England/France
1893-1920
"Robert, you have not met my daughter Thérèse before, as I recall," said Albert Langevin, my host for New Year, 1893. He was accompanied by a pretty, dark haired woman in her early twenties, wearing a long, pale mauve dress that set off her slightly dark complexion beautifully.
"No, I don't believe I have," I replied, smiling but a little surprised, "Robert du Harcouët. A pleasure."
"My father has spoken of you," she said, politely, "but no, I have not had the opportunity to meet you before. However, I have been looking forward to it for some time."
I looked at her, curious. Albert and I had been acquaintances, if not exactly friends, for a couple of years. We had met in Paris when I was consulting on a murder case for the Sûrité and he was the chief investigating officer. However, I was surprised that he had mentioned me to his daughter. I knew that she existed, of course, but the impression I had always had from him was that he was overprotective of her to a fault, and that for some reason he did not want me to meet her. Perhaps he did not think that the bastard of an English Duke was a suitable person for her to mix with socially.
"Thérèse has pretensions of being a mage," he said finally, by way of explanation - although from his tone I got the impression that he was a little uneasy about both that and the introduction, "and would not listen when I told her how unorthodox such a request was, coming from a young lady. In the end, I agreed to introduce her a third party who might talk to her about it with a bit more authority than I could, and you are the mage I know best."
I detected a slight tone of resentment in his voice, and I suspect so did she. The expression that flashed across her face was strange: part embarrassment, part anger. However, when he looked at her she was all smiles once more.
"Of course," I said, in reply to his request, then turned to the woman, "may I get you a drink, Ma'mselle?"
She looked at her father, who nodded his agreement, then turned her eyes back to me and smiled.
"Thank you, Monsieur. White wine, if you would..."
I walked across to the drinks' table, picked up a couple of glasses, and then returned to where she was standing, looking out of the window at the square on which Albert's house was situated. I handed her the drink, and joined her.
"I get the impression that your father doesn't approve of what you want to do," I said, after a brief pause.
"If I was his son, I don't think he would object for an instant," she answered, sadly, "but he is a little too old fashioned to accept that women can be mages nowadays. Admittedly, those who take the courses at the Sorbonne are still fairly few and far between, but they are slowly becoming more common."
"I assume you have been tested for the Talent?"
"Yes, about six months ago. However, he was angry with me when he discovered that I had done so."
"What made you try? If you will forgive me saying so, you are older, I suspect, than is normal for those who take the test. It is usually done at school, if it is done at all."
"I had not suspected I had it until I was at college, learning how to teach: I specialise in teaching children in their early teens. When I first went into a classroom, I realised that I had a kind of sixth sense for controlling my pupils and keeping them at their ease. The more I worked with them, the more it became apparent to me, and finally, when some of my pupils took the voluntary test for the Talent last summer, I asked the visiting mages if they could discover any reason for what I could do. Apparently I am Talented, although it is not outstandingly strong."
"And you wish to be trained properly?"
"Yes. The trouble is, the state would not pay for me to take the course, my father refuses, and I do not have the funds to do it myself."
"Why did your father want you to talk to me?"
"He probably hoped that you would talk me out of wanting to do this."
"Hmm. In England, where my father lives, they are a little more lenient. If someone is Talented and wishes to study, they are encouraged, not hindered."
She looked a little sad. "I had hoped to stay in Paris. I do not speak English very well, and all my family and friends are here."
"Let me talk to one or two people I know at the Sorbonne. Perhaps it will be possible to arrange something."
"Thank you very much, Monsieur," she said, a stunning smile crossing her features, "it is a pleasant change to meet someone who doesn't think I am a fool to even consider this."
"Mages are precious," I replied, stating a view I had held for a long time, "and I have always tried to encourage those I find who are Talented, whoever they are. My hope is that one day we will have a system in place, in England at least, where all school children are tested for the Talent, and all those who wish can study at one of the mage colleges."
