Marcus cleared his throat. “I wish there was something I could do…”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Markie,” he said, finally. “I know what a devil our father can be. No use throwing yourself into the flames for our sake. Angelica and I are quite content as we are.”
She rubbed her tiny belly, and smiled. “It’s true. I can’t imagine my inheritance will make us any happier, though I do hope we get it someday—for the baby’s sake.”
Marcus sat with them for an hour, sharing tea and stories. His presence was a welcome gift for Angelica, who laughed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She talked excitedly about their forthcoming addition, and spoke proudly of their plans for the future.
That, alone, made all his sacrifices worthwhile. Truly, he was thankful for his busy work schedule, and the lack of any ready money. When he came home each night, sliding beneath the covers to hold his sleeping wife, Brody’s old life was the last thing on his mind. Oh, he’d been tempted—at the very least, to join some of the lads down at the pub—but he always remembered Angelica, and the promise he’d made to her.
As their visit drew to a close, Brody walked his brother back to where the chauffeured Daimler sat. Marcus leaned against the bonnet, giving his bad leg a rest. He studied his younger brother for a long moment.
“I’m happy for you, Brody. You have yourself a lovely wife, a steady job, and damned if you don’t look healthier than you have in years.”
Brody shrugged, and grinned. “It’s not how I pictured it, but at least my life is my own—well, mine and Angelica’s.”
“You are a lucky man.”
The two brothers shook hands, bid each other goodbye, and then, finally, Marcus climbed into the waiting automobile. When his driver pulled away from the kerb, he leaned out the window to wave one last time.
Brody put his hand up as his brother disappeared down the busy street. After a few minutes, he shoved his cracked, grease-tinged hands into his jacket pockets, and headed toward home.
Angelica would be waiting for him. Together, they’d curl up in the sitting-room and finish off the last of their splurged biscuits. He’d kiss her, and hold her until she fell asleep in his arms. Then, he would carry her upstairs and tuck her into bed beside him.
He would get to do that—day in and day out—for the next forty years of his life. Brody Neill was a lucky man, indeed.