Basil stiffened as his brother’s voice floated through the foyer to greet him. He hadn’t brought much, just a case with some grading and other things he might need while home, but as a footman approached, Basil handed off his top hat and case to be set aside. He didn’t make eye contact with his brother as he did so, instead nodding at the footman in thanks. His pulse was beating annoyingly on the inside of Basil’s wrist and the professor could feel his own nerves begin to fray. He supposed he had better get this overdue interaction over with.“Tea would be fine, thank you,” he replied. Atticus’ tone seemed tired, drained even. Looking up at his brother finally, Basil could see it even in his face. Perhaps there was a glimmer of relief hidden somewhere there too, or maybe Basil just imagined it wishfully. He nodded. “Of course.”
Moving further into the house through the small parlor just off the entrance and into the library, Basil scratched the back of his head. He hated how awkward he felt in his own home sometimes; it was like he was a stranger intruding upon the private life of his brother and mama. Immediately gravitating towards books, he pulled a few medical ones from the shelf. Then, turning to Atticus who’d followed him into the room, he gave little shuffle. “For research purposes,” he offered by way of explanation.
The tea was brought up then and laid out on a side table nearest the big windows. Darkness from outside crept into the room and candlelight seemed insufficient to keep shadows at bay. Basil moved towards the small sitting area in the center of the room and placed his books down on the parlor table. Then, with a swish of his wand he poured the tea from the side table and floated it over to himself in silence.
Basil itched to throw over the pleasantries and run upstairs into his mother’s chambers to check on her. He knew that Atticus said she was resting, but he couldn’t help the impetuous childish impulse urging him to do so. How was she doing? Did she need him to bring her anything? Was she hot? Cold? Basil could think of a million questions to ask but instead he was rooted here, forced to make nice with his older brother. Clearing his throat, Basil finally broke the silence.
“So,” he started. “What exactly… transpired? How long ago did mother come down with her symptoms and what’s been done to alleviate her discomfort?”