January 26th, 1893 (technically early hours of 27th)— Greengrass Home, Bartonburg
Ford let out a long breath as he slipped inside the house and shut the door behind him. It was well after midnight and he'd left Wellingtonshire hours ago, but his heart had yet to stop racing. Fortunately it was late enough that he didn't expect to run into Mama or the girls tonight, so he didn't have to worry about composing himself too much before he got inside. That was good, because he certainly didn't want to stay out in the dark winter night a second longer. There was no reason for anyone to notice him walking through the same streets he walked through every night, but he'd felt exposed and vulnerable all the same.
The lamp in the sitting room was still illuminated, which made sense; Noble was often up late. Ford wasn't sure whether he'd been hoping to see his brother tonight or not, but it wasn't a surprise. He hadn't thought through whether or not he wanted to tell Noble what he'd done tonight. He hadn't thought through any of this, actually, because even getting this far had seemed unreasonable when the idea had first occurred to him. Even while he was going through the motions of preparing for it, a large part of him hadn't really believed he would go through with it. Noble was probably going to ask, though — this was the first time since their conversation in December that Ford hadn't come home directly after work, and hadn't communicated where he was going to be for an evening engagement, so he expected that Noble would have at least taken notice. How much he was willing to push for an explanation — and how much Ford was willing to push back — remained to be seen.
He moved into the parlor, shifting the strap of the satchel at his side so that he could more easily stride across the room to the fireplace. He waved his wand to take the floo offline, then pressed on towards the bar and started to make himself a drink. It was then that he noticed that his hands were still shaking, when the gin he poured sloshed too much. Ford set the bottle down for a second, took a deep breath, then topped the drink off to a double.
The lamp in the sitting room was still illuminated, which made sense; Noble was often up late. Ford wasn't sure whether he'd been hoping to see his brother tonight or not, but it wasn't a surprise. He hadn't thought through whether or not he wanted to tell Noble what he'd done tonight. He hadn't thought through any of this, actually, because even getting this far had seemed unreasonable when the idea had first occurred to him. Even while he was going through the motions of preparing for it, a large part of him hadn't really believed he would go through with it. Noble was probably going to ask, though — this was the first time since their conversation in December that Ford hadn't come home directly after work, and hadn't communicated where he was going to be for an evening engagement, so he expected that Noble would have at least taken notice. How much he was willing to push for an explanation — and how much Ford was willing to push back — remained to be seen.
He moved into the parlor, shifting the strap of the satchel at his side so that he could more easily stride across the room to the fireplace. He waved his wand to take the floo offline, then pressed on towards the bar and started to make himself a drink. It was then that he noticed that his hands were still shaking, when the gin he poured sloshed too much. Ford set the bottle down for a second, took a deep breath, then topped the drink off to a double.
Set by Lady!