‘They are all coming,’ Sophia sits on the very edge of the settee, reporting to Marie, ‘children too and even the young priest, Father Ignazio who travels with the Duc d’Herblay. Rayya and Bianca will play their harps and then they will join Yusuf on the oud. It should be quite pleasant.’ She beams at Marie, hoping to give an impression of a well pleased hostess.
Marie nods absently, her eyes taking in Sophia’s tight expression and nervous gestures. Clearly, her beloved daughter-in-law has something on her mind. ‘What is it dear?’ Marie gently gives her permission. Sophia starts to protest and stops. She wants to know.
‘If not for Lucien being imprisoned in the Chatelet, would you have ever told him the truth? If not for Rochefort, would you have told Athos?’ Sophia asks in a blunt tone.
‘Hmm…’ Marie’s voice holds a distant quality, resigned and regretful. She wonders if there will ever be a time questions will no longer be asked of her. Has it occurred to anyone that these persistent questions are reason enough to never have reveal the truth?
‘I suppose they must wonder at that,’ Marie answers. ‘It is different with each of them. Olivier … Athos, was raised with a loving mother and father. I was able to choose for him, a concession from Richelieu. I knew the family and left it to them to decide if he should know the truth. I had no right to him, I lost that when I failed to protect him at Glenay.’
Sophia frowns, ‘Richelieu made you choose.’
‘He did and it was Richelieu who sent Lucien away and would not tell me where. I was able to piece together a few details, it was to the north, a private home of a priest who took in the by-blow sons of nobles. That is all I knew. It seemed so different from where Olivier lived. I was terribly unhappy. Lucien had the most open heart – he adored his older brother, happiest when Olivier held him. I imagined him in a severe place, never held or his tears comforted. Occasionally Richelieu would read parts of a report he received. But after a few years, he stopped reading those reports to me.’
‘Because Lucien kept running away,’ Sophia murmurs.
‘Yes, and then the truth died with Richelieu, and I carefully erased that part of my past with him. I thought it unlikely Lucien or Olivier would ever learn it. I thought it was best for them. But if it could help Lucien, of course I would tell the truth and I did. I was so afraid, but Lucien’s heart held true, and he accepted me immediately. He had been given so little that I alone was enough for him. But Olivier had a real family, loving and honorable and now the truth divides him against himself. Rochefort,’ she spits out his name. ‘I suppose the only one who got what he intended was Rochefort.’
‘Motherhood can be lonely,’ Sophia tries to comfort the elderly woman, covering Marie’s hand with hers, ‘or is it love that can be lonely. Is that not what the poets say?’
‘You my dear are loved too well to hold that sentiment,’ Marie says lightly. ‘Now,’ she resumes in a brisker tone, ‘you must talk to Cook about the menu and to Madame Perle about the table settings and the seatings. Encourage Madame Bernard to attend and I will add to it when we go to services today. I must finish this correspondence.’
**
‘I think that is the list for dinner,’ Sophia hands a paper to Madame Perle, the estate’s housekeeper. ‘Oh, I must add one more. There is a young man who attends with the Duc d’ Herblay.’
‘Attends Madame?’ Madame Perle looks dubious, ‘such as a … valet?’ The good woman tries to keep both her astonishment and disapproval from her voice. A valet at the Royaumont dinner table?
Sophia suppresses a smile. ‘Not a valet, put a priest, Brother Ignazio, who the duc met in Italy and travels with the duc. He will be a lively addition to the dinner table.’
‘Ah,’ Madame Perle smiles and nods, but thinking privately that there need be no more ‘lively’ additions to the Royaumont dinners which have always been lively enough. Madame Perle gathers up her notes. ‘I will see to these details immediately Your Grace. The children Madame, what is your preference?’
‘Hmm,’ Sophia murmurs. When they are in the country, it is Lucien’s preference that they all dine together. It can be a raucous time, but even Marie approves, claiming that a few manners for dining in company can still be taught. From the antics that usually occur, Sophia thinks none of those manners are gaining traction. However, she does not know if Elodie and Constance would agree.
‘I will ask their mothers their wishes on the matter. They may prefer an early dinner for the children. Of course, Juliette will be with Nella, Kayvahn and Asim in the nursery.’ She taps her finger against her chin thinking through other household details.
