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Though unkempt, the apple orchards of the new estate were quite grand indeed; Tharkay had estimated they sprawled for at least 50 acres, though they hadn’t been kept up for years.
“And I have no idea as to the varietals; I am sure there is record of it somewhere, if it has not been lost or destroyed,” he said to Laurence as they walked. These were two unfortunately real possibilities; the house itself had been in a sorry state of disrepair when they first arrived, with moth-eaten curtains and bedspreads, the furniture chipped and scratched, and a thick layer of dust over everything. The grounds were in no better shape, with everything quite unweeded and overgrown, and likely having been that way for the better part of two decades; Temeraire’s assistance would be required to remove some of the bramble clusters that had invaded the gardens.
“We must hope it has not; otherwise I fear these grounds will remain mysterious to us for some time,” Laurence replied. “I will mention it in my next letter to my mother; she has done most of the overseeing in my family of the orchard on our estate, though the duties of distillation and production of any sort of brandy naturally fall to my father. Though,” he added. “perhaps George has taken charge of that now; he would had to have, while Father was ill.”
“I would be grateful for any assistance they would lend me; I am afraid that, despite my extensive enjoyment of it, I have little experience actually making brandy,” said Tharkay. “Speaking of, here is the beast; though I suspect she has been cold for quite some time.”
The still itself was impressive; 500 gallons at full capacity, with a pot about the size of a Yellow Reaper’s body. The structure it was kept under was less so; the beams were still sound, but in places the roof had rotted straight through, allowing patches of sunlight onto the hard earth floors below. There were no walls; presumably they had been deemed too much of a fire hazard to warrant the extra protection from the weather. Laurence, who had taken little interest in the affairs of his own family estate, found himself somewhat fascinated with the machine. He leaned forward, examining the pressure gage and neck, which arced across the ceiling and down into a large basin and ended in a tight coil. Temeraire would no doubt have found the apparatus fascinating; Laurence made a mental note to acquire a diagram large enough for him to see.
“This is to be our peacetime occupation, then?” he said, turning to Tharkay with a smile.
“If we so wished it to be,” he answered, with a grin of his own. “Though I am more concerned for the state of the barn, for the time being, and it is only spring; there will be time yet before the apples begin to ripen.”
Laurence joined his side and looked through the rows of trees, all gnarled and blooming in pale pink splendor. “There is much to do in peace.”
“Yes, and the better for it; I cannot stand to be idle, and I suspect you are not fond of it, either.”
“No, I suppose that is true,” Laurence said, and paused. He felt Tharkay’s eyes on him, questioning, and continued, “I only feel as if - as if I am waiting for something to happen; orders to come, news to urgently land on our doorstep, some fresh catastrophe to be dealt with; but every morning I wake and it never comes.”
“Let us pray that it never will. We have had our share of catastrophes; it is someone else’s turn,” said Tharkay, and they both chuckled and began the walk back to the house.
***
My Dear Will,
I must first extend my deepest Congratulations to M. Tharkay on the attainment of his estate; I am assured the battle in the courts was not an easy one. Though I should hate to distract you from your repair efforts, I would like to see the both of you again in the near future; now that you are home from the War, I feel I only miss you more acutely, and I would like to become more acquainted with M. Tharkay; he seems a man of Good Sense and Humor, from your letters. Edward is set to return from his mission on the 24th of May; perhaps a reunion is in order.
Too, I would like to discuss further the matter of the orchards in person, and I would advise you take a few cuttings from the trees; it would go a long way in identifying the Varietals and Nature of the existing plants and may give insight into their Time of Harvest. For matters of Distillation, you will have to look to George; I am afraid I have not dabbled in it much in my time, though the end results are always delightful.
Your father has quite recovered since you were last here, as I mentioned in my last letter; he is preparing to resume his duties in Parliament next season. Much has changed in only a few years; he may well work alongside Temeraire in the near future, though I would not encourage you to get your Hopes up about any sort of coaching; he is still adjusting to the new status quo as much as all of us. Do say hello to that dearest Dragon for me - I find myself quite fond of him, despite our limited contact.
I do hope the pair of you will pay us a visit; it has been too long, and there is much to discuss.
Yours, etc.
Lady Miriam Allendale
“Why, how kind of her; Laurence, of course we must go,” said Temeraire. He and Tharkay were sitting in the newly-roofed pavilion that morning, having both woken and decided to come out of their own accord. Laurence looked up from where he sat on Temeraire’s foreleg to Tharkay, who reclined against the foreleg opposite him; he found him looking thoughtful and mildly amused.
