Aftermath ~ take good care of my baby
It isn't as though they can escape for hours at a time, though he wishes they could. The little time they do spend alone together isn't nearly enough to do half of the things that go through his head during the rest of the day. And even then, he hardly gets a chance to physically explore, for all the questions she wants to ask.
To his amazement, it is much easier to talk to her about his past, now that it's off of his shoulders (literally, he thinks with wry amusement).
She listens to his stories in sincerity and thoughtfulness, and inevitably, when he becomes a bit moody about his childhood prior to the garden, she smiles and kisses him, and then he forgets to be moody at all. It's really exhilarating the way his blood heats, he thinks. It reminds him of when he stood to defy Ben, or when he sank his fingers into a baby lamb's soft wool for the first time, or when he burst through the garden door and ran headlong into his father. Only better.
But a few days after their fireside chat, he is reminded again that he is a man, and not a child or even a teenager. And he must act like a man.
Cece and Mrs. Harvey have stepped out for the morning, much to Colin's annoyance. It means that he will have to spend the day amusing himself until Cece returns, and even then they may not have a chance to steal away for a few moments without arousing suspicion. But as he contemplates what to do with himself, Mr. Harvey calls him into the library for a bit of a chat.
And he knows, just simply stepping into the room, that this will be a serious conversation and not one of light-hearted nothings. Because Mr. Harvey (never one for preamble), waits only for the door to shut behind him, before he says briskly, "Are you in love with Cece, Colin?"
A jolt of defiance makes Colin frown; perhaps he should have expected the question, but hearing it in the open makes him wary. He answers affirmatively, his chin slightly tilted and his shoulders straight, and waits.
Mr. Harvey can't help but smile at the reaction. "Now, now," he says, clearly amused. "There's no reason to get defensive. It isn't as though the entire world saw it coming from a mile off."
Colin twitches, but doesn't answer. Exactly what should he say to this? The conversation isn't one in which he has much to go on, yet. There's something more serious lurking beneath the surface than just his affection for Cece; he can tell.
Mr. Harvey continues, "But... Despite that, you're both very young, Colin. I assume you've thought about the future?"
"Yes, sir." God knows he's thought plenty about the future – usually while laying awake at night, tossing and turning and daydreaming to no end.
"And?" Mr. Harvey's eyebrows lift.
Colin shrugs and slides his hands in his trouser pockets. "I suppose a good deal of the future has yet to be determined, hasn't it? Mr. Castor's health is the main priority at the moment. It would be callous to act further on my wishes, while her father is dying."
Mr. Harvey glances towards the narrow, thick windows on one side of the circular room. They overlook the side lawn, a wilder piece of property then the neatly manicured front of the house. "Yes and no," he muses slowly. "He's worried about her, you know."
It is Colin's turn to lift his eyebrows. "I didn't think he had the ability to speak, sir."
"He doesn't. But that doesn't mean he can't comprehend. I've sat with him quite a bit, and I relay what is taking place here, of course. As Cece has explained to you – he communicates by squeezing your hand, giving yes or no answers. I sometimes must go through various scenarios to obtain his real feelings, and it can take a couple of hours, depending on the discussion. It is frustrating for him, but the only way to exchange ideas now." Mr. Harvey's expression is shrewd. "Naturally, he wishes to meet you, Colin. Before he passes away. Which he and I both believe will be very soon."
An unexplainable panic rises within Colin's chest, but he has no grounds to refuse a dying man's wishes and the panic is, in itself, ridiculous. But in some ways, he has no desire to meet Mr. Castor, though he can't explain why. The man has, thus far, been an unseen entity in his life. Never interfering as most fathers would. He's grown accustomed to the lack of physical presence.
"How much does he know?" he asks, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Everything that I know. He knows that Randolph struck her and tried to take the bank holdings and the power of attorney. He knows I've filed reports on the same. He knows that you came when I requested you, without hesitation, and he knows that you and Cece are quite literally mad about each other. He trusts my judgment in you, but he is still concerned because he doesn't know you personally. He thought he knew Randolph, and Randolph turned out to be nothing as to what he presented. I have assured him that you are nothing like Randolph, but Xavier is still concerned, of course. Cece is his main priority, and he sees now that her main priority is shifting from him to you. That isn't a bad thing, and he wants her to be well taken care of after he passes. So he desires to meet you for himself."
