Hello, and welcome back to my Victorian Legacy, and the first university chapter of generation

five. It‟s only taken me over two years to get to this point, but I‟m hoping that you will all think that

it is worth it.

Last chapter, we saw Bertie, Andrew and Peter all leave Regalton for New Simbridge university.

Bethany and Christopher, had completed their first year at the university and nearby finishing

school, where Bethany had also met the very handsome Mr Ezra Howard.

But before we catch up with them, there is another person we need to briefly visit.

As Christopher and Bethany had been finishing their first year at the university and finishing

school in Simbridge, their mother‟s cousin, John had been preparing to leave Simbridge for

Regalton. He had finally finished his PhD, but more importantly, he felt he had finished making

all the preparations for his future that he could in Simbridge. Everything else, he would have to

deal with when he arrived home.

It was without much fanfare that he left the Legacy Society and stepped into the waiting carriage.

His brother Alfie had watched him leave, a satisfied smirk on his face. The two had never been

close growing up: Henry‟s machinations had seen to that, and he was looking forward to having

the house to himself. There was some things he wanted to do before he left university, and not

having to sneak around behind someone‟s back, would make them all the more easier.

The first few months of John‟s time back home, had been taken up with wedding preparations.

He hadn‟t gotten too involved, but there was many a day, he had come from work, to find his

mother and wife to be, with cards, or fabric or some other such frippery spread all over the

drawing or morning room. He was rather glad when the day of his nuptials finally dawned.

All the planning was worth it as everything went off without a hitch, just as John had known it

would. After all, there would have been trouble if someone had made a mistake somewhere

along the line.

While John was heading off to Brightsim for his honeymoon, Bertie, was struggling to settle into

university life. He had been enthusiastically greeted by his cousin Christopher the moment he

had arrived at the Prince William halls of residence. “Bertie! It is good to see you. You are going

to love it here. I am planning on moving into the Legacy Society soon, but I will be about to take

you to the pub and down the union. Show you the important places. Look, I have got to dash, I

have a class to go to, but I will see you this evening.”

Bertie had nodded, slightly overwhelmed at his cousin‟s greeting, but pleased by it all the same.

Maybe being at university wasn‟t going to be as bad as he had feared.

Over the next couple of weeks, Bertie spent a lot of time, not only with Christopher, but also with

his best friends, Andrew and Peter. In fact, the only time Bertie was by himself, was when he

retired to his bedroom for the night.

Most of the time, his friends didn‟t mind the fact that every time they turned around, Bertie was

there. However, every so often, their patience expired. One such incident happened only three

weeks into the term. Andrew had chosen to read both chemistry and physics, and was working

on a complex series of chemical equations when Bertie entered the dining room. As soon as

Bertie pulled out the chair next to him, Andrew knew that it had been a mistake to try to work on

them down here, rather than in his room, but he had been peckish and had grabbed some toast

to eat before settling down to work.

Andrew tried his best to concentrate on his work as his friend started to talk to him. Every now

and then, he sensed a pause in Bertie‟s speech and made some sort of noncommittal noise, in

the hope that Bertie would stop and leave him to his assignment.

Bertie showed no sign of taking the hint, and carried on talking. Eventually Andrew could take it

no longer. “Bertie, I am certain that it is all very interesting, but I am trying to work here. I need

to get this assignment done for tomorrow, and I cannot concentrate with you wittering on in my

ear!”

There was a shocked silence from Bertie, and Andrew had to admit that he had probably

overdone it with the wittering remark. “Look, Bertie I am sorry,” Andrew started to apologise, but

Bertie cut him off.

“No, you are busy. I am sorry, I should have realised.” He pushed back his chair and started for

the door.

“Bertie, I…”

“It is fine.” Bertie tried to keep control of his voice as he walked out of the dining room, brushing

at a non-existent piece of lint on his jacket.

Andrew nodded, before turning his attention back to his work. Much as he hated the thought that

he might have upset Bertie, he needed to get this done. And anyway, it wasn‟t as if he was in the

wrong. He couldn‟t hold Bertie‟s hand all the time, no one could.

Bertie wasn‟t the only one having to adjust to him being in university. Back home, things were

feeling very different without the next head of the family around. Eddie found himself wanting to

consult with, and instruct his son as he went about his daily duties as head of the family, during

the day, and just wanting to talk to him at night.

Emmi was finding, that good as Stuart was at reading her stories, they weren‟t quite as much fun

as when he and Bertie shared the roles. She even tried getting her papa to take on the same

roles Bertie did, but it wasn‟t the same. She missed her oldest brother.

Carmen was missing Bertie‟s offer of help in the garden, as she started planting the vegetables

for the summer harvest. Oh Stuart, and Eddie were helping her with the more heavy work, but

she would have appreciated having another set of hands.

But it was Stuart who was missing him the most. For his entire life, it had been him and Bertie

against the world, and now his brother was miles away in Simbridge. It was the little things that

made Stuart miss him most. Whether it was the fact he felt odd sitting at the desk to do his

school assignments, when Bertie has always taken that spot, or the fact that he would look up

from the book he was reading, only for the exclamation he was about to utter, to die on his lips as

he realised he was alone, or the fact that he now sat on his own on the omnibus to Simford, the

pang at realising his brother wasn‟t there, was intense.

As a consequence, he started to spend more time with the other members of his family, and

especially his sister. His presence was, for the most part, tolerated by Emmi. She did love him,

but she didn‟t need him at her side all the time, and in fact, far from helping her, as he thought he

was, he hindered her. One afternoon, only about a fortnight after Bertie had left, her frustration

got the better of her.

She had been busy practising the piano, when he had entered the music room and asked if she

wanted to practise a duet with him. Reluctantly, since she was working out a new piece of music

she had heard only a day or so before, Emmi agreed.

For about ten minutes they played well together, but Emmi was getting more and more frustrated

with Stuart‟s playing. He wasn‟t a bad player at all, in fact he was very good if she was honest,

but compared to her, he was pedestrian. She found herself wincing as he didn‟t accent the music

as she would have done if she had been playing his part, but it was when he hit her hand with his

as he got his timing ever so slightly wrong that pushed her over the edge.

She took her hands from off the keys, and counted to ten as her kasan had taught her to do

before losing her temper. Stuart hadn‟t noticed that she had stopped playing, and carried on with

his part.

It was only when she slipped off the stool that he realised that something was wrong. “Emmi?”

he turned on the stool to look at her retreating back. When she didn‟t respond, he tried again.

“Emmi? Please look at me.”

Emmi stopped and turned to face him, her hands on her hips and her face grim. “Emmi, what is

wrong?” he asked. “We were having a lovely time playing together. Why did you stop and walk

away?”

Emmi threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “You were having a lovely time playing, I was

having to bite my tongue to stop me from telling you on how some parts of that should be

played.”

Stuart‟s face crumpled. “But I thought you liked playing with me. I thought I was helping you…I

thought I was being a good brother…”

“You are a good brother, and I do like playing with you, but not all the time,” said Emmi. “I do not

need you by my side every second I am home. I do not need the constant encouragement you

think I do,” she continued, all the frustration she had been feeling coming out. “I want to be able

to practise the music I want to practise, and not stick to the duets you know.” She stopped

suddenly, watching her brother to see what his response would be.

“…I see,” said Stuart quietly before slipping off of the stool and heading to the room‟s door.

Emmi‟s bottom lip trembled and she felt close to tears as she saw his face. “I am sorry Stuart,”

she whispered, “I did not mean to upset you. Please do not hate me.”

Stuart stopped and turned around, before stooping to hug her. “Hate you? What ever makes

you say that? I could never hate you. You are my sister.”

“But I upset you…”

He hugged her tighter. “Emmi, I am glad you told me how you feel,” he said, and was surprised

to realise that he meant it. “I do not want you resenting my presence for any reason. I would

rather the two of us have fun, than you put up with me just because you feel you have to.

Promise me you will always let me know, if you do not want to play with me.”

“I promise,” she said, letting go of him.

He smiled fondly at her, before heading to the door.

