A/N: Spurred on by all the great feedback I got for the first chapter, I decided to update ASAP. I said it last time, but seriously, you guys rock. This is just my first story, and it's got like 5 watchers and 400 hits... I love you guys :) This chapter's rather short, but I feel like it carries a lot of information, so that's all right.

Chapter 2 – Answers

Roy Aaron was whistling cheerfully as he strolled through the hallway at Roselands. He was visiting his good friend Anthony, the oldest of the Scrubbs children. As he rounded a corner and passed the schoolroom, he heard faint sniffling. Poking his head in the door, he expected to find Lucy or Jill, but what he didn't expect was a dark-headed boy, sitting at his desk. Hearing Roy come in, the boy turned around, revealing big brown eyes and a tear-streaked face. Roy took a seat next to him.

"What's the matter, young sir?" Edmund studied the young man carefully. He recognized him as a friend of his uncle's, Anthony. He had been staying at Roselands for a few weeks while traveling back and forth between England and America. Then realizing he had left Roy's question unanswered, he tried to speak, but his throat caught and he ended up in a coughing fit. Alarmed, Roy gave him a couple of gentle thumps on the back until the coughing stopped. Seeing as how he probably wasn't going to get an answer, Roy ventured a theory.

"I think I understand. Everyone has gone to the museum, and they've left you at home. Perhaps there's a lesson you failed to memorize…?" Roy's gentle manner calmed Edmund, and he was able to answer, "Yes, sir, but being left's not the worst of it. I read the bible a lot, you see, and there's a verse that says it's commendable to hold up under pressure, commendable before God. But I didn't do it. I lost my temper." Roy nodded wisely. He himself was a devoted Christian. "It's not a horrid sin to stumble a little bit, young sir. God doesn't expect us all to be perfect. Especially not someone your age." Edmund sighed. "But I should have bore the whole thing better. I'm afraid I'll never be like Jesus." Roy tapped his long fingers on the desk thoughtfully. During his stay at Roselands, he had observed the family's lack of respect for the bible and church. He hadn't spoken to Edmund before, but had noticed that he seemed rather an outcast from the whole group. Roy thought a moment more before answering, "God's love is greater than we could ever imagine. I would surmise that a few little mistakes along the way of your lifetime will not make a large difference in the outcome. I wouldn't worry about it too much, friend." Edmund was silent for a few moments as he thought about what Roy had said. Then he brightened a little bit.

"Thank you, Mr. Aaron." Roy laughed. "Just call me Roy. Mr. Aaron seems so stuffy." Edmund grinned. It was a lovely effect, the smile lighting up his pale face. There was another question on Roy's mind, though. He looked at Edmund thoughtfully. "Edmund, I hope you don't mind me asking, but why does your family seem to have… well, you know… rather a grudge against you?" Edmund's face darkened. Roy hastened to reassure him that if he'd rather not say, it was completely fine. Edmund shook his head. "I don't mind saying. It's because I'm Mr. Scrubbs grandchild, and the nephew of the others. My father was Mr. Scrubbs' son, but he died before I was born, and my mother died giving birth to me – so I'm told. I have a brother who's five years older than me, but we've never met. He was in America last, I think. I do wish he'd come home, because it's awfully lonely here, by myself. My aunts and uncles don't care for me very much, and I don't think my grandparents like me very much. Do you think my brother would like me if he came home?" Roy studied the thin boy, who, from what he had observed, had a sweet disposition and was eager to please. "Yes," he replied after some thought. "I believe he'd like you very much." Edmund smiled again. Roy stood up to leave. "Now I'd best leave you to your work, but I wouldn't mind talking to you again." Edmund smiled wider. "I'd like that." Roy grinned, and gave him a pat on the back as he left the room.

~ EEW ~

Returning to the parlor, Roy found Anthony sitting on the couch, reading a thick tome. Anthony looked up as Roy entered. "I'm glad to see you're making yourself at home. Where have you been for so long?"

"I was in the schoolroom, talking with Edmund. I thought he was your brother, but he tells me he isn't."

"No, he's my brother Horace's child," replied Anthony. "I thought you knew, but since you don't, I may as well tell you the whole story."

"Horace was a quiet, well-mannered boy, much like Edmund. When he was seventeen, he left to study law. While at the university, he met a very beautiful girl and fell in love with her. Her name was Elsie Grayson, and she was the daughter of a lawyer – much like Horace. They waited a year or so and then were married, and almost immediately had Peter, Edmund's elder brother. Five years later, Horace took Peter with him on a journey to America. There was an accident on the way, and Horace died. Peter was sent to live with a close friend of Horace's. Elsie had been pregnant with Edmund, and, already weak from the loss of Horace, died while giving birth to him. The Scrubbs grudgingly took him in, probably out of respect for the dead alone. Ed's always been slighted by the family, perhaps because his parents were quite wealthy, even more so than the Scrubbs. That's pretty much it." Roy had one question: "But what about his brother Peter?" Anthony looked thoughtful. "Peter has never come here, and he doesn't seem to care for his brother. He never mentions him in his letters, and he's never even met the boy. Of course, I haven't spoken to Peter in many years, but I believe he associates the loss of his mother with Edmund. Perhaps that is the reason he has never cared to come home and meet Edmund."

"But he's such a dear boy," Roy said. "I'm sure he'd love him if only he could meet him."

"Yes," Anthony agreed. "he is dear enough, and I often feel sorry for his loneliness. When he grew up here, you see, it was difficult. I admit my brother and sisters have not always been welcoming, but the truth is, I think they're all jealous of him. He's quite handsome for a boy of his age, and he's also an heir to a large fortune, as I mentioned earlier. I think Mother frets he will eclipse them all when he's a bit older." Roy was confused by Anthony's last statement. "Why would your mother feel jealous, when Edmund is her own grandson?"

"But that's not the case," Anthony explained, "for Horace was not my mother's son. His own mother died when he was seven or eight, and then his father married Mother, and" – he lowered his voice – "I don't believe Mother was ever very fond of him."

Both young men sat quietly for several minutes as Roy pondered this new information. "No wonder he's so melancholy all the time," he thought to himself, "and carries such grief for the parents he never knew." Anthony's recounting of Edmund's lonely birth and sad position among the Scrubbs perhaps explained, as well, the unusual maturity that Roy had sensed in the boy. "God," thought Roy, "may be his only friend." At last Anthony spoke again. "Edmund is an odd boy, and I don't really understand him. He is so meek and patient that he will virtually allow the others to trample him. His meekness provokes my father, and he says he is no Scrubbs because he doesn't know how to stand up for himself. Yet Edmund does have a temper, I know. Ever so often it shows itself, but just for an instant. Then he sighs over it, like he committed some crime, whereas the rest of us think nothing of getting angry a dozen times a day. And he's always reading that bible of his, though what he finds so interesting about it is beyond me." Here Roy became even more thoughtful. "I don't know," he said contemplatively, "to me it's very enlightening." And giving farewell to his friend, he left the room.

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