by P. N. Elrod
“A palpable hit,” said Nora, correctly reading my expression. “Keep pressing, Elizabeth, he’ll call for quarter in another minute.”
“Let’s play fox hunt,” said Richard, his bright face covered with toast crumbs and butter.
“There’s a perfect example of the need for someone to teach him proper manners.” Elizabeth wiped at the boy’s face with her handkerchief.
“Example? He just wants a game.” I winked at him, a silent promise to steal him away at the first opportunity.
“Yes, but he must learn to say ‘excuse me,’ and ‘may I please’ when breaking into a conversation.”
“Excuse-me-may-I-please play fox hunt,” said her resolute nephew, his voice somewhat muffled by her efforts at cleaning.
“A quick learner, is he not?” I asked, and no one offered to disagree. “Come here, Richard, time to ride to the hounds.”
He broke away from Elizabeth, leaping onto me like a monkey.
“Gently, Jonathan; not so much bouncing, he’s just eaten.”
I promised to be sedate, keeping my word for almost one whole circuit of the house. Richard’s enthusiasm carried over to me, and I forgot about caution in the face of fun. We galloped as madly, as noisily, as joyfully as ever before, so much so that I paid scant mind to the outcry that followed when Jericho answered a knock at the front door.
Just as I cantered into the parlor by way of the servant’s entrance, I saw Elizabeth and the others suddenly rushing out the main door into the entry hall. I stopped, hearing more exclamations and outcry—the happy kind. I felt myself kindling to a unique, near-forgotten warmth at the sound of a voice, low and clear and dearly, dearly loved.
Father. Father has come at last!
“Left your mother at Fonteyn House with all the mourning,” he was saying. “It’s true then? She still wasn’t believing it when I had the head groom take me here. This will be hard. At least Beldon’s there to help. Yes, Beldon and his sister came along, quite the mixed blessing on the crossing. . . .”
“What’s wrong, Cousin Jon’th’n?” Richard tugged at one of my ears.
“Nothing, laddie. You’re about to meet someone very special.”
“Who?”
I swung him around to seat him on one arm, and with a feeling like to a flock of birds flapping wildly in my belly, strode toward the entry hall.
They were gathered close about Father, Elizabeth still holding tight to him as he shook hands for the first time with Oliver. Nora stood close by awaiting introduction; Jericho also hovered near, his face alight with genuine pleasure, for he would soon see his own father. The lot of them looked up and fell silent as Richard and I came in.
Father broke into a great smile at the sight of me and stepped forward, arms open for an embrace. . . then he faltered. A most amazing expression possessed his features as he stared first at me, then at Richard, and perceived the exact resemblance between us. His mouth sagged wide open with out-and-out astonishment.
“Welcome back to England, Father.” I lifted Richard up to get a better hold on him. “I—ah—I have a bit of news for you. . . .”
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