He wandered around the house aimlessly, until he reached his grandpapa‟s hobby room. He‟d

been working on both a new bridge and some more trees for the model railway, and started to

place some of the trees as he thought about what Emmi had said. He was so used to having

someone rely on him for confidence and company that the fact Emmi didn‟t need that from him

was disconcerting. He didn‟t know whether he should hope that he would soon get used to it or

not.

Bertie had been a little bit off with Andrew following the night in the dinning room, but it hadn‟t

lasted long; Andrew was, after all, his friend, and Bertie wasn‟t going to jeopardise that. For his

part, Andrew had apologised the next day, before forgetting all about the incident.

All three had started to settle more into university life as the semester had gone on and their

workload increased. One evening, all three were in the gold study, working on assignments or

doing some reading for class, when Christopher entered, looking rather peeved.

“Bertie, can I speak to you?” he asked, looking down at his cousin.

Bertie glanced, saw the look on his face and shut his book. “Of course Christopher. What do

you want to talk about?”

Christopher took a seat in the chair opposite Bertie. “It is that blasted cousin of mother‟s.”

Bertie‟s brow furrowed. “Which one? Cousin Alfie?”

“Yes. I had planned on moving into the Legacy Society before now, we are, after all over a

month into the new academic year. However, he is blocking my every attempt to do just that.

First he did not want to accept that I am a member because of Mama. Now he refuses to allow

me to live in the house. I have just as much right to live there as he does, since we are both first

cousins to the main line.”

Bertie nodded at that. “You do,” he agreed. “Not all cousins choose to live there, but I know

Uncle Theo and Uncle Stanley did, and I am planning on asking Andrew and Peter if they want to

live there too.” He paused as he weighed up what he was going to say next. “However, I do not

know why you have come to me, or what you expect me to do about it.”

Christopher looked at him with something approaching astonishment. “You are the next head of

the family Bertie, and the next head of the Legacy Society. You can tell him to let me live there,

and, although he may not like it, he has to listen to you, and do as you ask.”

Bertie was stunned. He actually hadn't thought of that. To him, taking over from his father as

head of the family still seemed a long way off, and besides, he didn‟t have to take up his duties

the second he returned home. He would be quite happy to let Eddie continue on for a while if he

wanted to.

Slowly he turned Christopher‟s words over in his mind. He really didn‟t want to have to walk up to

Cousin Alfie and make demands of him, but as he looked at Christopher‟s hopeful face, he knew

he had to say he was going to help. He nodded slowly. “I will go and speak to Cousin Alfie

tomorrow.”

Christopher‟s face split into a wide grin. “Thank you Bertie. I knew you would.

“Now, if you‟ll excuse me, I have a painting I need to work on.” He jumped up from the chair and

headed out of the room. Bertie picked up his book again and stared unseeingly at the pages as

he wondered just what he was going to say to Alfie the next day.

Before he knew it, Bertie was standing outside the Legacy Society. He knocked on the door and

then stood back, feeling nervous. He‟d failed to come up with anything to say to his cousin Alfred

the night before, and coming straight out with “I‟m the heir, I‟m telling you to let Christopher move

in,” did not appeal in the slightest. He had the thought that he would have to try to do this subtly,

but he had no idea how to do that. He was contemplating walking away, when the front door

opened.

“Yes?” asked Alfie, looking Bertie up and down. He recognised Bertie straight away, well it was

hard not to when his father had been staring down at Alfie for the past four years.

“Hello, you must be Cousin Alfred. I am Bertie. I realised this morning that I have been here for

a month now, and yet I haven‟t been round to say hello. That is most remiss of me, and I have

decided to put that right.” He held out his hand as he spoke, slightly surprised that his tongue

had come up with the excuse without any conscious input from his brain.

Alfred looked at it for a short moment before taking it. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, can I come in?” His tongue was still running away with him, showing no sign of

stopping.

Alfie gave a curt nod before standing to one side, and letting Bertie in.

Bertie looked around the hall. “I like what you have done with the grant money,” he said.

“Thank you. The drawing room is through here.” Alfie opened another door as he spoke, and

showed Bertie in.

Bertie looked round at the walls and the portraits of his great uncles, father, grandfather and

great-grandfather hanging there. He experienced a momentary sense of panic as he realised

that he was the next in line to the family, and that the continuation of the family line rested on his

shoulders.

“Please, sit.” Alfie pointed at the settee, and Bertie did as he was told.

“I, er I wanted to thank you for being the caretaker of the Society, after your brother graduated.

You have been living here alone since I gather?”

Alfred nodded. “Yes. I have been enjoying the solitude since he left.”

Bertie saw an opening. “It will be strange for you when Christopher moves in then.”

“Christopher? Cousin Alexandra‟s son? He did come to see me, but he is not moving in,” stated

Alfie.

This threw Bertie. “Oh. But it has been decided that he will be caretaker once you graduate and

before I move in.”

“I have not graduated yet, and I have not given him permission to live here.” Alfie stared Bertie

down, making the younger man feel very uncomfortable and impotent. What had he been

thinking coming over here to force Cousin Alfred to allow Christopher to move in?

“Right.”

“Look, I have a lecture soon. Was there anything else?” Alfie‟s bluntness was surprisingly

welcome to Bertie, who found himself wanted to get back to the halls of residence, even if it

meant telling Christopher he had been unsuccessful.

“Er, no. I wanted to say hello, that is all.” Bertie got up from the sofa, and made to go. As he did

so, his eyes alighted on his father‟s portrait, his grandpapa‟s portrait next to it, and his great-

grandfather George‟s portrait at the end of the row. Whereas every other painting of his

relatives was set in the room he was standing in, George was shown standing on an empty plot

of land. The very plot of land this house was built on. Something clicked in Bertie‟s mind.

“There is one more thing, Cousin Alfred.” He turned to face Alfie.

“Oh, and that is?”

“Christopher does not need your permission to live here.”

Alfie raised an eyebrow at Bertie. “Really?”

“Yes, really. He needs my permission and I give it freely.”

“Your permission.?”

“Yes. My permission. As do you, I hasten to add.”

Alfie crossed his arms and glared at Bertie.

“And what makes you believe that?”

“It is very simple. My great-grandfather…”

“My grandfather,” interrupted Alfie, but Bertie ignored him and carried on. “…bought the land this

house is built on. He passed it onto my grandfather, who passed it onto my father. He has in

turn passed it on to me.” That was a small white lie. He wouldn‟t take possession of the family‟s

lands until he returned home, but Alfie didn‟t know that. “I own this land. I own this house. You

stay here only by my good will. Christopher has my permission to move in and you will, if not

make him welcome, tolerate his presence until you leave Simbridge. If you do not want to live

with him, I am certain that a place can be found for you in one of the halls.”

With that, and without waiting for a response, Bertie turned his back on a stunned Alfie, and

walked out of the room. It was not until he was out of the Legacy Society, that he realised he

was shaking.

By the time he was back at the halls, he had stopped shaking. He found Christopher working in

the art room of the halls.

Christopher looked up from the canvas and gave him an expectant look. “Did you speak to

Alfie?”

“I have. You can move in whenever you want. If Cousin Alfie tries to tell you otherwise, or

makes things uncomfortable for you, let me know.” Bertie was surprised at how confident he

sounded.

Christopher smiled. “Thank you Bertie. I knew you would be able to sort it all out.” He went

back to his painting as Bertie left the room.

Even though Christopher had moved out of the halls, he still saw a lot of the inhabitants still

there. He was often to be found down the pub with Bertie, Andrew and Peter, and of course, he

still saw Ezra on multiple occasions. Most of those occasions were prompted by his sister

inviting him to the park and mentioning that if that nice Mr Howard wasn‟t too busy, perhaps he

could join them, or Ezra asking if he wanted to head to the town, and since it was a nice day,

Miss Smith might like to accompany them.

He had also become a regular fixture when Bethany and Christopher met each Saturday at one

of the many tearooms in Simbridge. When, one Saturday, Christopher turned up alone, Bethany

felt very disappointed, but did her best not to let it show.

“You are late,” she said mildly.

“I am always late Bethany, you should know that by now,” replied Christopher taking a seat.

Bethany smiled at that. “How are you finding living at the Legacy Society?” she asked. “How is

Cousin Alfie?”