"Do you think it will ever happen?" she asked, a little wistfully.
"I don't know," I replied, "but I hope so."
I glanced around the room, and from over by the fireplace I could see Albert watching us, his face protective of his daughter. "Perhaps I had better let you go back to your father," I said, finally, "but I will let you know if I have any luck."
"You are very kind. I hope we will speak again," came her answer, and still with a smile on her face she returned to her father. I watched her go, and as she rejoined him I realised that I was rather impressed with the girl, and resolved to do what I could to help her out.
* * * * *
By the end of January, I had pulled some strings and had arranged for a place for Thérèse at the Sorbonne, starting that Autumn. She was definitely more pleased than her father when I told them.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Albert grumbled as I told them over dinner, "women shouldn't study magic."
"Why not?" I asked, "several of the female mages I know are actually better qualified than their male counterparts, and the majority of the others are on a par with them."
He looked at me, unconvinced.
"Father, please. At least give me the chance to prove to you that I can do it," Thérèse said, sadly.
Albert glanced at her, his expression one of uncertainty, bordering on disgust. All of us have our faults, but two of his were that was too proud and too hidebound to accept such a change, especially taking into account how overprotective he was of his only child. However, in the end he grunted.
"If you must," he said, finally, then looked back at me, "and Robert, I hope you know what you are doing."
I smiled. "I'm sure. My friends at the Sorbonne confirmed that Thérèse is Talented when I took her to meet them, and are quite happy to teach her."
He grunted again, and that was the end of it. I looked across at Thérèse and smiled, and saw a warm expression in her eyes. It was then that I realised for the first time that there was one factor in all of this that I had not expected. I realised that I was falling in love.
Albert would kill me if he found out.
* * * * *
Later that year, Andrew decided that once again it was time for the Duchy to change hands. He had held Worcester for more than forty years, and a death and a change of title was beginning to be necessary. In late August, therefore, we put the changeover into motion.
The plan was that old Duke Andrew would die after a fall from a horse during a hunt, with my son feigning death magically, and then waiting out the few days until after the funeral before leaving Millbank for a while and going to our holdings in Scotland. When his will was read, it would be seen that his bastard from Scotland, Robert du Harcouët, who was visiting at the time of the accident, was legitimised, and given both the family name and the Duchy.
Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan. When I got to where Andrew had staged his accident, I was startled to see that he was actually unconscious, and there was blood in his hair, just behind his left ear. As he had fallen, he had hit his head on a stone. I checked him over, and discovered that his skull was cracked, and felt myself go pale. How could I have been so stupid as to let him chose this method, rather than just apparently dying in his bed? I threw a stasis spell around him, which outwardly had the same effect as the one he had planned to cast, but my shock and alarm when the other members of the hunting party found us was far more convincing than it would have been if I had been merely acting.
I teleported the body back to Millbank, accompanied by a medical friend of ours named Watson who along with his associate knew more than most people about myself and Andrew, while the rest of the hunting party brought the horses home. By the time they arrived, Watson was signing the Duke of Worcester's death certificate and I was dressed in black.
Andrew's condition was not good. I had done a magical examination on him, and there was some internal damage around the area of the injury. He wasn't comatose, thankfully, but it didn't look to me as if he would be coming around any time soon without assistance. And it galled me that I could not offer that assistance until the house was less full of people. Still, the stasis spell would at least prevent his condition worsening.
Our friends offered me their deepest condolences, and finally left about an hour later, the taste for the hunt having gone from all of them because of the tragedy. Once they had finally left, and Watson with them, I set about trying to heal my son. I carefully relieved the pressure from the injury, and then healed the physical damage and waited until I could see if there was a change. About half an hour later, he finally opened his eyes, and I saw him wince as the pain hit him.
"You were supposed to feign your death, you know," I said more lightly than I felt, "not stage it in reality."
"What the Hell happened?" he answered, weakly.
