“It means…that we have a very intriguing mystery on our hands. Illuminabit ad te. Bring light unto thyself.” He returned Royce’s gaze. “It’s the motto of Wolfbridge Manor.”
*~~*~~*
Once back in the familiar surroundings of the Manor, with Gabriel still unconscious, Giles was able to gather his wits and start reorganising the household.
Their arrival had been chaotic, to say the least, and it was late in the afternoon before everyone could meet in the parlour for formal introductions.
“This seems redundant,” remarked Royce, standing by the fireplace, his arm resting casually on the mantel as he stared at the flames.
“It’s not been done formally, so bear with me.” Giles held his temper in check. He was tired, concerned about the problem of Gabriel and knew that without a Lady of Wolfbridge everything fell on his shoulders.
It usually did anyway, but he’d found Adalyn an excellent listener, and sometimes that was all he needed to work out whatever issues might arise. Now he was on his own, with two new men, one of whom was silent above them, and the other cocooned in his own personal armour.
“Jeremy, Evan, this is Royce. Royce, Jeremy is our footman, and has been here going on six years now. If there is anything you ever need to know about this house, the rooms, the way it all works…Jeremy is your man.”
Jeremy nodded. “A pleasure, Royce. Welcome to Wolfbridge.”
Giles noted with interest that the usually open and friendly Jeremy didn’t smile. He had perhaps sensed that air of aloofness Royce carried with him.
“Evan, given your gifts in the kitchen, I’m sure Royce is going to find your meals as excellent as the rest of us do.” He turned to Royce. “Evan has been at Wolfbridge for nearly three years, I think…” He glanced at Evan, who smiled and nodded. “If you have any foods that you detest, or that might make you ill, please tell him? Otherwise, you may look forward to some very enjoyable dining experiences.”
Royce gave Evan a brief smile. “I’ll need to speak with you about our patient upstairs, I suppose. If he stays here to recover?” His eyes turned to Giles.
Who sighed. “Yes,” he said, sitting down on the couch and crossing his legs comfortably. “That is a question we should all consider.”
“What happened to him, do you know?” Jeremy sat across from Giles. “It’s easy to see he’s taken one hell of a beating.”
“And he has a certain look about him,” frowned Evan. “Almost a familiar one. I cannot place him, but there’s something…”
Royce looked at Giles. “You recognised him?”
Giles shook his head. “No, I didn’t. But like Evan, I’m finding something familiar about that face. That colouring.”
“I believe the lad is of the Halverston line. The almost white hair, those green eyes…and his surname. Parr.”
“God, yes.” Evan looked up. “That’s it. The Parr family lived not far from where I grew up. Or a branch of it, anyway. I recall a woman by the name of Marguerite Parr from my childhood. I always thought she was a fairy with her white hair.”
Giles took a few moments. “I cannot say I know the Parrs, but I have heard of the Halverston estate. The Duke had more than a few children, I believe?”
“By several wives,” answered Royce. “I had a couple of them in one of my divisions in Spain. But neither had the look of our Gabriel. He must have been from another mother.”
“So what are we to do with him?” Jeremy asked.
“Get him healthy first,” Giles shrugged. “How badly is he hurt, Royce? Can you tell?”
“It’s more difficult since he’s unconscious, but I would guess he has at the very least a cracked rib. He’s breathing pretty well, so it’s to be hoped none are broken. But he will be in pain when he wakes up. The rest…bruises and superficial wounds. I could find no obviously broken bones, but I will wager the lad won’t be up and running around for a couple of weeks at least.”
“No head wounds?” Jeremy’s expression conveyed his worry.
“Not that I can tell. Again,” Royce spread his hands wide. “Until he wakes, we cannot know if he has escaped that kind of damage.”
“All right.” Giles rose. “Let’s settle him as best we can. Bathe and clean him, if he wakes we’ll deal with him then, and if not, let him sleep.”
“Sleep is actually the body’s way of healing, so it’s a good thing. He’s going to hurt like the very devil when he does wake, though.” Royce’s lips twisted. “If you have any laudanum, a little might take the edge off the worst of it for now.”
“I’ll see what I can find. And in the meantime, I must catch up with the business on my desk.” Giles squared his shoulders and walked to the door. “Evan, if we could dine at seven, would that give you enough time to prepare whatever is necessary, not just for us but for our patient, in case he wakes?”
“Of course,” nodded Evan. “I’ll set some broth going. He’ll probably not want much more at the moment.” He shot a quick look at Royce.
“Good idea,” came the response. “I agree completely.”
Hoping that this was a harbinger of the relationship he hoped to see build between the men, Giles walked to the door and left them to it.
Would they get on? Would they kill each other? How would Royce adapt to Wolfbridge?
All valid questions, none of which had any ready answers. Only time would tell in this situation, and Giles admitted to himself he was tired, and ready to let those matters take their course.
There were others requiring his attention.
His study was as neat as always, and the correspondence that had arrived during
