Olympia was already striding along the hall as she spoke and Brant hurried to catch up with her. She stopped before two elaborately carved doors depicting nymphs romping in the water, took a deep breath, and opened the doors. Brant followed her into the room and looked around at utter chaos. Most of the shelves in the library had been cleared of books. Several chairs were set in a far corner and he could see at a glance that they would need some repair. Piles of books were stacked up near the shelves but many still littered the floor. He looked up at Olympia and watched her turn slowly, surveying every inch of the room.
“I am pleased to see that you did not break the lamps this time, Ilar,” she said and smiled at the tall, thin boy rising to his feet from where he had been on the floor stacking books.
“Mother!” He ran into her arms. “I am so glad you have come home. We had a great deal of excitement here.”
“I can see that.” She held her son close for a moment, reassuring herself that he was alive and all too painfully aware of the fact that just one more surge of growth and he would be taller than her. “I have brought some company with me.” She turned Ilar toward Brant and introduced them to each other. “And this is my aunt, Antigone Wherlocke.” She nodded to the older woman who now stood next to her. “And my cousin, Mrs. Tessa Vaughn.”
Brant bowed to the woman who watched him a little too closely with her deep brown eyes. “I am pleased to meet you all.”
“Are you certain you are Fieldgate?” Tessa asked, wiping her dusty hands on the voluminous apron she wore over her green gown.
“Tessa! Of course he is,” snapped Olympia. “Do you think I would not know?”
“Nay. ’Tis just that he does not look or feel like the drunken debauchee one hears about.”
“Oh. Well, no he is not a drunk. As for the debauchee,” she said and grunted when Brant elbowed her in the back. “No more than many another man of the gentry.”
“Thank you,” muttered Brant. “You are too kind.”
Olympia exchanged a grin with Tessa before looking at her aunt. “Do you have any idea why someone would try to take Ilar?”
“None. I believe the trouble came down from London. The men had the city manner of speech. I heard quite a bit when the one who was caught was threatening us all.”
“Then let us have something to eat and drink and Ilar can tell me his part of the tale. Then I should like to hear yours, Aunt Tig.”
“I could tell you a tale or two as well,” offered Tessa.
“You were here when it happened?” Olympia asked, knowing it was rude to keep Brant tromping along at her heels like some pet dog but she was unable to release her son yet.
“Nay, but I could still tell you a tale or two if you would like.” She winked at Olympia and they both laughed.
Brant felt a little ignored at the moment but he understood. He doubted a team of oxen could drag Olympia’s arm away from her son. He was a good-looking boy with his glossy, wavy, black hair and eyes just like his mother’s. His features were beginning to lose their boyish softness and he would be as handsome as so many of his other relatives. What was easy to see in the way the boy held Olympia and smiled at her, was that Ilar loved his mother very much.
They entered a room that had a great deal more of a feminine touch than the library. It had drapes in a soft blue, matching one of the colors in the carpet, and the walls were painted a soft rose color, not one he had ever seen before. Olympia waved him to a seat next to her, seating Ilar on her other side, her aunt at the head of the table, and the irrepressible Tessa in the seat opposite her. A few moments later the butler led in three servants who unloaded a great deal of food plus coffee and tea onto the table. A quick look out the window told Brant it was indeed time to break his fast.
“So, Ilar, tell me what you recall,” said Olympia as she piled some eggs on her plate.
“I was sleeping in the library,” the boy said. “I had not intended to have a nap but the book I chose to read was very, painfully boring. Anyway, I woke to the sound of a footfall and a sharp sense of something just wrong. As I got up off the settee and set my book down on the table I got the distinct feeling that someone was watching me. I opened my eyes and this huge, very hirsute fellow was reaching for me. I leapt off the settee and started to run but one caught me. The other tried to get a gag over my mouth for I was making a lot of noise. I was kicking and screaming and then I thought to myself, well, why am I getting all asweat?”
The way he was looking at her, a glint of mischief and unease in his eyes, eyes just like hers, almost made Olympia smile but she knew she had to be firm, serious. “So what did my sweaty, screaming son do then?”
“Cleaned off the bookshelves,” he said a little warily. “I was aiming as best I could for their heads. Got a good blow in on one of them but the other became all terrified and started praying and ran away. By then the others came in.”