“I never want to scare you again. That must have been quite a fright for you.”
Oliver nodded seriously. “I just want you and Isla to stay close.”
“We will,” Benedict said, kissing the top of his head and glancing at Isla, his blue eyes speaking volumes. “You can trust me on that, son.”
This is what I almost lost. This is what I will fight for.
“Now, tell me about the man who sold the little paper flowers near the Tower of London,” Benedict asked. “When you were walking with Isla when I was napping that first week? You started telling me over supper, but did not finish.”
Oliver launched into an excited, detailed account of a street vendor, using wide hand gestures.
Isla smiled, leaning into Benedict’s side.
“And Isla let me get her one! She put it behind her ear, and it was so beautiful!” Oliver said happily. “Did you pack it Isla?”
“Of course I did,mo chroide,” she said with a smile.
“I wish I had been there,” Benedict said, ruffling his hair once more.
“You’re listening,” she murmured to Benedict, her voice husky. “Truly listening.”
Benedict tucked her closer with the arm that was not holding Oliver.
“I wasted too much time pretending not to hear, not to see. I did not know how to respond to him, but I have learned I can just figure out as I go. I will not ignore my family. No more.” He looked from his son’s happy, animated face back to Isla’s soft, relieved one. “Oliver needs two parents who are present.”
She rested her head against his shoulder, snuggling closer still. “Ye have us both, me Ben. We are nae going anywhere.”
Isla continued to watch them, the afternoon light receding into looming darkness. She ran her hand over Benedict’s sleeve, feeling the powerful muscle beneath. She realized he was entirely open to her now.
“I already sent word ahead,” Benedict said quietly, looking out at the ancient, dark trees rushing past them in the lush forest. “The Manor staff are preparing for a full Christmas, one we have never seen before. I want us to spend a quiet winter with minimal business.”
“It is the right thing,” Isla agreed, squeezing his hand. “Oliver loves Ealdwick. And the snow… he will want to build the biggest snowman yet. Although, I am glad the worst of the snow is holdin’ off as we get closer.”
Finally, the grand, familiar silhouette of Ealdwick Manor appeared on the horizon, its multiple chimney stacks already issuing welcoming plumes of smoke in the darkening sky.
Unlike the London townhouse, which felt like a beautiful but stifling cage, Ealdwick was vast, sprawling, and surrounded by endless nature. It was a place where Isla could breathe.
The carriage rolled beneath the ancient stone archway. Torches were already lit along the drive, casting a golden, flickering glow that banished the gloom of the journey. The great double doors opened almost before the carriage halted, Mrs. Callahan waiting with open arms.
“Your Grace,” Flark yelled as he ran to meet Mrs. Callahan, a foreign gesture for the stoic old man. “We are so happy that you have arrived safe and sound! Our carriage ride ahead of yours was quite uneventful.”
The ghosts that had haunted her husband for so long felt muted, distant, and were finally overpowered. He looked at Isla, his blue eyes clear and bright.
“Here we are,” he said. “Yet something about this place does not look quite right.”
“Whatever do ye mean, Ben? Everythin’ is perfectly in order, I saw to it meself-”
“There are not enough people around.”
“Not enough people? Surely we have enough staff to employ Buckingham Palace!”
“I am referring to small folk?”
“Leprechauns? I am Scottish nae Irish…”
“Children, our children. Running about the halls and causing a muck.”
“Have ye been drinkin’ on the ride home? Do ye have a flask hidden somewhere?”