"You hit a stone as you landed and cracked your skull."
He looked a little confused. "I thought I had checked this morning to make sure that wouldn't happen," he said, puzzled.
"So did I," I answered, "but obviously you missed one. Can you stand?"
He tried to raise himself up on his elbows, but stopped part way, looking a little green. "Perhaps I'd better just lie here," he said, laying himself back down, "that was the plan, anyway. If you'd do the honours..."
Concerned, I cast the spell that would make him appear dead, and I saw his features slacken. I just hoped to Hell that he would be okay.
* * * * *
Albert came to the funeral, and to my surprise he brought his daughter with him. I had seen her several times in Paris since January, but I got the distinct impression from him, when we were working together, that he didn't approve. Perhaps my sudden change of status had made him look upon me with more favourable eyes.
Either that, or he was just relieved that my new duties would keep me out of Paris once his daughter started at the Sorbonne.
Thérèse, however, seemed pleased to see me and greeted me warmly. Albert just frowned, before taking her by the arm and leading her off towards the Old Hall, where the coffin was lying and people were gathering to pay their respects. After a couple of minutes I followed them, to play host to my guests on this sad occasion.
The service went smoothly, although unlike normally when either Andrew or myself "died" he was still in the coffin when it was laid to rest in the tombs of his ancestors. I would go and rescue him that night, whereupon I could take him somewhere where he could safely recover. First, however, I had to be sociable, but the worry in the back of my mind helped me play my part. Everyone was still sympathetic, of course, even Albert, but I found the afternoon dragging intolerably, and I was relieved when people started to leave. The Langevin's were among the last to go, staying as they were comparatively nearby in the Falcon Hotel in Tewkesbury. I saw them to their carriage, and watched it disappear down the drive, wishing for the umpteenth time that Albert was less unsure about me.
I dined alone, and told the servants that I was retiring early for the night. However, once darkness fell, at around eleven, I was up and dressed and making my way across to the churchyard. Everything in the grounds seemed silent, although in the distance I could hear the sound of a carriage going down the road at the end of the drive. I thought little of it, but headed towards the family mausoleum - built after the crypt had become too full of the de Lacy clan in the early seventeenth century. I unlocked the door and went in, and crossed to Andrew's tomb. Very gently I extended my magical senses into it, and once I touched the still warm body inside, I teleported it into my arms. Then I transferred both of up to his rooms.
Slowly, I unravelled the spell that was keeping him suspended, and was relieved when his features hardened, and became more like normal. Eventually, he opened his eyes.
"How are you doing?" I asked, gently.
"Not great," came the answer, "but I'll get there. How long did you keep me under for?"
"Until after the funeral. I hope you don't mind."
"Not really. I don't think I would have enjoyed it anyway."
"Probably not. There was a good turnout, though," I said, smiling and trying to put him at his ease, "for the record, I think you have a moderate concussion. That's why you are still not feeling your best. I would recommend you stay exactly where you are for a couple of days until you are over it."
"What about the servants?"
"I'll worry about them. You worry about getting well," I answered. He closed his eyes and lay back, and I quietly left the room and went back to my own quarters.
The note was on my dressing table when I returned, and I was almost sure that it had not been there before. Puzzled, I picked it up and opened it, and saw that it was written in Thérèse's tidy, curved hand.
"Please come and see me. Tonight. T."
I suppose curiosity got the better of common sense, and even though I knew that it was a stupid idea, I found myself scanning magically out towards the hotel in Tewkesbury. I quickly checked the rooms, and eventually came across hers. She was sitting by her dressing room mirror, combing her hair and very much awake. The expression on her face was a combination of regret and frustration. Interested in how she had got the note to me, I teleported through to her rooms, appearing by the doorway, and out of sight of the window.
"Robert, you came," she said in French as she saw me, and a smile lit up her face.
"Yes, you piqued my curiosity. What is this all about?"
"I wanted to see you," she replied, crossing to join me.
