mid April, 1892 — Darrow House, Irvingly

When Alfred and Zelda had married, Caroline had insisted that they set up some sort of recurring dinner obligations between the two households, which had proved more difficult than she had probably initially imagined. Alfred and Zelda had been away on their honeymoon for most of August, had returned in September just in time to see their home demolished by a hurricane, and as soon as they'd had a handle on that mess it had been time for Alfred to set sail for the winter. He'd only properly returned in March, and then had been transformed into a vampire lookalike for weeks. They'd only just finished clearing that mess up, including tracking down his missing earring and his wand, and both he and Evander were still sporting purple hair from the ordeal. But nevermind: Alfred would take any color of hair if it meant being back in his own body once again. He'd been getting rather tired of fangs.

All of which was to say, this was the first time Alfred and Zelda had been over for dinner as just a pair, not part of a larger party. (Alfred liked this better. When there were other dinner guests, he always felt some pressure to embarrass Evander thoroughly in front of them. This was more relaxed). They hadn't shared their news yet, but they would before they left today. If they put it off any longer, Zelda would start showing and someone would guess, and Alfred thought Evander did deserve to hear the news from him rather than having to find out through the rumor mill. She already was showing, a bit, but not in a way that was very obvious when she was dressed. He didn't think anyone had picked up on it yet.

Dinner had concluded and Charity had been shown off to bed, while Caroline and Zelda had disappeared into the kitchen for something. This left Evander and Alfred alone at the table for the first time that evening. Before Evander could start in on some banal line of questioning he didn't actually care about, like asking how the sailing was going, Alfred pitched a question. "Do you still have any of the furniture from our old house? From Mum's house, I mean," he added, as though the first question hadn't been clear enough — despite there only being one house in all of history that Alfred and Evander could have jointly called 'ours.'

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Evander Darrow Elias Grimstone

  

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

When the women had left the table, Evander’s attention had drifted to the tablecloth, a hand absently – relaxedly, if repetitively – smoothing down a crease in it just for something to do. Or somewhere to look; he could not very well keep looking at his brother, because it was hard not to continually notice the purple hair. (And thus inevitably remember, for about the fiftieth time that evening, that one could hardly throw stones when one’s hair was also currently, appallingly, purple.)

“Hm?” Evander echoed, tearing himself out of his own thoughts as his ears caught up with the question. It was unexpected, particularly coming now. Alfred had been back and settled in society (‘settled’, to the extent he was) for enough years now to have had endless opportunities to hunt down some household mementos of his youth if he had needed them. Did he really think Evander clung on to everything old just in case it ever became useful?

Not that he would be wrong, if he did. Evander had sold the house and moved away when he had become the last remaining Darrow to reside in it – because if he hadn’t he was sure he would still be trapped there now, alone and a bachelor and interminably rooted in the past (not the perfectly adjusted man he was now, with a full life and absolutely no emotional issues). But still, it had seemed wanton and wasteful and reckless to simply be rid of everything at once, so he had dutifully sorted through all the family possessions and tidied them away for a later date when he would know what to do with them. (Very often, this assumed later date had not yet come.)

“Most of it stayed with the house,” Evander answered, brow faintly furrowed in confusion, for he couldn’t work out why this might be relevant now. Alfred’s Sanditon house was already furnished. Indeed, he had left some of it behind, the new dining room table and far too many chairs for a bachelor’s house; most of the bedframes and anything in good order. The more worn things, he had kept, mostly under the rationale that they were unlikely to ever sell or under some vaguer inclination that he might need them someday, when he was married and a father – a future that had not materialised until far later than he had thought. “But I’ve a few pieces still in storage in the loft,” he acknowledged, suddenly remembering, amongst those nooks and crannies of recollection, a rocking chair their mother had had when they were young and that had been too scratched for anyone else to want. Perhaps it might still do for the nursery, though?

“Why, what is it you’re looking for?” Evander asked, preparing himself to be bullied into some foolish treasure hunt.

