Hampshire, 1842
With a sense of great trepidation coiling within his stomach, Kurt gazed at the montage of greenery displayed from the windows of the carriage. It was just coming into autumn and the well-trodden path was alit with golden foliage, intermingling with the fading greens of the passing spring. The clipping of the horse's hooves registered briefly in the back of his mind as the vehicle steadily made its way through the English countryside. The vehicle was gradually traveling through the rolling pastures of Hampshire, having made its way from his original destination of London several days ago.
It had been nearly two weeks since he left Eton, the prestigious private boarding school for wealthy young men. He had been granted a brief reprieve from Eton in the form of an end of term break. For the past few days Kurt had been dreading his impending return to what could only be described as his living hell.
He squirmed anxiously in his seat, inwardly contemplating the return of merciless taunting and physical abuse which would undoubtedly be delivered by his fellow students. His restlessness drew the attention of his father, who had been lightly dozing in the seat across from him.
'Kurt?'
Kurt attempted to studiously avoid his father's anxious gaze and failed miserably in the process. He was reluctant to hide anything from his father, but he had suffered too much heartache in previous years, both literally and physically and Kurt loathed contributing to his father's troubles. Kurt was very fortunate that his father had not suspected anything amiss since he returned from Eton. The darkest shadows of bruising were hidden beneath his clothing and the rest could be accounted to sheer clumsiness. His ivory skin was often prone to easy marking and so his father had little reason to suspect their true origins.
'Kurt, is everything alright?
The Viscount of Barnett, primarily regarded as Burt Hummel, leaned back in the plush seating of the carriage, noting with surprise the evident signs of distress in his thirteen year old son.
The past two years had undoubtedly been difficult for the boy, as they would be on anyone, Burt mused. However, the passing of Elizabeth was particularly sorrowful for his son bearing in mind the remarkably close bond they had possessed. Burt smiled fondly as his own brown eyes met the familiar blue gaze of his son's, the exact replica of Elizabeth's own cerulean stare. They were so much alike, it was no wonder that Kurt had such difficulty adjusting to life after the death of his dear mother. Although Burt tried, he realised he simply did not understand the intricate workings of his son's mind the same way his mother had. Despite the gender disparities evident between the two, Elizabeth understood Kurt in a way that Burt had been struggling to master ever since his wife's passing.
It was unfortunate that Elizabeth passed shortly prior to the date when Kurt was set to attend Eton. Such circumstances required that Kurt recognise the obligatory mourning period and start school the following term. They had both worn black for the requisite number of months and secluded themselves from polite society, the resulting isolation effectively increasing the grief they both felt. Ever since his wife's passing Kurt had withdrawn within himself, his usual effervescence dramatically diminished by the asphyxiating sensation of sorrow. The dual pains of both grief and blossoming adolescence had forced Burt's son to become a mere shell of the boy he once was, introverted amongst all others but Burt himself.
Due to their distraught, school attendance became the very least of their concerns at the time. However, this meant that Kurt arrived at a period when the other boy's had already formed solid friendships and alliances which declined the admittance of another.
Burt recalled with great clarity his own time spent at Eton. He was able to recollect the harassment to which new boys became unwitting victims. His son had gone through a vast period of adjustment within the space of a short time. Overcoming the final necessary hurdle of gaining acceptance of ones peers would restore the good countenance Burt was used to seeing within his son. Of this, Burt felt certain. Despite appearances to the contrary Kurt's small body harboured an immense amount of inner courage and fortitude. Burt was concerned for his son's adjustment to life within Eton, although Kurt had given him no true reason to fear that his time spent at school was anything more severe than simply being tedious. However, Burt recognised that his son was capable of masking emotions as skilfully as any renowned stage performer.
His son was not like other young boys his age. Burt at the very least knew this much.
'Yes, Father. Everything's absolutely f-fine.'
Kurt winced as his voice broke on the final syllable and, not for the first time, mentally cursed the trials of adolescence.
His father held his gaze for a moment longer and Kurt's heart pounded against his ribcage, truly fearing his father could see straight through him. Kurt placed all of his concentration into keeping his face expressionless, until his father finally rested back against his seat.
'Good, Kurt. I am glad to hear it.'
Kurt cleared his throat nervously and pushed back the heavy, velvet drapes of the carriage window in order to resume staring at the scenery once more. In the typical fashion of English weather it had started to rain, effectively obscuring his view.