"How did you get the note to me?"
"I asked your butler, to deliver it while you were out of your room," she replied, a mischievous grin on her face, "after all, for some reason he seemed to think that you would be up and about late tonight."
I didn't want to think about how he had worked it out, but then Barnes had been a footman at Millbank before the last change of Duke, so perhaps he knew me better than I had realised that he did.
"Thérèse, your father is going to kill me if he finds out I've even been here. And what about you? What about your reputation?"
"This is England, and I live in France," she replied, "who is going to know? And even if they did find out, they would care less in France. We are a more...understanding society."
"Albert isn't," I commented, "and I wouldn't put it past him to make sure we regretted doing anything. He has started liking me less and less since I help you get into the Sorbonne."
"I won't tell him if you won't," she answered, then a slightly hurt look crossed her features, "don't you find me attractive?"
"Yes, but I don't want to do anything to hurt you," I answered, a little nervous.
"I'm not asking you to," she replied, and before I could say anything else she was kissing me.
Albert was definitely not going to be amused.
* * * * *
I received Langevin's letter towards the end of January 1895. My duties as Duke of Worcester once more were occupying much of my time and my trips to Paris, which I had been making regularly initially, were becoming more infrequent. While I saw Thérèse when I was there, always without the knowledge of Albert, opportunities to do so became less and less as the months passed. Being part of the British establishment once more meant that instead of the Sûrité I was consulting for Scotland Yard, and instead of teaching occasionally at the Sorbonne I was back at Cambridge. Eventually, she and I decided that it was time we parted company.
The fact that we had made that decision made it the more surprising when I opened the envelope containing Albert's ultimatum.
"Du Harcouët, de Lacy or whatever you are calling yourself now.
I am hereby informing you of my undying hatred towards you. Your behaviour towards my daughter has been disgraceful and inexcusable. I welcomed you as a friend, and asked your help as a friend, and how am I repaid? My daughter is dishonoured and you are absent.
I insist that you present yourself to me at the first opportunity, you damned English wolf. Your choice is to make an honest woman of Thérèse and thereby attempt to salvage what she has left of her reputation, or to meet myself and my seconds to settle this matter in a more final fashion.
I await your answer.
Albert Langevin."
I showed Andrew the letter when he joined me for drinks that evening, in his new guise as my first cousin from Scotland, and he read it in silence. It was only after he had folded it up and returned it to me that he spoke, and when he did his tone was disapproving.
"You bring it on yourself, father," he said, quietly, "there are times when you are like a moth to a flame, and they most often happen where women are concerned. Normally, I would say that you have the strongest set of morals and the strongest personal code of honour, of anyone I know...but it all seems to go to Hell where women you are attracted to are concerned. What have you done to the girl?"
"Nothing, or so I thought," I replied, accepting his rebuke as deserved. He, of all the people I know, has the right to tell me what a fool I've been.
"I assume you are lovers."
"We have been on occasion," I admitted, "but we broke up some time ago."
"I suggest you go to Paris and find out what the Hell Albert wants," he advised, "whatever you've done, he won't let it rest, so if I were you I would settle it sooner rather than later." A pause, then he added, "and remember, a crime of passion that ends in murder is considered justifiable homicide in France."
I looked at him, and realised he wasn't joking.
"You're a great help," I commented, ruefully.
"One of us has to keep a rational perspective," he replied, his tone level and his expression far from amused. Then he smiled. "Try and come back in one piece."
I teleported to Paris the following morning, to try and find out what the Hell Albert wanted. I presented myself at his home at 10 am, curious to know what I was being accused of. His butler opened the door to me in silence, his expression dead neutral, and gestured to me to follow him. My overall impression was of the condemned man being led to the gallows.
Albert was in his study, behind his desk, and rose as I came in.
"I am surprised," he said, "you crawled out from under your rock to come and see me."
"I think you have the wrong idea about me," I answered, "I have never meant to hurt Thérèse."
