Chapter Text
“A sister,” Kuramochi muttered disbelievingly. His ears rang with the revelation.
He stared unseeingly at a portrait of the 13th viscount to his right, who glared at him unfeelingly beneath thick tufty white eyebrows.
His solicitor nodded and offered a small sympathetic smile at the bewildered young man. “Yes. It seems that the late viscount bargained with your mother. He promised to raise you in the manner that befits your station and in exchange, she would never set foot in England ever again. She arrived in New York and was fortunate enough to meet a wealthy family who took pity on her and gave her a job. She married their only son after some years and had a daughter.”
Kuramochi dug his nails at his flesh, caring not about the marks that would no doubt imprint on them mercilessly. “And? Did they chase her off too?”
The solicitor was quick to shake his head, indicating the opposite. “The Sawamura family was esteemed not only for their lofty social standing, sizeable wealth, and acres of land but numerous people have assured me of their kindness. They were a peculiar lot, some used to say. The marriage had been a scandal, yes, but I have been reliably informed that the whole family celebrated the union. The Sawamuras’ standing might have wavered for a bit, but it remained firm. They had friends in high places and the society in New York, to my knowledge, is more forgiving than here in London. As far as I know, she lived a very happy life.”
The knot in Kuramochi’s chest loosened.
The circumstances of his parents’ marriage had been, to put it lightly, disagreeable.
His father had fallen in love with a lowly lady’s maid and, without regard for propriety and status, had eloped to Scotland with her, much to his grandfather, the Viscount Kuramochi’s utter horror. As a result, he was promptly disinherited and lived with his mother in destitution until he finally succumbed to sickness only two years after their marriage. And as far as he knew, his mother gave him up to his grandfather to raise not long after. An action, he at first, resented her for.
The previous viscount had been a cruel and ruthless man. He had taken Youichi in simply because he didn’t have a choice. The law protected his birthright despite his parents’ unsavory marriage. And really, because the thought of the viscountcy falling unto his cousin’s branch of the family was distasteful to him. He was cold as ice; a spiteful and bitter old man who made Youichi’s life a living hell.
The only thing the old bastard was good for was managing the estate and their finances. Everything was in order. No debt to bring their estate under. No stain to mar their standing except for Youichi’s mother whom the viscount promptly chucked away to another continent.
He was the perfect viscount. But he died alone (good fucking riddance).
And when he died, everything fell to Youichi, including the mountain of letters his mother sent to him which the former viscount ensured he would never receive. It was only due to the solicitor, Mr. Oota’s goodwill, that Youichi even knew how much his mother loved him.
“I see.” He bent his thumb and heard a slight pop. The sound did nothing to ease his uneasiness. Nervously, as if to ward off his feelings of discomfort, the point of his index finger wandered on his palm. “And is my—” he cleared his throat uneasily, “sister well?”
Mr. Oota showed a sliver of agitation at the question which caused Youichi’s anxiety to rear its head. “Her grandmother died not long after her parents’ marriage. Your mother died ten years after her birth. And, well…you must have known about the war in America.”
“Yes,” he whispered in dawning horror. “Did she? Did they—”
“Both her grandfather and father served for the union side and sadly, they both perished.”
“She’s alone?” He exclaimed in alarm.
“No! No, milord. They left her in the care of a family friend, the Aotsukis.” He said, attempting to appease the viscount.
The knowledge, instead of mollifying Youichi, appeared to incense him. “A friend? For god’s sake why didn’t they commit her care to a trusted relation or better yet why involve themselves in the fucking war and leave her alone in the first place!”
Mr. Oota winced. “The Sawamuras were very…principled, milord. And to my understanding, they were no relations left…or at least, no one they could depend on as much as the Aotsukis.” He replied.
“You’re wrong,” Youichi uttered in a hard voice.
“Pardon, milord?” Mr. Oota asked anxiously, frightful of setting the viscount off even further.
“I’m here, aren’t I? Write to the Aotsuki family. Tell them I wish to take my sister back to England. She’s eighteen, is she not? I’ll dower her and have my wife introduce her to society this season. We’ll find her a suitable match.” He responded in determination.
Under his terrifying wife’s aegis, his sister would be sure to do well on the marriage mart. Ryou would understand and though there was a high chance she would petrify his sister to death, she would ultimately do her voodoo magic on the ton because his sister (his last living connection to their mother, his family) was important to Youichi. Ryou would know first-hand the significance of family, of a sibling.
And, Youichi hopes, she and Haruichi might even get along well. Ryou has always wanted a companion for her own sister.
Perhaps, he might even approach Lady Akishino, Miyuki’s aunt, for a favor. As one of the patronesses of Almack’s and a leading socialite, she held considerable sway over London society. If he managed to endear his sister to her, her acceptance to their elitist circle would be all but sealed.
“As to the matter of her dowry, you might not need to, milord.” His solicitor cut through his musings.
Youichi raised an eyebrow, “Why?”
“The entirety of the Sawamura fortune is hers to command. And I believe her grandfather set aside forty thousand pounds and some lands and properties besides as dowry.” The solicitor said smilingly.
Youichi did not take to this information kindly, however, and scowled. “The more reason to have her with me. I do not trust these Aotsukis. They could be planning to wed her to their kinsman to get their hands on her money.”
He sent Mr. Oota a dark look and ordered, “Inform them of my wish to take my sister back in England. Immediately. You can draft the letter here in the library. I will make preparations for my impending travels.”
The solicitor murmured his acquiescence and stood on his feet as the viscount moved to depart. Before he could move out of the room, however, the viscount stopped and shifted slightly on his feet. Mr. Oota watched on with confusion, watching the viscount paused in the doorway with careful eyes.
Before he could open his mouth to tentatively inquire, the viscount turned back to him with a piercing stare that reminded him vaguely of his grandfather.
“My sister…” He asked softly, his gaze veering off to a far corner of the room, his ears burning. “What’s her name?”
Mr. Oota allowed his tensed shoulders to relax, “Eijun, milord.”
“Eijun,” Youichi uttered hesitantly.
The name was unfamiliar on his mouth.
“Eijun,” he repeated, this time with a different inflection. He wondered about the proper way to pronounce it. Did she prefer to elongate the first syllable, or should he put the stress on the second? Did she prefer to shorten it? How would it even sound when he's scolding her or just calling her attention?
“My sister, Eijun.” He whispered again.
This time the weight of the name sunk into his lips, drawing it up into a shy smile.