to take some getting used to. It's so much bigger than home; I fully expect to get lost on the way to breakfast tomorrow.”
They followed the maid down to a spacious ballroom. The glossy marble reflected the light of the three crystal chandeliers hanging above. Along one side of the room tables had been laid out with plates of food; on the other two large windows stood either side of a glass door that led out onto the garden terrace. In the far corner, a string quartet was playing quietly against the background chatter. As they entered, a servant with a silver platter handed them each a narrow glass of sparkling wine.
Milo caught his brother staring hungrily at the table of food.
“I don’t think it’s just there to be watched,” he pointed out. He watched Tobin scurry over to a waiting servant, but having eaten two lunches already today he did not feel inclined to join him. He looked around at the other people in the room. Besides the serving staff, there were about twenty other people in the room, mostly adults considerably older than he was. Looking at the clothes of various guests, made from rich brocades and heavy velvets, Milo could not help but feel somewhat shabby. The fashion for men at the moment seemed to be fitted, double-breasted jackets worn over wide collared shirts while women wore expansive gowns with voluminous sleeves that sat off their shoulders.
“How are you enjoying yourself?”
Milo jumped and turned to see the earl approaching.
“Very well, thank you,” he replied politely. Looking round, he noticed the earl was accompanied by a woman he recognised as the earl's wife, and a young woman he guessed must be the earl's daughter. Milo had met her, years ago when they had visited Blackwater Hall, but she had been a girl then, still wearing skirts that just covered her knees. Now she stood before him as a young woman, in a full length gown of soft peach silk. Round her neck she wore a ruby pendant that matched the flaming red of her hair. She had cut it since he had seen her last. Instead of the long tail he remembered it was cut into a short bob, the ends caressing her bare shoulders.
She smiled at him sweetly.
“I see you remember my daughter, Felicity.”
Milo nodded. “It's a pleasure to meet you again,” he said quietly.
“Likewise. I trust you had a pleasant trip here?”
Still making small talk, they walked away from the doorway and earl and his wife. Milo noticed he made no attempt to follow them. Suddenly he felt strangely self-concious, as if he was alone with her, instead of being in a room full of others. Still, it also felt good to talk to someone his own age that was not his brother.
“I was very sorry to hear about your sister,” Felicity said suddenly. “Shana seemed such a sweet girl. I would have liked the opportunity to get to know her better.”
“We all miss her greatly,” he replied, wondering how much she knew about Shana's death. Felicity's expression showed only remorse and sympathy so he guessed she did not know the manner of his sister's passing. “Sometimes it all seems so unreal. I keep expecting to see her walking in the gardens or sitting down to breakfast.”
She touched his hand. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to awaken bad memories. This is isn't the place to talk about sad things. What do you think of the city?”
“It's... big.” He laughed. “Sorry, that wasn't much of an answer. But everything round here really does feel bigger, more vibrant, more alive. We'd never get anything like this at home.” He gestured to the room. “We don't even have any neighbours. It's all just fields.”
On the other side of the room Tobin had finished his meal and was idly listening to the musicians. He was not convinced by the cuisine of -. Everything seemed to be very light and insubstantial, not like the food from home. Mrs Hale's scones could knock a man out if thrown with enough force and her pastry settled in your stomach like a rock settled on a lake bed. It was very satisfying cooking. Still he was hungry enough that anything would have tasted good and there was no shortage on the wide tables.
Most of his earlier mood had evaporated with his hunger and he wondered how much of it was simply feeling sorry for himself. Milo was right: people here simply did not know them. His brother was both older and more outward going than he was, it was only natural that they would prefer to speak with him to begin with. Tobin was not shy, but because he was nervous about what people thought of him, and struggled to make small talk he was often perceived as such.
As he stood there, he became aware of someone watching him. Looking over without moving he could see two young women standing a short way away. They were blatantly looking at him, and giggling.
“Is that him, do you think?”
“Why Lady Georgina, I do believe so,” her friend replied.
She turned towards her companion and whispered something before giggling into her fan. Tobin could not make it all out, but one word had stood out clearly. Feeling his face turn red with humiliation, he turned and hurried out of the room. No one tried to stop him.
