Determent to go back to his house in Richmond, he left his bag and only took his laptop with him. His mother had called him, while he was in that pub with Cora and Sorcha. It was a coincidence that he stepped inside. He had not even planned to go to a pub, but once he finished his new piece, he noticed that he was out of music paper. Nearby the pub that he ended in, there was a small music store, which sold special sheet music. With his new paper on him, he decided to drink a pint, so he stepped inside the pub. Once he stood at the bar, he saw a familiar figure sitting outside in the garden. He was not sure if he should go to her. It was starting to look like he was stalking her. Especially since he had run into her on the street. Technically she run into him, he chuckled. He stared at her for a while and then knew that he needed to talk to her. He wanted to know everything about her. She was fully engaged in her writing, and it was a wonderful sight. Her curls were hanging lose, although she had tried to keep it out of her face. It looked like she had just made a knot in her hair. He probably did not see it correctly, because he could not imagine how that was possible. Before he reached her table he smelled her perfume. It was a flowery sweet sent, like she was herself. He had remembered the wine she drank the night he and John met her the first time. He loved that she just went to a pub to write, he had imagined she would write at home. But this was so much more romantic, taking your notebook and just sit anywhere you want and write. She must have a lot of talent to be able to do that. He could not play with audience, not yet at least. He always closed the curtains, so nobody could look into his windows and watch him. He did not think he would ever play for public. He would sell his music as records, but live concerts were not something he imagined himself doing. The subway doors closed, and he was woken up of his musings.

If it were up to his mother, he would never make a record at all. Let alone play live concerts. She wanted him to take over from his father already. The only reason why that it had not happened was because his father wanted him to enjoy his freedom for now. He would be tied to the business and the estate long enough. His mother had called him just now and ordered him to come home. He needed to come to their London home right now, she refused to answer his questions, but he could hear in her voice, that it was useless to try and argue. He was summoned and should listen; it was that easy. His phone rang again, this time it was Rosamund. She rarely called him; their relationship was a good one. But at the same time, they rarely saw each other outside of the family meetings. Rosamund had her Marmaduke who kept her busy. Rosamund also tried to stay out of the family business as much as she could, she had made the decision that she did not want to be involved. His parents had tried to keep her inside the business, but they failed. Rosamund was a strong-willed woman, who not let other people tell her what she should do. He sometimes wondered how Marmaduke could deal with that, but it could be that she was a lot softer with him. Their mother did not make it easy for Rosamund. As firstborn she should have been a boy, it felt like Violet Blamed her for not being a boy. Despite the fact that Robert was born not much later and was therefore the heir.

"Speaking of the devil." He answered his phone.

"I do not like jokes like that." Rosamund said.

"It is a saying that when you talk or think about somebody and they walk in, or in this case call you. You say that. But never mind, I am sorry. What is up?"

"Where are you?"

"On my way home. What is so urgent? Mama already called me that I need to come to their London home. First of all, why are they not staying in my apartment? I do not understand why they opened the London home. Mama needs to learn that my apartment is as good."

"You perfectly know that your home does not have staff to help. So of course it is not as good. I also do not understand how you can live without at least a butler."

"Why would I have a butler? I am alone and am old enough to take care of myself. I do not need a man to hand me my slippers."

"At least you have a housekeeper, who keeps your house clean. That is something. You need to change your direction. Papa is brought into the hospital, and I am not sure how long you will have."

Robert swallowed. "What do you mean, how long I will have? What happened? What is wrong with Papa?"

"He had a stroke, or at least, Mama thinks it was a stroke. The ambulance took him to the hospital with sirens and all."

"What hospital are you? I am almost at my stop at Westminster."

Robert took a deep breath before he entered the hospital. He was not sure what he would encounter. Was his father still alive? He did not know, and it made him nervous. He met his mother in the hallway.

As always, she was perfectly styled, and you could not tell that she had just rushed her husband into the hospital. He could not stand his mother's calmness in moments like this. As if she did not care about anything, where were her emotions?

"Mama?" He tried to get her attention, and when she turned around, he could see in her eyes that she was not that composed as he had thought on first glance. Her eyes were red lined, and she pressed a handkerchief against her nose. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.

She was taken aback for a few seconds, but then she pushed him away gently and said, "That is enough, dear."

"Mama, what happened, is Papa...?" He could not say the words.

"No, your father is not dead. But he had a stroke and will need to stay in the hospital for quite some time. He lost function of his left arm and leg."

She told it as if she was ordering a sandwich. Her face was also without emotion again. A true English lady, who did not show emotions. Robert sighed; he knew he was the same himself. Showing emotion was not natural to him, but this felt eerily cold. "Is he inside this room?" Robert pointed at the door behind Violet.

"Yes he. Your sister is with him."

"Can I go in?"

"Of course you can." Violet sounded as if he had asked to most stupid question ever. Robert shrugged his shoulders and walked into the room where his father was. It was a private room, at the end there was a bed, where a small figure laid down. Rosamund sat at his bedside, brushing his hand. Robert softly placed his hand on her shoulder. "Hi." He said softly.

"Ssstt. He is sleeping."

Robert looked at his father's face, besides the lopsided mouth, he looked peaceful. His skin tone was weirdly grey though. "How is he doing, do you know?"

"Did Mama not tell you?"

Robert pulled a chair next to Rosamund. "You know Mama."

Rosamund briefly touched his arm. "He is doing, according to the circumstances, alright. The doctors are not sure if he will ever walk again or use his left arm. But they also say it is too early to really tell. For now, they keep him sleeping, he is not put into a coma, but they gave him something, so he sleeps. The bleeding in his brain has stopped, but there is quit some pressure still, that needs to go down, before they will wake him up. If it does not go down fast enough, they will need to operate."

"That sounds serious, do they know how it happened? Did he fall?"

"Brain bleeds can happen out of nowhere; Mama told me that Papa complained about a headache for days already."

Robert sighed. "Of course, he only complained but did not do anything."

"Would you go to a doctor with a headache?" Rosamund looked at him.

Robert felt ashamed, because of course he would also not go to a doctor for just a headache. "Let us hope, he will recover."

"You will need to take over the business for now." Rosamund went on in a business tone. "I will also join you and help where I can."

Robert blinked a couple of times, of course he was needed in the business now. But he was not prepared to hear it just now. He sighed.

"Robert, you know you are Papa's successor; it would have happened regardless. It is only happening a little bit earlier than we had hoped. But does it really matter?

Could Robert tell Rosamund about his dreams? Could he tell her that he had learned how to play the piano. Could he tell her that he had met somebody that he was attracted to and that he wanted to have close to him. No, he could not tell her these things, especially not now. It would be selfish, the family business had priority over his personal life. As Rosamund said, it was something that would have happened. He would push his dreams aside; he could dig them up one day. But for now, he would bury them.