'Have we almost arrived, Father?' Kurt inquired.
Burt leaned across the carriage and briskly tapped the wall adjacent to Kurt's head, in order to exchange information with the driver on the progress of their journey.
They were travelling to their family estate for the remainder of Kurt's term break from Eton. Formerly known as Barnett House, Kurt's mother had renamed the lavish estate after Kurt's birth, changing the title to 'Alaire Manor'. Kurt recalled his mother telling him when he was a young boy that the name 'Alaire' was French, meaning 'joyful'. She had hoped that the name would invite happiness and prosperity into the family estate, which Kurt would then pass onto his own children.
Despite the sorrow which had occurred within the Hummel family Alaire Manor had lived up to its name. During the cold, lonely nights at Eton the only thing which had provided Kurt any morsel of comfort was his own memories of Alaire Manor. He would fall asleep with tears streaks marking his pale face and dream of the estate. Each night his dreams were filled with the bell-like calls of birds and the images of rolling pastures and the statuesque, ancient trees which surrounded Alaire Manor. He still felt as if part of his mother's spirit lived on within the estate, as it had become as safe haven for him in times of despair.
Elizabeth had been a member of the French aristocracy, as beautiful and graceful in nature as she was in appearance. She came from an immensely affluent family, one of the last of the great families to retain their wealth after the French Revolution. Although her life was prosperous, she received no love or affection from those around her. Her parent's only concern for their daughter was that she maintained every appearance and semblance of being a lady, lest she bring shame upon the family lineage.
When Elizabeth came of age her family arranged a marital union between herself and a distant member of Russian aristocracy. Kurt was unable to recall his name, something terribly dramatic such as Vladimir or Mikhail, he supposed. Elizabeth dutifully agreed to the arrangement, as she had been trained to display obedience, and tried desperately to hide her anguish that she would marry a man that she did not love. As fate would have it, Burt had newly graduated from Cambridge and was determined to travel the world before he would take on the numerous responsibilities of being a first-born son. After meeting Elizabeth his soul searching expedition went no further than France.
Of course, Elizabeth was deemed as disgrace by her family and could never return to her aristocratic home, yet she had never been happier. When Burt introduced his wife to the family estate she had fell in love with its splendour and charm, which was so unlike the cold, luxurious chateaus to which she was accustomed. The name of the estate was changed accordingly to reflect Elizabeth's feelings, and soon after Kurt was born. Although he realised he may be mistaken, Kurt had always thought it was the most romantic tale one could ever comprehend.
Throughout her life Elizabeth put her heart and soul into caring for her family and the estate, giving her love readily to those around her. In many ways Kurt felt as if her spirit lived on within Alaire Manor, which was why he so overjoyed to be returning to the little piece of his mother which he had left.
'It should only be another half hour, Kurt.'
'What?' Kurt asked, startled out of his reverie by the sound of his father's voice.
His father looked up from his heavily creased copy of the London Times, 'Lowell has informed me that we will arrive at Alaire in half an hour.'
Kurt leaned back in his seat, a bright smile spreading across his face for the first time in months, 'Oh Father, that's excellent news.'
The carriage slowly continued its journey and as it did so Kurt felt the unfamiliar sensation of hope begin to settle within his rapidly beating heart.
Kurt nearly burst from the confines of the carriage upon arrival, before recalling his decorum and calmly waited for Lowell to open the doors to the vehicle. He had spent the past five minutes gazing intently out the window, watching as glimpses of Alaire Manor slowly came into view. His heart began to beat out a rapid symphony in his chest at the familiar sight of the beautiful stone structure, nestled within the forestry, somehow simultaneously majestic and subdued amongst the breathtaking landscape. His gaze ravenously took in the sight of Alaire's ancient turrets and intricate stone arches, the glittering windows and the seemingly haphazard placement of steeples and spires.
When he finally stepped onto solid ground he experienced the disconcerting sensation of having his breath knocked from his body.
'Kurt!' A high pitched voiced squealed eagerly.
Startled, Kurt looked down to find himself wrapped within the tight embrace of Rachel, neighbour of the adjacent estate and his closest friend by far. Lady Rachel Berry was a whirlwind, an annoyance, and a self proclaimed performer with a sense of innate energy so palpable she almost seemed to glow. The differences between the two of them were often innumerable and often Kurt felt conflicted by his dual desires to both strangle and embrace his friend. However, her kind heart and easy optimism had made the two of them inseparable for as long as Kurt could remember. This past year at Eton was made even more difficult due to the absence of her company and constant loyal support.