Christopher winced. “To tell the truth, it is not at all how I imagined it to be. I never expected

Alfie and I to become great friends, but I barely see him. Even if he is not at a lecture or tutorial,

he leaves the house early in the morning. I have no idea where he goes, or what he does.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” replied Bethany. Then finally unable to stand it any more, she changed

the subject. “Is Mr Howard not joining us today? It is most unlike him to be late.”

“Ezra? He has business to attend to in Simdon, and sends his regrets and his warmest regards

to you. He hopes that you understand and will forgive him, and that he hopes you will be able to

join him for tea on Monday,” replied Christopher, trying to remember everything Ezra had said,

but leaving out the sentiments that he felt embarrassed hearing. There had been something

about Ezra counting the minutes before he would set eyes on her fair face again.

“Oh. I see. I will, of course, be happy to have tea with him on Monday,” she replied trying to

keep the disappointment in her voice to a minimum.

Christopher took a sip of the tea she had already poured for him, before he spoke next. “You are

very fond of Mr Howard, are you not?”

Bethany hesitated. “He is a very kind man. I enjoy his company immensely. I believe we have a

good friendship.”

“Bethany, I know you better than anyone, and I can tell that your feelings for Ezra go beyond

friendship,” replied Christopher.

Bethany looked at her brother, surprised at his insight. “Yes, they do,” she responded. “I care

very deeply for him. He is unlike any man I have ever met before, and just the thought of him

causes my heart to pound and my knees to go weak.”

Christopher looked slightly embarrassed by his sister‟s candour, but still managed to smile

encouragingly at her.

“It is a pity,” she started before stopping and swallowing hard as if struggling to contain her

emotions. “Did he confide in you the nature of his business in Simdon?” she asked after a

moment, clearly changing the subject away from the one she had started to broach.

“Not at all,” he lied picking up his cup of tea. “Not at all.”

Christopher did in fact know exactly where Ezra was heading, because Ezra had asked him for

the address of the Smith residence in Simdon. Now as he stood in front of the imposing

Georgian townhouse, Anthony‟s grandfather, Percival Fothrington-Smythe had acquired eighty

years before, he felt a slight nervousness. What if Mr Smith refused his suit? Ezra could think of

no reason for him to do so, and yet he couldn‟t stop the doubt from entering his mind.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked up the cast iron steps to the porch and pulled on the door bell.

After a moment, the door was opened by a tall, red-headed butler. “Yes sir?”

“Is it possible to speak to Mr Smith if he is at home?” asked Ezra, handing over his card.

The butler took it in an immaculate white gloved hand and looked at it. “Certainly Mr Howard.

Please take a seat and I will see if he is available to speak to you.” He indicated a settee with his

other hand.

Ezra thanked him and took a seat as the butler walked out of the entrance hall, towards the main

staircase. He looked around the hall with interest as he heard the tread of the butler on the

stairs. In the corner, he spotted a sideboard covered in photographs and intrigued, headed over

to it.

He smiled as he noticed several of Bethany, both as the young lady he knew, and, his smile grew

broader, as a small child. He easily recognised Christopher too, and realised that the other

children must be the siblings both had spoken about. He looked closer at the pictures. Yes, the

teenager with the curly black hair looked to have the same brow as Christopher, even if he

looked like his opposite in every other way. He was also sure that the girl wearing her hair in

ringlets had Bethany‟s mouth, although it was set in a haughty, almost sullen line, quite unlike the

smile which normally graced Bethany‟s countenance. Despite these features in common, he was

struck but how different Bethany and Christopher looked to the other children.

He leaned forward to examine the picture of the two adults, Mr and Mrs Smith he presumed. The

man was certainly an older version of the curly haired boy, but without the brow, while he was

certain the woman had Bethany and the other girl‟s mouth.

Straightening up, he turned and noticed three oil paintings on the wall in the next part of the hall.

He strolled over to them, and examined the top one closely. The subject of it was the woman

from the photograph, the lady he had presumed to be Mrs Smith. As he looked at the painting,

he was in no doubt that she was Bethany‟s mother: they had the same bone structure, the same

smile and even the same eyes, although hers were sky blue, rather than the vivid green of

Bethany‟s.

He looked down at the other to paintings and noted the similarities between the three subjects,

including Christopher‟s distinctive brow, and, well, there was no doubt at all that the man was

related to Bertie. They had to be Mrs Smith and her siblings.

He stood back, lost in thought. If the woman in the photograph was Bethany‟s mother, then there

was no way that the man standing next to her could be her or Christopher‟s father, although he

was obviously the father of the other children in the pictures. Either, their father had died and

Mrs Smith had remarried, or they were illegitimate.

Lost in thought, he made his way back to the settee and sat down. He was remembering some

long forgotten gossip he had heard his mother relaying to his totally dis-interested father after

they had returned home from a dinner party some time ago.

“Surely you must remember the fuss Benjamin. She was left at the altar, and yet, not nine

months later, she was married to somebody else and the mother of new-born twins. Everybody

knew that they could not possibly be the issue of her husband, and yet somehow she has

managed to become one of the best hostesses in Simdon. Everybody looks forwards to an invite

to dinner from Alexandra Smith.”

Ezra decided that he wouldn‟t be at all surprised if Alexandra Smith was Bethany Smith‟s mother.

He was so intent on musing on the subject, that he didn‟t realise the butler had entered the

entrance hall again, until he coughed in that way all butlers seemed to master and announced

“Mr Howard, Mr Smith can see you now. Please follow me.”

“Mr Howard,” said the butler as he showed Ezra into the drawing room.

“Thank you Bates,” said Anthony getting up from the settee he was sitting on and holding a hand

out to Ezra.

“Mr Howard, how do you do?” he asked.

“Mr Smith,” responded Ezra.

“Please, take a seat.”

Ezra did as he was bade, and after Anthony had sat on the other sofa, he asked “what was it you

wished to speak to me about Mr Howard?”

Ezra took a deep breath. This was it. “Mr Smith,” he began, “I am here today to say that I wish

to marry,” he paused. He had been planning on saying “your daughter,” but given what he had

deduced while waiting downstairs, he wasn‟t sure how the other man would react to that.

Instead, he finished “Miss Bethany Smith.”

Anthony nodded slowly before repeating “you wish to marry my daughter?” Ezra made a note of

how Anthony referred to Bethany, and decided that it would be safe to speak as he had planned

after all.

As for poor Anthony, he was struggling with what he had just heard. It wasn‟t just the fact that he

had noticed Ezra‟s hesitation while he was speaking, but also the fact that he had been dreading

this day ever since Bethany had been introduced into society. He still thought of her as the little

girl who had tried to clear the coal dust up in the morning room after her brother had decided to

use a lump of coal for drawing one day, and only succeeded in making it worse. The fact that

there was a suitor for her sitting opposite him, a man who wanted to marry her, and presumably

give her children of her own, made him want to dash to Simbridge, bring her home and lock her

in her room forever.

Instead, he forced himself to remain calm and said, “in that case Mr Howard, you had better tell

me about yourself and your situation.”

“My parents are the Reverend and Mrs Benjamin Howard, originally of Simshire,” explained Ezra,

launching into his prearranged speech on his circumstances.

Anthony nodded. “I believe my wife and I have met the Reverend and Mrs Howard.” There was

something about how he said it, that left Ezra in no doubt that the Smiths had indeed met his

parents, and had not been impressed.

“Unfortunately sir,” he replied, “one cannot choose one‟s natural father.”

Anthony gave him an assessing look. There was no mistaking the fact that Ezra had just

emphasised the phrase “natural father,” and given how long he had been sitting in the hall, he

had had plenty of time to look at the photographs Alexandra liked to display there. He struck

Anthony as an intelligent man, and it would not take long for anyone to realise that Anthony was

not Bethany‟s natural father. And yet, he was still here, asking for permission to court Bethany,

and giving what could be taken as a tacit acceptance of Bethany‟s situation. “Indeed,” he

responded, inclining his head to acknowledge that he knew to what Ezra was referring.