"Then why did you leave her, alone, carrying your child?" came his reply, his expression neutral, "a bastard's bastard
"What?"
"You heard me. You have dishonoured my daughter. I demand that you either marry her, or meet me on the field of honour."
"That's crazy, Albert," I replied, startled, "I'd kill you if we duelled...and I don't want to do that."
"There is a choice, du Harcouët. Or doesn't the fact that what you have done will make Thérèse an outcast matter to you."
"It matters a great deal to me," I answered, quietly, "but I have to say that I think you are over reacting."
"Then you will make an honest woman of her?"
"I will take her back to England with me," I replied.
"And her studies...it was you who gave her the inappropriate idea of going to the Sorbonne to learn magic."
"She had the idea herself. I just gave her the opportunity. She can continue her studies either at Cambridge or in London."
He looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to work out if I was telling the truth or not, but there was not a glimmer of warmth in his expression or his stance.
"Have her out of this house by this evening."
* * * * *
Thérèse settled in the townhouse quite quickly, and I made sure she obtained a place at King's London. She would be able to finish her first year, and I arranged for a place to be kept for her for when she wished to return to her studies. Alright, perhaps it wasn't exactly what Albert had in mind, but it seemed better than her having to travel from the depths of the country.
Andrew, of course, seemed highly disapproving of the whole business.
"You should have either done what Albert asked, or challenged him, rather than come up with this halfway solution," he said, when we met a couple of weeks later.
"You know my feelings on marriage," I replied, looking down at the drink in my hands.
"Yes, but I have never understood them," came his answer, his expression light, but his tone more serious, "your newly re-inherited position may be able to protect her from overt scandal, but people will talk. They will consider her to be your mistress. Nothing more. Why not save her from that if you really care about her?"
"In case it kills her by doing it."
"There is no guarantee that it would. What happened with my mother was an accident, not design."
I shrugged. "It is a fear I cannot get over," I said, finally, "even after all this time."
"I keep hoping you will, given time," Andrew said, a touch of sadness in his voice. He paused for a moment, something else obviously bothering him, then asked, "how is Thérèse's child going to affect our arrangement."
I glanced at him, puzzled. "Why should it affect anything?"
"Because a son or daughter, even an illegitimate one, would take precedence over a cousin in the inheritance of an estate. Up until now, that has never been an issue - neither of us have fathered a child, except you me, and we have been able to make up a relationship that was suitable between us. That is going to change."
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"Bear it in mind, Robert."
"Christ, Andrew. Do you think that after all this time I'd cut you out of my life?"
"I hope not," he replied, rising to his feet, but a detected a trace of uncertainty in his voice, and it hurt me that he would doubt me. However, before I could argue, he spoke again. "I must go. I'll see you later in the week."
With that he teleported out, and I found myself watching the place he had disappeared from for several minutes. In my mind I felt a nagging feeling, that it would have been better to kill Albert than lose my son over this, and the thought disturbed me mightily.
* * * * *
Thérèse was delivered of a healthy boy in the late July of that year, and the pair of them came home to Millbank in good health and good spirits. We decided to call him Lucien, and he was Christened a couple of months later. Andrew attended, but he seemed distant - more distant than I ever recalled him being before - and he left before the party was over. When I tried to talk to him a few days later, he claimed that he had felt unwell, but I knew him too well not to realise that something was wrong.
"How can I convince you that your fears are unfounded?" I asked, quietly.
"I don't know," came his answer, "maybe I'm just jealous."
"You are a better man than that, Andrew."
"Having a brother is taking a lot of getting used to," was all he said, "I've been an only child for so long."
* * * * *
Thérèse moved back to the townhouse with Lucien once he was about six months old, and I made sure that they were well looked after. I spent quite a lot of my time there with them, and slowly Andrew, too, began to be a regular visitor. Perhaps some time to himself had helped him realise that I really did not want him to feel alienated.
