The day was as fine a summer day as any Jet had seen. He strode up the road that led to the main house. Still, he felt unready to join his people just yet - and what was a short delay in the inevitable anyhow? He turned off the road into the wooded area that bordered the East side of the estate. It had been some years since he had properly tramped through this forest; yet, he could still clearly recall those old feelings, those ancient places of note. The leaves of last Autumn carpeted the ground and covered the pathways, long since abandoned; Jet felt them softly give under his boots. He took a detour towards a bubbling spring and, upon arrival, cupped his hands and drank the icy water as he and Arthur had done many times. He felt as its coolness traveled down his throat and into his stomach, spreading out from its confines and then he felt it no more as it took on the warm temperature of the gut. He no longer needed to make a running leap or walk the fallen log over the small stream the spring created, he had not needed to in a long time - still, he searched out the old dead log, now sunken and decaying, its bark long since worn off. He took a light step on it to test if it was still sound. It seemed to hold him even at this age. In two short steps he had crossed the makeshift bridge and was walking up the steep bank. A fox, disturbed by the sudden ruckus, looked down at him warily from the top of the hill. Jet waved a hand in greeting to the animal. "Hullo, old friend!" he called. The fox turned and ran into the underbrush, the white tip of his tail flicking away from view last. "Don't let me catch you around here in autumn for I cannot guarantee your safety." He continued up the slope to where the ground finally leveled. It would be another few minutes before he reached his destination. The stones he passed began to take on a more squared appearance, some seemed to be stacked as bricks. Finally, he reached the fallen column that marked the place. There, disturbed by no man, stood the old stone ruins where Jet and Arthur had spent endless hours of their youth. The building, whatever it had once been, was square in shape with uneven sides indicating it had once been a good deal taller. One corner had fallen, long before he had known the place, it had become something of a top side door. He stepped through the gaping crack entering the large, open room; gently pushing aside a number of spent bottles with his foot. The sun was streaming into the opposite corner where the thatch roof he and Arthur had so carefully constructed years before had finally given way. He leaned against the wall and uncorked the bottle he had kept hidden in his pocket. He could still see himself here all those years ago.

He could vividly recall the day he and Arthur had discovered the place during a game of chase. He had jumped the stream landing hard on the other side of the bank. The leaves he had landed on had proved to be concealing soft, watery mud which spurted up onto his clothes and consumed his shoes and hands. He had quickly extricated himself before Arthur could puzzle a way to cross that would not lead to a switch across the legs. He raced up the bank and over the flat terrain, hopping over the square hewn stones and taking little note of their intentional design. Then he saw it, the ruined stone building, standing in front of him then as today. He had stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Arthur caught up to him and tagged him then but the game had clearly ended. Through the years they stopped here often. When they were young, they built onto it; they constructed the roof, a door for the crack, and various pieces of wobbly furniture if that's what one chose to call it. They built up uneven fences, outbuildings, and stick pallisades, even a small brick "fountain" that never held water for long no matter how many buckets they brought from the spring. As they grew older they spent hours there drinking the precious pilfered laudanum Jet's mother kept in a high cabinet. In later years they would purchase their own yet still they came here to talk for hours on life and philosophy - making small repairs as needed. Then, it seemed, one day they just stopped coming - as though unconsciously a decision had been simultaneously made by both parties and yet they had never spoken a word on it.