“Your father and Temeraire as colleagues; there is a stunningly strange thought.” He met Laurence’s eyes. “I understand the two of you are not close.”
“No, we are not, and have not been for a long time; I am surprised he consented to such an invitation.” Indeed, the last time they had spoken Laurence had been veritably banished from the house; it was only under the duress of war that he had returned, during a time when his father was too sick to object anyways. With a start, Laurence realized it had been nearly ten years since he had seen the man at all.
“Well, I certainly wish to see Lady Allendale again, and I see no reason why he must impede us; he need not speak to us if he does not wish to,” said Temeraire, prosaic as ever.
“It would be nice to see Edward again; he has been away for quite some time in the Americas; as a teacher, if I understand correctly. I suppose the end of the war must have called him home for celebration,” Laurence mused.
“And I have yet to meet your mother, though I should quite like to hear her advice; though I do hope I am not intruding on a family gathering,” said Tharkay.
“Nonsense, Tenzing; she has invited you directly.” Laurence glanced through the letter again, trying not to fidget with the edges of the paper, then added, “I consider you and Temeraire as much a family as I do her in any case; you are all quite dear to me.”
“Of course we are your family; what else would we be?” said Temeraire, and Laurence felt a warmth bloom in his chest that chased off any residual worries about his father. “Then it is settled; though perhaps we should fly down a couple days in advance, since it is a ways off,” he continued. “Not that I am at all nervous; I am sure I can make the journey just fine.”
“I am certain of it, my dear.” Laurence glanced at Tharkay again and added, “The 24th; that is a fortnight from now, no?”
“Yes,” he replied. The sunlight of the morning slanted through the half-finished structure of the pavilion, bright for the season; and in that light, Tharkay appeared curiously open, like an expert fencer who has laid his blade down for a reprieve. “Though I imagine the time will fly like nothing in such company.”
***
And fly it did; the two weeks passed without major incident and without, unfortunately, the discovery of any record of the orchard. An afternoon was spent with machetes cutting flowers, leaves, and small branches from any discernibly different species; Tharkay proposed also that certain trees, which were tagged with small colored strips of cloth, be cut from as well to see if they could identify why. The three of them poured over various botanical texts in the evenings and came to only a few conclusions; in the end, they labeled everything as best they could and packed it away for the trip.
The hands that they’d hired for the estate were all thoroughly unafraid of Temeraire, even the newest of them; though a few were slightly prone to hero worship and often listened to the slightly embellished version of events he told. Laurence corrected these when he could, but knew it to be fruitless; nothing he could say or do would detract from the glamor of a dragon of war.
However, while unafraid, they were also no trained aerial crew. Getting the rigging up to store their baggage took a great deal longer than it ever had, and with considerably more supervision necessary; by the end of it, Laurence was considering running them through the process several more times once they returned, for the sake of timeliness if nothing else.
“Certainly to the point that they may do it themselves,” said Tharkay once they were up in the air. “They needn’t be trained on anything heavier than the carrying harness, I am sure; but I should like to have that process go considerably faster than it did.”
“As would I; though, I suppose there is no great hurry, now that there are no battles to be fought,” Temeraire chimed in.
“Still, efficiency and competence are both valuable assets; we would do well not to neglect either of them in ourselves or the staff, even during the peace,” said Tharkay.
Laurence agreed, and the three lapsed into a comfortable silence. Though grey clouds covered the sky, it was still bright out and showed no inclination to rain, much to their relief. Indeed, the whole spring had been unseasonably warm and light, and many of the flowers had bloomed early.
The countryside passed beneath them without incident, the green and grey hills dotted with white sheep and small clusters of towns now used to the sight of dragons flying overhead. A few farms were tilling late in the season, and at the plows Laurence saw small dragons very much akin to Ricarlee and the other British ferals; evidently more and more of them were seeking employment over wild living. This was the peace they had fought for, he reflected, and he would not have traded it for anything.
Though the flight would normally have verged on boring (or at least, as boring as dragonflight could ever be) Laurence found himself with a growing unease at the back of his mind; his father had said in no uncertain terms that he was no longer welcome, and the events of the past ten years seemed unlikely to change his stance. If anything, they would have reinforced it. And yet, here was this invitation from his mother, quite open and welcoming, that seemed against all odds to indicate otherwise.