The wanderlust came upon me once more towards the end of the century, once Thérèse resumed her studies. I spent some time in South Africa in 1899, fighting a losing battle, and later moved on to Japan where diplomacy, rather than war was the order of the day. I returned regularly to England of course, both to be with my lover and our son, and to see Andrew. In the meantime, she graduated with a respectable degree from Kings, and went back to her teaching - bringing her breed of magic to her students.
It was in the early years of the twentieth century that Brand decided it was time to turn my life upside down, and after that the wanderlust had a whole new meaning. He told me of the family, of Shadow, took me to the Courts of Chaos and to the city in the sky where the visions held sway. He seemed disappointed, however, when I refused the offer of power he gave me, but he did not press me. Instead, he gave me the means to wander if I wanted to, and began to teach me one or two tricks with painting that I have never forgotten.
However, Lucien still brought me home, and I took pleasure in watching him grow.
"He is like his mother," Andrew commented one evening when we met in the Dorchester Club for dinner, "probably more like her than he is you. He has her hair, and her complexion."
"And our eyes," I said, smiling.
"Is he Talented?"
"Yes. The potential is there and it is strong, as both his parents have it. It hasn't started coming out yet, of course. That won't happen for a few years yet, as he is still only ten. But I am hoping he will be admitted early to Cambridge - he is a clever child, and I am sure he could cope."
"Not London, like his mother?"
"I can pull more strings at Cambridge."
Andrew smiled. "You always were willing to bend the rules for those you care about," he said, after a brief pause.
"That is why you have nothing to fear from him, Andrew," I answered, quietly.
He sighed. "I have to admit that I have begun to be quite fond of him."
"That is better than you being jealous. I really didn't want to hurt you...I guess, as usual, I didn't think. But I dread to think what Albert would have done to her if I hadn't brought her to England."
"That's irrelevant now," came his reply, "since he died last year. Have you considered letting them spend some time in France?"
"Thérèse has expressed a desire to go back there," I answered, "when Albert died, he gave instructions for his estate to be sold and the money donated to certain causes he cared about in France. He truly disinherited her. However, I made sure that I participated in the auction, and bought up much of his property. The causes weren't ones I objected to, and I thought that Thérèse would like Lucien to live in the family home. They will be moving back there in the next couple of months. I, of course, have duties and responsibilities here."
"Does this mean it is over between you two?"
"No. I can commute easily enough, and will continue to do so, but Albert's estate will be what Lucien inherits when the time comes, not the Duchy."
My son and my lover returned to Paris in the summer of that year, while I stayed in London. However, my relationship with Thérèse remained strong, and I enjoyed the company of my son. As he got old enough to ride, and to enjoy the outdoor pursuits I grew up with, he spent some time with me at Millbank, as well as in Paris, and once the Talent began to manifest in him, I made sure that it was encouraged but controlled.
Both his magical and academic studies went well, and in the end he was admitted to Cambridge at the age of sixteen. Younger than average, but quite capable of holding his own. In fact, if anything, he was a better natural mage than I myself had been. I kept a watchful eye on his progress of course, over his first three years, and both Thérèse and myself supported him as he strived to do better.
And then a Serbian fanatic put a bullet into an Austrian Prince, and all Hell broke loose.
* * * * *
The War was as bad as the historians have made it out to be. The initial hopes of a quick settlement, that were so strong in the first few weeks, died in the trenches in the Autumn, along with the first of too many casualties. If anything the presence of magic in the battles made the situation worse than in the equivalent War on Earth Prime, as the mages made it easier to target the artillery that each side quickly drafted into the struggles, and every indication suggested that the War was going to get bloodier.