What had brought him back here today? He wondered taking a drink. He felt as though something were out of place in his deepest self but he couldn't quite determine what. 'Why' was much more evident. It was that woman. Had something that had only taken less than five minutes between start and finish really taken so sure a hold of his life? He had spent a full week tending to a woman of literally no consequence. Had she died on the street what would it have mattered to the world or to him? He had never been prone to guilt for his actions and certainly the guilt of throwing dirt at a woman, a mere prank that caused her no direct harm, should be easily forgotten if ever even acknowledged. He certainly could not be held responsible for Arthur's part - why he seemed intent to pay the penance for his friend was beyond him. Still he recalled how her body had fluttered in his arms - he could still feel it! He downed the rest of the bottle as if to drown the sensation and threw it to the ground, smashing it. That woman! Perhaps he had come here to put her away, to entertain the memory one last time before leaving it within these walls forever. Would he actually call on her? No. He shook his head at the notion. It was ludicrous to even entertain it. Certainly, she would agree once her mind settled properly. He should, and he would forget her... in time. His debt to her was more than repaid - further contact would only complicate their lives. Yet something about her seemed to have infested his brain, ever so gently causing just the smallest itch. Still, it would subside, he was certain, as he returned to his daily duties and the more courtly ladies he preferred to keep company with. He lingered on for a minute, not quite ready to leave, watching the sun patch dance as the tree leaves were rustled by the wind. A cloud passed over causing the patch to disappear. Suddenly it seemed as though the little house had grown cold and empty as a grave. Jet shivered from the cold seeping through his coat from the wall he leaned against. The warm memories faded away into the shadows; it was time to leave. Jet stepped through the doorway and headed though the trees towards the garden.

As Jet walked into the garden he heard a pair of voices, the first he easily identified as that of his sister, Elizabeth. The second was almost as quickly determined, for her accent alone gave her away - it could only be Miss Ingrid Mason. He ducked behind a wall to spy on their conversation unnoticed. He saw the two standing on the path next to the roses, his sister looking every inch an angel in her gauzy white dress while Ingrid wore a light mint green dress that flattered her tall, thin figure quite nicely. The two seemed quite wrapped up in the business of the roses. "You must give your gardener my compliments. These are some of the finest roses I have seen since my arrival." Ingrid commented lightly petting a large red rose's blossom.

"He certainly has a talent for them. Though I am one to prefer his lilacs - they have such a lovely aroma and color, though I do regret they have started to fade with the summer."

"It is a pity but it does remind us: 'All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, When the breath of the LORD blows upon it; Surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, But the word of our God stands forever.'" Ingrid spoke with a serene smile.

"Certainly this is true." Elizabeth replied. "One must appreciate the beauty while it is here."

"And appreciate that beauty as it fades and transforms. It is the Lord's testimony of His constancy through the generations of man."

"I am so glad you were able to call today - it is so nice to have another woman to converse with!"

"I understand completely! And good friends are difficult to find among our age group, many are so eager to spread gossip and scandal either for their own edification or to ruin others that I often find it is difficult to find someone I can trust. Someone who won't be constantly tearing others down or searching for faults to tell to others."

"You simply can't trust a gossip." Ingrid agreed, knowingly. "If they are willing to speak against others to you, it is almost a certainty that they will speak against you to others when you are not present."

"I agree with you entirely. It must be especially difficult coming from another land - at least I have come up here and have long been able to distinguish the flowers from the weeds, I imagine it has been much more difficult for you." Elizabeth placed a hand on the other woman's forearm in sympathy.

"I wish I could confirm what you say, for your own sake, but it has been quite easy for the gossips have fast revealed themselves." Ingrid placed her hand upon Elizabeth's.

"I suppose I can guess the subject of their wagging tongues. It is no matter though." Jet was grieved to hear this. He had known, certainly there could have been no question, that Arthur's courtship of Elizabeth would make her season more difficult. He had hoped she would not notice, for she had always had many friends; but it sounded as though she now found herself quite alone attempting to navigate a sea of hostility - and many of the most crushing blows coming from those once most intimate. Still it gratified him to see Ingrid had not been swayed by popular opinion, but had chosen to forsake it for something of true value.

"Fortunately, their envy has only indicated to me who the best of them is." she smiled knowingly at her companion.

"I cannot tell you how glad it makes me to hear you say that; I will not deny, it has been a very difficult season. I knew it would be though, I had prepared myself. But I cannot even tell you how grateful I am that you are here, I had not expected to have even one dove among the crows to give me comfort." The two strolled on a few feet to another small plant.

"A giktgrÃĪs!" she squealed, clapping her hands together. Elizabeth looked at the small pink flower her friend had indicated.