‘Madame Perle, have you added sufficient hands to help with all the additional work? We need another footman to keep the fires up. The mornings are so cold.’ She immediately realizes her poor choice of words. Madame Perle regards her management of Royaumont mansion as a calling more than a job. She commands her staff with calm military precision. If she needed more maids, footmen, kitchen help, or laundry services for an additional seven adults, five children and their assorted tutors, nurses, maids, valets or priests in ‘attendance’ added to the household, she would take care of it without her mistress needing to tell her or noticing.
‘Have I been remiss?’ Sophia tries to shift any blame to herself. ‘Perhaps I should have asked Madame Claudette to our meeting today.’ She purses her lips irritated at herself as she has handled this poorly. The estate manager’s wife, Madame Claudette, would gladly step in to assist Madame Perle – if it were allowed.
‘It was Madame Claudette’s recommendation to add two girls from the village and two brothers from M Asce’s family. They are happy to have the extra work. I believe the numbers to be sufficient Madame. Madame Claudette is doing an admirable job of supplying Cook with eggs, milk, meat and vegetables. The farmers are well compensated and pleased with the extra income.’
‘But can M Asce spare his boys from their work on the farm?’ Sophia asks.
‘I did make that inquiry Madame. M Asce assured me that in these winter months, he and his dogs can manage the sheep and his cows. If he finds himself in need, he promised to tell me.’
‘We seem to go through so many candles and soap of course for the laundry. How are our supplies?’ Madame Perle smiles patiently. ‘Madame Claudette and I review the pantries daily Madame. We are keeping up with the use.’
‘Ten steps ahead as usual Madame Perle. We would be lost without you,’ Sophia rises and smooths her skirt, ‘I will speak to M Levesque to both compliment his capable wife and advise him to send our sheep boys to M Asce if necessary. Are there any other matters for the estate manager?’
‘I think not Madame.’
‘I will see His Grace and then to the nursery.’
She taps lightly on the door to Lucien’s study and opens the door. He gets up from his chair to meet her and draws her into his embrace, kissing her. ‘This is a nice surprise.’ She notices a stack of letters on his desk, the one on is top addressed to the lawyer, M Diodati.
‘Will you write to Layla?’ she asks as they sit on the settee. ‘Athos and I sent messages to Layla and Raoul to come to Royaumont as soon as possible. This is news best delivered in person.’
‘Rochefort may already be spreading his poison in Paris.’
‘Yes,’ Lucien nods with a heavy sigh, ‘that occurred to me, and I am sure it has to Athos as well.’
‘I wish Layla were here now.’ She misses her eldest daughter and their early morning rides together. Her nature is to prefer the hard saddle and cold wind whipping through her hair over making ribbon rosettes or embroidery, preferences her own mother had despaired of. There are so many household matters requiring her attention and the omnipresence of the patrolling well-armed guards serve as a constant reminder that barely a day’s ride away is an angry King and his henchman Marchal who is hunting everyone hiding in her house.
Their situation is precarious and dangerous. If Layla were here … She passes her hand over her hair. She worries about Suzanne, who has difficulty finding a comfortable position for sleeping and her appetite is poor. As a result, she is fatigued and cannot spend the times she wishes with her young daughter Nella. Rayya could help, but she must stay close to Bianca. The child is usually good natured, but they also see her at times staring unhappily out a window, or her sleep disrupted by dreams. The twin boys are walking and testing their limits, their harried nurses chasing after them when they escape the nursery. The usual bumps, bruises and occasional fevers are always a worry in children so young. And then there are the lists to fill for the Noel gifts to the farm families … if Layla were here …
‘We always wish Layla were here,’ Lucien replies in a distracted tone, his eyes wandering to his desk, ‘she is married and …’
‘Yes, yes!’ she waves her hand irritably, ‘I know all that. I still wish she were here.’ She glances at Lucien whose attention has snapped back to her. He regards her with a raised brow. She looks away.
‘I will leave you to your…’ She tries to rise, impossible when his fingers rest on her arm. She sits back and calms herself
‘I feel as though I need to protect Marie,’ Sophia blurts out, ‘she seems diminished Lucien, I would say even frail.’
‘I see it too,’ he says gently, ‘she does not know even how to address Athos – by that name or the one she gave him. Marie is very close to Sister Dulcine, why not invite her and Sister Crespine to dinner. I can bring them here after prayers. Marie might take comfort in having her friends present.’