I joined up, of course. I felt it was my duty to do so...to offer my magical services to our forces. I was inducted once more into the Royal Engineers, and found myself serving under Colonel Samuel Cherrit, a friend from Cambridge in the early years of the century. Andrew and Lucien followed my example, although Thérèse was less than keen when her only child enlisted. However, my younger son seemed so proud and so sure of himself when he showed us the mage's flash on the arm of his uniform jacket, when we met up at Christmas 1914 - the last Christmas at Millbank for several years - that her misgivings seemed to be allayed. While his degree was still unfinished, he was good enough in certain aspects that he was allowed to join the Engineers at a lower rank, with a guarantee that they would finish his training as time and opportunity permitted.
My duties mainly involved spotting for the artillery, as well as making long range magical attacks on the German lines. Some of the time this meant I was behind the lines at headquarters, while at other times I was in the trenches, in sight of the opposition. Lucien was also based on the Western Front, mainly as a front line soldier with offensive magic capabilities, although Andrew was assigned to the shipping convoys, protecting them from attack from the German fleet.
I have to say that those years were some of the worst of my life. I hear you say "Why bother to be involved? You had the chance to escape and get away." Perhaps that is true. I had the means to travel Shadow. However Terra Magica was and always has been my home, and I wanted to protect that part of if where I made my residence. Of course that does not mean that at times I did not regret my decision, but it did not change it. Even by late 1915 we were still hoping that the War would finish soon, but the months stretched to more years, and the body count kept mounting.
I was hors de combat when we took Passchendaele Ridge. Earlier in the battle I had been at ground zero for both a magical and a conventional attack, and had been lucky to escape with my life. As it was I had been badly burned as my shields had gone down under the pressure, and while the healing spells had cured most of the damage, I was still shaken from the blast, which had nearly deafened me. As a consequence I was back at headquarters when the news of the victory came through. Sam was smiling as he told me, the first time he had looked even remotely happy for many months, and just for a moment, I had a hope that things were improving.
I received the more personal news in my rooms later that evening, and this time he wasn't smiling.
"I have some bad news for you, Robert," he said, his expression serious.
"What's happened?" I asked, "has something gone wrong with the operation to secure the ridge?"
"No, that is going according to plan," came the answer, "this is different. It's Lucien."
I looked at him, my blood running cold, and knew what he was going to say before he uttered the words.
"He was killed on the Ridge."
"Oh Christ," I muttered, my voice barely more than a whisper.
"I'm sorry, Robert," he said, gently, "however, I thought you would prefer it from me first, rather than from the Ministry."
"Thank you, Sam," I answered, shaken, "I don't suppose there is any way this could be a mistake."
"No. Major Ellis recognised him among the casualties. The body has been taken to the hospital mortuary, along with the others they have identified. You can claim it whenever you wish."
Numb, I stood up and crossed to the desk, trying to avoid looking at the picture of Andrew and Lucien I had painted the spring before the War had started, and poured myself a drink from the decanter. Losing a child was an experience I had escaped for more than two hundred years. While he was young, I suppose I had assumed that Lucien would show the strength and durability that Andrew and myself had exhibited over the years, especially given his natural magical ability. That he had not was taking a long time to sink in.
So much for the much vaunted immortality and larger than life characteristics that Brand had told me of when he was describing the family he claimed we belonged to.
I looked across at Sam and offered to pour him a drink, but he shook his head. "I have a lot to do," he said, quietly, "however, I can do without you here for a couple of days. Do you want to tell Thérèse? Before she receives the official letter."
I downed the drink and then nodded. "It would probably be best."
"Then go with my blessings," he said, "and please accept my condolences. He was a good lad."
I gave a half smile, which was all I could manage, and then nodded to him. "I appreciate you bringing me the news. Really."
I sat down at my desk after he had gone, and picked up the picture. Both of them were smiling, and in the background the cherry trees in Millbank's garden were flowering. I stared at it for a while, still trying to assimilate the fact that Lucien was gone, but it was difficult. Still, at least I knew. He wasn't going to be one of the lost and unidentified casualties...the ones whose families were merely informed that their sons were missing presumed dead.
