Normally, I never arrive at her doorstep this early in the morning. It was around seven thirty when I left, after rustling fruitlessly all night.But now, my knuckles keep considering whether to tap on the wood or not.

Glaze in her eyes; distance; unfathomable.

"We need to talk."

At my left, long fingers peel open the curtained window. I stay there, transfixed in my spot, when Mathilda notices me standing there. Her lips purse, while my hand hangs on the door knob. Unsung words remain in between us through the glass. Even when the door opens for me, the glass stays there.

Mathilda picks up a plate from the table, my eyes wandering over to the empty spot of the rocking chair. Shaking my head, I take a step towards her. Her hands grip the stove for a moment longer when I say, "Tilda..." I try to take her hand, but she moves away from the stove.

Instead, I decide to change the topic. "Thank you."

"What for?" her voice chipped at the edges.

"For Great Expectations and your wish," I say, muffling my fidgets and my glances at the uncurtained window.

The clock ticks away, even the contraption wondering what is happening here. It looks out to the sun outside, only to find it absent.

A slight curve of her lips echoes and my fidgets cease, her bittersweet expression mirroring on my own. Tilda shakes her head, arms wrapped around her chest.

Taking a step forward, I put my hand on her elbow-- waiting for a few moments-- before running a thumb across her cheek. Tilda fiddles with my coat's collar, but her palm stays on my chest afterward. No one crosses that one step in between us.

Though, there are almost no ink stains on her hands. Only one or two blots. Something gnaws within me, forcing me to not ask. Instead I say, "I... Doctor Hopkins and I are working on a paper together... I won't be able to come everyday as usual..."

"Is that why you're so early today?" she teases, only remnants of her earlier smile left. I shrug in answer. Mathilda continues,
"Usually I had to leave before this time for the apothecary, Mama's medicines..." Her eyes widen, realising what she said out loud. "Lord, I... you..." she sighs.

How... how does one even move away from grief like that, Tilda...

"I'd never mind you remembering her, Tilda.
If you want to... you know you can tell me anything."
Mathilda only dimly nods, while I press a kiss on her forehead.

With the clock ticking away, we move away from one another. I stay at my spot, while Mathilda fetches her peacock blue cloak. She jerks the curtain close with one swift swish.

Yesterday's conversation with Mathilda keeps revolving in my mind, making up knots. Even the bouncing fruit in my hand does not seem to distract it, nor Henry's talk about the incoming shipment. "The shipment will be arriving soon enough, presumably by Wednesday."

"Shouldn't it have arrived by Monday?" I ask. Sunlight's clouded pallor crosses along the corridors we're walking through.
We're about to go to the offices, all the while talking about what we're to deal there.

"It would have if not the bouncing fruit distracting them." Henry eyes the fruit in my hand maliciously.

"Why, I didn't know you were hungry, brother," I jest, offering him the fruit. Henry rolls his eyes.
We pass through Father's study, its door ajar. Jumbled voices coalesce into a single thought while nearing it.

Medicine. Talk. Glazed eyes. Lucifer and Icarus.

"Good morning, boys," a steady voice stops me, one coming from my right. Henry also pauses, as I turn to face the study.

Father's seated by his usual desk, a hand flipping through the documents strewn on it. "Matthew, will you come inside for a few moments?"

My eyes flick over to my brother.
"I would, but we have to go the office today. May we talk after coming back?"

Father lifts his head from the papers, face expressionless.
"Then, you don't need to go today." He gestures to the vacant seat facing him.

Henry eyes the both of us; I pat his shoulder, maybe bracing my own self, rather than him.
I step into the study, the clicking of the door behind me fails to muffle the echo of footsteps on the other side. My eyes look down at the fruit. I should have given it to Henry.

Stifling a sigh, I walk into a room I haven't been in for years. Books and files lie in symmetrical rows in the shelves, a few imperfections peeking out by the corners. The large blue Turkish rug seems smaller than it ever has been while crossing it.