He returned her embrace with ease, something he was unaccustomed to doing with many people. In this very moment back at Alaire Manor, with his arms around his closest friend and his father close by, Eton merely seemed like a night terror from which Kurt had recently awoken.
'I've missed you so much, Kurt,' Rachel gushed, 'Father told me I should wait to let you settle in but I couldn't contain myself. I simply had to come and see you, right this very moment.
Kurt smiled fondly, inured to Rachel's spontaneity and unrelenting determination.
'I'm very glad you did, for I've missed you more than I can imagine.'
Rachel and Kurt's father exchanged pleasantries whilst Lowell carried their belongings into Alaire Manor. Once Kurt had satisfied himself with touring Alaire Manor, anxious to see that it was exactly as he remembered it to be, he took tea with Rachel in the East sitting room. It was a lovely space, filled with the light of the afternoon sun and overlooking the emerald pastures of the estate's many tenants. It contained elegantly feminine furniture in typical French styles, bordered by a vast array of books which captured Kurt's imagination as a child and had never relinquished it. The sitting room had belonged to his mother and Kurt could recall many afternoons spent as a child in this room, the golden light of the sun illuminating his mother as she laughed gaily as she watched Kurt play with his toys.
'I feel so strange in this room without her,' Kurt admitted quietly, idly turning his painted tea cup in his hands.
Rachel placed her warm, soft hand over Kurt's own and smiled sadly, 'I know, Kurt. It will take time before your sadness fades into joyful memories.'
They spent much of the afternoon talking, with Rachel animatedly explaining all which had occurred in Hampshire whilst he was away. He desperately missed these conversations, the quicksilver exchange of witty banter and sympathetic comfort, unlike anything he had experienced at Eton.
'Oh!' Rachel exclaimed, 'I cannot believe I almost forgot.'
'Forgotten what?' Kurt asked, accustomed to Rachel pausing in the middle of a story to reveal a startling revelation. An effervescent smile lit up her face and Rachel practically bounced in her seat with excitement.
'I didn't write to you about my news because I thought you'd prefer to find out while you're here, as a surprise of sorts.'
Kurt arched his eyebrow before asking wryly,' Well? Am I to be continually kept in suspense?'
Rachel's jubilation seemed to be contagious as Kurt could feel a smile spreading across his own face.
'For the duration of the summer, Father has taken in my cousin as ward. It had been so exciting, Kurt! This is the cousin I've told you about from Boston in America. Wouldn't it be so thrilling to go there? In fact I plan to travel one day, if my future husband allows it, that is. I'm certain the two of you will get along unbelievably well. You have to for my sake, at the very least. I wouldn't be able to condone anything otherwise'
Kurt certainly could not recall any mention of a cousin from Boston, although it wouldn't surprise him if this mysterious relative had been mentioned more than once. As much as he loved her, Rachel self absorption often caused Kurt's mind to wander during conversations.
'I am certain I will love her,' Kurt said uncertainly.
Rachel laughed lightly, clapping her hands together as she did so, 'I certainly hope you will. Although I cannot promise that he will return such a level of affection.'
'He?' asked Kurt in surprise.
'You'll meet him soon, Father has organised a dinner tomorrow night in honour of your father's and your own return to Hampshire.' Rachel ducked her head slightly, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, 'I had urged him to prepare the feast for tonight, yet he felt that you may wish to spend the night at Alaire…becoming accustomed to being home again.'
It was left unsaid that Kurt and his father would most likely wish to spend that night in Alaire Manor, becoming accustomed to their family home without the presence of Elizabeth.
'You'll get along so well, of this I feel absolutely certain.' Rachel continued excitedly, 'I've already told him all about you.'
Kurt blushed at the idea of Rachel relaying information about him to her cousin, embarrassing stories and all.
'Assuming your cousin knows me as well as you do by now, shouldn't I be granted the mere knowledge of his name?'
Rachel smiled widely, her eyes glimmering with excitement and what Kurt suspected to be something akin to insanity, 'Of course, how silly of me to have forgotten his name. It's Blaine. His name is Blaine Anderson.'