‘She would, I am sure of it,’ Sophia brightens at the suggestion, already feeling better for Marie. ‘I will encourage Madame Bernard to go as well. She rarely comes out of her room, poor lady.’
‘Good,’ Lucien says standing and pulling her to her feet. ‘Perhaps Madame Bernard needs a task? She must have run her own household and with so many people in this house…’ he trails off as Sophia is staring at him astonished. ‘What?’ he asks. She kisses him soundly. ‘You are the clever one.’
**
‘Please sit Your Grace,’ Madame Bernard indicates a chair near the fireplace. ‘Are you comfortable here?’ Sophia asks as she settles opposite Agnes Bernard, who perches on the edge of the chair seat, hands twisting and squeezing her handkerchief. Her smile is bright – too bright. ‘Yes, yes! Of course! I am grateful for your hospitality Your Grace.’
‘Please Agnes, may I call you by your given name? I wish to dispense with formalities, please call me Sophia.’ Agnes opens and closes her mouth and looks down at her mangled handkerchief. ‘You are too kind.’
‘No!’ Sophia quips, ‘just the right amount.’ She is encouraged when Agnes smiles and nods.
‘My husband is taking his mother to prayers at the Abbey for Terce. I thought you might like to join Marie.’ She deliberately avoids titles. ‘It is cold, but the sun is out, and it will be a few degrees warmer in the afternoon. Sisters Dulcine and Crespina will come back with you for dinner tonight.’
‘I do not think I could…’
But Sophia forges ahead, interrupting Agnes’ protests. ‘I have something else to speak about with you. During the Noel season, our family prepares gifts for our farmers …’ She explains the lists, the coats and shoes for children, household goods, food, and other items. ‘This year, with all our visitors, I am sorely in need of help. I have a worthy maid and a footman to assist me, but I really need someone to supervise and make the right decisions. Agnes, I am turning to you for that assistance. Our farmers and their families work very hard and have come to depend on these packets.’
‘Of course, Your … Sophia, I… I …would be honored to help.’ Agnes stammers, sitting back in her chair. ‘I know I have … I cannot seem to …’ She looks helplessly at Sophia. ‘How could I have made such a terrible mistake. Look at what I have brought down on my innocent son. I have been consumed with shame. I do not know how I could not have seen his evil … I do not even know what to call him. I worry about my son.’
‘Call that evil man what he is – the devil!’ Sophia speaks plainly, ‘you have survived a terrible ordeal that was inflicted on you. You have no cause for shame. You were misled and mistreated by a master of deceit and cruelty. That he set his design on you is not your fault. You must never apologize that your nature is trusting and good, your very soul is the best of mothers.’
Sophia softens her tone, ‘my husband spoke of your son with the highest regard. I believe you must ask yourself what Henri would wish for you in this uncertain and frightening moment – to sit here alone? Or to shoulder the fear and worry with faith and share what you can with those around you. In these times, we need to find our strength, not to be undone by our fears.’
Sophia stands up smoothing her skirts. ‘You are better, I can see it. Now, perhaps the way forward is helped by applying yourself to helping others. I am pleased you will go to prayers with Marie and dine with us tonight,’ Sophia says although Agnes had not said she would do either.
Agnes Bernard slowly stands. The Duchess de la Croix seems to be waiting, she has a kind expression, but her opalescent blue eyes gleam with firm resolve.
‘I am delighted to be asked,’ Agnes replies.
**
Sophia surveys her salon with a practiced eye, satisfied at the pleasant buzz of conversation. Everyone is there, including Madame Bernard who accepted her offer of a dress and allowed her maid to arrange her hair into an attractive style. Agnes is talking quietly with Marie and Sister Dulcine. It is the presence of the children that helps to orient the adults to commonly held safe topics of conversation. Renee and Rosie sit together at a table near the window, heads bent together conferring over their results in the new rosettes and cut-out figures. Charlotte has joined her brother Olivier with Alexandre and Samy as they examine maps with Brother Ignazio and Cousin Francois who are exchanging stories of their travels. Athos has been standing near where Rayya and Bianca have set up their harps, tentatively stroking the strings, warming up to play the tunes they practiced together earlier in the afternoon. Bianca is nervous, her glance darting back and forth between her father and Rayya’s demonstrations. Sophia smiles to herself as she remembers being a child in Athos’ company – although he was called Olivier then, but still serious and composed. There were many bonds between them, starting with a betrothal contract between their fathers when he was barely a boy, and she was an infant. Their fathers’ dreams had, of course, never been realized. Theirs was a long, tangled history of dashed expectations, Treville’s guidance and then interference. At the worst of Lucien’s war with Treville, Lucien had decided to trust Athos to find a doctor and take care of her. She had begged Lucien not to leave her with Athos, but there had been no choice. Athos had not betrayed Lucien or her. She wonders – why had Lucien reached out to his sworn enemy to help him and her. Athos had been true to his word. How to understand the past given what they know now to be the truth. Where are the villains they thought they once knew – are they now the heroes of their stories? She looks around the salon for Lucien. His hands clasped behind him, he strolls through the room, pausing at the group with the maps. He is asked a question and points out a feature on the map. He lifts his head searching for her and when their eyes meet, his smile is both warm and private.
