Harry was sitting in a study with a bottle of port beside him and a book open in his lap. He glanced up and gave them a strange look.
“Lord Harry, please put the book away. We need to speak to you,” Lydia said, striding into the room with purpose.
“Should we check on John?” Victor asked weakly.
“There is no sense in delaying this matter,” Lydia said, turning her head sharply to Victor as she spoke and then back again to his younger brother. Harry leaned forward, closing the book and placing it on the floor beside him.
“I say, what’s happened? You both look so serious,” he said.
“Tonight, we attended a play, Lord Harry. Juliet Fane was performing. I saw her. I spoke to her,” Lydia said.
Victor watched his brother carefully. Harry blinked quickly. At first, he went pale then color quickly returned to his cheeks. Then, he leaned forward and perched on his chair, as though he was ready to leap up. His fingers dug into the leather upholstery, making a gentle squeak.
“Juliet? How… how is she?” he asked in a faltering breath.
“Unfortunately, she is not in the best spirits, for there has been a great upheaval in her life as there will be in yours. I invited her to come to the house tomorrow, so if you have any business arranged then, you should cancel it,” Lydia continued.
“Here? But… Victor?” Harry twitched, looking perplexed.
Lydia gazed at Victor expectantly. “I think it is only fitting that you should tell him,” she said.
Victor gnawed on his lower lip.
“Tell me what?” Harry asked. A moment of silence passed. Harry pushed himself up from the chair, turning his body to face Victor. A sharper edge appeared in his voice. “Tell mewhat, Victor?”
Victor’s name snapped in the air, brittle and harsh, two syllables that were broken apart like a rotten piece of wood. Victor gazed into his brother’s eyes, and he could see all the hurt he had caused, all the pain and anguish that he had tried to justify, but now, it all seemed entirely weak.
“You’re the father,” Victor muttered. The words felt like marbles in his mouth, and it was all he could do to spit them out. His throat was raw afterwards. He massaged it with his hand, and he had the strange sensation that he was being choked.
Harry still looked confused.
“What?” he asked again.
“You’re the father. The boy. John. He’s yours,” Victor said plainly. Again, Harry’s expression transformed. All of the anger that was directed towards Victor suddenly vanished, and it was replaced by bewilderment. He fell back, almost missing the chair, but at the last second, his free arm shot out so he could steady himself. He dragged himself back to the chair and brought his glass of port to his lips although he was too stunned to drink it.
“Juliet had your child, Lord Harry,” Lydia said and then described the main points of the situation to Victor’s brother.“She can tell you more of the details herself tomorrow although we all thought it best for you to learn the truth now. She’s afraid that you will be angry with her.”
“Angry? No… no… I could never be angry with her…” Harry said. Then, his expression twisted. “But you,” he snarled, the dark gaze swinging around and falling upon Victor. Harry’s face became gruesome, like some horrid inhuman monster who was stripped of civility. He hurled his glass onto the floor. It smashed, and the dark port stained the rug like blood. Harry marched menacingly towards Victor and grabbed both his hands.
“Look at what you did. Can you see what a monster you are? You took away my chance for a family. And what of Juliet? Think about all she must have endured… how scared she would have been. She had to go through this all by herself!” His rage intensified as he thought of his beloved. “You are no brother of mine. I should kill you,” Harry said. The words came rolling out of him in hot waves.
Victor’s instinct for self-preservation told him to fight back, but he stymied this, remembering what Lydia said.
His brother had a right to be angry.
Victor needed to let him feel these emotions.
So, he stayed silent, and it was Lydia who calmed Harry. She placed a hand on his arm and gently pulled it away. The other soon followed.
“Lord Harry, that’s not important right now. But what is important is that your son is in the same house as you. You should go to him.”
Harry looked as though a trance had been broken. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled. Victor adjusted his collar.
“Yes… yes you’re right, Lydia,” he said and moved out of the room. Lydia and Victor followed some distance behind as servants rushed into the room, disturbed by the sound of smashing glass.
The three of them made their way to the nursery where John was crying. Georgia was rocking him back and forth, shushing loudly. She gave a despairing look to Lord Harry, John, and Lydia as they entered the room.
“I’ve tried giving him a feed, but he’s not hungry. I don’t know what’s wrong with the little mite. He might have a tooth coming through, poor thing,” she said.