“My father,” continued Ezra having acknowledged Anthony's nod with one of his own, “is the

owner of Dargent House, here in Simdon. I will inherit both it and the entirety of his estate on his

death. In the meantime, I have come into the trust my grandfather Thomas, set up for me at

birth. It contains a not inconsiderable sum, and I have used a portion of it to purchase a plot of

land in Simfordshire, on the outskirts of the village of Regalton. My plan is to build a grand house

there, one which I hope Miss Smith and I will spend many, many happy years in.”

“And how, if I may be impertinent, will the running of the house be financed?” asked Anthony.

“My trust fund and the estate when I eventually inherit it, will of course help, but I am studying

law, with the intention of following in my grandfather‟s footsteps. But sir, never fear, I would

rather die, than have Beth…Miss Smith want for anything.”

“You care deeply for her then?”

“Care deeply?” Ezra repeated. “Sir, I love her. She is the most amazing lady I have ever had the

good fortune to meet. The very thought of her brightens my day more than I can say, and I

cannot imagine a future in which she does not feature.”

Anthony looked at the young man shrewdly. He hadn‟t expected to hear the young man speak

so openly about his feelings towards Bethany, and he was convinced that those feelings were

genuine. However, apart from the obvious fatherly feeling that no man would ever be good

enough for his daughter, there was one very important consideration that was giving him pause

over allowing the courtship to take place.

“You speak in such glowing terms about Bethany, and yet,” Anthony paused and gave Ezra a

pained look, “she has barely mentioned you, beyond stating that you are a friend of her brother‟s

whom she has met.”

Ezra felt as if he had been punched. She hadn‟t mentioned him in any other capacity than as

Christopher‟s friend; an acquaintance she had met. Had he really been mistaken then, as to her

feelings for him? He thought about the way she looked at him, how she hung on his arm as they

walked through one of the many parks in Simbridge, and the way she had flushed when he had

kissed her hand the other night. No, he was not mistaken at all. There was some other reason

why she had not told her father about him, and he would have to ask her what that was.

“I do not know why Miss Smith has not spoke of me,” he said slowly, “but I do know that I love

her, and I believe she too cares for me.”

“That may well be the case, but I hope you appreciate, Mr Howard, that I cannot give you my

permission to court her, until I too am certain of my daughter‟s feelings in all of this. I would hate

for her to be unhappy.”

“In that we are in agreement then sir.”

Anthony nodded at Ezra. “Then you do not mind waiting for your answer,” he stated.

Ezra shook his head. “I do not, since I am certain that you will answer in the affirmative once you

have spoken with Miss Smith.”

Anthony gave a small smile. He felt himself liking the young man, despite himself and he was

certainly a good match for Bethany, if she agreed to it. “Indeed. I hope you also do not mind if

we put off talking about Bethany‟s dowry until I have decided to give you my permission, if I do.”

“The dowry had not even crossed my mind,” replied Ezra truthfully. “Mr Smith,” he leant forward

earnestly, “all I want is to marry your daughter. I want nothing else from you, but your permission

to do just that.”

“And I will inform you as whether or not I intend to give you that permission once I have made my

decision.” Anthony stood and offered Ezra his hand. After a pause, Ezra stood too and took it.

Anthony was leading him back down to the front door when Alexandra came out of the morning

room. “Oh I did not realise we had a guest,” she lied as she caught sight of her husband and

Ezra.

“Mr Howard, my wife, Mrs Alexandra Smith, Alexandra dear, this is Mr Ezra Howard,” said

Anthony introducing them both.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Howard,” said Alexandra holding out her hand. Ezra took it,

noticing how her mouth had curved into a smile which was at once familiar and different. “The

pleasure is all mine Mrs Smith. Now if you will excuse me, I really should be getting back to

Simbridge. I can find my own way out.”

Anthony nodded at him. “Very well Mr Howard. I will be in touch with you.”

“Thank you sir.” Anthony and Alexandra watched him head down the staircase and into the hall.

“He seems very nice,” said Alexandra as they heard the front door close.

“Hmm.”

“What was the reason for his visit?”

“Oh. He wants to marry Bethany.”

“He does? Oh how wonderful. Her first suitor. I hope you were encouraging to him,” exclaimed

Alexandra happily.

Anthony looked at his wife. “I was not discouraging.”

“But?” asked Alexandra warily.

“But, has she ever mentioned him in her letters to you?”

“She has certainly mentioned him as Christopher's friend,” replied Alexandra.

“But has she given any indication of how she feels about him?” pressed Anthony.

Alexandra paused as she thought back over the letters she had received from her eldest

daughter. “She has indicated that she cares about him,” she said at last.

“Bethany cares about everyone,” pointed out Anthony. “No, I feel I need to speak to her before I

make up my mind. Tell Bates to come and see me in my study in ten minutes. I will have a

telegram for him to send to the telegraph office.”

Alexandra nodded. “Very well, but in the meantime, I will start to make enquiries into his familial

situation. I take it you did manage to illicit from him, who his parents are.”

Anthony rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Of course. Mr Howard was very forthcoming while

declaring his intentions. Do you remember meeting Reverend and Mrs Howard a couple of years

ago?”

Alexandra thought for a moment. “Oh! Yes. Poor boy. Still he cannot help it. I will start to make

further enquiries presently.”

The next day at eleven o‟clock on the dot, Anthony was requesting admittance to Princess

Beatrice House, and Bethany was entering the hall to meet him.

“Papa,” she said embracing him, “I was most surprised to receive your telegram yesterday.”

“Why? Can a man not want to have tea with his daughter?” he replied, kissing her cheek.

“Of course, but I normally expect a letter, not a telegram. “

“Well, perhaps if you and your brother visited home more often,” teased Anthony.

“We were discussing that just yesterday. We really do need to plan a weekend visit. I thought

we could have tea in the garden,” she said, slipping her arm through Anthony‟s.

“That sounds very pleasant,” he replied, allowing Bethany to steer him in the direction of the

drawing room and the French windows into the garden.

He watched Bethany carefully as she poured tea and added lemon. As he did so, he felt a surge

of love and pride. No matter that she looked like Joe, he loved her as if she were his own. He

would only give his blessing to a man who would cherish and treasure her, a man she wanted to

spend the rest of her life with.

“I confess,” he said, taking the cup of tea Bethany handed him, ”that I have an ulterior motive for

asking you to have tea with me at such short notice.”

“Oh?” Bethany raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, as she poured her own cup of tea.

Anthony smiled. “Yes, I had a visitor yesterday, a Mr Ezra Howard.”

Bethany practically dropped the tea strainer. “Mr Howard? What was the purpose of his visit?”

Anthony ignored the question for now. “You know him?”

“I, yes I do. He is a dear friend of mine. Christopher‟s. Mine and Christopher‟s. I. We, think a

great deal of him.”

“You care for him?” asked Anthony quietly.

“I…Yes, yes I do Papa. Why are you asking?”

Anthony sipped his tea, and placed the cup on the table. “He wants to marry you.”

Bethany dropped her teaspoon. He wanted to marry her. Ezra had gone to her father to ask

permission to court her, and he hadn‟t changed his mind when he had met Anthony. Of course,

he might not have met Alexandra or looked at the photographs dotted around the house, and so

might not have realised that she was not one of her parents‟ natural daughter. But still, he

wanted to marry her. She realised that Anthony was talking to her again.

“Bethany? Should your mother and I encourage him?”

“Yes! Oh yes, I should like that more than anything!”

Forty minutes later, Anthony was standing in the entrance hall of the Prince William halls of

residence. “Hello Uncle Anthony,” said Bertie striding across the tiled hallway and holding out his

hand.

“Bertie, you are looking well.”

“Thank you, as are you.”

“I do not mean to be rude, but is Mr Howard around? I would like to speak with him.”

“Ezra? Yes I believe he is in the red study. Follow me.” Bertie led the way, with Anthony

following close behind.

“Ezra, my uncle is here to see you,” said Bertie as he walked into the red study.

“Mr Smith, sir,” said Ezra, shooting out of the chair and hastily putting his book on the table

beside him.

“Thank you Bertie,” said Anthony, turning to his nephew. Taking the hint that his uncle wanted to

confer with Ezra privately, Bertie smiled at both of them before leaving the room.

