Let it be known
All the proud hours I hold
Are around you
12th October, 1894 — Darrow house, Irvingly

It was the weekend, and Caroline was upstairs with little Edmund, putting him to bed – Evander did not feel nearly so anxious about this as he had with Lillian (whether because he felt they were better prepared for the second baby, or because Caroline seemed to have an easier time with him than she had with their first, he couldn’t say).

So he was still downstairs, tired but in a calm indulgent state – a little meditation at the piano had never yet failed to soften him. Lillian was still awake and with him, so he rifled through his pages of sheet music, making his way through some lullabies by Brahms and Mendelssohn. Halfway through a piece, Lily tired of her building blocks and wandered over. Settling further back on the stool, Evander scooped her up onto his knees.

“Now then, Lily,” he murmured, letting her slam down on some of the keys. “That’s a C,” he told her, when she struck it; and for a futile task, trying to teach a toddler, Evander had to admit he quite enjoyed the attempt. She was a curious thing; he was interested by the notes that amused her, and the unexpected attention span she had for this play, the letter-sounds she would repeat. Arms around her, he snuck in a little tune to amuse her – Lavender’s Blue, Dilly Dilly, first – and sang along quietly, never mind her interruptions of random keys and noises – until he caught Caroline in the hallway, having descended the stairs, and realised Edmund must be asleep now. He hushed Lily and curled her hands into his to quiet their noise with an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

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Quietly Caroline made herself downstairs and into the hall intent on sending Lily up to nanny to be put to bed, but the sight in front of her stayed her. She stopped, her heart glowing with pride at the scene before her. Evander showing Lily his love of the piano, being playful with her in a way it was so rare to see. She must have shifted because only a few moments later (after the scene was deeply embossed upon her heart) Evander's gaze landed on her own. "No apologies are needed, my dear." She swept into the room and leaned down to kiss Evander's temple before placing one on the top of her daughter's head. "Silencing spells were invented for just such moments." She told him with a fond smile.

"Although," Her gaze landed now on her daughter, "It's about time for you to head to bed as well. Can you be a good girl and head up to nanny for me?" Caroline asked indulgently.

  

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Caroline seemed in a soft, fond, merry mood, sweeping in as she had with eyes bright; or maybe that was Evander’s own softened gaze. At her request to their daughter, Evander lifted Lily off his lap and set her back on her feet, free of the piano stool so that she might comply – but not before he had smiled at her, and promised, “Well done, Lily. Another lesson tomorrow, mm?” (It had been more playing on her part than lesson, but he had high hopes for her.)

He stayed sitting at the piano, propping one elbow up on it as he watched their daughter totter away for a moment before his gaze returned to Caroline, only a little bashful. “I think she has promise,” he said, lightheartedly.

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"Indeed?" Caroline wasn't sure if their daughter had talent. She was sure a similar conversation had once passed between her parents lips about her own talent toward piano and she was certain that had come to naught. Oh it wasn't that she couldn't play, both her and Evander were aware of that, she just didn't have the passion for it that Evander held and talent or no talent it was that passion that made the difference.

Caroline seated herself on the bench with an impish smile and played a few chords of a duet they had once practiced together. "And do I?" She queried with an arch look.

  

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One companion was smoothly replaced by another – and Caroline’s playfulness always still rattled him, in some way or another. Not in a negative fashion, exactly, and never mind that he ought to expect it – it was simply that she could provoke a nervous thrum or thrill in his chest by coaxing him just a pace or two from comfort.

It was harder for him to strike that balance of spirit and teasing that she did seemingly so easily, but Evander watched her fingers find the chords and glanced up again to return her arch look with a deadpan expression. “Oh, you’ve always had promise,” he said mildly, “...but as to whether it will ever be fulfilled, I couldn’t possibly dare to say.” Had she ever practised regularly? She did not care enough to work at it with any sustained diligence, he knew as much – and so she scarcely improved. (Lily would probably be at a level with her in just a few short years, if he could only train her to try.)