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Alfred smiled at the answer, a little relieved. He hadn't been sure whether Evander would have been sentimental enough to keep anything besides the photographs and the paperwork. He was practical and efficient, nearly to a fault; he very well could have put his own childhood teddy bear into the bin in the name of clearing house and it wouldn't have been terribly far out of character. It was comforting for Alfred to think that some traces of the past still remained, though. For years he had assumed his entire life prior to the Sycorax shipwreck was lost to him forever, and while he'd done his best to forge ahead it was striking how much the pregnancy had changed his perspective on these sorts of things. He wanted something to serve as an anchor to the past; a sense of continuity. They were likely to get plenty of hand-me-downs from Zelda's incredibly large family, as soon as the news percolated through their ranks, but presumably nothing sentimental; she was the youngest of ten, after all. If there was a cherished keepsake of their childhood nursery, someone had likely claimed it already.

"That rocking chair Mum had," he said, a little sly — he wasn't sure whether Evander would work out why he was asking or not. "With the faded pink flowers on the cushions."

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

“You can’t have it,” Evander said immediately, feeling possessive of the old rocking chair the very moment Alfred had come along and stolen it right out of his head. Saying so had sounded incredibly, plaintively childish, though, even – or perhaps especially – when it was directed to his brother. Besides, Alfred wouldn’t understand the reason, so he bit his tongue and changed tack. “I mean, it’s still there –” he clarified, clearing his throat, with a slight, self-scolding, shake of his head; he leant back in his chair, eyeing Alfred suspiciously.

“What would you even do with it?” Even if Evander hadn’t already mentally claimed it for the baby’s nursery, he probably would have been peevish about the request: he wasn’t sure he would entrust anything of – material or sentimental – value to his brother unless he was sure he’d never need lay eyes on it again. (There was not a great deal of logic in this instinct, but there was nevertheless some vague fear of the possibility that anything Alfred owned might sometime, somehow, someday end up on a boat – and more than likely never survive the endeavour.)

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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Evander answered so immediately that Alfred felt as though his brother had struck him; he was just as surprised and confused. Alfred had been after the rocking chair just for the sake of sentimentality, and he wouldn't have been terribly put out if it hadn't been available — disappointed but not dismayed — but Evander's reply made his desire to claim it stronger. It was just sitting there in the attic, unused and unattended, and yet his brother had particularly strong feelings about keeping it to himself? Why, just to prevent Alfred from getting to use it? That was selfish, which injured Alfred's sense of fairness (and nevermind his pride, when he considered why Evander might not trust him with a bloody chair). Evander had been the one to go through all of their mother's things when she'd died, which at this moment seemed like a privilege that Alfred had been personally denied due to his absence. Alfred hadn't even had the opportunity to go to their mother's funeral, much less pick out mementos of his childhood before the lot had been sold off. Evander had everything, or everything he'd thought he'd ever want. Alfred was only asking for one thing. Evander ought to have offered it up on a silver platter, not rejected him out of hand.

"What d'you mean no? You aren't using it," he pointed out. "We would. I've just as much right to it as you do. She was my mother, too." He didn't specify how they would use it; making or even hinting at that sort of announcement when he was annoyed wouldn't do. If he told Evander about the baby now they'd be obliged to all stop and celebrate and be happy about the baby, and Alfred wanted a minute to feel properly annoyed about this ridiculous show of pettiness from Evander.

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   Evander Darrow

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

He cringed a little when his brother laid into him immediately for that remark; he oughtn’t have said anything. And perhaps he ought to just tell Alfred already to explain himself, but – he had rather been hoping Caroline would announce it for them, since he was always wary of telling his brother any of his own good news. (Because Alfred would surely find some way or another to make fun of him for it. He had a knack for it.) If he could just hold onto it until the women had rejoined them, it would go so much more smoothly.

But he couldn’t say nothing, so in a half-sheepish, half-begrudging attempt to smooth things over, Evander protested: “Well, I might be, soon.” He thought that might be suggestive enough to give Alfred a hint about the baby – they might be using it soon, he had said, because he was afraid to tempt fate by speaking in anything stronger than hypotheticals, when Caroline’s last pregnancy had ended the way it had. He wasn’t sure how long would have to pass before that worry faded.