Afonso is listening to a vigorous discussion between Porthos and Sister Crespine on the attributes of horses, a subject the good Sister is well versed in as her family has raised horses for the King’s army for generations.
‘Good heaven, Sister, you are well informed!’ Porthos exclaims and turns to Afonso, ‘I should have recruited her myself!’ Sister Crespine smiles serenely, ‘It was the goodness of heaven that recruited me into the Lord’s army.’ Afonso raises his glass, ‘a salute to armies… and I shall include the navy too.’
A shimmering, sweet bell-like sound weaves its way through the room, distinctive and sweet. Bianca’s small brows are drawn together in concentration as she follows Rayya’s fingers and softly spoken encouragement. Yusuf is nearby, his oud balanced on his lap, attentive to their fingers flowing over the strings of their harps, murmuring appreciative comments as music, balanced and harmonious drifts across the room. Athos is astonished at his young daughter’s ability and her concentration. He listens to Bianca and Rayya talking in low tones to each other as they pick their way through their musical pieces. They finish with a flourish and soft applause commends their performance. Yusuf smiles approvingly and sets his oud in place. He plays a quiet tune for a few minutes and then Yusuf nods and lifts his eyes first to Rayya who sets her fingers to her strings and starts to play and then Bianca joins her. As he sings the three musicians play together, the deep tones of the oud reverberating under the shimmering clear overtones of the harp, the melody woven between the instruments. Conversations became muted or paused completely to listen until the song was finished. Marie patted her hands together, ‘beautifully done,’ she beams at her granddaughters and nods gratefully to Yusuf. Athos is smiling and congratulating Bianca, who takes Rayya’s hand, ‘we did it!’ glowing under her father’s obvious pride. Aramis strolls over to stand next to Athos, still clapping his hands.
‘Your Bianca has the hands of a musician.’ Athos darts his eyes to Aramis who smiles at him, ‘a phrase I remember you were fond of using at times.’ Athos indicates Yusuf. ‘She has an excellent teacher.’
‘Do you remember,’ Aramis asks quietly, ‘when Lucien came with Gatien to the house on the Rue de Vieux Colombier? Treville refused to see him, to even consider allowing him to become a cadet.’
‘I remember,’ Athos replies turning his attention to the room. He watches Sophia exercise the grace and skill of a duchess with a salon full of people she must entertain and care for their comforts. She glides through her guests, smiling, a word here and there or a laugh, her eyes sharp for anyone left unattended, pausing to assist a conversation. With a glance or a raised brow, she signals the hovering footmen carrying flasks or silvered trays offering small savories to taste. Lucien also moves around the room, giving the appearance of sociability, but Athos has the distinct impression that Lucien is too restless to sit and make idle conversation. He prowls at the edges of every setting, alert for what is apt to go wrong. His eyes constantly return to his wife.
‘It caused a strain between Treville and Gatien,’ Athos says, ‘I do not recall if there was anything further between them involving Lucien.’ He had quickly forgotten entirely about Lucien Grimaud and never thought of him again for many years. By that time, the name Lucien Grimaud was synonymous with pirates, smuggling, extortion and murder and Treville was enraged at the undesirable but mutual interest between Lucien Grimaud and Sophia de la Croix.
‘Treville must have considered it too risky to have the two of you together in the regiment.’ Aramis says following Athos’ gaze at Lucien. ‘The captain thought he was protecting both of you from Richelieu or his enemies.’ Aramis shakes his head, chasing away wistful thinking. ‘It does no good to think of what might have been.’
Athos smiles wryly as he continues to watch Bianca, ‘I forget you are a philosopher.’
