As they approached the entrance, the massive doors loomed larger than life, triggering a surge of emotions. Kenneth’s breath caught, and Leonard could see the turmoil in his eyes.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Leonard inquired, concern etched on his face. “You can stay in the carriage. I can speak to him on my own.”
Kenneth took a deep breath, summoning the courage to face the ghosts of his past. “No, I must go. I cannot let the past keep me hostage anymore. It’s time.”
Thus, with measured steps, they climbed up the stairs to Barring Hall’s imposing front door. Leonard used the heavy brass knocker, and when a tall, bearded butler opened the door, he introduced himself.
“Leonard Harding, the Duke of Chester. This is my friend the Duke of Wells. We are here to see the Marquess,” he said.
The butler stood aside.
“Of course, Your Graces. His Lordship is expecting you. Please, come to the parlor.”
He led them inside, and as they walked to the parlor, Kenneth looked around. The interior was entirely different. Chinese red and gold wallpaper covered the walls, and a chandelier dangled lightly in the breeze of the open door. The corridors whispered with echoes of a bygone era, and Kenneth navigated thelabyrinth of memories, guided by the flickering light of distant recollections. He’d been here with Edward, and somehow, he felt as though Edward’s spirit still roamed the halls.
“Well, if this isn’t a surprise,” a warm voice boomed just as they were about to enter the parlor.
Kenneth looked up and saw a tall, slender man with reddish hair approach them, a broad smile on his lips. He extended his hand, and for a split second, Kenneth remembered him. Back when Kenneth had been a young boy, they had often visited Barring Hall, and sometimes, he would play with the late Marquess’s son and heir, Charles.
Charles had been four years Kenneth’s senior—an unsurpassable abyss back in the day, but now that didn’t seem such a big difference anymore, as the Marquess didn’t look any older than Kenneth.
“My Lord,” Kenneth greeted formally.
The Marquess shook his hand. “Please, we used to chase one another through the gardens while playing hide and seek. Call me Charles, at the very least.” He turned to Leonard. “And you must be the Duke of Chester.”
“Leonard, if we are being informal,” Leonard returned.
Charles smiled. “Leonard it is.” An awkward silence fell over them, and he wetted his lips. “So, you said it was urgent in your note. How can I help you?”
Kenneth glanced at Leonard. “It is about the orphanage,” he said.
Charles nodded. “I see. Well, shall we go to my study, since this is not a social call? Would you like some brandy? Whiskey? I have some very good French wine—although don’t tell anyone because I acquired it in rather a peculiar way.”
Kenneth assumed he was referring to smuggling, since importing French wine was difficult due to the war.
“Brandy,” Leonard said and glanced at Kenneth. “One for my friend, too, please.” He dropped his voice then. “You’ll need it.”
Kenneth nodded as he looked around the once-familiar surroundings, and his steps became heavier as they approached the dining room.
The study, he recalled, was on the second floor, accessible by a staircase behind the dining room. As they passed, the double door creaked open, revealing the room where he’d last seen his brother alive. Kenneth stopped and took a breath. The dining table was new, as were the chairs. The paint had been replaced by more chinese wallpaper, and the entire space looked different. No wonder, the dining room had been damaged by the efforts to contain the fire.
Kenneth’s gaze lingered, and he was transported back to that fateful night. The memories were vivid. He could taste the sweet flummery on his lips again and hear the chatter around them. Most of all, he could hear Edward’s voice telling him where to find more of the dessert that ultimately led to his demise.
No, that was silly, Kenneth reminded himself. Flummery was not to blame. Neither was he. It had been an accident, just as Joanna said. He hadn’t known a fire would break out. He hadn’t known Edward would try to save him. In fact, he hadn’t known if Edward truly died while looking for him. Maybe he’d been overcome by smoke on his way out. Maybe he’d assumed a servant would get Kenneth or that he’d make it out himself.
Indeed, wouldn’t it have made sense for Edward to go outside and search there before running into the servants’ quarters?
As he looked around, Kenneth wondered if perhaps that had been what happened. Edward and their father had helped others escape, he had heard this from multiple sources. Wouldn’t it thus make sense that Edward had died doing just that and not because he’d fought to get into an area already on fire?
Charles glanced back at him and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It must be strange for you to be back here,” he commented.
“It is. But also… necessary for many reasons.”
“So you said,” Charles replied and opened his study door.
The heavy oak door closed behind them, muffling the distant sounds of servants walking up and down the halls. The study, adorned with mahogany furniture and lined with shelves filled with leather-bound books, provided a welcome change from the familiarity of the hall. Kenneth had never been in this room, so it was almost a sanctuary, a hideaway removed from the rest of the mansion.
The three men took their seats, with Charles placing his hands on the desk as if he were a headmaster welcoming his students to class for the year.