“Mr Smith, I take it you have been to see Beth, Miss Smith?” asked Ezra, conscious of how

nervous he was feeling.

“I have Mr Howard. Can we sit?” replied Anthony.

“Oh, of course.” Ezra showed Anthony over to a chair, before sitting himself.

“I have indeed been to see my daughter this morning,” said Anthony when Ezra looked at him

expectantly. “She speaks very highly of you Mr Howard.”

Ezra held his breath as he watched Anthony. He was waiting for a but.

It didn‟t come. Anthony turned to look at him, a smile playing about his lips. “Very highly indeed.

She is very fond of you Mr Howard, and I believe that if I do not give you the answer I am about

to, she will never speak to me again.

“Mr Howard, you have my permission to court Bethany.

Ezra smiled with relief and happiness. “Thank you. Your blessing means a lot to me, and I

promise that I will do my utmost to love and cherish Bethany until the day I die.”

Anthony returned his smile as he realised how much Ezra meant it. “I suppose we should now

discuss the terms of her dowry,” he said.

Ezra, barely heard him, he was still thinking about how he was going to marry Bethany. “I

suppose so,” he replied.

It was a happy Anthony who left an ecstatic Ezra fifteen minutes later.

Another ten minutes later, and Ezra was standing in the entrance hall to the Princess Beatrice

House, over at the Acadamie, asking if Miss Smith was in.

“I believe that she is practising in the music room,” said Miss Belling. “Whom shall I say is here

to see her?”

“Ezra Howard.”

“Oh, so you are the Mr Howard who has been sending her lilies.”

“I am,” confirmed Ezra.

“I will tell her you are here,” she said with a smile.

Miss Belling had thought that Ezra would stay in the entrance hall, but he was so eager to see

Bethany, he followed her into the music room, ignoring the evil look this garnered him from Miss

Belling.

“Miss Smith, you have a visitor, a Mr Howard.”

Bethany‟s hands crashed down onto the keys of the piano, and she shot up from the piano stool.

“Mr Howard, this is a very pleasant surprise,” she said, trying to sound calmer than she felt.

“I wondered if you would care to have tea with me Miss Smith,” he said, returning her smile.

“I would love to,” replied Bethany.

“I will send for tea and three cups,” said Miss Belling, determined to make sure that the two of

them were adequately chaperoned.

Bethany stifled a giggle at how horrified Ezra looked at that. “Thank you Miss Belling,” she said

before turning again to Ezra. “Perhaps you would care to join me in taking a turn around the

gardens before we have tea Mr Howard?” she asked.

He shot her a grateful look. “I would like that very much Miss Smith.”

Both of them tried to ignore the fact that Miss Belling followed them out into the garden, as they

strolled arm in arm through the grounds.

When Ezra thought they were out of their unwanted chaperone‟s sight, he stopped and turned to

her. “Miss Smith, Bethany, I know that your father has been to see you today. Did he tell you I

had been to see him yesterday?”

Bethany nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

“Did he discuss why?”

She nodded and whispered “yes.”

He took her hand. “Then you know I want to marry you. Bethany you are the most amazing

woman I have ever met. I have loved you since our first meeting, and cannot imagine spending

the rest of my life with anyone else. Will you make me the happiest man in all creation and agree

to be my wife?”

Bethany found her voice at last. “Yes, oh yes I will.

After a short interlude during which Miss Belling was certain she was going to have to make her

presence felt, Bethany and Ezra continued their stroll around the gardens before taking a seat on

a bench set near the pond.

I confess,” said Ezra as she slipped her arm through his, “that there is one thing which puzzles

me.”

“What is that?” replied Bethany, arranging her skirts with her free hand.

“Your father, when I asked for his permission to court you, he said that you had not mentioned

me. You say you want nothing more than to marry me, but if that is the case, why have you not

spoke of me to your parents?” There was nothing accusatory in his tone, he merely wanted to

understand.

Bethany went still, and sat, looking at her lap. “Bethy?” the use of a nickname she had hated her

brother using, made her speak up. “I was afraid to get my hopes up,” she said quietly, looking

wretched.

“I do not understand…”

“You have met Papa?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you also meet Mama?”

“I…yes. Yes I did.” Understanding started to dawn on him, and he put his arm around her. “Is

this because…your father…”

She nodded, still looking at her lap. “I…love you Ezra. I think I fell in love with you many months

ago. I have known that I want to marry you since then, but I also know what I am.” She looked

up into his clear grey eyes. “I knew that if you met Mama and Papa, that it would become

abundantly clear that I…am not Anthony Smith‟s daughter. It is easy to find out that Christopher

and I were born on the same day Mama and Papa wed, and just as easy, due to society having a

long memory for scandal, to discover that Mama was engaged to another man, who left her at

the altar, a scarce nine months before Papa married her. I feared, that once you had that

knowledge, you would not want to marry me.”

“Never,” exclaimed Ezra fervently. “Nothing in your circumstances could ever change the way I

feel about you, or make me want to marry you any less.”

Bethany smiled. “You are a good man Ezra, but when one is told one‟s entire life by those

outside of one‟s family that one is an aberration, one starts to believe it.”

“Bethany you are not, and never will be an aberration.”

“Thank you.”

Now that Ezra had formally declared his intentions, Christopher found himself relieved of his

chaperoning duties as Alexandra arranged chaperonage, that was more appropriate to a formally

courting couple.

Bertie had just returned from a class, when Ezra met him at the front door. “Bertie, there you are,

you have visitors. I have taken the liberty of showing them into the drawing room.”

“Oh, thank you Ezra.” Bertie smiled as his friend, but he appeared visibly troubled as he headed

towards the drawing room. He wondered who could be visiting him, and hoped that it wasn‟t

Alfie, upset at Christopher living in the Legacy Society with him. He didn‟t think he had the

strength to argue with him today.

He was in for a pleasant surprise. “Papa!” his grin widened as he saw the blond man get up from

a settee.

“Hello Bertie, we thought we would come down to visit you, see how you are.”

“I am well Papa, but all the more so for seeing you all.”

For the next couple of hours, Bertie and his family caught up on everything that had been

happening to them since Bertie had last been home. To Carmen and Eddie, listening to Bertie‟s

tales it seemed as if Bertie was at last settling into life on campus, but Stuart was worried. He

could tell that Bertie‟s heart wasn‟t in what he was telling them.

He got his chance to speak to his brother alone, when Bertie suggested they play a game of

billiards. “How are you really Bertie?” he asked as Bertie got up from his break.

“As I told Papa and Kasan, I am well,” started his brother.

“Bertie, this is me you are speaking to. I can sense your reticence,” replied Stuart.

Bertie picked up the blue chalk and started to chalk his cue. “You do know me better than

anyone I suppose,” he murmured.

“That I do.”

Bertie nodded. “Very well. I did not lie to Papa or Kasan. My classes are going well, and I

consistently gain good grades on my essays. It is just, I still do not feel anywhere near at home

here. Oh the halls are comfortable enough, and I have gotten to know several other students

well, but I still feel like an outsider, as if I have only just arrived.”

Stuart kicked at his cue as he listened to his brother talk. “Have you tried joining any clubs? Or

what about the football team? You know how good you are at sports.”

Bertie missed his shot and stood back from the table. “Do you think there is a team?”

“I would be surprised if there is not,” replied Stuart as he stepped forward. “Association football

has become so popular over the years, there are clubs and teams popping up all over the

country. It makes sense that an institution such as this, will have a team, and joining such a team

might make you feel as if you belong here more.”

A wide grin spread across Bertie‟s face as he thought about what his brother had just said. “I

believe that that is a very good idea. There must surely be a team and it will feel good to be part

of one again.”

Stuart gave a small smile as he chalked his cue. It felt good to be helping his brother again.

It was a happy Bertie who strolled through the student union the next day. His chat with Stuart

had energized him and he was more excited than he had been in months. He had managed to

persuade Andrew and Peter to sign up for the team with him, if it existed. Not that they had taken

much persuading. Both had thoroughly enjoyed playing at the board school, even if Peter had

known that he was mediocre at best.

“The noticeboards are through here, are they not?” asked Bertie as they passed row after row of

bookshelves.