‘We have more important problems right now,’ Aramis says. Athos makes a low chuckle. ‘Lucien would agree with you, whole heartedly.’
Aramis claps his shoulder and wanders back to the group where Porthos is now entertaining Sister Crespine, priests and the boys with fanciful old stories filled with feats of gallantry and bravery. ‘I do not quite remember it that way…’ D ‘Artagnan interjects periodically to correct the record of events. Porthos glares at him, ‘who is telling this story!’ d’Artagnan mocks a regretful shake of his head to the boys, ‘the General has a rare memory for astonishing heroics.’
Athos sees Suzanne rise from a settee and walk towards him. He guides her to a chair and sits opposite her. ‘May I get you a glass of water?’ She shakes her head.
‘I would like to give you something,’ Suzanne says. He smiles, puzzled and waits as she opens the folio and passes him a small drawing in both plain charcoal and charcoal mixed with pigments. He gasps softly.
It is Bianca, sitting on top of Atlas. The huge draft horse is majestic, his head turned toward the artist, blonde mane glossy against his bay coat. Bianca sits with perfect posture in the saddle, her small hands holding the reins with a competence that belies her years. Someone has caught her attention, and she is turned back in the saddle. Her small rosebud mouth open and laughing, her cheeks flushed, her dark silky curls shimmer in the sunlight and dance in the breeze. She is a foreshadowing of the woman she will become, dazzling in beauty, joyful and confident in herself.
Suzanne lays out several more drawings. She caught the child’s expressions, each one different, from animated in games and play to quiet and attentive, lying on her stomach her chin propped up by her palms listening to Rayya read a book, or wistful, her long dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks as she looks out a window. Athos examines them carefully. ‘You must do a painting of her,’ he looks intently at Suzanne. She laughs, ‘I would be happy to if only she could stay still.’
‘May I keep these?’ he asks. ‘Of course you can,’ Suzanne puts the drawings back into the folio and puts it into his hands, speaking so quietly Athos must lean closer to hear her. ‘The drawings were done for you and our aunt.’ His eyes meet hers, smiling and warm. Afonso arrives, ‘shall we go in for dinner dearest?’ He takes his wife’s hand to help her stand.
Lucien bows to his mother and kisses her cheek. ‘Mère,’ he is heard clearly. He offers his other arm to Madame Bernard. Athos approaches Sophia, his eyes expressive with affection, ‘Your Grace, may I have the honor to escort you into dinner.’ Porthos walks with Constance and d’ Artagnan with Elodie. Renee and Rosie leave their ribbons and cuttings. Charlotte waits for Bianca and Rayya to stow their harps and Samy carefully rolls up his father’s maps and joins Olivier, Alexandre, Cousin Francois and Brother Ignazio. Slowly the salon empties.
**
Sophia looks down at the long dining table. Lucien is at the far end, his mother to his right and Agnes to his left. Aramis is next to Marie, and across from Cousin Francois practicing his Italian on Agnes and Brother Ignazio who cannot contain their smiles at his terrible mispronunciations. It is good to see Agnes smile.
Brother Ignazio leans closer to Madame Bernard, ‘I had the honor of meeting your son Madame, at the safe house in Paris. A fine man and an excellent physician. I want you to know I pray for him every day.’
Agnes Bernard looks astonished at this speech. ‘Thank you, Brother Ignazio,’ she says faintly.
‘Would you join me for morning prayers in the little chapel?’ Brother Ignazion asks. Agnes nods, I would like that.’ She does not see the brief glance and smile exchanged by Lucien and Marie.
Athos is next to Bianca, talking quietly with Suzanne and Afonso. He takes a drink from his wine glass and pauses, sniffing the glass and drinking again. Athos looks at Lucien who is watching him with a small smile. ‘This is my wine,’ Athos declares.
‘You are correct,’ Lucien replies, ‘those flasks are filled from a barrel from your vineyard,’ Lucien replies. Athos looks puzzled, ‘how did you…”
‘After we left Bragelonne, your M Maillard sent a small barrel here.’ Lucien raises his glass to Athos, ‘well done.’