And he didn’t much like the insinuation that he had forgotten they had shared parents. How on earth could he forget that, when it had felt like, for every year Alfred was away or supposedly dead, practically all their mother had ever done was talk about John this or John that? It had never been fair – Alfred had been their father’s favourite too. And their mother probably would have presented him with the rocking chair, too, without a second thought; but recognising that only made Evander more annoyed about the prospect now. “I’ll find something else you can have of hers,” he offered, as if he was going out of his way to be considerate. “You don’t need a rocking chair.”

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"You don't need a rocking chair," he countered. Alfred felt confident saying this after Evander had offered no better argument than might be, soon. It was clear that he only wanted to keep it away from Alfred; he was being vague to buy himself some time to think up a plausible reason to deny it. He wished that Caroline and Zelda would finish up and come back in, because he was sure that if he turned the question around to Caroline and asked if they had any intention of using a rocking chair she would blink in surprise before answering of course not, and then Evander would have lost his leg to stand on.

"You don't get to set up some sort of embargo on mum's things just because you're older," he argued (though presumably this was exactly what gave Evander the right; even if their mother had been intending to split things more equitably across her children in her will, she certainly hadn't included him in it since he'd been declared dead at the time). "And I don't want you to sort through things and decide what you think I can be trusted with."

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

Yes, I do, Evander wanted to say. I can do what I like. Because he was older, the more responsible, and the one who had to do everything anyway – so he might as well get some reward from it all.

“Why, because you’re afraid I’ll realise that you can’t be trusted with anything?” Evander remarked, with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow. That was the inevitable result, and they both very well knew it. But he had hardly intended to get in a spat at the dinner table the first moment their wives were out of earshot, so he leant back in his chair, folding his arms to steel himself better against being led by his own stubbornness.

“Fine,” Evander amended, his tone still a healthy shade of patronising. “I’ll let you choose something else, yourself. Are you happy now? But I want to give Caroline the rocking chair when the baby’s here.” He pursed his lips, as if it wasn’t too late to take back the news – in all his annoyance, it had just spilled out.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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Alfred's chest puffed out at Evander's question about trust, ready to launch into — well, he didn't exactly know what he was going to launch into, but probably something needlessly hurtful. That was the stage of argument they were approaching, at any rate. He didn't get around to choosing the words because the word baby tumbled out into the space between them, which stopped his tongue in its tracks. Alfred's eyebrows shot up.

"Baby," he echoed thickly. It did not occur to him to wonder if it might have been true. His only interpretation of it was that this was Evander's latest strategy to try and win the argument, and he was having trouble parsing how it was supposed to work. He regarded Evander with suspicion. Had he heard about Zelda's pregnancy somehow already, and this was a sort of one-up-manship? If so, it was rather... short-sighted, to say the least.

"We're having a baby," Alfred responded: not an announcement but a rebuttal.

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   Evander Darrow

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

Evander chewed on the air for a moment, thoroughly disconcerted at that response. “Excuse me?” he spluttered, brow furrowed as if Alfred had lost his mind. Certainly, it had not been how he intended to share the news, but that was hardly an adequate answer to it! Merlin, he hadn’t expected Alfred to be too kind about it, but one couldn’t just appropriate someone else’s announcement. That didn’t even make any sense!

“No,” Evander protested, as if his brother simply didn’t get it, “Caroline and I –” did he remember her? Evander’s wife? She was just in the other room – “are having a baby. And I was waiting for her to tell you both that for herself, but –” he rolled his eyes, as if to add now look what you’ve done.

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Evander's bringing Caroline into things was what caused Alfred to wonder if maybe this was real. His brother had to know that Caroline wouldn't have blindly taken his side in an argument, especially one with such a stupid premise as this, so — were they really having a baby?