Finding himself unable to make heads or tails of it, he made an excuse to Tharkay that he was going to check on the baggage and move up and down Temeraire’s back a bit to stretch his legs; he found the climb up and down comfortingly familiar, second nature to his hands. The bags were quite secure, as he knew they would be; and so, after scaling his way back up and climbing the length of Temeraire’s back in what felt like the world’s strangest way of pacing, he settled back at the base of his neck with no more a satisfactory answer than he had started with.
Tharkay eyed him a moment, then ever-knowingly said, “Spit it out, then; you are fretting over something.”
“I am not fretting ,” said Laurence, a little indignant. “I am only thinking of my father; he and I have never gotten along, though we were always quite similar politically, and for him to be so apparently willing to put it aside is...uncharacteristic of him.”
“Perhaps he is being more sensible, now that we are at peace; and you can hardly be called dishonorable or unimpressive or any such nonsense after all you have done,” said Temeraire, twisting his head to join their conversation.
“Dishonorable or unimpressive, no; but these were never the claims he levied against me in the first place.” Laurence sat back, unsatisfied. Tharkay seemed to ponder this in silence, then said, “Is it possible your mother has invited us despite his wishes?”
“I should not think so, no; something so underhanded is not in her nature.”
Tharkay shrugged. “Then perhaps he has had some change of heart; fighting to save dragonkind at large, even if it was outside the halls of Parliament, may have rung true to his own sense of justice.”
“Perhaps,” he replied, though privately he thought it highly unlikely. His father had never approved of such direct action when taken by men of high standing; any dispute, in his mind, could be settled in a courtroom or Parliament, without having to come to blows over it.
Laurence tried to shake the thoughts from his head; he would discover the answer for himself soon enough, and there was no sense in driving himself in circles searching for something that would only reveal itself in time.
***
They encountered a brief rain squall passing through the mountains, but had quite dried out by the time Nottinghamshire was under Temeraire’s wings. The sun had come out in full force here, illuminating the soft, lush spring grasses of the hills and the surrounding forests. The house, too, was resplendent; it had escaped any damage during the invasion, and was one of the few to do so.
Temeraire banked over the fields to the east of the house, away from the stables, and landed neatly in an open pasture. Servants and footmen were already awaiting their arrival, though evidently they were not quite used to dealing with dragons, and many of them went about their duties looking rather pale at the sight of one that weighed 20 tonnes. Thankfully the harness was easier to get off than on, and several of the farmhands expedited the process; Laurence recalled in one of his mother’s earlier letters that they had been employing lightweights out in the fields to help with the sowing and supposed the skills were transferable. Temeraire, tired from the flight, opted to settle in the soft grass and sun himself awhile; Laurence and Tharkay assured him they would visit by dusk and set off towards the house.
They were halfway there when they saw a figure in the distance approaching them. The outline quickly turned into George, and Laurence was internally relieved; though it had been beyond unlikely to be his father, still weak from being sick for so long, some small part of him still feared that was the only welcome they would receive.
“Will!” George exclaimed, and embraced him heartily. “How good it is to see you again - and this time, we may actually enjoy your company.” He turned to Tharkay and extended a hand, which Tharkay shook amiably. “And you must be Mr. Tharkay! Will has written of you a great deal.”
“I can only hope it was not too damning; you must be George Allendale, then,” he replied.
“The very same; a pleasure to meet you. Come, come, Mother is waiting,” he said, beckoning them as he turned, and they began walking again. “I have heard talk of the orchards of your new estate; apparently they are quite the mystery.”
“Unfortunately so; I have given up hope of finding any sort of logbook, though perhaps it will oblige me now that I have stopped searching.”
“Such is the way of things; how are you settling in, all of you?”
Tharkay glanced to Laurence, the question clearly intended more for him, and he said, “Quite well, for myself; Temeraire’s pavilion has a foundation and a sturdy roof, but the walls are proving a hassle; he had them cleverly designed to open, so that one might let in light and fresh air, but the mechanism is regrettably prone to breaking and malfunctioning under even slightly too much pressure.”
“An annoyance, I am sure; and he always does seem so - perhaps delicate is the wrong word, but certainly he comports himself with a grace I did not associate with dragonkind,” George said, turning to walk backwards for a moment and look at the dragon in question. Laurence looked over his shoulder and saw only a glossy black heap, almost certainly sound asleep. “And for yourself, Mr. Tharkay?”