Sophia purses her lips in annoyance at her son who manages to avoid his mother’s gaze. She planned for the children to be distributed between the adults, but she notices that Samy, Olivier and Alexandre have managed to dodge into chairs next to or across from each other, forestalling her efforts to dampen their high spirits. Yusuf has placed himself close to Samy who cannot avoid his stern gaze when their high spirits become too noisy. Footmen carrying dishes on polished trays or flasks of wine move with silent efficiency between their guests, filling plates and refilling glasses. There is an easy banter that carries along the length of the table, led by Aramis, who has a particular skill at what her own mother liked to call tossing the crystal ball of conversation. A skill at which every noble lady or gentleman should excel so that conversation never goes stale or slumps. She smiles to herself at this memory of her mother. She must remember to tell Marie later.
The footmen are moving along the table, clearing the soup bowls and setting a plate for the meat courses. Porthos raises his glass to Sophia, ‘compliments to the cook Your Grace. I do enjoy a good sorrel soup, and her soup was splendid.’ Sophia inclines her head gratefully, ‘we grow the sorrel in our green house. I believe Cook has also prepared a sauce for the pheasant.’
But this is not the usual assemblage at a dinner party. Everyone here has been herded together into a forced exile – staying far from Marchal and his guards. None of them know how long it will last or if they are truly safe even this distance from Paris. What will Louis order? She can see the effects on Constance and Elodie, the pressure to keep their children’s lives as normal as possible. The men have an ease with each other, they have faced dangers together many times. They tease and joke, embellish old stories and glance constantly at their wives, perhaps hopeful that a dinner party makes life ordinary again – even if only for a few hours. She looks to the end of the table to see Lucien watching her. He lifts his wine glass to her and tilts his head to Marie, smiling at something she says.
Afonso leans over to speak quietly, ‘Madame, it might be time for Suzanne to retire.’
Sophia quickly looks to Suzanne, sitting on Lucien’s left. ‘Yes, of course Afonso, do you think this has been too much a strain?’
‘No Madame, she has enjoyed it,’ he assures her. ‘But I will be glad when the midwives arrive.’
‘Yes, Marie did write to Madame Bourgeois and her assistant to leave Paris as soon as possible. They should arrive tomorrow.’
Afonso rises and walks to his wife. Athos also pushes back his chair to assist with Suzanne’s. Samy notices Yusuf rising quietly to speak to his father who glances towards the front window overlooking the front garden and the long drive from the crest of the hill. His father frowns. Samy makes a soft gasp as he hears the faint rhythmic staccato of horses’ hooves. Samy jumps up and dashes to the window.
‘Samyar!’ his mother reprimands him. Olivier and Alexandre join Samy who squints to see the two figures riding fast down the long drive. He gasps as they draw nearer, and he can make out their appearances. He presses closer to the window, hands to each side of his face. He whirls and gapes at Yusuf.
‘Osmanlılar! Samy cries. ‘Yagiz’e biniyor!’
‘Samyar!’ Sophia admonishes… an Ottoman riding Yagiz? She goes to the window, rising on tiptoe to look over her son’s head. Olivier and Alexandre are also there, peering excitedly into the dark, not hearing their mothers’ admonitions. The men are exchanging puzzled glances. Ottomans?
‘It is Yagiz and ….’ Sophia looks around for Lucien who is already crossing the room with Yusuf to the front door. Athos is also moving, the other men starting to stand up. He raises his hands signaling his command to wait. D’ Artagnan, Porthos and Aramis exchange glances, but they sit down to calm the others at the table.
The man in Ottoman dress is already in the open doorway. Yusuf regards him with puzzled expression, his eyes roving over his clothing. Yusuf raises on eyebrow and asks, ‘Sen kendini kim sanıyorsun?’ Raoul makes a wry chuckle, ‘Yüce Devlet’ten dönen bir adam.’
Lucien passes Raoul with a raised brow at his disguise and rushes down the stairs to the second rider. A young man slides from the saddle removing a battered hat and shaking out long dark curls tumbling down and turning around. Lucien laughs into the bemused expression of an astonishingly beautiful woman dressed as a servant on a dowdy horse and pulls her into his embrace.
‘Father.’
‘About time mite.’
They walk back up the stairs into the entryway to Athos and Raoul. From the dining room, they can hear the excited voices of the children, particularly Bianca who has recognized Raoul’s voice. Neither Lucien nor Athos take a step to lead them into the direction of the dining room, to greet sisters and brothers, where food will be brought and drink poured. Raoul and Layla exchange a puzzled look at the delay and the silence.
‘Before we join the others, we must go to my study,’ Lucien glances at Athos.
‘There is much for us to talk about.’
Twelve Years After 