Author's Note:

hello everyone! I was very grateful to have received reviews and commentary on this little story, especially the aid from history buff Belen09 on various time period know-hows. I'll be making a couple of changes to the first chapter based off of this, although that will be on the back burner to getting the third chapter out in a reasonable amount of time (and the second chapter of another story I'm writing). Two weeks between chapters may be stretching it a bit for my writing skills, but I will do my best if enough interest shows.

Otherwise, I'll just be updating as I can. I will promise I won't stop the story until it's done, which may take a while but will hopefully be worth it! It's a bucket list item of mine to write a complete fanfiction series.

so off we go with chapter 2! Insights into the mysterious father-son relationship, and an even more mysterious envelope! Plus some background history. Hopefully not too much...I struggled to figure out how much was needed, and I may be digging myself into a hole with the descriptions, so just remember. ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. Which means everything is FAKE, and totally up to my discretion. Don't worry your little minds over the details, just accept them for what they are. I do general background research but I do not assume myself to be an expert and love to tweak things to fit my own fantasies.

Chapter 2: Family Matters

Malcolm entered the room to find the retired Admiral Stuart Reed standing in front of the large fireplace in his private study, hands clasped behind his back as he stared into the roaring flames. The Reed family had been military men for generations. Stuart had been the son of a knighted lord who had served his king and country with distinction, and he himself had served as a distinguished admiral in the Royal Navy until the end of the last major war. He ran his estate as one would command a ship, and his expectation of his son and daughter was that his orders were to be followed without question. Stuart Reed had been at a loss with what to do with his eldest child. He had missed both the birth of his son and much of his early childhood away at sea, common amongst those in the Navy and Army. When he returned, he had been furious to find his son's intense fear of the water and lack of interest in following his father's footsteps.

After two years and his mother's pleading insistence to spare her son from his father's continued wrath, a compromise had been made. He was pulled from boarding school and was instead sent to the Navy as a midshipman, to be watched under the careful eye of a captain who was a good friend of the family, and would also act as a personal tutor in non-military subjects and etiquette. His natural talents in tactics and weaponry served him well despite his fears of the water.

His brilliant tactical mind had led the captain to insist upon his return to Britain and continue his education to serve the British Armed Forces in a different manner than the one his father had desired. His talent for both using and creating novel modifications to weaponry would finally give him his freedom from the seas, much to his father's frustration.

Malcolm had spent several years thereafter engaged with the best and brightest of the British Armed Forces, learning from resident researchers and weapon experts, and had been moved from active seaman duty to general service. He had held the rank of lieutenant in the British Navy and after being transferred was appointed as a lieutenant commander, but Stuart Reed had never accepted his son for what he viewed as a cowardly attempt to avoid active service. Malcolm was his only son, however, and despite the elder Reed's disapproval, to disown Malcolm would be the end of the Reed line, something he refused to do. So Malcolm remained his heir despite his father's disapproval, working with money from the crown on various projects but remaining in the main household to continue his education in the various estate matters he would eventual oversee himself.

The retired admiral turns from the fire to frown at his son. "Such a state of attire is unacceptable in this household. Do I need to remind you of such things as if you were still a child?"

"No sir. I apologize for my appearance, I was-"

"Working like a common labourer" his father interrupted, "tinkering around in that frivolous shop of yours. Wasting your life and resources to a sham of a position in the forces...if it was up to me, it would not be borne. One day you will take over this household, and I will be damned if you should be the weak link to let it fall."

Malcolm gritted his teeth, trying not to let his father's words get the better of him.

"I have yet to neglect any of my duties to this family or its affairs, sir. You requested my presence, and here I stand."

Slap.

Malcolm's face stung at the fast blow his father delivered.

"Do not give me lip, boy. For that is what you are, unmarried, beholden to this family for all the trouble and disappointment you have given us."

At this, Malcolm looks down, directing his furious glare at the poor carpet beneath their feet. "You requested my presence, sir?"

Stuart Reed humphed to himself, accepting the small victory, turning to the desk and picking up a thickly padded envelope and handing it to Malcolm.

"While you were busy fooling about in the barn a missive arrived from that young upstart Hayes at the request of his father. You are to report to General Hayes by order of the crown in two weeks time."

As he hands the letter to Malcolm he grips it tightly for a moment, causing Malcolm to look up.

"Do not assume this gives you leave to run off and neglect your duties, boy. Your unnatural interests in commoners tasks will leave this family in ruin. Your mother is already beside herself at your inability to acquire a wife of good standing, and I am beginning to agree."

Malcolm doesn't fall for the second attempt to get a rise out of him, instead tugging the envelope away from his father's hand and standing back at attention.

"If that is all, sir?"

"Dismissed. I expect you to make yourself presentable for supper."

Malcolm nods to his father, turning and quickly strides from the room.

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Returning to his quarters, Malcolm removes his soiled clothing as a servant enters the room with a basin of water for his face. Washing quickly, he finishes dressing and picks up the letter. His last assignment had been over a fortnight ago, with reassurances that his next assignment would be of the utmost importance and without the brevity of his last few orders. This letter was bound with a seal he did not recognize, along with the familiar crest of the royal armed forces.

A knock on his door disrupted his thoughts, as the servant returned to alert him it was time for supper. He sighed. The letter would have to wait.

The dining hall was quiet as their meal was served, Madeline more subdued after a stern scolding over the state of her dress. Nonetheless, she smiled across the table at Malcolm, pleased to see that the latest confrontation between him and their father had not ended in blows or Malcolm shutting himself away to escape the harsh words of their father.

"Malcolm. Did you not hear what I said?"

He looked towards his mother, distracted from his thoughts of the letter resting on his desk. She smiled, her gaze soft as she continued.

"Your sister has told me of the upcoming ball, but with my health being as it is, I was hoping that you would escort Madeline and Madame Price to the Blalock's ball tomorrow night. She has been quite insistent, and I fear for my sanity should she be denied."

Madeline grinned, and looked at her brother with big puppy eyes, a hopeful expression on her face.

Malcolm nodded in acquiescence. "You may stop giving my those doe eyes, my dear sister. I fear for my own health and sanity should I dare dissent."

"Oh, thank you brother, it will be a lovely gathering!" Madeline exclaimed. "I am much anticipating the appearance of the Americans, for they must have such stories to tell of their travels."

His father frowned at this, finally paying attention to the conversation. "Americans? In Westernshire?"

At Madeline's explanation of her sighting earlier in the day, the elder Reed looked between Madeline and Malcolm. "Neither of you are to associate yourselves with such characters. Whatever they are here for, let them carry out their business and be on their way. If they find themselves welcome, who knows how long they would stay? It would be a disgrace to the town, and I will not encourage it. The Blalocks must be out of their minds, to have agreed to host them."

"But father-" Madeline protested.

"That is an order. Understood?"

She looked down, pouting. "Yes, father."

Malcolm had little interest in the foreigners, and nodded, not expecting to interact with them even should they be present at the Blalock's gathering the next evening. All he could think about was that letter. Little did he know the letter waiting for him in his quarters would have more to do with the visitors than he could have ever imagined.