Roscullen Hall is loosely modeled after Owles Hall in Hertfordshire, the former location of Viscount Long. This story depicts the Bridgerton country estate of Aubrey Hall as being located in Hertfordshire, which is where the real Wrotham Park is located. As mentioned earlier, the Roscullen family is an amalgamation of Irish and Welsh peers. Alexander von Humboldt is a fascinating individual, also mentioned in this chapter. Thank you for the feedback, should you choose to give it, and hope you enjoy. Cheers!

May 1803

Though the gravity of the unavoidable conversation with his father pressed upon his shoulders, The Honorable Jonathan Sedgwick Carney could not help but give a light snort of amusement as he watched his sister flail about at the pond's edge. She had already fallen on her rear in the murky waters after her first attempt. Yet the brown stain on the back of her lavender gown had not been enough to dissuade a second attempt. Judith was determined to launch this raft made of pond reeds and sticks, built together with her enigmatic partner in mischief. Jonathan shook his head, his lips still pulled back into an easy smile. It seemed a second tumble would occur in short order. He began a mental countdown from ten, believing the number accurate for the inevitable mayhem.

"May I join you?"

Jonathan stopped his count at four, marginally disappointed that it seemed Judith had gotten her balance with the help of her partner. Looking up at his father and waiting for half a heartbeat, Jonathan nodded. The conversation had arrived at last. His father remained silent as he took position beneath the tent where they'd shared their afternoon tea. The table and chairs were positioned perfectly for a view of the estate's pond and the fields beyond. The tea had been pleasant enough even with the subtext of awkwardness hidden behind strained cordiality. Yet the ladies who had led their tea had subsequently abandoned it as soon as his father had been called away by the estate manager. To be fair to the ladies, they had invited him to join them in the scheme, but still mulling over the very presence of the second lady in their lives, Jonathan had declined and remained at the table. He knew his father would want to talk privately with him.

Jonathan heard his father chuckle when Judith again took to demonstrating her best rendition of flapping goose to keep from falling over. Pulling his gaze away from Judith and the woman laughing beside her, Jonathan observed his father more closely. He would have to be blind not to see the joy in his father's eyes or the love that tugged at the corners of his lips as he smiled. But even with these visible testimonies, Jonathan couldn't help his internal struggles with the circumstances.

"Say it." His father's rumbling voice sounded on a sigh, the words spoken without taking his eyes away from watching his daughter and his wife frolic at the water's edge. "Say it all, Jonathan. If you leave anything unsaid between us, I fear it will be left unsaid forever. We have both lived the reality of sudden death denying us the privilege of resolution."

At last, his father looked at him, but Jonathan could not maintain his gaze. Busying himself with making another cup of tea, Jonathan reflected once more on their circumstances. He had always taken after his mother in looks and affect, sharing very little in common with his father. And he'd always assumed it would be that way for life. His father a stranger in many ways, his sister as well, since she was more alike the elder Carney. But then Jonathan had fallen in love, married, and lost his young wife all in the span of a year. He'd left Olivia healthy and happy at the estate while he returned to the regiment once their honeymoon was over. Only to be called back again by Judith with news of Olivia's sudden illness. By the time Jonathan had arrived, Olivia was gone. He had never intended on telling his father, seemingly so caught up in his business in America, of both the profitable and romantic type. But Judith had written, and here they were now.

This was the third time he'd met his father's wife, but it was no less jarring. Even though they spent many months out of the year at Roscullen Hall, Jonathan had never been on leave when they were in England and typically arrived soon after they departed back to America. It had never been intentional, and Ellen had never spoken to him as if it was, but Jonathan knew his father deemed his absence as deliberate. Jonathan sighed, the cream in his tea swirling in a strange pattern as he stirred. Ellen was his elder by a mere two years, and yet, according to the laws of society, he was to consider her his stepmother. Jonathan struggled still with coming to terms with that. Judith had not had the same difficulty adjusting to the concept, so happy to have another woman at the estate to cling to.