Father's untouched cup of tea waits on the left side, while I place my fruit on the far right side. Pulling the chair back, I look directly at my father, his green eyes holding a silent storm.
"What is it you want to talk to me about?"

Father leans back in his seat, the discarded papers glaring at me.
"It's time you take your responsibilities full on."

"Diving right into the topic," I mumble out loud, gaze shifting to the low steam coming out of a teacup on Father's right.

He sighs, "We've wasted too much time."

"And how do you suppose we make up for it?" I sigh.

"I really did misjudge you." Instead of saying anything more he considers my impassive face for a while.

So did I.

"I thought you felt only a passing fancy. And I was certain that was the case when you stopped visiting that moth infested hamlet a few months ago." He rubs his nose bridge.

So he never did find out I'd started meeting her in the fields next to the abandoned chapel, so close to Edenfield.

"But then you spent an entire night there. I thought you'd be satisfied after fulfilling your desires there. But no."

You really think me capable of such vulgarity?

You thought the same thing about him. Don't forget.

Light filters into a dim glow, while clouds shroud the skies outside. They leave shadows on both Father's and my faces.

"What happened between Mathilda and I is nothing of your concern," a low voice comes from me, left hand clenching and unclenching under the table.

Damn the connotations of my sentence.

Father pulls hia lips into an iron line. "Your saying her forename so boldly in front of me gives a good enough of an idea."

My fists clench and unclench at my sides, wanting to pull at my hair. "You weren't happy with me being with a man. You're not happy with me being with a woman. What do you want from me!"

Father shakes his head vehemently as if he didn't even hear what I just said, as if I sprouted imaginary words from my mouth that I could hear. As if I'm deluded for saying something like that in front of him. "Being with her doesn't erase who I am!" Pushing my chair back, I stand up. A slight twitch resounds in my mind, pricking at it with sharp fangs.

"Matthew, please sit down. You're being unreasonable right now."

I'm the one being unreasonable? My eyes roll. I tread over to the bookshelves in the corners- Father's gaze burning at my back- till an idea comes and stabs me. "I know the deal you made with Dannoso Maleece involved Isaac Crimley as well."

A deathly silence reigns in between us, Father's mouth slightly open. Now his fists clench and unclench.

So Crimley's real dealing actually was about Dannoso Maleece.

"Did Edmund tell you?" He doesn't deny it, while his arms fold across his chest.

"He's too loyal to do that," I say, grimness tainting my tone. Flashes of that manipulated dream dance before my vision.
Shaking my head, I look over my shoulder at him, "I did it the same way you deduced about Mathilda and me."

The past lays siege in my father's eyes, hitting right at the target.
"Dannoso Maleece helped me in a time needed. And Crimley was a tax collector at the time."

So we did become bankrupt at a time.

In victory, as if I'm holding a thyrsus in my hands, I walk back to my seat, exaggerating each click of my heels on the wooden floor. Who are you, Knightley or Sterling? a voice murmurs in my mind.

Stop the fire, stop it now.
Let it burn.

"Why don't you ever talk about Uncle Wulfric?" I sit down. A flash of thunder cackles outside. What kind of person are you with him?
"If there hadn't been any attachment between you two, you wouldn't have middle named me Wulfric."

"I regret that now. Both of you are fools of love." His knuckles tap on the desk. "I shall say no more about my brother." He frowns, waving away whatever crossed his mind. All my regret for asking washes away with those two simple sentences.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. "This conversation isn't going anywhere. We're wasting more time when I could be where I'm needed more."

"We both know you never cared for the business. It was always medicine for you. And despite my inclinations, Henry always was the one who cared for it." His elbows press on the desk.

I wave a lazy hand. "If it were in my power, I would have changed our birth order and solved all your problems."
What I've said in recklessness is met by a silent acceptance, not a denial. That sends an unexpected jolt through me.

"If I could, I would," he simply says. "If your father's wishes were of your concern, then you wouldn't be with Walter's daughter."

