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Chapter 4
Marcus had to hold back the tears as the coffin was lowered into the ground by his feet. On one side of him stood his father, staring down at the coffin too. On his other side, Walter stood, shifting his weight uncomfortably between his feet.
“Will you stand still?” Marcus asked quietly, whispering so only Walter could hear him.
“I cannot help it,” Walter whispered back. “I’m trying to stop myself from ending up like Laurie.” He gestured to his other side. Marcus craned his neck to look around Walter, to see Laurie, who was in fits of tears, with Peter standing at his side, with a hand reassuringly on his shoulder.
The sight of his brothers being in so much pain made Marcus’ chest tighten even more. All of them wanted James to be back, more than they could say. Marcus turned his eyes down to the coffin, feeling disgusted that his elder brother was now in that box, being interred in the ground. The world felt an unfair place indeed.
The vicar presented them all with a box of earth. As was tradition, first, the Marquess stepped forward to scatter soil over the coffin, then each in turn, Marcus and his brothers did the same. With the closing prayer of the funeral, Marcus stared at the specks of soil that clung to his fingers, thinking it was rather poetic. Just like the soil on his hand, part of his soul felt stained.
At his side, the Marquess spoke and ushered everyone back to the house, away from the family chapel. Marcus didn’t move, despite the bustle of people walking away. It took him a minute to realise that someone else stayed at his side. It was Walter who eventually placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Marcus, come away,” Walter said pleadingly, gesturing back to the house. “It does us no good to dwell here.”
“I know,” Marcus said, sighing deeply and stopping himself from shedding any tears. He turned slowly away from looking at the coffin as it was buried, up to the path ahead through the banking grounds of earth and trees, between which the house was visible on the other side of the estate. Up ahead, he could see his father leading the group back to the house, with Peter and Laurie shortly behind him, followed by the other mourners.
“What has gotten into Father?” Walter asked, pulling Marcus forward so that they too could join the path.
“What do you mean?”
“His insistence you marry and produce an heir so quickly,” Walter said, gesturing forward a little wildly up the path. “Has he not noticed that he has produced enough ‘spares’ as he likes to call them.” He said the word with scorn as he gestured to himself as well as Peter and Laurie.
“I know,” Marcus said with a shake of his head. He looked briefly up the path to his father’s retreating figure, watching the stride that seemed to have purpose in it. “I think it is the way he is grieving.”
“What?” Walter asked, turning his head back to Marcus.
“Grief affects us all in different ways, as they say. This, it seems, is Father’s way, to throw himself into ensuring the family line continues before any more of us can drop off our perch,” Marcus said, earning a wry glare from his brother.
“How cheery.”
“But true,” Marcus said sadly, sighing as he ambled slowly up the path with his brother.
“So, what will you do, brother?” Walter asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, will you do as he says? Will you marry and throw yourself into business matters? Or will you pursue your life of art? The life you really wanted?”
“How well you know me,” Marcus said, nodding his head at his brother in thought. “But I was not aware I had a choice.”
“You have a choice,” Walter said. “You can always live the life you want to.”
The words made Marcus pause on the path. He turned on the spot and stared back at the chapel they had just left, looking at the yellow-stone building in whose shadow James would now be forevermore. He was aware that Walter had stopped a little way up the path, looking back at him.
“We do not have as much freedom as you like to think, Walter,” Marcus said as he turned back round again. “I intend to do as Father asks, for his sake and for James’. I will learn the business matters, though it may take some time, and I will marry, produce an heir too. Whatever Father wants. It is my duty.”
“Duty,” Walter repeated the word with a nod, walking alongside him up the path. “But you have no interest in estate management.”
“In all my life, I have never come across a matter that is more…” he paused, elongating the moment for dramatic effect, “dull!” Walter laughed heartily at the idea. “Truly, is it hardly interesting or amusing, is it?”
“On the contrary, I find it very interesting,” Walter said.
“Well, I envy you! I wish I could,” Marcus said emphatically, as they passed the trees on the estate, getting closer to the driveway that led up to the house. “Quite frankly, I would rather spend every day of my life at the Somerset House gallery than I would doing estate management.” Walter laughed even more at his words.
“The Marquess with a paintbrush over his ear. Quite an original idea, is it not?” Walter said, still chuckling. “How do you intend to do your ‘duty’, as you call it, if you have no liking for it?”
“By applying myself as fully as I can, and….” Marcus paused and reached out for his brother’s arm, drawing him to a stop. “With your help, if you will give it to me,” he pleaded. “As you said, you are interested in this matter, and you know far more than I could ever pretend to. Teach me, help me. Please?”