"We call them twinflowers." she plucked a stalk which held a pair of flower heads and gave it to Ingrid.

"A twinflower, you say?" she said holding the little plant to her eyes and examining it closely. "I suppose it is not hard to reason why."

"Do you have many twinflowers in Sweden?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Oh yes! Fields of them! They are especially lovely among the big spruce trees in the northern forests." Ingrid looked wistfully at the flower.

"I suppose you must miss your homeland very much?" Ingrid nodded in assent.

"It's not that I don't enjoy the charms of England, certainly it is a wonderful country, but I cannot pretend that I don't find myself wishing to be home. It is hard to be away from my sea and the great pine forests."

"Tell me what it was like?" Elizabeth led.

"It was very different. In the summer the sun shined through the day and well into the night - and even then it never truly became dark. I cannot even tell you how many times, as a little girl, I would go out to play in the forests in the early afternoon and return only to find it was well after midnight. My Grandfather would always warn me that I best not stay out that late for a troll might spy me playing and thinking 'What a lovely little thing!' would snatch me up and take me to live with him in his cave and then they'd never see me again." The childish joy with which Ingrid related her tale to Elizabeth radiated so brightly from her face Jet felt he had never seen a more lovely sight in his entire life. "But in the winter it was dark all the time! Come Christmas we would dress in white dresses with headdresses made with pine boughs and candles - it was the most lovely sight you would ever see. My Grandfather took me far north once to see the lights and the reindeer herds - I thought certainly I would see Jultomten but all I saw was an elk."

"Jultomten?" Elizabeth looked confused. Ingrid thought for a moment, looking for the correct words.

"Oh... I believe you call him... Father Christmas?"

"Oh yes, yes we do! He gives out presents to all the good children on Christmas."

"Yes, then that is correct. He wasn't there though, only the elk. I have never seen a creature so large in my life!"

"You must see an elephant then! Or a giraffe! They are so big you have to stand of the second story of a house to reach the top of them. We must have Jet take us to the Zoological Gardens to see them before the summer is out."

"Jet? Am I not fine enough company to lead this party?" Arthur strode up to the two women and placed his arm protectively across Elizabeth's shoulders. "Miss Mason it is lovely to see you this fine day." he took her hand briefly but she looked away, slightly pink from the embarrassment of witnessing such an open display of affection.

"Hullo Artie!" Jet called from slightly down the path, only a few feet from where he had concealed himself moments prior.

"Hullo Jet!" Arthur returned his salutation. The two men greeted each other with a firm handshake. "I heard there was some excitement on your trip." Jet pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, drawing in a hissing breath.

"You know you might have at least given me a few moments before you brought up that particular subject."

"And how many moments should you have liked?" Arthur gave him a light tap on the side with his walking stick. Jet responded with a wince and a sharp intake of breath. 'Always in the same spot!'

"A fortnight or two at least, an eternity's worth if you could have managed."

"Supposing I couldn't, now is as fine a time as any. Seems you are quite the hero - I would've never imagined it in all my life. But my Valet swears it was you who did the deed and your solicitor confirmed it. Still saving a Salvationist! Isn't that supposed to be the job of their employer? Perhaps He was on holiday?" Arthur said with his sinister smile.

"Well, I think it was very noble of you." Ingrid interjected. "Very few men of any type would do such a thing. I have rarely been so pleased in being associated with anyone as I have been these past days."

"There you go, my boy!" Arthur swung an arm around Jet's shoulder. "You are the idol of the gentler sex." Both Jet and Ingrid turned their burning faces to avoid eye contact. "So tell us what happened? And who is this mystery woman?"

"What is there to tell? A man took a paving stone to her head. I suppose I took pity on her and arranged for her care. She is no one of any consequence, simply a dumpy Salvationist Sergeant Major." Jet had no desire to intimate the prior connection - to Arthur it would be of no relevance, save from an object of further mockery and it would only raise further questions from the ladies.