I suppose it was about an hour, and half a bottle of brandy, later that I got slowly to my feet and brought to mind an image of the hospital. I transported myself there, and was taken by a tired looking orderly to the mortuary. In silence I walked down the rows of corpses, until we stopped beside my son. I turned back the sheet covering him, to see the bullet wounds in his chest and shoulder. Why hadn't he been shielded? That should have stopped the bullets.
Surprised, I brought up a check spell, to see if I could see any reason for it, but found nothing. Literally. There were no spells on him at all, even decaying ones. This struck me as curious, but I supposed it wasn't impossible - he never had completed his training. Still, it left a nagging suspicion in my mind. Had someone taken down his shields, without him realising? Perhaps the shock was stopping me thinking straight.
I looked at him for a couple more minutes, before covering him over once more.
"Will you be taking the body now, sir?" asked the orderly.
"No, I have to tell his mother first," I replied, quietly.
He nodded, and then left me to myself. I stood there for a couple of minutes longer, and then brought the library at Millbank to mind. Thérèse had been living there since 1914 as it seemed safer for her than staying in Paris. With some trepidation, I cast the spell and made the jump. Everything was quiet, and a glance at the clock reminded me that it was getting late. She would probably be in bed already.
I made my way up the spiral staircase to the balcony, and knocked lightly on the door of our bedroom. A sleepy voice answered.
"Who is it?"
"It's me," I said, quietly, and walked in.
"Robert, why are you back?" she asked, rolling over and sitting up in bed. I crossed and sat beside her.
"I thought you would prefer it if I told you," I answered, taking her hand in mine, "Lucien's been killed."
She looked at me, and I saw the colour draining out of her face.
"How?" she asked, her voice small.
"He was shot during the assault on Passchendaele Ridge," I replied, my own voice almost choking, "I didn't find out myself until it was too late to do anything."
"Couldn't you have kept him out of the front line?" came her answer.
"He would have hated me for it," I replied, "you know how proud he was. How independent."
"But he would still be alive," she said, and the tears started rolling down her cheeks. I tried to comfort her, but she pushed me away. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"Because I thought he would be safe," I answered, "and I was wrong."
I moved closer to her and put my arm on her shoulder, and this time she didn't resist. I gathered her into my arms, and held her, my own hurt as strong as her own, and found it difficult to resist the fact that for the first time since Elizabeth had died I wanted to cry.
I returned to France the following morning, and went out with one of the parties still securing the Ridge, to the place where Ellis said he had found Lucien's body. I suppose I had a morbid curiosity to see where my son had died, and his lack of shields was still nagging at the back of my mind. When I reached the spot, the corpses, both German and British, were still being moved away, and the aura of death about the place was almost palpable. Even if I had been in a fit state to try and magically find out what had happened there, I knew that I would have had little success. Too many people had lost their lives there to pick out the dying feelings of one man, even one as close to me as Lucien. However, I resolved that if at any point in the future I learned that someone had aided his death, I would avenge him.
When I brought the body home for the funeral, Thérèse was quiet and withdrawn, and her manner towards me seemed cool. The overriding impression I had was that she truly blamed me for our son's death, and I think I knew then that our relationship was dying. Within a month, she had left Millbank and was living in the townhouse, and when we spoke it was difficult for both of us. Her words were tinged with bitterness, as much as mine were tinged with regret and sadness. I really did love her. I loved them both. But I think her feelings for me died the moment I told her that our son was dead, however much I wished it were otherwise.
By the time the Armistice was signed, the following November, she had returned to France despite the risks, and when I tried to visit her, my reception was frosty at best. It was time to let her go.
Two years later, I received a letter from Matthias Duporte, informing me that Thérèse had died of pneumonia in a Paris sanatorium. The doctors reported that it was as if she had lost the will to live. I read the letter twice, before throwing it in the fire and watching the flames consume it.
And then I opened a bottle of Scotch and got very, very drunk.