"I do not know what to say, father." Jonathan set aside the teaspoon and cradled the cup in his fingers. And it was the truth; he truly did not know how to express his thoughts at the moment without coming off as an inconsiderate hypocrite. "Having lost Olivia so swiftly, I have a greater understanding of the loss you bore in your heart for so many years. I believe myself mature enough to admit that some of my initial misgivings and reservations have morphed now that I am living my own version of loss."

His father nodded, his gaze turning soft with concern, "Are you sleeping, son?"

Jonathan realized he could lie, but what was the point? His father had also been away on a business trip when his mother died. Even Jonathan and Judith had been absent, sent away to stay at his aunt's for the summer. In retrospect, Jonathan believed his mother had known she was dying and did not want to destroy their image of her as a vigorous woman of beauty and grace. His last memory was of her standing at the steps of the house, waving madly with a bright smile on her face as they rode away in his aunt's carriage. His father's last memory would have been similar, for that had always been her fashion of farewell.

"Fitfully." Jonathan finally admitted, watching as his father gave a confirming nod as if he remembered the days of fitful sleep after losing the love of his life.

They sat in the pleasant buzz of the afternoon heat for a few moments longer, the occasional sound of female voices drifting up to them from the continued adventures near the pond. Jonathan took a sip, his brow furrowed in thought. A question sprung to mind, but his father spoke first.

"You will never stop missing her, Jonathan. Nor will you stop loving her. Little things will remind you of her for the rest of your life." It was his father's turn to hide behind the façade of making tea, an effort to gather his thoughts and emotional energy to press on in the conversation. "You will daily have the choice to make of either allowing those memories and reminders to bring you pain. And it is pain that will stunt your ability to love others or enjoy the life you have yet to live. Or to acknowledge the bitter and the sweet of having loved and lost and still have more yet to live." Picking up the properly doctored tea, his father saluted him with it. "There is no 'right' way to get through this, son, at least not from what I have experienced or observed."

Jonathan felt a rush of warmth to his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he took in a ragged breath before ducking his head and sipping quietly. It took him more than a few moments of drinking and hearing his father mirror his actions before Jonathon composed himself enough to speak again.

"Is that why you married her?" Jonathan nodded towards Ellen just as both women let out most unladylike hoots of joy at successfully launching the raft together. "Did she help you move out of that limiting pain?"

His father set aside the teacup and began applauding the women when they both turned to see whether the men in their lives had seen their triumph. After casting Jonathan a look, he smiled before also setting aside his teacup and joining his father in clapping. They only stopped when Ellen and Judith turned their attention to the rods in their hands to be used to punt the raft across the water. Time would tell if everything would work according to their plan.

"To answer your question, Jonathan, yes. Meeting her and seeing the world through her eyes gave me back something losing your mother had taken. Even if she had rejected my offer of marriage, I would have still loved her and been thankful for having met her. For the gift her presence in my life had given." When Jonathan raised his eyebrows in silent question, his father added. "She gave me hope, Jonathan. And it is my wish that, in time, you may also have that life-giving hope. And it need not be found in another wife. Sometimes hope is found from within yourself." Again Jonathan questioned his father's words in silence, curious where the conversation was going. "Judith mentioned your interest in joining the von Humboldt expedition to South America now that you have resigned your commission with the regiment. I support your decision, should you choose to go."

Jonathan sat down, watching his father do the same out of the corner of his eye. He'd known Judith had as much ability to keep things secret as a cat had in keeping itself from killing a mouse. Yet he'd not expected THIS conversation when his father had first joined him. Hashing out his feelings about his stepmother, or being hounded about his grief over Olivia, yes, but broaching the possibilities held within the concept of joining the expedition, no.

"You still have a few weeks before you need to give them your answer, no?" Jonathan mutely nodded at his father's question. "Good. Then we can spend the time that we have together working our way into a norm that suits us."

Jonathan looked over at his father, tears once more stinging his eyes. "I miss her, father."

"I know, son."

His father reached across the table, palm up. Jonathan didn't hesitate before taking his father's hand. With a tearful smile, Jonathan sighed at the feeling of warm reassurance at the squeeze from his father's comforting grip. It would not be easy, but he believed his father. He believed he still had life yet to live, ever treasuring the memory of Olivia in his heart.