“I believe so,” replied Andrew.

They were indeed, and the three boys found themselves scouring a board listing all the sports

teams and clubs that were currently looking for new members.

“Cricket, Rugby rules football, hockey, rowing,” murmured Andrew as his eyes scanned the

notices pinned to the board.

“Rowing?” repeated Peter.

“Yes, rowing. Snooker, they have a snooker club?”

“Apparently,” replied Bertie.

“Ah, here we are. Association football.”

“Where? Oh, there,” said Bertie, as he took a pen from out of his pocket and scribbled his name

onto the notice, before handing it to Andrew.

Andrew took it gratefully and scribbled his name just below Bertie's before giving it to his brother.

“You know, I think I might sign up for the rowing trials too.”

“Rowing?” scoffed Andrew. “You in a boat?”

“Yes, me in a boat,” said Peter mildly as he signed up for both the rowing and the football try

outs.

Bertie had been reading both notices, and had realised something. “Peter, both rowing and

football meet on the same day at the same time, and you realise that there will be extra training

in the run up to a match. I am certain that the same will be true of the rowing when there is a

race.”

Peter nodded. “I expect so.”

“Then, how do you intend to do both?”

“Oh,” Peter waved his hand vaguely, “I will cross that bridge when I come to it. After all, I might

hate rowing, or I might not make the football team.”

“Do not speak like that.”

Peter shrugged. “It could prove to be true. Now come, do you chaps fancy some tea?”

The morning of the football try out, Bertie, Andrew and Peter made their way to the small field

near their halls, where the captain of the team had said they were to meet. They weren‟t the only

ones who wanted the chance to gain a spot on the team, and Bertie felt a pang of panic as he

saw the other men gathered there. How was he ever going to compete for a place with them?

Andrew and Peter shared a glance as they too noticed the others. Unlike Bertie, they had real

concerns about whether or not they would make the team, and there was quite a bit of

competition there.

A tall blond man with a clipboard noticed them approaching and nodded at Bertie. “You are?” he

asked.

“Bertie Legacy,” replied Bertie, essaying a smile.

The blond man looked at his list, and made a tick on it. “I‟m Frank Carstairs, the team captain,

and star striker. Have you played before? And if so, which position?”

“I was the captain of my form team at school, and was a striker.”

Carstairs looked sharply at him. “Did you win anything?”

“Yes. Our team won the school cup both years I was captain.”

“And because of that you think you can play?” Carstairs sneered as he jotted something down

on his clipboard.

“I know I can play.” Where had that come from? Wondered Bertie, but he continued to stand his

ground, looking at Carstairs, even as his mind was panicking. The blond man eventually nodded

and turned to Andrew. “Name?”

“Andrew Harrison.”

“Have you played too?”

Andrew nodded. “I was in the same team as Bertie. I played central defence.”

“Oh, you know each other?”

“We‟re actually cousins, but we‟ve been friends all our lives,” replied Andrew, not liking how

Carstairs was trying to intimidate him.

“What about you?” Carstairs nodded at Peter.

“Me? I‟m Peter Harrison, and before you ask, yes I played on the same team as Andrew and

Bertie. I was the goal keeper. It was my height which got me the position.” Peter‟s voice was

amiable as always, but like his brother, Carstair‟s attitude was making him bristle.

Carstairs pointed back and forth between Andrew and Peter. “You are related?” he asked.

“Twins,” replied Andrew, folding his arms, as if inviting Carstairs to contradict him.

Carstairs said no more, instead moving on to question the other hopeful players about their past

experience with the game. Bertie‟s stomach plummeted as it became obvious that almost

everyone here had played before. How on earth was he going to make the team if everyone

here was good? Maybe this hadn‟t been such a good idea after all, and yet he had been so

excited by it.

After speaking to the last of the prospective team members, Carstairs walked to the side line, and

faced them all. “Thank you all for coming here today. It is a pleasure to see so many of you

wanting to lead our school to glory in the game of Association football. This is my second year as

captain, and I intend to make it as successful as our last.”

“In order to do that I need good players. Now I know many of you have some experience, but

that is not good enough. I do not care if you have captained your school team to victory as a

teenager,” here he sneered at Bertie again, and Bertie bristled. Just who was this pompous prick

to think that he was better than everyone else? He had barely time to wonder where that thought

had come from, before he realised that Carstairs was still speaking and that he should really be

paying attention to him.

“I need talented players, and anyone who does not measure up to my exacting standards will not

be offered a place in the team.” He looked at his clipboard. “I propose to split you into different

teams, and put each of you through different tests to see if you are good enough, and which

position you are most suited for.” Again he looked at Bertie. “Do try to not be too disappointed if

you end up not playing in the position you are most used to. After I have called out your names

and assigned you a team, I want you to stand by the centre line in your team. You will then be

told what you are to do.”

“You will be fine,” whispered Andrew as Carstairs started to read out the names of those in the

first section.

Bertie nodded. Normally, Carstairs attitude would feed his insecurities, and leave him convinced

that he wouldn‟t be good enough to make the team. However, something strange was

happening to him that day. He found himself wanting to prove Carstairs wrong. He wanted to,

not only make the team, but to become the best player on the squad and, maybe, even replace

Carstairs as captain. That would be very good indeed.

As Carstairs finished reading out the final name, everyone started to move towards the centre of

the pitch. “Good luck,” said Peter as Bertie walked past him.

“The same to you,” replied Bertie, as he headed to the centre line, realising that he was once

again starting to feel nervous.

However, once he took in Carstairs instructions and stepped up to the ball, sitting on the penalty

spot, all his nerves vanished. He hadn‟t lied to Carstairs at all: he was good at this game. It was

when he was on the pitch that he felt his most confident. He took a few steps back, and ran at

the ball. His kick sent the ball flying in a perfect arc, into the bottom right corner of the net. The

man assigned to act as goalie, stood no chance as it sailed past him. Bertie gave a satisfied

smile, and walked back to his starting place, catching Carstairs‟s eye as he did so. Carstairs

gave nothing away, as Edwin threw the ball back to Bertie. Bertie caught it, and placed it on the

ground again. His second kick was as perfect as his first, and the ball once again sailed past the

goalkeeper and into the back of the net. It was the start of a very good trial for Bertie.

Forty-five minutes later, as Carstairs and the other members of the team who had been helping

him run the trial, were consulting with each other and making notes, Bertie, Andrew and Peter

were sitting on the side-lines, talking. “You never did tell me how rowing went the other day,”

said Andrew, picking at the grass.

“Did I not? I enjoyed it, and it went well. I have been offered a spot on the squad if I want it.”

“Will you take it?” asked Bertie.

“I…” at that moment, Carstairs called for their attention.

“Everyone! I must say I did not expect to be impressed, and for the most part I was not.”

Bertie raised an eyebrow at that. That really was no way to inspire loyalty and confidence in

those who were trying to make your team. If he was in charge of the situation, he would be

using very different tactics.

“After consulting with Graves and Jameson, it is obvious that a few of you did very well, some

middling but the rest of you were so bad, I would only consider letting you onto the team if there

was no other options available to me. If I call your name, congratulations.”

He started to read down his list, and Bertie felt his mouth go dry. What would he do if his name

wasn‟t called? He was certain that he had done enough, but what if Carstairs decided to be

petty? He needn‟t have worried, his was the third name called, although Carstairs did throw him

a dirty look as he called him. Andrew was called not long after, but Bertie waited with bated

breath for Peter‟s name. It didn‟t come. Carstairs looked up from his list. “Those of you who

made it, congratulations. I will see you all at our first practice session Thursday evening. Until

then, goodbye.”

As everyone started to drift away, Bertie turned to Peter. “You did not get in.” His voice was

quiet as he spoke.

Peter shrugged. “To tell you the truth Bertie, once I saw the standard of some of the others trying

out for goalkeeper and defender, I did not expect to. I am nowhere near as good as you.”

“But we have always played together.” Bertie‟s happiness at making the team himself was

soured by the fact his friend hadn‟t.

“You cannot spend your entire life interacting only with the same people. I am disappointed that I

will not be on the team, but not too disappointed. I really enjoyed rowing the other day, and I

think I want to be part of that squad more than this one.”

