“Did he?”
“No. He was outside.”
Arthur laughed once, unexpectedly.
Then he glanced toward the doorway, as though laughter about Nora might also require permission.
Elias kept his attention on him.
“You’re allowed to remember happy things.”
“Even now?”
“Yes.”
“Even after the wedding?”
Elias did not make a promise about a wedding he was no longer certain would happen.
“You’re allowed to remember her for the rest of your life.”
When Arthur finished eating, Clara offered to take him upstairs.
He asked whether his father would come later.
“At eight,” Elias said.
Arthur checked the clock.
It was twenty minutes past seven.
“Actually eight?”
The question embarrassed Elias more than an accusation would have.
“Yes. Actually eight.”
Beatrice stayed with her grandson while Elias returned to the dining room.
Some of the guests had moved into the sitting room. Others were pretending to study the dessert that had arrived without anyone requesting it.
Elias addressed them calmly.
“Thank you for coming. We’re ending the evening early.”
His uncle began to object.
Felicity looked mortified.
But chairs moved. Coats were collected. His sister kissed his cheek and quietly asked whether he needed her.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
She nodded.
He waited until the front door closed behind the last guest.
Then he faced Felicity.
“Where are the photographs?”
She folded her arms.
“Which photographs?”
“The hallway. The piano. Upstairs.”
“Stored safely.”
“Where?”
“In the west sitting room cupboard.”
“Who moved them?”
“The housekeeper helped.”
“Under whose instructions?”
She stared at him.
“Mine. We discussed changing the house.”
“We discussed changing furniture.”
“And did you expect me to ask permission before moving every frame?”
He stayed quiet.
That was the wrong question, and she knew it.
Finally, she looked away.
“I’m going to live here too, Elias.”
“Yes.”