"Zelda's pregnant," he blurted, because he could not grapple with the idea that Evander was going to be a father while his brother evidently still didn't believe their own news. "That's what — I was trying to tell you, asking about the rocking chair, but then you got all —"

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

“Oh. Oh god,” Evander said, as it all sank in. “Oh my god.” He touched his temples as if the thought was simply too much. Caroline was pregnant. Zelda was pregnant. They were – both going to be fathers. At precisely the same time. As if – as if everything in their lives had to be a competition, as if he had ever wanted to share anything with his brother to begin with! Merlin, Alfred had the worst timing in the world.

Evander might have attempted to congratulate him, except he already had a headache from this. And the poor child. (Alfred’s, obviously, for having Alfred for a father.)

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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To say this was not the reaction Alfred had been envisioning when he had first decided to bring this up was an understatement. Evander looked as though he had a stress headache coming on. At least Zelda wasn't here to witness his reaction; small mercies, because Alfred was sure she wouldn't have been amused. "Well, don't look too pleased," he said with an exasperated huff. He leaned one elbow on the table and tried to decide whether the conversation was over or not. Evander looked as though he wanted to be alone in a dark room for the foreseeable future, but Alfred felt trying to excuse himself would have been conspicuous.

"Congratulations, I guess," he added, as an afterthought.

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   Evander Darrow

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

Typically, the reality of this did not improve with the measure of time spent contemplating. Evander would have shut off his brain, if only he could. The congratulations (or rather, that inevitable “I guess” to quantify the well-wishes, in Alfred’s oh-so-elegant way) eventually shook Evander out of his own head and away from daydreaming that there was the remotest shred of possibility that their sons might never meet.

“And to you, I suppose,” Evander returned, not yet overflowing in enthusiasm – but also not about to let his brother be the bigger person. Maybe that was the reason he opened his mouth again – he refused to consider it an olive branch, let alone any mark of sentiment. “And it’s fine. You can have the rocking chair. Er, if you like.” He would defer to Caroline anyway, and let her choose something else from their family relics if she liked. Probably better to buy all new things, at any rate. The rocking chair was rather worn.

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Alfred had expected the conversation to fizzle to a halt at this point, so the return to the subject of the rocking chair was unexpected. He raised his eyebrows and didn't say anything for a second, as though he was trying to figure out what the catch was. Evander had seemed adamant about it just a moment ago, and it wasn't like his brother to change his mind easily. "Ah, thanks," he finally replied when he had turned the offer over enough to decide it may have been in earnest.

Wait — did this concession mean that he now owed something to Evander? They were at that difficult stage of an argument where Alfred wasn't sure whether it had ended or whether they ought to still be vying to win. But he did want the rocking chair, so he wasn't going to turn around and offer it back just to score himself a point. He didn't think he had anything else he could offer — the only thing that came to mind was that maybe Zelda could make something for the baby, because that seemed like the sort of thing women did, but he should probably confirm that she even knew how to knit before he volunteered her for a baby blanket or something. "Do you have a name already?" he asked, though he was mostly stalling.

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

Alfred took his time in answering, but Evander was, eventually, gratified for his grand relinquishment by a thank you. (Well, it’s an eyesore anyway, he refrained from adding, not wanting to cheapen the sacrifice of the gesture now.) Still, if he had hoped the conversation would come to a close with that agreed, before he could get up and make some excuse to leave the room or to clear his throat and change the subject, Alfred had asked him something else.

“Er, not yet,” Evander said, swallowing. “Something from in the family, maybe,” he offered tentatively; but it still felt too soon to express anything solid on this, like tempting fate needlessly. “But I’d rather not get too ahead of ourselves, after – after what –” He frowned, mouth a tight line. What happened last time. Alfred had been with them at the Sanditon and had seen the state Caroline was in after the storm; but even Evander hadn’t known she was pregnant then, so all that had come afterwards. As far as he could recall, he hadn’t confided in Alfred then (– had he ever confided in Alfred? had he, for that matter, ever confided in anyone? –), so unless Caroline had mentioned anything to them, perhaps this all sounded like nonsense.

“What about you?” Evander asked, forcibly light, and determined to move on before his thoughts grew dour. “Names? When is yours due?”

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