The morning mist clung to the Yorkshire dales like a shroud of fine grey silk It wrapped itself around the ancient oaks that lined the long drive and softened the harsh edges of Blackwood Manor a great brooding pile of granite and history The house had stood for four centuries its windows watching like dull blind eyes over the rolling lands that bore its name It was a house built on sheep and stone and the unspoken power of the men who had mastered both
Inside his library Lord Reginald Blackwood sat by a fire that did little to chase the chill from his eighty five year old bones The room smelled of leather and old paper and the faint ever present scent of wood smoke His hands once broad and capable enough to break a horse now lay gnarled and still on the arms of his wingback chair. He was listening not to the crackle of the fire but to the silence of his house. A silence that was lately filled with things left unsaid.
He had two sons The thought was a stone in his heart Alistair and Edmund Alistair the elder at fifty five was downstairs now Reginald could hear the faint boom of his voice in the hall. He was a bull of a man with his fathers broad shoulders and none of his subtlety He saw the world as a ledger sheet of things owed and things taken. His wife long dead had left him only a son Delaney a young man of thirty one who had inherited his fathers ambition and added to it a careless cruel streak that worried the old lord.
Edmund was different Fifty three quieter. He took after his mother a woman of gentle grace and fierce inner steel. He had a wife Freya a woman of surprising strength and two children Yves a man of twenty five with his fathers thoughtful eyes and his mothers resolve and Isadora Izzy who at twenty two was the living spirit of the house all quick laughter and clever insights It was Edmunds family that filled the quiet rooms with life and it was Edmund whom Reginald feared for.
The door quickly opened and Alistair entered without knocking. He filled the doorway his presence shifting the air in the room
Father, he said The agent from the north pasture is here. He disputes the count of the spring lambs.
Let Edmund handle it Reginald said his voice a dry whisper Edmund has the patience for it.
Alistairs jaw tightened a barely perceptible movement. Edmund is in the village seeing to the tenants repairs again. He coddles them. They see it as weakness.
They see it as fairness Reginald replied fixing his pale blue eyes on his eldest son This land does not belong to us Alistair. We are merely its stewards for a time. We care for it and it cares for us. That is the covenant The old way.
The old way Alistair muttered a phrase he had come to use as an insult The world is changing Father Money is the covenant now And power is its priest.
He moved and left closing the door with a firmness just short of a slam Reginald let out a long slow breath His gaze drifted to the portrait above the mantle a painting of his own father a man who had ruled Blackwood with an iron will. He had believed in the old way too but he had enforced it with a hardness Reginald had never mastered Perhaps Alistair was his grandfathers true heir.
Later that afternoon Reginald took his slow careful walk to the Dower House a smaller but handsome stone building at the eastern edge of the home park It was where Edmund and his family had made their home preferring its light and warmth to the cavernous main house. He found them in the garden Freya was cutting late roses her hands sure and gentle Edmund and Yves were discussing the books for the home farm Isadora was sketching a hawk that circled high on a thermal.
Grandpapa she called spotting him first her smile like the sun breaking through the Yorkshire cloud. She ran to him slipping her arm through his with an easy affection that warmed him more than any fire. How is the dragon in his castle today.
Izzy Edmund chided but his eyes were warm.
Reginald chuckled The dragon is tired my dear And his hoard is full of nothing but worries. He allowed her to lead him to a wrought iron bench. Freya brought him a cup of tea her eyes meeting his with a quiet understanding.
The trip to Sheffield is settled for next week Edmund said joining them We will stay with Archie for a few days Archie Finch Freyas brother was a solicitor in that great smoky city to the south. It will be good for Yves to see more of the world and for Izzy to - well to have a change of scene.
His pause was subtle but Reginald caught it. Isadora had formed a deep attachment to Archies son Chandler a young man who worked in management at the great Sterling textile factory. The friendship forged in childhood visits had deepened into something more over the last year. Reginald had seen it in the way her letters from Sheffield came more frequently in the new lightness in her step when his name was mentioned It was a good match Chandler was steady intelligent and he made Izzy glow.
Alistair knows Reginald stated.
He does Edmund confirmed. He does not approve. He sees it as a dilution. He believes Izzy should marry - closer to home.
He means Delaney Freya said her voice calm but her knuckles were white around her teacup. It will not happen.
No Reginald agreed It will not But be watchful. Alistair does not like to be thwarted And Delaney.. he has a mean streak.
We are careful Father Edmund said But we will not live in a cage of his making.
As Reginald walked back to the Manor in the gathering dusk, he felt the weight of the coming storm. He was an old man and the wind was rising. He could only hope the house he loved the land he had sworn to protect would be strong enough to shelter those who mattered when the tempest finally broke.
That night in the vast cold master bedroom, he did not sleep. He listened to the house settle its old timbers groaning like the bones of the earth. And he prayed a simple prayer not for himself but for the preservation of what was good Let the house stand Let the good seed flourish.
But on the wind whistling down from the moors, he thought he heard a different answer a whisper of conflict and grief. The covenant was breaking and he was too old to mend it All he could do was watch and wait for the first crack to appear.