He couldn’t fathom why Alfred was looking at him like that. He hadn’t had time to get into it all today, naturally, since they were already halfway here when he’d bumped into his brother at all, but surely - surely Alfred had known the situation before? Wouldn’t - Well, Alfred had always been busy with his navy life. And busy being dead. And - in all the time since then - Evander, nonplussed, supposed he must have said something about the extended family, at least a time or two. Hadn’t he? (This was the burden of being one’s only living family; one was expected to do everything!) No, no, no, Alfred just must not have been listening.
He never did, as evidenced by the way instead of offering his damned condolences, he trod violently on Evander’s foot. In spite of himself, Evander let out a sudden sharp intake of breath, trying - and not quite refraining - from glowering at his brother. Ow. The solicitor would think them a pair of madmen if Alfred didn’t get his act together and fast.
And young, sensible, bright-eyed Charity was blinking rapidly now. Oh dear, oh dear, hopefully she wasn’t about to cry - but no, she seemed decidedly composed, in view of the horrifying words that were coming out of her mouth. Of course he remembered how it felt to lose one’s father - and Alfred too - but they had both been grown men and taken it far worse, he thought, than this. It was hard not to wince at her words, either.
“No, I, ah... suppose not,” Evander said faintly, grimacing at the girl in sincerest sympathy, though he rather wondered how any of them were now to be rid of the image of a dent in her late father’s head. He fought the urge, valiantly, not to bury his head in his hands, and for a moment he was as bewildered as his brother about how they had come to be here. When he spoke next - hopefully the poor girl and his brother would still be preoccupied with staring at each other in total incomprehension - he had lifted his gaze to the solicitor, and asked, stiltedly, “And - Alfred and I are truly all she has left?”
If that was not enough to make her cry, frankly, he didn’t know what was.
He never did, as evidenced by the way instead of offering his damned condolences, he trod violently on Evander’s foot. In spite of himself, Evander let out a sudden sharp intake of breath, trying - and not quite refraining - from glowering at his brother. Ow. The solicitor would think them a pair of madmen if Alfred didn’t get his act together and fast.
And young, sensible, bright-eyed Charity was blinking rapidly now. Oh dear, oh dear, hopefully she wasn’t about to cry - but no, she seemed decidedly composed, in view of the horrifying words that were coming out of her mouth. Of course he remembered how it felt to lose one’s father - and Alfred too - but they had both been grown men and taken it far worse, he thought, than this. It was hard not to wince at her words, either.
“No, I, ah... suppose not,” Evander said faintly, grimacing at the girl in sincerest sympathy, though he rather wondered how any of them were now to be rid of the image of a dent in her late father’s head. He fought the urge, valiantly, not to bury his head in his hands, and for a moment he was as bewildered as his brother about how they had come to be here. When he spoke next - hopefully the poor girl and his brother would still be preoccupied with staring at each other in total incomprehension - he had lifted his gaze to the solicitor, and asked, stiltedly, “And - Alfred and I are truly all she has left?”
If that was not enough to make her cry, frankly, he didn’t know what was.
