Chapter Text
Heyrick Park, Autumn 1835
“Why are we going to the graveyard, Papa?”
Xander glanced down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand. It had been many years since he’d taken this particular walk on this particular day. After he and Charlotte had married, it had somehow felt inappropriate to still visit Lucy, although he knew his wife would argue otherwise. Now, with both Augusta and Leo in London, it had fallen once more to him to ensure it was done and he would continue doing so for them as long as he was able to.
“We’re going to lay flowers on one of the graves.”
It was a beautiful autumn morning and leaving the flowers was a good excuse to step away from his desk for a while. As usual, he could not escape the house without at least one child following along. This morning, however, he had two.
“Who is it?” William asked as they walked through the tall grass.
In prior years, William had been too young or too preoccupied to recall his older sister making this walk each year and they had not made much of a fuss of it, coming, as it did, on the heels of Leo’s birthday.
“We’re going to see Leo’s mother.”
He could see his son’s mind turning as he tried to work through this confusing statement before he finally recalled what was rarely ever mentioned in their family. It was no secret that Charlotte had not given birth to Leo, but in every other way, she was her mother…and always would be. As such, his younger children had little reason to recall that another woman had given birth to their oldest sister.
After a moment, William gave an approving nod. “So, we’re going because Leo can’t.”
“That’s right.”
Xander looked back towards the direction from which they'd come. His eyes fell on his younger son who’d stopped to inspect something he’d seen in the grass.
“Keep up, Jack!”
They paused and waited for the smaller boy, the grass coming nearly to his waist as he ran to catch up. Without a word he took his father’s outstretched hand and the three of them continued on, the boys becoming unusually solemn as they grew closer to the quiet grove of trees.
Out of habit, his eyes immediately began assessing the walled area for any necessary repairs that might be required. He was pleased to see that the grass within the wall and along the perimeter had recently been cut and there were no weeds in sight. He visited so infrequently that he relied on the groundskeeper to attend to anything that needed tended to without him reminding him.
With a brief glance towards the boys, he made his way down the newest row of stones towards Lucy’s grave. The old feelings of guilt that he’d felt when visiting in the past had faded over the past decade and a half and he was no longer bothered by coming here. He was grateful that there had been no additions to the gathering of stones since she’d passed. God willing, it would be many more years before there was a need to do so.
Crouching down, he set the bouquet against the gravestone before taking a few minutes to say a silent prayer and quietly reassure her that Leo and Augusta were well. He was confident that Lucy would be just as proud of her daughter and niece as he was.
His knees cracked as he stood and he winced. Yet another reminder that time marched inevitably on, waiting for no man. Still, he had little, if anything else, besides the aches and pains of age, to complain about.
“Papa?” William called from down the row.
Walking towards his son, his heart dropped a little when he realized what stone he was standing in front of. Time had not dulled this pain quite enough.
“What is it, William?”
The boy squinted into the sun as he looked up at him. “Uncle Samuel is your older brother, so he should have inherited Heyrick Park, not you?”
“That’s correct,” he nodded, not quite sure how the question was relevant to their current location. As his heir, he’d recently been teaching William more and more about the history of the estate…within the boundaries of what was appropriate and easily understood for a boy of ten, of course. “Samuel did not want to take over Heyrick Park when our father died, so he signed the inheritance over to me.”
William pointed to a gravestone further down the row. “Uncle Samuel is named for your grandfather, Samuel?”
“Yes, the Colbournes have a tradition of naming their first-born sons for their grandfathers. You’ll see more than one Samuel and Charles buried here.”
“Then shouldn’t I have been named Charles for your father instead of William for Mama’s?
Now he understood.
When their first son had been born, there had been much conversation about his name. Charlotte had argued the baby should be named Alexander, but he’d been adamantly opposed, citing confusion over two people in the house having the same name rather than admitting that he didn’t feel worthy of having a child named in his honor. He’d countered her second suggestion of naming the child Samuel with her own father’s name, reminding her that he was, after all, the man she admired most in the world. She’d responded by giving him a look he was all too familiar with…the one that said she was fully aware of how uncomfortable he was with any form of compliment but that he could not prevent her from insisting he deserved them anyway.
“It is perfectly acceptable to deviate from tradition, William. In some instances, it is even recommended. Your Grandfather Heywood is a good man and worthy of being named after.”
The way William wrinkled his nose when he was giving a matter great thought reminded Xander a great deal of Charlotte and he felt a smile tug at his lips.
“Was Grandfather Colbourne a good man?”
Xander crouched down and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Your mother and I chose to name our children after people who we love a great deal and whom we admire. Your mother once told me that her father was the best man she knew. But my father was nothing like your Grandfather Heywood. He wasn’t always kind to your uncle and I when we were young. So it would have been very difficult for me to name a child after him. Do you understand?”
William seemed to consider this for a moment. “And Shadow is named for you and your grandfather?”
“That’s correct. But my grandfather, John, was my mother’s father and not a Colbourne so he’s not buried here. Your mother insisted that your brother have my name as well.” He had not been able to escape Charlotte’s demand so easily the second time around but had at least convinced her to make it the boy’s second name, instead of his first. “So, you are William Samuel and he is John Alexander Colbourne. But we call him Jack because it is a nickname for men and boys named John.”
“Like Calico Jack, the pirate! Leo told us all about him. And his initials are J-A-C, which almost spells Jack.”
Xander chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair. “It does indeed.” He looked up at the sun. “We should be heading back. We don’t want to be late for our luncheon.”
William trotted along beside him as he moved down the row of stones, keeping pace with his father’s longer legs.
“Lady Denham once told Mama that Jack is a common name.”
Xander bit back a harsh comment. The old woman’s tongue had certainly not become any less sharp with age. “Yes, well, seeing as you are not Lady Denham’s children, she had no say in naming any of you.” He refrained from adding that he cared very little for any of her opinions, then or now.
He paused to scoop up his younger son from where he’d been stacking small rocks he’d found on the ground on top of the low wall. Jack giggled as he lifted him onto his shoulders and patted his cheeks with his small hands, deeming them “scratchy.” A few gentle pokes in the ribs resulted in more laughter and some uncontrolled kicks to his chest by small, booted heels until he wrapped his hands around his son’s ankles, holding them firmly in place. He relished these simple moments with his children, even if it meant he received a few bruises or his back ached more than usual the next day.
They slowed as they approached the house, taking care as they crossed the footbridge over the stream. It wouldn’t do to get wet or muddy when they were so close to their destination and he could already see Charlotte standing on the terrace waiting for them. Once past the stream, he lifted Jack down and set him on the ground so he could run to his mother. Nearly fifteen years of marriage had passed and the sight of the woman he loved bending down to listen to whatever their son had to say still made his heart beat a little faster.
“Papa?”
He looked down at his older son.
“I’m sorry you didn’t have a good father like we do.”
For a moment he couldn’t breathe, much less speak. He squeezed William’s shoulder and gave him a gentle nudge towards the house. “Hurry and wash up.”
Charlotte eyed him speculatively as he strode down the terrace towards her. After all these years, she could read him like a book and she was not about to let any concerns go unaddressed.
“Is everything well?”
He stopped to give her a reassuring smile and a kiss on the cheek.
“Everything is perfect.”