"I suppose Father will be relieved to hear that. He wished for you to see him as soon as you arrived." Elizabeth spoke the words Jet least wished to hear. In all this time he had forgotten about Father. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out harshly.

"I'm guessing there is no way I can avoid this?" Jet implored his little sister.

"Not forever." Elizabeth answered.

"Best get it over with, then. There's nothing to be done for it and he'll only be more furious for the added delay. Miss Mason, it was a pleasure to see you." He turned to her with a bow. He had only gone a few steps before Arthur hailed him.

"Oi, Jet! Let me come along, I have some business with the old man myself." He called.

"Anything that could divert his wrath would be welcome." Jet smiled at him, clapping his arm around his comrade's shoulders.

"Oh, I imagine that I shall certainly do. I doubt he should have any left for you when I've finished." Arthur grinned.

Jet and Arthur entered the cavernous office. It felt dimly lit, despite the enormous windows, and was dressed in deep greens and mahogany. Before the windows was situated the ancient wooden desk of Jet's grandfather now occupied exclusively by the only senior Chester Jenkins Moore still living. He was deeply immersed in a sheath of documents. No longer the head of his company he still found a number of ways through which to occupy his analytical mind. He did not glance from his work for such an extended moment that Jet wondered if he had noted the entrance of the two young men at all. "Shut the door, please." the elder Moore stated. If ever there were four words to strike terror into a man's heart those were they. Jet quietly shut the door until the click of the latch told of its condition. Jet tensed reflexively at the sound. "Chester!" came the low growl from the desk.

"Yes sir." Jet faced him, stock still. The presence of a Duke would do nothing to mitigate his father's wrath; for that very wrath had, on a number of occasions, been visited upon Arthur as well. The man removed himself from his desk and approached his son.

"What is this I hear about you failing to appear for a dinner obligation with Lord and Lady Cox in order to play nursemaid to a Salvationist woman?" Jet paled. Until that very moment he had entirely forgotten about the dinner! It was a disastrous error on his part. For whatever their personal indulgences, Lord and Lady Cox were not people to be trifled with and were inclined to take such slights very seriously. "You are fortunate Lady Cox fancies you and was thus inclined to accept an apology on your behalf - provided you be more attentive on your next visit this Christmas."

"This Christmas?" Jet answered numbly.

"Yes, they have requested your presence for the holidays and you will oblige them." the elder man commanded.

"Yes sir." Moore the younger accepted. He had no desire to spend such an extended period with the Cox family, particularly at their own home - that den of hedonism often surpassed what he, low as he was, could easily stomach. Still, there was little choice in the matter; the invitation already having been accepted on his behalf.

"Now, as for the issue of the woman. You are fortunate all talk has named you a hero with no hint of scandal. Apparently, the woman in question was one of unimpeachable reputation and the family and staff vouched to all that nothing untoward occurred. But I must know for myself - are you involved in an affair with this guttersnipe?"

"No sir!" Jet exclaimed. "Even now, I can scarcely claim any knowledge of her at all. Nor would any part of that knowledge entice me to pursue such relations with her."

"Good. Don't let me hear of you associating with her or those of her ilk again."

"No sir." Jet readily agreed. "I fully intend to avoid further acquaintance with any of them."

"And as for your act of heroism?" Mr. Moore pursued. "I have never known you to show any proclivity toward that trait before."

"I never knew I possessed it myself. It came on as a fit of passion - I was not wholly aware of what I was doing until it had been done." It was no excuse, rather the simple truth of the matter. It would earn him no favor to pretend that this was merely an unnoted aspect of himself or that there was a more noble reason for his actions - the instinct of a brother to protect a sister, or a man to protect a woman - his father was correct in his assessment of his son.

"I request, in the future, you would learn to control such fits of passion. A one time act of charitable heroism will improve your reputation - a habit of it will harm your ability to do business. Nobility, as a trait, is the pursuit of those who wish to know the Lord not those who wish to become them." his elder admonished.

"Understood." Jet answered. Mr. Moore turned his attention now to the man standing by Jet's side.