Bertie turned to Andrew. “How do you feel about this?”

Andrew shrugged, mirroring his brother‟s response. “To tell you the truth Bertie, I‟m surprised I

made it. You were always a shoo-in, since Carstairs would have to be a true idiot as well as a

pillock to keep you out. I was not, and I know that.”

Bertie nodded unhappily. “But you two are good players.”

“And there was a lot of competition here today,” pointed out Andrew. “Come on. I do not know

about the two of you, but I could do with a bath, and then I have some reading I need to do for

my class this evening.”

As the three of them heading towards the halls, Bertie looked over at Peter. He really didn‟t

seem upset about not making the team at all. Perhaps he did need to stop worrying about what it

would be like to play without his best friend after all. Making up his mind to do just that, Bertie

fixed a smile to his face before speeding up to keep pace with Peter. “Tell me more about the

rowing squad.”

Bertie had to admit, that being part of a football team again was a lot of fun. Soon the endless

round of training had joined his studying and lectures as part of his life at university. Of course,

that didn‟t mean his evenings were boring or filled with only books and essays. He was often to

be found in one of the pubs or the student union with Andrew and Peter, or more and more often,

just Andrew.

The fact that Peter was spending less and less time with them in the evening, and was often to

be found with the rest of the rowing squad during the day when he was not at a lecture, was

bothering Bertie, and he couldn‟t understand why Andrew didn't feel the same. One afternoon,

as they were reading in the red study, Bertie could stand it no more. “Andrew, does it not bother

you?” he asked, putting down his book.

“What bother me?” asked Andrew absent-mindedly.

“That we hardly ever see anything of Peter now-a-days. He is either in a lecture theatre or with

the rowing squad. He is my friend and I miss him, as his brother, you must feel it keenly, and yet

I have never heard you utter anything about it.”

Andrew put his book down on the side table and looked at Bertie. “The reason I have not uttered

a word about it, is because I have no reason to. Oh yes,” he continued as Bertie opened his

mouth to interrupt, “I miss the fact we do not spend as much time together as we once did, but he

is my brother. We have a bond which will never be broken. After all, are you not as close to

Stuart as ever, even if you are no longer living in the same house as him?”

“I…” Bertie looked a little stunned as he thought about what Andrew had just said. “I had never

thought of it like that.”

“Well, then,” said Andrew picking up his book once again, “perhaps you should.”

Bertie nodded slowly. Yes, perhaps he should.

Bertie wasn‟t the only one who was feeling slightly discontent. Christopher had tried and tried to

make the Legacy Society feel like home to no avail. There was a blot on the landscape, and

Christopher had finally come up with a solution he thought would work.

To that end, he strode into the gold study at the Prince William halls one morning, happy to see

that the person he wanted to see was sitting at one of the desks, working on an essay. “Ah Ezra,

there you are.”

Christopher sat down at the desk next to him. “How are you? Now that Mama is arranging the

chaperonage between you and Bethany, I hardly see you. I trust you have been well?”

“Very, thank you Christopher. How are you? How are enjoying living at the Society,” replied

Ezra as he tried to finish the sentence he was working on.

“It is bloody awful,” exclaimed Christopher. “Ezra you have to move into the house with me.”

Ezra looked stunned. “I am sorry?”

“Living with Cousin Alfie is bloody awful,” repeated Christopher. “I knew he would resent me

living there, but not how much. He is barely civil to me when we do speak, but most of the time, if

I enter a room, he exits it. I am telling you Ezra, I need you to move in with me in order that I

may have some civilised company. Or at least have someone to help me hide the body if I do

snap and kill the bugger.”

Ezra put down his pen and looked at Christopher. “Christopher, while I appreciate your kind

invitation, I am not sure I can accept it.”

“Of course you can! There is no reason you cannot join the Society, after all you, are my future

brother-in-law.” He paused. “You do still intend to marry my sister do you not?”

“Of course I do! Nothing on this earth will prevent me from marrying Bethy.”

“Well, then, you are practically family. Nothing is stopping you from joining the society.”

Ezra was patient as he explained. “Christopher, I realise that, but it is not your invitation to make.

As the head of the Society, it is your cousin‟s not yours.”

Christopher looked slightly stunned, but he soon recovered. “Oh. Of course, that fact had

slipped my mind. But I am certain that Bertie will not raise any objections. In fact, I will go and

see him now.” Christopher stood and left the room, leaving Ezra staring after him.

Christopher found Bertie playing a game of cards with Andrew in the games room. “Ah Bertie,

there you are. You know Ezra, do you not? Well, I was wondering if you had given any thought

as to whether he could join the Legacy Society. He is a good friend of mine, and as you know,

he is betrothed to my sister.”

Bertie looked up from his hand. “Of course I know Ezra, I think of him as a friend too, and had

already decided to ask him if he wanted to join.”

“Then you do not mind if I ask him to move into the house straight away?”

“Not at all. He is more than welcome to make the Society his home,” replied Bertie.

“Ah, thank you Bertie!” exclaimed Christopher before dashing out of the room to let Ezra know

the good news, and help him pack. He was determined that he wouldn‟t spend any more time

alone in the house with Alfie.

“He seems pleased,” remarked Andrew as he looked at his card.

“Yes, living with Cousin Alfie must be truly terrible,” agreed Bertie.

Back in Regalton, life had been continuing as normal. Stuart had been spending more time with

his friends in an effort to take his mind off of the fact he still missed his brother. He was finding it

novel to be around people who didn‟t need him or his encouragement all the time, if unsettling.

The family was also getting everything ready for the opening of the new Beth‟s Boutique in

Simdon. The purchase of the building had taken far longer than Eddie had anticipated, and then

there had been a few other changes he had wished to make to the back rooms, including redoing

the store rooms and dressmaker‟s workroom. Finally, the building was ready for Eddie to move

in the shelving he had chosen for displaying the fabrics he was planning on offering, and put the

bolts onto them. Everyone leant a hand, with Bertie making the journey to Simdon to help too.

Finally, everything was in place for the grand opening.

The night before however, Eddie could not settle. He went through his list again, making sure

that everything was ready and still was not satisfied. Just how had his father managed it? He

had opened five shops, and each opening had gone so smoothly. Eddie was worried that there

was something glaring and important he had forgotten, but he couldn‟t for the life of him think

what it was.

He had been pouring over the list for quite some time, when the door to the study opened, and

he heard the soft tread of his barefooted wife on the floorboards. “Dearest Eddie, you promised

me that you would not long be before joining me. You have been sitting here in the dark for the

best part of two hours now. Please, I ask you to come to bed.”

“I apologise my love. I was just going over the lists for tomorrow again,” replied Eddie.

Carmen came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. “It all looks to be in order my

dearest,” she said as she read it.

“I cannot shake the feeling that I have forgotten something…”

“I do not believe you have, and besides it is too late now. If you have forgotten anything, which I

doubt you have, it will have to wait until the morning. Please my dearest Eddie, come to bed.”

Eddie pushed his chair back, and stood, putting his arms around his wife. “You are correct as

always. What would I do without you?”

Carmen returned his smile. “That I do not know, but since you do have me, I know exactly what

you should do now.” She leant forward and kissed him. “Come with me to bed.” Eddie did not

need asking again.

The next day, the family was in the shop early, making all the last minute preparations. Eddie

never realised what it was he thought he had forgotten, and now all thoughts of that had been

driven from his mind, Bertie had made the journey to Simdon, saying that he would not miss the

opening for the world, and was now talking to his father. “I must congratulate you Papa,

everything looks wonderful. I am certain that the opening will be a great success, and that the

boutique will do very well.”

Eddie smiled. “Thank you Bertie, I hope that you are proven correct. Now, before you go back to

Simbridge, I did want to speak to you about some ideas I have about alterations to the house for

your return from university.”

Bertie nodded. “Of course Papa, perhaps once we have closed.”

“Indeed, I believe that will be the most opportune time to speak. There is so much to do before.”

“I agree. I was going to make sure that all is in order with the till,” said Bertie.

