“You look like a ruffian.”
That was a bit much. It was simply that he preferred simpler materials, and there was something to be said for forgoing the stiffly starched collars. Still, ruffian was a little much. “How are you?” he asked, reaching to kiss her on the cheek.
“All is well. More interestingly, how are things with you? You seemed an utterly changed man.”
“Not at all,” he replied as he sat down. The correct description was perhaps that he was a little more free of the conventions he’d lived his life by.
“I have to say you look well, even in your less fashionable garb. Have you been down there all this time?”
“Yes.”
“And Atticus? He’s been there too? And how long will this go on for?” she asked. “Tea?”
“I’d prefer a coffee.”
“I’m sure Mr. Thompson can accommodate you,” she said, giving the lingering man a nod. Then she turned her attention back to him and waited expectantly for an answer to her question.
Julius shrugged. “She will not compromise. I suggested alternatives, but she won’t hear of it.”
“So you will simply comply with what she wishes?”
“I find I enjoy being there.”
“Clearly,” she said, with a disapproving glance cast down his attire.
“I’ve found challenging conversation. New ideas. I have no talent for the arts, whatsoever, but the philosophies that are discussed in certain circles are inspiring.”
“Inspiring?” she repeated disbelievingly.
“Challenging the very fundamentals of how our society is managed.”
“Oh my goodness, she has turned you into a Chartist.”
“They have some valid points. It's as if I’ve been unshackled from all these old beliefs that have been infused in us since our families started.”
“We were raised with Roman principles,” she stated, “and you embraced them fully.”
“Well, Rome fell, and I don’t want to trudge through the Dark Ages that comes after. There are much more exhilarating views emerging. The world is changing, Octavia. We need to change with it.”
Octavia sighed and looked at him pointedly. “Father would turn in his grave.”
“I don’t think he would. I think he’d enjoy some of the things discussed.”
“I feel responsible for all this. I was the one who insisted you engage her.”
“You cannot blame this on Jane.”
“I can so.”
“I sought her out, because I needed what she represented. I’m thriving in Brighton. I wake up eager to face the day.”
“Well, you are unmarried now. I saw the divorce reported in the newspaper. You could have forewarned us. Can we expected an invitation to your wedding, or are we too establishment for you?”
“She hasn’t agreed to marry me.”
“Oh?”
“I’m still working on it. I’ll wear her down.”
“Being Lady Hennington might be embarrassing for her,” Octavia said tartly. “So are you simply going to go on like this, living in sin? I’m assuming you live together.”
“I have gotten her to move into my townhouse.”
“You bought a townhouse?”
“Not yet. It’s rented, but I’m considering this.”
“You cannot live in Brighton.”
“Whyever not?”
To this Octavia didn’t have a ready answer. “You’re Lord Hennington. You have an estate to run. What about Denham Hall?”
“That was not a concern of yours as you steadily urged me to live in London. How is Brighton different?”
“From that perspective, it’s not, I suppose. I’m just a little distressed seeing you changed so.”
“The changes were needed. You can agree to that.”
“This is just not what I expected. What about Atticus? How is this to work?”
“He’s my son. He’ll be with me. I’m considering sending him to school in a few years.”
“School?” Octavia said. “A public school? No one in our family was ever sent to school. Father would never even think of it.”
“They have some exciting schools on the continent. Antwerp, particularly.”
“Antwerp?”
“Why are you repeating everything I say?”
“Because you are saying such odd things, Julius.”
“There were three of us at Denham as children, and we’ve grown up to be at each other’s throats the vast majority of time. That withstanding, for Atticus, it’s only him. It’s not a good environment for a child to thrive in.”
“But if you send him to Antwerp, his head will be filled with all these foreign ideas. About that nonsense… What do they call it? Materialism.”
“So you’ve heard of it.”
“Julius, this is much too extreme.”
“Discussing ideas is not extreme. Ideas are only dangerous if one is not doing right in the first place, and if you have a look out the window, you can clearly see that something is wrong. The poverty, the filth and disease. I have always cared about these things, and these new ideas are about solutions. Granted, many of them are laughable, but there is still a point even in the silliest of them. How can we know a happy medium if we won’t even look at the other side? You cannot understand something if you ignore half of it.”
“Do not preach to me, Julius Hennington,” Octavia said sharply. “I cannot believe in all this that you have become more annoying.”
“Well, perhaps, but now I’m annoying and happy. And I think Caius will agree on my views. I certainly believe Eliza will.”
“What would I agree with?” Caius said, appearing at the door. Julius had had no idea his brother would appear.
“Julius has become a chartist,” Octavia claimed sharply.
“Oh?” Caius said, taking a seat, showing his typical disinterest.
“He’s sending Atticus off to Antwerp.”
“I said I was considering it.”
“It will do the boy good to see some of the world,” Caius said.
“But...? You’re no help at all,” Octavia said with a huff. “You never were. Both of you are utterly hopeless. At least I can safely say that neither of you are my problem now. Eliza will have to see