"Mr. Wyndham, are you merely here to stand stupidly in solidarity with you friend or do you have an actual reason for your attendance in this family matter?"

"Yes sir, I believe you have hit the nail squarely on the head." Arthur replied with a winning grin.

"Oh, and how is that might I ask?" Mr. Moore raised his eyebrows mockingly.

"Well sir, it is a matter of family. I have come to request your permission to marry your daughter, Elizabeth." Jet reeled backward slightly, but Arthur caught his arm, keeping him upright. That the moment would come had never been in doubt, but that it would come now!

"Typically cavalier, even regarding the most important of subjects. May I assume the lady has given her assent?" Mr. Moore queried.

"She has." Arthur replied. Jet was astonished - had so much happened while he was away?

"Mr. Wyndham, you have a well known reputation for scandal and philandering - why should I surrender my daughter to your tender mercies? I have no desire for her to become the subject of pity and ridicule on account of your activities - nor do I desire to be linked through marriage to such a man." the elder Moore thrust to the heart of the matter.

"I cannot fault you for your evaluation of my proclivities, certainly you have borne witness to them from my birth. But you are also aware of the ardent love I have for your daughter. I could not bear to make a fool of her. Have not I shown, since the start of our courtship, my most single-minded devotion? My aversion to all activity or relation that could cause any harm to her?" the younger man returned ably.

"I cannot deny in these past months you have been much altered. But a man may change and then, once the inciting reason for the change is obtained, return to his previous state. You know this to be true."

"I do. Yet I can assure you that I shall never return to the man I once was. Miss Elizabeth has allowed my best nature to grow and thrive through her tender care of it. I love her and, I believe, she loves me - I should desire that once I can call her my own I should call none other by that name."

"Jet, you have known this roustabout as one knows a brother - do you feel I should approve this union? As you are the one who shall be most affected by an unfortuitous marriage I shall allow you to make the final decision." Mr. Moore deferred to his son. Jet considered for a moment.

"While I certainly do concede that if the union fails or becomes the subject of scandal I should find my business relations in a rather precarious position; I believe that such a risk is reasonable to take in this matter. Particularly as the risk would be similar with any potential suitor. Arthur is very much a changed man, and it is on account of his affection for Elizabeth that he is so. I do not believe he would risk the loss of her affections for any small worldly pleasure. Besides, the two shall never be happy unless they be joined to each other - any other attempts to find a suitable gentleman for her would be an exercise in futility." Jet shrugged.

"Thanks for the ringing endorsement, mate." Arthur whispered into his ear.

"Then I must accept that there is nothing for it." Mr. Moore proclaimed. "Arthur Wyndham Duke of _shire, you have been as much a son to me as my own born, I welcome you as one from hence forth. You have my permission to marry my daughter."

"Thank you sir." Arthur bowed. "I shall not give you reason to regret it."

"I should hope not. Now off with the both of you - I have business to attend to." Mr. Moore shooed the two boys from the room. The moment Jet shut the door Arthur wrapped him in an ecstatic embrace.

"We did it, mate! We did it!" Jet peeled Arthur from him.

"I'm a bit surprised he accepted the first request. Perhaps he felt it was more efficient - I cannot believe you should have ever ceased to hound him until he relented." Jet could not resist teasing his elated friend.

"Jet, we're going to be brothers now! For real and true." Arthur grinned. Jet placed his hands on both of Arthur's shoulders, looking him squarely in the eye.

"Then Artie, as my first duty as your brother, I suggest you inform your bride." Jet was grinning almost as widely as Arthur now. Arthur could scarcely contain himself.

"Good point mate!" he readily agreed. As he ran off, Jet could hear him almost singing down the hall "I'm going to marry the most beautiful girl in the world!" He shook his head and walked over to the window with a garden view. A few minutes later his patience was rewarded by the site of Arthur running to his bride-to-be and lifting her from the ground in an embrace much to the shock of her companion. This was followed closely by Elizabeth's own shrill ecstatic cry. Jet turned away to grant the pair their moment and meandered back down the hall towards the garden.