Eddie nodded. “That is a capital idea. I wished to speak to Miss Fancey before opening the

doors. I will do that as you make your checks.”

As Bertie headed towards the till, Eddie smiled and approached their dressmaker, in order to

make sure that she had everything she needed before they opened. With everything in place it

was time to open.

Bertie had been right. The opening was a great success, with existing and new customers

visiting them at the new site. Of course, the fact that several members of the family visited and

placed orders for new dresses, helped too.

Back in Regalton, things seemed to be going very well for John too. After a short honeymoon at

the seaside, he and Abbey had returned to the house Henry had bought, where the two of them

soon settled into domestic life together. John in particular thought that they had become the

epitome of domestic contentment, and was even more pleased when Abbey announced that she

was expecting their first child.

Abbey, however wasn‟t quite as content as her husband. True, they did spend many enjoyable

afternoons together, but for every one of those, there were at least as many afternoons when

John would point out that he was trying to read the paper, and did she have to practise the piano

right that moment. For every evening they spent playing chess together there was an evening

she spent at the chess board alone, or reading with only his mother for company.

Those nights, she would spend more time than she cared to admit watching at the window for his

return. When he did finally arrive home, long after she had retired to bed, and often stinking to

high heaven, she would pretend to be asleep as he crept into the bed and put his arm

proprietarily around her and her growing baby bump. She had asked him the first night he had

gone out and not come back until late, where he had been. His anger had been truly terrible to

behold, and she had decided not to question him again.

The truth of where John was sneaking off to on those nights, was very simple. The fact that he

had a new wife and a baby on the way, had made him even more aware of the fact that he had

thus far failed to locate the man he was looking for in the slums of Simdon. He redoubled his

efforts to find him, spending more and more time trawling the alleyways as he searched for him.

One night, eight months after his wedding, he met with success. He had been wandering around

the Nickel for about ten minutes, always on the look out for his quarry, when a dirty-looking blond

man approached him.

“‟E knows yer looking fer „im,” he said quietly.

“I am sorry?” John wasn‟t sure what to make of the man at all.

“‟E knows yer looking fer „im,” said the man again. “‟E knows you‟ve been looking fer „im fer a

long time, and is intrigued as to why.”

“That is between myself and him,” said John.”

The other man gave a bark of laughter. “‟E fought you might say that. „E‟s waiting fer you down

there.” He pointed to an alleyway a little way off.”

John nodded at him, before heading over to it.

The alley was dark and narrow, and John hesitated briefly before starting along it. He hadn‟t

come this far to give up now, he decided gritting his teeth.

The further he went down the alley, the more nervous he became. He was peering further down

it, when he heard the noise of someone stepping out of the shadows.

“I „ear you‟ve been lookin‟ fer me,” said the man by way of greeting.

John whirled round to face the man. “If you are indeed Mr Russ Bear, then yes I have,” replied

John, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“And you are?”

“Are you Mr Bear? I am willing to disclose my name and speak only to him.”

Russ looked at him for a long, uncomfortable while, before nodding. “I am „im. Now I ask again,

„hoo are you?”

“My name is John Legacy,” started John, but on hearing his surname, Russ exploded.

“LEGACY! I swore I‟d never again be in the vicinity ov a Legacy.” He took a step forward and

produced a knife from his pocket. “‟Ave you any idea wot yer family did to me! That double

crossing bastard „Enry left me ter rot in prison. I was bloody lucky to escape the noose or

transportation, and all because of „im! Well, „im and „is idiot bruvver „hoo got off scot free.”

John recovered quickly and looked him square in the eye. “I am aware of my father‟s actions and

how shabbily he treated you. I wish to make some sort of restitution to you, and as such have a

proposition which I believe will prove to be very profitable to you.”

“Which one woz yer father?”

John paused. “Henry.”

“An‟ you believe that wot you „ave to say, will make up fer the fact that I lost years ov me life

banged up in prison?”

“I cannot change the past, nor can I excuse my father‟s actions. What I can do is make your

future more comfortable. That is, if you agree to what I have to discuss with you.”

“An‟ that is?”

“Could we go somewhere a bit less open?” asked John, looking around the alleyway.

“Why?”

“I do not want to risk being overheard. What I have to say is delicate in the extreme.”

Russ gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Look around yer. Yer in the „eart of the Nickel posh boy.

There are ears everywhere.”

“I know, and I worry about the safety of saying what I have to say, out in the open.”

“If you are worried about yer safety, you should never „ave come „ere.”

“Oh, it is not my safety I am concerned with, but yours. I am certain that there are others around

here who would be more than willing to acquiesce to my proposal. In fact, they may be so

tempted by it, they may wish to dispose of the competition.”

Russ contemplated John for a moment. He certainly seemed convinced of what he was saying,

although Russ was a long, long way from trusting him.

Eventually he nodded. “I know a tavern wiv a room we can use. Follow me.” With barely a

glance at John to make sure he was following, Russ set off down the alleyway.

Once in the room above the tavern, John began to outline his proposal. Russ listened intently to

him, taking in every word, looking at every angle and weighing up every consideration. The only

time he spoke was ask what his payment would be. The answer was better than he could have

hoped.

Eventually John lapsed into silence and looked expectantly at Russ. Russ was silent as he ran

through everything one more time. Slowly he smiled. He could make it work. “Very well,” he

said to John. “I agree to wot you say.”

John smiled back at him. “I knew you would.” He slid an envelope across the table towards the

other man. “Your first payment. I will pay you more on the completion of your reconnaissance,

and then, of course the final amount on the completion of your task.”

“And if I need more as I undertake the task?” asked Russ shrewdly. “It ain‟t gonna be easy after

all. Fings might take some time, and even this,” he picked up the envelop and waved it at John,

”ain‟t gonna last me long.

John paused. “Then I will, of course, pay you more, if you need it.”

This was the answer Russ had been hoping for, and he smiled broadly. “Then it will be a

pleasure workin‟ wiv you Mr Legacy.”

John just gave a satisfied smile.

Abbey was just heading off to bed, when John arrived home. She stopped, surprised as she saw

him hanging his coat on the hook, but that was nothing compared to the surprise she felt when

he turned to look at her, a wide grin on his face.

“John, I was not expecting you home so soon,” she stammered as he took a step towards her

and put his arm around her waist.

“But here I am. I had a very profitable evening, and concluded my business far earlier than I

expected.”

He bent down and started to rub her belly. “Yes, very profitable indeed. I am certain that I have

just secured a stable future for us and our son.”

Abbey raised her eyebrows at this, but rather than asking what he meant by that as she

desperately wanted to, she said “it might not be a boy. We could have a daughter.”

John looked up at her, and she flinched at the look on his face. “It is a son. I know it.”

As the second semester continued, afternoons of football practice, nights out down the pub, or

having a nice meal with a very good friend, gave way to studying and writing essays as Bertie

and the Harrison boys prepared for their final exams.

It all turned out to be worth it though, when Bertie, Andrew and Peter all passed the year with

flying colours. As Bertie packed up his trunks ready to move into the Legacy Society the next

day, he couldn‟t help but reflect on how quickly the year had gone Only three more and he would

be returning home as the head of the family. It was a sobering thought.

Across the campus, someone was getting ready to leave Simbridge for good. Alfie had packed

his trunks ready, but it wasn‟t until night had fallen, and Christopher and Ezra were in bed that he

slipped out. He had no desire to bid them farewell, in fact all he wanted to do was get back to

Regalton and the life he planned to lead there.

And with this picture proving that Bertie is indeed his father‟s son, this is where I will leave you all

for now. I hope that the wait has been worth it, and that you enjoyed this. I‟m hoping I‟m going to

be getting back into the swing of things in the coming year and that my chapters will be appearing

in a more timely manner, but I make no promises.

Anyway, as always I want to thank you all for reading. I also want to thank the makers of my cc,

and all my awesome friends in the community, with special thanks going out to Doc

(DrSupremeNerd), for the use of her simself, the mother of the wonderful Andrew and Peter

Harrison, Cait (Regacylady) for the permaloan of Ezra Howard, and Marina (SmoothieQueen87)

for the loan of Azula and Elle Fitzhugh.

Until next time, happy simming.