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"Evander!" Caroline scolded in mock outrage, lightly swatting his arm. "Well, if you shan't praise me for my promise on the piano," Caroline's fingers gently played the next few stanzas of the duet, the tones teasing the impression that she had indeed been practicing just this very song, "You shall simply have to tell me I have promise in my singing." She informed him and then sung the melody as she continued the song.

Music, Caroline had learned, was the way to allow Evander to show his true emotions. It drew forth their sentiments from each other and wound them together in a beautiful tapestry where Caroline could see with such clarity that there was no room left to doubt the truth she knew. Evander loved her. She loved him. And this life they had built was beautiful in its simplicity.

  

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She was teasing him in her choice of this duet, almost certainly – using some old idea of his against him, some early hope that they might play together regularly. Oh, Caroline was indulging him today – Evander sighed and found the chords of the accompaniment, hands occasionally brushing past hers in the process – but she did not lose herself in this like he could, be wholly satisfied and fulfilled by it. Caroline simply enjoyed other things too much, he suspected: she had too grand an appetite for adventure, too much propensity for boredom to be satisfied by this.

And the fact was she had a pretty voice, whether or not she sought to use it; but mostly it always had the power to make Evander turn to look at her, even now that she was sitting right beside him, his gaze drawn almost unwillingly from the keys. She seemed more alive with this, her eyes vivid and alight; it lit a feeling low in his gut that made him swallow before he answered her, trying to stay unaffected by her and not, in truth, succeeding. “You do sing better than you play.”

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Evander's fingers joined her's on the keys, the song building around them gently, much as their courtship had. Out of the corner of her eye Caroline could see Evander's gaze turning toward her but she didn't allow herself to pause, she'd practiced this duet for him. The sound of his voice as the last stanza was played brought her own gaze to his. She thought she heard something in his voice.

"I shall have to content myself with that then." Caroline whipped lightly, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her face. She paused and searched his face for a moment. "Because our children are lucky enough to have you as their father." She let it linger between them for a moment before adding, "You shall make those promises into something for them. - especially if its piano." Mischief crept back into her voice at the last suggestion.

  

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Evander would have believed she had to content herself with plenty of things – namely him, and her life here, neither of which seemed like they should be enough for her – but Caroline seemed so soft and playful and perfectly at ease that he thought she might actually be happy, after all.

And if her singing had been seductive enough, his mouth went dry at the seriousness of her compliment, and the flush of warmth that went through him and rose to the back of his neck when she looked at him. “Early days for Edmund,” Evander countered (he would make no promises on their son’s promise yet), trying to feign the same lightness and composure that she had. “And not nearly so lucky as they are to have you.”

Motherhood seemed to suit Caroline, her second time even more so than her first. And perhaps it was because he felt he had missed her company in the interim – the last few months whilst the pregnancy and the babe took priority, and he had tried to treat her with care and delicacy – that even her presence beside him on the piano stool could make his pulse pick up, so much that he was sure she could hear his heartbeat from his chest. (Ridiculous, really, that she could make him so hot and bothered so easily.) He couldn’t help himself – his hand lifted to trace that strand of hair she’d pushed from her face.

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Those words... it was a simple sentiment and one that often was unspoken, unacknowledged even by her - especially by her, but it was a sentiment that held hidden depths. Before the attack, as her mind labeled the dragons, Caroline might have felt as if he were trying to tell her he cared. But it went deeper than that. He loved her. She could feel it in those words, in the brush of his fingers against her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers barely brushed against her ear.

There were no words to explain to him she understood, there was no way to follow that up. Instead she moved closer on the bench, leaning forward to capture his lips in her own for a kiss. She tried to be gentle, teasing, but she could feel the absence of their marriage bed between them. It had been months since they'd enjoyed such pleasures.

  

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