As the evening wore on Milo found himself introduced to all the people in the room. They passed by in a whirl of names and faces, and he thought that if he remembered even one of them tomorrow he would have done well. He found he was enjoying himself though, even if the experience was a little overwhelming. Felicity had been his guide through the social interactions of the event, and he was grateful for her company. Many of the guests had now left. The few people remain were speaking to the earl by the doorway. Milo found himself standing alone with Felicity in the centre of the ballroom floor.
“Did you enjoy your evening?” she asked with a smile.
“Very much so. I think I’m going to enjoy my time here.”
“I hope so. Well, I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast.”
As she walked away, Milo realised how tired he was feeling. It had been a longer and more eventful day than he had experienced in a long time. He followed Felicity across the marble floor and bid goodnight to her father. The earl was anxious to hear that Milo had enjoyed his evening and seemed pleased by his response.
“By the way,” he added. “I did not see your brother leave earlier but he does not seem to be here anymore.”
Milo realised he had not thought about Tobin since they had arrived. He looked around the room but it was clear the earl was correct.
“I’m sorry,” he apologised on his brother’s behalf. “I’m sure he meant no offence.”
“And of course none was taken,” the earl assured him. “Good night.”
Milo returned to his room feeling annoyed. The dividing door between his room and Tobin’s was shut, so he pushed it open with knocking. Inside the room was dark and the curtains were drawn. He could just make out the shape of his brother in bed.
“That was rude, don’t you think? Leaving without saying goodnight.”
“I didn’t think anyone would notice,” came the sullen reply.
“The earl did. I had to apologise for you. I don’t appreciate having to do that.” He sighed and tuned away. “I’m not going to let you spoil my evening.” There was nothing further from Tobin so he closed the door behind him and went to bed.
Milo awoke later that night. The room was quite dark, but there was light seeping through the gap under the dividing door. Slipping out of bed he squinted at the carriage clock on the desk and saw it was a little past half one in the morning. He sighed and pushed open the door. In the next room the gas lamp was on, and he could see his brother lying with his back towards him.
“Tobin? Do you know what time it is?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He did not look round and there was a distinctive hitch in his voice.
“Are you crying?”
Tobin sat up, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his nightshirt. “It’s shameful, isn’t it? I’m not a child any more. I haven’t cried since Shana died.”
Milo came and sat next to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked kindly.
“It's just... today was really awful. The train journey, the earl, and then that party. And now I can't even sleep.”
“Come on, it wasn't that bad was it? I mean, I know the train wasn't much fun for you, but the party was interesting I thought.”
“It's okay for you. You're not a... a...” his voice choked off.
“A what?”
“A bastard,” Tobin mumbled, looking away.
Milo was shocked. Though the difference in their births had never been a secret to either of them, it had never meant anything to them either. This was the first he had ever even heard Tobin speak about his origins.
“What makes you say that? No one knows anything about your birth family. Maybe you were left at that church because they had died, rather than they felt any shame in you,” Milo said, before wondering how that last comment could possibly bring any comfort. “Besides, it doesn't matter. You're just as much father's son as I am.”
Tobin nodded miserably. “I know that, and you do, but I don't think anyone else here accepts it. I was worried that was why the earl was ignoring me, but I had no way to prove it. Then I heard the lady in the yellow dress, Lady Georgina, I heard her whispering about me to her friend. They thought I couldn't hear them, but I could.”
Milo put his arm round his brother's shoulder. He felt guilty now for his earlier outburst.
“I'm sorry. No wonder you left early. Why didn't you say something?”
“I don't know. Any way I thought about phrasing it just sounded petty in my head.”
“So crying yourself to sleep was a better idea? Look, even if someone has the wrong idea about you, it doesn’t mean that everyone thinks that way. The earl was worried when you disappeared without saying anything. And he wouldn't invite you if you weren't welcome, right?”
“I guess not.” He sighed. “Do you really think coming here was a good idea?”
“I do, and you did this morning. If you really have changed your mind I'm sure you could get a train back tomorrow, but I think you'd be wasting an opportunity. And I'd miss you.”
Tobin smiled. “You're right. I can't give up and go home now.”
I'm not particularly happy with the last bit of dialogue between Milo and Tobin, but was getting fed up so I decided to put it up and see what people thought. I can always re-write it later.