“The end of the legal battle has been a great relief; the work going forward cannot be called easy, but honest at least,” he said, then shot a small quirk of his lips towards Laurence. “And I cannot ever call myself unhappy in such good company.”
“A damned flatterer, you are,” said Laurence, and the conversation continued amicably all the way to the house. Edward, he learned, had arrived dead tired and was currently resting; his mother, however, greeted them at the door and invited them in.
“And the weather has been splendid; I daresay your nephews will be chomping at the bit for a turn about on Temeraire’s back before the day is out,” she said to Laurence. “They are so very excitable at that age; you did your fair share of haring off, too, you know.”
“Yes, and look at me now: retired, and quite happy to stay that way,” he replied. “Forgive me - you have not met Tenzing yet. Mother, this is Mr. Tenzing Tharkay, of whose orchard I have written.”
“Lady Allendale,” Tharkay said, and made a leg to her. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you; your son speaks highly of you.”
“The pleasure is all mine; I am charmed to know he thinks of me,” she said, with a smile. “I think perhaps it might be best if we sat down to talk, no?”
She lead them to the sitting room down the hall, making small talk to Tharkay as they went; Laurence missed much of it, as George pulled him slightly back and said, more quietly, “Have you spoken directly with Father?”
“No, I have not seen him these past ten years, nor written him; why?” said Laurence, a cold feeling forming in his stomach.
George grimaced. “They have had quite a row about something lately, him and Mother; I heard the shouting, and your name was in the mix. When she informed me that you were coming to the reunion, I figured that was what it had been for.”
Laurence winced at the thought of the argument; Lady Allendale was stronger than she seemed, but he had endured his father’s reprimands enough to know that him shouting was unpleasant in the extreme. He hated to think he might have caused such a conflict on his behalf. “Have you any idea if he agreed to it?”
“No, that is why I asked - “
Laurence rounded on him. “George, did my father have any idea of my coming prior to the half hour ago or so before we landed?”
Looking supremely uncomfortable, he replied, “Truly Will, I cannot say.”
Laurence took a moment to process this, then fell back into step with his brother, a tumult of discomfort making its way through his mind. Thankfully, he had not long to dwell on it; they had come to the library, where the Allendales also kept their records of the grounds and a comfortable array of chairs and loveseats around a now-dark fireplace. Laurence settled into a plush cream-colored chair, as familiar as the back of his hand to him, while Tharkay and Lady Allendale took the loveseat near the table; George settled in the matching chair next to him.
“Now then, these orchards I have heard so much about,” Lady Allendale said. “Have you any idea of when they were planted?”
“Long before my time; I remember them being quite ancient even as a boy, and I seem to recall an uncle mentioning they were saplings back when his grandfather was younger man,” Tharkay replied. “Will and I have done our best to pin down a few species; we have recorded our notes in here.” From the breast pocket of his coat he withdrew a small field journal. In it were a few compiled characteristics that seemed to fit to various parts of the orchard; certain bloom times, growth patterns, and the like. “Unfortunately, much of the key is determined by the fruit itself, and for that we will be at least a few months in the waiting.”
“Yes, I do see; perhaps -” Whatever her response would have been, it was cut off by the arrival of a servant.
“Pardon the intrusion, but the Lord Allendale wishes to see William Laurence in his study.”
Suddenly ten years had not passed, and Laurence had just returned with Temeraire still a fledgling and his standing freshly lowered in his father’s eyes; he rose with almost a numbness, feeling nothing except a desire to get it over with. Lady Allendale put her hand on his arm as he made to pass her. He stopped, and she spoke.
“You needn’t go; I will excuse your absence to him.”
He met her eyes, bright and blue; he had inherited them, the only of his brothers to do so. In a moment, he understood, and was surprised; he would not have thought was the type to act so openly in defiance.
“No, but I thank you; I would prefer to deal with this myself,” he said. He would not hide; he had not last time, and he would not now. She nodded.
“Very well, then; we will be waiting for you.”
She released him, and he made to leave. His eyes caught Tharkay’s on the way out, and in them he found no worry, no silent doubt; only a reaffirmation of what his mother had said: I will be waiting for you .
***
The walk to the study never felt long, no matter where he was in the house; this time was no exception. He felt a nearly palpable anger as he approached, and was met with no surprises upon his entrance; his father, standing behind his desk, expression cold and livid.
