Cecilia raised her eyebrows. “Really? Why not, Mrs. Oakley? Has he gone somewhere?”
“Not at all. He’s in his study, but— well, perhaps it would be better to show you, Lady Cecilia.”
Even as they entered the library, Cecilia could already hear what Mrs. Oakley had been referring to.
She tugged on Mrs. Oakley’s sleeve and whispered, “Is Brother practicing his flute?”
Mrs. Oakley nodded as she whispered back, “You didn’t hear this from me, child, but I heard from Mr. Fletcher that a letter from Miss Meyer came in not two hours ago as you did your lesson. A few minutes after Mr. Fletcher passed the letter to him, His Grace asked for his flute. And well, he has been practicing ever since. It’s a bit peculiar.”
Cecilia sighed.
In fact, Brother has been acting peculiar for quite a while now.
Cecilia listened to the somewhat musical sounds coming from the other side of the door. It was now almost two months since Miss Meyer set off on her search. Of course, Cecilia missed her every day, but Brother clearly missed her more.
“So you see, Lady Cecilia, I leave it completely up to you. It is your choice whether or not to interrupt him.”
The answer appeared fairly straightforward to her.
“Well, Mrs. Oakley, two hours of practice is quite long. I think I shall go in and try to persuade him to have luncheon with me today.”
* * *
Anthony could barely manage to chew his food. His cheeks were extremely sore.
I’ll never understand how Kenneth used to play his flute all night long back in our university days. My cheeks already feel like they could fall out any moment. Whoever said music was good for the soul forgot to mention it would be a pain in the—
Cecilia interrupted his thoughts, “Don’t you like the food, Brother?”
Instinctively, he made an attempt to smile but immediately yelped as the pain from his cheeks seemingly radiated outwards. He spoke through clenched teeth in order to avoid moving his mouth—and by extension his cheeks—too much.
“It’s delicious, Cecilia. It’s just that I’m in excruciating pain.”
She giggled, “I don’t think it’s safe to practice an instrument so severely if one isn’t in the regular habit of doing so. Mr. Montagu says that warm-ups are essential both for singing and for playing instruments.”
Anthonyalmostsmiled again; thankfully he caught himself just in time.
“I’m proud of you, Cecilia. You’re obviously doing very well in your lessons even without— er, yes. You’re doing very well in your lessons.”
He almost said Meredith’s name again. He toyed with the chicken and potatoes on his almost full plate and let his mind wander.
He realized that he was letting his mind wander more often these days. Yesterday afternoon he sat down at his desk with the goal of getting some work done, but got absolutely nothing done. Instead, he spent the afternoon staring at his closed study door while Herbert slept peacefully in his lap.
How I wish I was born as a cat insteador even a chicken for that matter. Either way, I would peacefully while away my days and nights blissfully unaware of heartache and pain.
A piece of chicken fell off of his plate.
“Brother, you’re making a mess,” tutted Cecilia.
Anthony began to feel as though the ache in his cheeks had spread to his arm. No matter how he tried, he just couldn’t get his hand to clear away the stray piece of chicken.
“Sorry, Cecilia. You will have to excuse me. I am suddenly realizing that I’m not feeling very hungry after all.”
As he stood up, she called out, “But Brother, wait! Mrs. Oakley said that Miss Meyer had sent us a letter. May I ask if she mentioned me?”
Anthony sighed, “Well, I’m afraid she didn’t really mention either of us in it, Cecilia. The letter is about how things are progressing where she is.”
“I see. So how is Miss Meyer?”