"Your disdain for Walter's daughter seems ill suited, especially since you helped them so much all those years ago," I shoot.

"I helped them because I wanted to respect Walter's last wishes, despite our crumbled partnership. I didn't know all of that assistance would come back to bite me." Another clash of thunder lights up a side of Father's face, before plunging the two of us into darkness.

"Thank you for the enlightenment." My eyes roll.
"Now what's the true objective of this speech? I suppose you didn't want to haul me in for to remind me of my poor life choices."

"What I said earlier." Father leans forward in his seat. "No more dalliances. You can not sail two separate ships at the same time."

My eyes narrow, elbows angling on the arm rest.

"I want you to choose, to amend your poor choices. Edenfield will not accept anyone of her background to step within its walls."

Her background...

Taking a deep breath, I say,
"Now you're asking me to sever all ties. Later you'll ask to give up medicine, when it was really you who suggested me busying myself after William..." My voice breaks slightly, only to find Father leaning into his seat and nodding.
"No I, I can't. I can't leave her..." My hand runs through my hair. That can't happen. Of course he'd want that. Still it sends it piercing twitch through me.

Agitation laces his voice, but frostbite coats Father's words.
"Look at yourself, at your stuttering mess. Edenfield and the business is where you belong."

"I have a government job; I can't just leave it, you know that." My nail bites into my loosely clasped palm.

"As far as I'm aware, you can afford that, unlike so many unfortunate souls."

Dear Lord, not again...

"There is no chance of having a respectable union for you two," he says.

"And why is it you think so?" My mouth presses into a thin line.

"Henry's birthday should have been proof enough." Father leans forward into the desk, fingers of both hands uniting in a conservative triangle. "Jasper Harvey is your mother's nephew, and yet he can't come to such events, neither can she. Why? Because of their mothers.
Our standings are totally different."

I open my mouth, but no voice comes out of it. Only inward voices claw within, just like my hands against this chair.

Didn't you wish for her to be there, even though it was impossible?

Father's voice drips in monochrome when he says,
"Choose one path, Matthew. You can't stay at a crossroads for all eternity." Rain starts pattering the windows, filling the silent void.

I only sigh deeply, running a hand through my hair. "You're asking me to let go of both my loyalties and ambitions. To go against our own motto."

"Do you know what my motto is?" He twirls a pen in his fingers.

All the while a conflagration ensues in mind. Lightning crashes on the outside and within.

Father takes my silence as permission. "No moral is absolute, only time is." His eyes point to the wall clock. "I only want what's best for you, Matthew, and I'm giving you time to think, allowing you to see your own follies and understand. Would you rather fall from grace or stay on holy ground?" Father pushes his chair, and I have no doubts whether where he's going. He doesn't glance at me, as he moves to the door.

"And if I don't abide by your conditions?" I don't turn to face him, only let my voice decide the tone.

"Then I can't allow an eternal crossroads. It is final."
With that simple sentence, Father clicks the door shut behind him.
All the while the fruitless fruit keeps glaring at me, asking what will I choose. All too aware of how afraid it is of the consequences.

Heyyy there amazing people İ haven't seen in a while hehe (blame finals for that).

Because of the long absence, this chapter is extra long and well not a filler lmao.

Also while writing this İ just saw a neighbour chasing some lizard with a viper so there's that.

Anyway, finals for my second semester are finished now and wow İ can't believe İ survived first year of uni. İt seems like yesterday when İ started lol.
This also means İ can read/watch whatever İ want for three months so YAY.

Are you guys reading anything these days? I'm currently reading "Enchatee" by Gita Trelease which has HİSTORİCAL FİCTİON, MAGİC, REVOLUTİON so of course I'm happy right now. Would totally recommend it.

Song above is "Over My Head" by Echosmith and honestly that's how confused Matt is atm lol.

İ just noticed how much İ say lol/lmao so excuse moi.

Anyway, İ wish you all a beautiful day,
Love,
MS Zame