“I hardly know what to think of you,” said Lord Allendale as Laurence shut the door behind him. His father’s study was nearly exactly as he remembered it: polished, clean, and ornate without quiet being ostentatious; though now it was also stiflingly warm, despite the mild spring weather. “First a precocious son, then a hero, then a traitor, an outcast, and a hero again; tell me, where else do you intend to drag the family name?”
“Into retirement, God and all his angels willing; for my own sake, not yours. Whatever label you will put on my service, I will only ever view it as my duty; I will not justify of defend it or myself further to you,” he replied, with some heat. Neither old age nor sickness had tempered his father’s ire towards him, it seemed, though the man himself was much reduced; he looked gaunt, and paler than Laurence last remembered him.
“I thought I told you never to set foot in this house again; and yet, here you are, and you continue to be nothing but insolent -”
“I am here because I was invited to be by Mother; if you had no wish to see me, I would have very well obliged you. Why you chose to summon me is beyond my knowledge,” Laurence said, cutting him off; he had no patience left in his life for such remarks about his character.
“Oh, and do you suppose we simply pretend the other does not exist at the dinner table, like you might have as a boy? Or are you so unchanged as to believe such an arrangement to be perfectly suitable? No, do not answer that, and do not dare speak over me again; you will leave at once.”
“I wrote in my last letter to Mother that I would stay for three days, and for three days I will stay; if not here, then in town. Now, if you are quite done hurling insults, I would like to return to my conversation with Mr. Tharkay, Mother, and George.”
The whole discussion he had stood close to the door; now he put his hand on the knob as he spoke. His father stared at him, eyes hard, mouth drawn, silent for a moment. Laurence thought he might well disown him right then and there, but when at last he spoke, his voice every inch as cold as before, his words were of no such thing.
“I used to dread the arrival of the courier; with every bundle of letters I received, I wondered if one would be neatly written in a stranger’s hand, telling me my youngest son had perished.” He straightened a little, and his gaze became less intense, more dismissive. “I do not care if you despise me the rest of your days; only outlive me, and I shall call myself content.”
With that, he turned his back to Laurence to face the windows behind him, looking out over the woods; and Laurence, unsure of the names of any of the emotions currently settling into him, turned the knob of the door and left.
***
He returned to the conversation distracted and contributed what little he could to discussions of the estate; he did not know what to make of what had just happened. Eventually Lady Allendale suggested a walk around the grounds while the light was still with them, and at least a brief tour of their own orchards. They all agreed, and Laurence followed, his feet divorced from his mind, through the halls and out into the fields.
“Laurence,” said Tharkay, and he shook himself a little to listen. “Should we not visit Temeraire? It has been a few hours; dusk is perhaps not for a few more, but I should like to uphold our end of the bargain before then.”
“I agree; I imagine we may be rather exhausted by then. Mother, George, would you care to come with us?” he said. The thought of Temeraire lifted his spirits a little; at the very least he could count on him to be straightforward about things, and a source of comfort besides.
“I will decline for now, I think; we may reconvene at the northmost side of the orchard in a bit,” Lady Allendale answered.
“I will accompany you; I have been meaning to ask your opinion on a few financial investments as well, and I would not like to bore Mr. Tharkay with them,” George added, taking their mother’s arm, and so the two parties split.
Tharkay and Laurence walked for a while in silence, though Laurence heard the unasked question. Eventually he said, “May I confide in you? I am afraid I do not understand a great deal of something that just transpired, and you have a wonderful way of making things make sense.”
Tharkay inclined his head and said, “Always, Will.”
And he told him of the entire vitriolic dialogue that had turned so strange at the end. Tharkay considered his words for a long moment, and Laurence felt a bit of the weight he had been carrying slide from his shoulders; to say it all out loud, and know he was no longer carrying it alone, was a relief in and of itself. Finally, Tharkay spoke.
“There are many things it could be; you are his legacy, part of a line to be preserved; you are a hero, but to admit it to your face would be to admit that he has been cruel to you; or perhaps that you are his son, and he a father who does not want to see you die. Whatever it is, take the blessing as he gave it; live, and live well.”
Laurence considered it all a moment and found no clear answer; perhaps he never would. “I quite like that; shall we do it together?”
Tharkay smiled, face illuminated with more than the afternoon sun. “Certainly.”