"What if he doesn't like me?"
"I don't think that will be of any concern." Mr. Harvey smiles. "We might as well get it over with."
"Now?"
"Yes, I think so. We don't have much time left, and as the ladies are out this morning, it will be as good a time as any. I'll walk you up."
The panic within him threatens to bubble over as they make their way upstairs to Mr. Castor's bedchambers. He thinks of his own father and his gut twists. For the first time since he arrived, it truly occurs to him how Cece must feel about losing this man – the only man she's ever loved in her life, until she met Colin. When they stop in front of the door, he realizes his palms are sweaty and he feels clammy. Mr. Harvey knocks softly and a moment later the nurse appears to usher them inside. Mr. Harvey gives her permission to go downstairs for some tea, and then nods to Colin.
They step into the room and, for the first time, Colin lays eyes upon Cece's father.
He was a man of medium height and build (judging from the shape beneath the blankets), not overweight but not thin, not young but not ancient. His hair and mustache are more gray then brown; his eyes once likely sparkled. Now they seem fixed and glazed, due to the stroke's paralysis. It is a strange sight and Colin can't help but suppress a shudder. He would never, ever want to end up like this.
Mr. Harvey goes to the bedside and touches the man's hand, which lies upon the blankets.
"Xavier? I've brought you a visitor. Do you feel up to it this morning?"
Colin steps to the foot of the bed so that Mr. Castor can see him properly in the dim light. The man's eyes flicker to him and yet nothing else moves; his body does not move and his face does not move, and Colin feels slightly ill and faint.
"Colin?" Mr. Harvey nods for him to come to the side of the bed and take a seat, where he can hold Mr. Castor's hand. "Remember – one squeeze is no, two means yes. Xavier, I'll return in a bit, if that is satisfactory?"
Colin watches as the man's fingers close slightly on Mr. Harvey's twice, in agonizingly slow repetition.
And so, seconds later, he finds himself seated beside the bed, alone with Cece's father as the door closes behind Mr. Harvey. Nervously, he takes the man's hand in his sweaty one, and feels the slight pressure twice upon his slender fingers as the man's eyes slide slowly to Colin's face, without his head moving in the least.
Swallowing, Colin says thickly, "Sir, my name is Colin Craven. And... Well... I'm in love with your daughter, actually."
It is exceedingly strange how his story pours forth – who he is, who his father is, about his first ten years of life, about his education and his friends, about his love of Yorkshire and his love of travel, about his business investments despite his young age, about how he met Cece in London, about their friendship and now their romantic involvement. There is no hesitation, as he'd felt when telling Cece about his childhood. He bears his soul to Xavier Castor, going far past the few minutes Mr. Harvey had suggested, without realizing it in the least. Mr. Castor squeezes his hand twice occasionally, encouraging him to continue, and when he at last finishes, by telling the man how he boarded a liner and crossed the Atlantic to find Cindy again, he whispers, "Don't suppose I came all this way for a schoolboy's lark, sir. I wish to marry her, but I won't do so without your permission. I should like to ask for it now, if I may."
The pressure upon his hand is harder this time then any of the previous: two tight squeezes in succession.
Colin closes his eyes and sighs heavily. "I will take care of her sir, I promise. I know I am young, but I can take care of her."
He feels the pressure twice more, an agreement.
"Do you wish for anyone else to marry her?" Colin can't help but ask it, and he feels only one squeeze for the first time in an hour.
He nods. "Thank you, sir. And now... I fear I've taken far too much of your time. You need your rest. She's quite worried for you. It eats away at her and I don't know that I can do anything to prevent that, except... Except to simply be there when she needs me. I shall leave you now, if you wish it."
Two squeezes, slow and encouraging. He almost thinks the man smiles at him, but it must be a trick of the light, for the muscles in his face won't allow him to move.
And slowly, Colin leaves, feeling drained and exhausted. Mr. Harvey is not in the hall, and he meets the nurse on the stairs. She says not a word, but returns to her post dutifully, leaving Colin to make his way to his own bedchamber and fall into one of the chairs by a window. He suddenly yearns to return to Yorkshire, and decides to call his father, no matter the late hour in England. It will be nice to hear the man's voice, even though he has no idea what he's going to say, or if he can tell Archibald Craven about Cindy, yet.
