I got the point you were makin'
When I held my breath 'til you came up27th August, 1894 — Darrow house, Irvingly

Charity had been with Uncle Alfred for a couple of days, one of her last opportunities before she returned to Hogwarts. Evander no longer begrudged her this, for he understood she was always itching for an escape – although if their household, he and Caroline and Lily and Edmund wore on her patience, he had to imagine his brother’s house on the Sanditon terrace was no more peaceful, certainly not in the summer.

But at least Alfred was there in the summers, with his society sailing lessons. (It was more than could be said for Zelda now, during the week.) Evander had not heard if he meant to go underway again this year but with Zelda working at the Ministry again, he couldn’t fathom how it would be sensible to go – but on the other hand, he couldn’t fathom that marriage had made Alfred give up the sea entirely.

He had been half-inclined to question Charity on what she had learned from her stay when she had arrived home that evening, but she had hastened upstairs from the fireplace in the sitting room already, and instead Evander furrowed his brow at Alfred, who had Floo’d her bags back through. He closed his book, considering. “Drink, before you go?”

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J. Alfred Darrow/Fortitude Greengrass

  

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Alfred had told Charity early and often once he moved to the Sanditon Terrace that she was welcome to come and visit for as long as she liked and as often as she liked, and he stood by that, but he was a touch relieved that her holiday was drawing to an end. He was still adjusting — usually poorly — to Zelda's return to work, but he was trying hard to keep the adjustment pains out of Zelda's line of sight. With Charity around the house, there was the constant worry that he might be observed — and then that she subsequently might say something about it within earshot of Zelda. Thankfully the nurse still had charge of the children most of the day, while he was out on the water... and Zelda wasn't home so often. There were only a few hours for him to make any critical errors, and then a few hours following for Charity to potentially blab them to Zelda before everyone headed off to bed. Nothing had come up during her stay, but — it would be a relief to have the afternoons with an emptier house again.

Evander's offer of a drink surprised him. Did Evander drink, casually? Alfred thought he had usually only seen him with a glass in hand to accompany dinner, or at an event. So his first thought was that maybe something was the matter — his second was that Evander must have actually meant tea. "Sure," he agreed, in case it was the former. Zelda was home for the day already, and in charge of the children; hopefully she would be willing to overlook his extended absence in the event that it was the latter.

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The following 2 users Like J. Alfred Darrow's post:2 users Like J. Alfred Darrow's post
   Evander Darrow, Zelda Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Good: he had complied without protest. Evander was always ready to be disappointed, or to be rejected, or to be queried and mocked whenever he made an attempt at a gesture, so that was a relief. He set the book aside and stood, crossing to the door to shift it closer to shut – ostensibly so that the children would not be disturbed upstairs, if they were abed, and perhaps really so that Caroline would think twice about joining them, if she happened to come through. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have minded, but in this case he did not trust his wife not to leap to her sister-in-law’s defence and make light of it all, when Evander actually hoped he and his brother might talk seriously.

He paused at a side cabinet, and conjured two glasses. “Brandy?” Evander queried, but he had already begun to pour one for each of them. As far as he knew, no sailor existed who had ever turned down a drink of any kind; Alfred was unlikely to be an exception there. He passed one to Alfred, and returned to his own chair.

He ought to let them both get partway through the brandy before they spoke, probably – a few moments of peace – but he felt he had better take advantage of the moment before it slipped away. “You look tired,” he remarked. (What he had meant to say was how are things?)

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Alfred answered the question of brandy with a wary nod. This did seem to have the air of a prepared conversation, something Evander had been sitting on and thinking over for a while, and he was cautious of what might come next. He'd likely have to endure some degree of small talk before they got around to it, though, knowing Evander. That would be only polite. What he said next, though, was... not polite small talk. Alfred blinked at his brother. Did he? He felt tired most nights, but it had never occurred to him that it would carry through to his appearance and be obvious to others. (What else showed on his face? Could the nurse read plainly that he always experienced a surge of panic when she announced that she was leaving for the day?)

He shifted in his chair and hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as the question made him feel. "Just the normal things, I expect," he said, turning his attention to his brandy. And how was it that Evander didn't look tired, anyway? He was in generally the same position, with two children of comparable ages. Maybe he did look tired; maybe it just wasn't so noticeable because Evander had been looking tired since he was twelve.

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The following 1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post:1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post
   Evander Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Alfred was squirming. Evander thought this was rather immature behaviour, when he wasn’t a child and wasn’t even in trouble, when all they were supposed to be doing was having a simple grown up conversation. Hard for him, of course. Evander resisted the urge to tsk aloud.

He did not resist the urge to raise an impatient, unconvinced eyebrow, though. “You do know your normal isn’t normal, though,” he pointed out. Nothing about Alfred’s life spelled conventional, even now that he had supposedly settled down. “Are you coping?”

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Alfred's first instinct was to be defensive. "Does it seem like I'm not?" he asked, shifting back in his chair and rolling his shoulders down slightly as he hunched over his brandy. As the words left his mouth, though, he considered that perhaps Evander wasn't looking for a fight. He might have been asking to be smug, or to have something to lord over Alfred later when he wanted to try and pressure him into making the more Evander-approved decision. But he had offered him a drink, and framed this as a conversation; he could have gotten a barb in without the pretense of either. Maybe it was a genuine question. In which case —

He unfurled with a sigh. "Zelda's just so much better at everything." Everything relating to parenting, that was. She could manage both children at once and keep them both happy and healthy; he had trouble getting either of them to fall asleep on time, or stay asleep, or eat anything. And if they started crying — well, it was just about even odds on whether he'd get them soothed again or whether they'd just be suffering together until either Zelda or the nurse showed up again.

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Evander thought it would be polite of him to pretend not to have heard that first question, because he did not think his brother would be much inclined to hear his honest answer. But he was – only judging on appearances, mostly, and hunches. And a little of his own experience, since he and Caroline were in much the same boat – although where he had found things natural enough with Lily, she had struggled, and now with Edmund, vice versa.

“Is she really?” Evander said, with some (not very disguised) surprise. Partially this was because he had always thought Alfred so much better – instinctively – with Charity, when she had come into their lives; he had supposed this would extend to infants, who had even lower standards, generally. Partially it had been the lingering misgivings he had about Aflred’s choice of wife. Evander – liked Zelda well enough, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have concerns that she had bitten off more than she could chew. “Even with her working at the Ministry again?” A Ministry career and motherhood seemed at odds to him. And if she was good with the children, then really she ought to be with them at home, particularly if Alfred happened to be floundering.

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Alfred didn't like Evander's tone on the first question at all and was preparing to pivot from defensive for his own sake to defensive for hers, but before he could say anything the second question had brought him up short. Because the answer was no, in fact, but he recognized that it would be a betrayal to Zelda to say that out loud.

"Well," he said, visibly at a loss for words. She was gone often enough that the children spent most of the time with the nanny instead of with either parent, which was lucky for him really because he clearly couldn't manage any more time as their primary caregiver; he was barely managing the time he had, and it was only a few hours in the afternoons. He didn't think he minded her working again philosophically, but he certainly hadn't been ready for it yet. It wasn't as though he could have told her that, though... not after she'd told him maybe she didn't want any more children and he'd started to wonder whether he'd accidentally ruined her life.

He sipped his drink and felt color in his cheeks. His lack of an answer was probably conspicuous, but he surely wasn't doing either himself or his wife any favors with how he eventually continued: "I always pictured three or four. But not if she's — working."

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER