Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“Why is it you are here expecting to be fed when you have homes and families of your own?” Mungo said, lowering the tray onto the table with a snap.
It was early, the day not yet fully formed outside the misted-over windows.
This was the parlor the family spent most of their time in.
The room had recently been redecorated with cream walls dotted with red-and-gold patterns that made his eyes hurt if he studied them too hard.
A thick red carpet, trimmed with the same swirling gold motifs, muffled every footstep.
An oversized sofa, bought out of necessity, as the family continued to grow, was the only new furniture.
“Why are you more salty than normal?” Alex, the second eldest Nightingale brother asked.
It had been two weeks since he’d said goodbye to Fenella, and he was still feeling irritable—more so than usual. There was a stabbing pain in the region of his heart when he thought of her, and he wanted it to stop.
All the memories of his homeland he’d long ago buried had resurfaced after she’d left London. He was plagued by them night and day.
The heather-covered hills turning purple at dusk, a soft, rippling sea of violet on the moors that he’d loved. The taste of oatcakes, warm from cooking, crumbling and melting in his mouth at the kitchen table with his family.
“He loves us, really,” Alex added with a smirk that Mungo wanted to slap off his face.
“But you’re right. He is testier than normal,” Leo, Lord Seddon, eldest son, agreed.
Both lounged in a seat by the fire that blazed in the grate. The similarities were there when they were seated together. Leo was bigger and Alex cheekier, but there was no doubt they were related.
The day was a miserable one, for all there was no rain. The sun hadn’t found its way through the clouds, and the walls felt like they were closing in on Mungo.
Things he usually loved were annoying him now. Like the fact that Alex always kicked off his boots and rested his stocking-clad feet on the fire surround.
“I have to polish that!” he barked.
“It’s frigid out there, and my toes are numb,” Alex said, holding his hands out toward the flames and keeping his feet where they were.
Mungo had been part of the lives of the people in this room for many years and never regretted a single one, for all that he stated otherwise. They were his family now.
“There is definitely something off with him,” Bramstone Nightingale said from his position seated in a large wingback chair. “Care to share your worries, Mungo?”
They were in the front parlor of 11 Crabbett Close, the family home, where most days there were at least one or two members—though they lived elsewhere—in residence, alongside the younger members who had yet to leave.
Today, Leo, Bram, Alex, and Mungo were discussing more investment opportunities for the money they’d inherited after finding the Pavlov fortune months ago.
Mungo was involved in every facet of this family, no matter how much he’d told them he didn’t want to be.
“You’re family and will be treated like one, for all you feel the need to serve us,” Bram had said to him once many years ago, and that had been that.
Mungo chose to work in the household and drive the family around in their carriage, as he’d never been one for idleness. But he never doubted these people considered him as one of them.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Bram continued. “We are here for you as you are for us. If you’d like to speak to me in private—”
“I’ve no wish to say anything, here or in another room,” Mungo said in a tone that should stop further questioning, “because there is naught to say. Now back to the discussion at hand. I think we need to fund another veterans’ home.”
“Agree about the veterans’ home, and bollocks to you having nothing to say,” Bram snapped back at him.
Unlike others, he was never one to take a step back from Mungo when he was in a foul mood.
“Everyone is avoiding you, Mungo. Even Mrs. Douglas asked me what’s amiss, as you were crankier than a wet hen when she saw you on Monday. ”
The two friends then glared at each other.
“If I wanted ye tae ken, I’d hae told ye already.”
“And yet, you’ve your nose in all our business,” Bram snapped back.
It took a lot to rile Bramstone Nightingale, but Mungo had always excelled at it.
He wasn’t someone who felt comfortable talking about himself or sharing his problems. In fact, just the thought of it made his back itch.
He’d tried that a few times in his youth, but his family had made it clear that wasn’t something they did. You dealt with your problems yourself unless it was dire.
“So there is something to discuss?” Leo insisted.
“Leave it.” Mungo’s words came out as a low growl.
“That’s not how our family works,” Bram said with a patience his eyes told Mungo he was far from feeling.
This man probably knew more about him than anyone, but not everything.
Mungo had a vault inside him that held things no one else would know.
Things that had shaped the man he was today, which was possibly why a wife and children would never be in his future.
He was a selfish bastard in many ways, though he’d die for the people in this room. Not that he’d ever tell them that.
“You’ll get nae word oot o’ him— tight as a whelk, that one.”
Alex’s attempt at a Scottish accent was so bad, Mungo would have snorted, but he didn’t have one in him.
“That was terrible, nephew,” Bram said. “You need more practice.”
“He’ll not be bastardizing my native tongue anymore,” Mungo muttered. “And you two are bloody adults and have wives. Some of you even have children. Go away and annoy them,” he added.
“When we leave here, we can be adults,” Leo said. “But when you walk into your family home, that’s when you can be relaxed and comfortable. You can always be yourself. That’s important for us, Mungo. You remember the people we once were, after all, and the life we lived.”
A heavy silence settled around the room, and he knew they were remembering the life they’d been forced to live after their father’s perfidy. Mungo silently cursed himself for being the one to remind them.
“Fine,” he snapped after the silence became too much for him.
“Fine?” Bram raised a dark brow.
“You’ll not make more of what I tell you than need be.”
“Oh, we will,” Alex said.
“My niece came to London. I’ve been meeting with her for the months she was here,” Mungo said quickly, like the words tasted foul.
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions. He looked first at Bram and saw the disappointment and hurt there. I should have told him.
“Why didn’t you invite her to see us?” Leo asked. “We are your family, Mungo.”
“I don’t bring my past here.”
“Maybe it’s time you did,” he said quietly. “You know everything about us. Seems only fair we know something about you.”
“Tell us about your niece,” Alex urged after shooting his uncle a look.
Bram hadn’t moved, just kept his eyes steady on Mungo’s face.
“Fenella is my brother’s eldest daughter,” he said. “When she was born, I was close with her, although she has no memory of that. I left when she was just a wee lass to travel after things became strained between my brother—her father—and me. It was easier that way.”
“How could it be easier to walk away from your family?” Leo frowned. “Were they horrible to you? Did they beat you?”
“Do you think I’d allow anyone to beat me?” Mungo sounded outraged.
“No, which is why I’m surprised,” Leo added.
“That wasn’t it at all. I was just... different from the start. I didn’t fit into their world anymore. One day I realized I likely never would.”
“Different how?”
He looked at the faces before him and thought, I brought this on myself. I should have said nothing.
Nightingales were tenacious when they got a sniff of something. With so many family members, secrets were scarce because they would hound the harborer of those secrets until they yielded.
“Must you gnaw this to death?”
“Of course,” Alex said. “But first, do you have an elderly gentleman in your life who has passed? I’m sure it’s you he’s wanting to talk to, and since no one has ever come through for you, I’m excited.”
To anyone else this would have been an odd question, but when you lived with a family of clairvoyants, you got used to such things.
“I’ve no one I wish to speak with,” Mungo said quickly, heart pounding uncomfortably hard inside his chest.
“His name starts with an M. Malcolm—no,” Alex muttered. He then looked hard at Mungo, as if reading something on his face. “Mungo,” he whispered. “You carry his name.”
He could just refuse to comment. It wasn’t like they ever expected civility from him. Loyalty and protection, always, but civility, no.
“So why am I seeing…. Wait.” Alex closed his eyes. “They called you Little Mungo when you were growing up, didn’t they?” He looked delighted by that.
“I was named after my grandfather.”
“I can’t imagine anyone getting away with calling you Little Mungo,” Leo said.
“They didn’t for long.” The words were a growl.
“I wonder why he is showing up now? Something feels off. I just can’t work out what,” Alex added.
“We will discuss the other matter while you try to get information from Big Mungo,” Bram said.
“Only fair considering the times you’ve questioned us. Relentlessly, I might add,” Leo said.
“And I’ll add that if you do not tell us everything, I will set the younger members of our family onto you,” Bram said.
Mungo knew how persistent the little ones could be.
“It’s not a big deal, Bram.”
“It’s a huge deal that you felt you couldn’t bring your niece to meet us.”
Mungo sighed loudly. “I’m sorry, and it’s not that I didn’t think I could bring her here. I’m not keeping secrets from you deliberately.”
“Then what is it?” Bram demanded.
He exhaled slowly. He’d need to talk about his past, share something with them. Only then would they leave him alone.
“When I left, it was because I needed to. There had been no other option.”
“Why did you need to?”
“I’m not telling you that, Leo.”
“You haven’t been home since you travelled the world with Uncle Bram?” Alex asked.
Mungo shook his head.
“Is your mother still alive? Your parents? Your brother?” Bram demanded. “I’ve asked these questions before, but you fob me off.”
“My mother and brother are alive,” Mungo conceded. “I write to my mother every month. That’s how Fenella knew where to find me. I’ve always told her where I am.”
“So your niece is gone now?”
Bram’s voice was calm as always, but Mungo saw the hurt that he’d caused him still lingered.
“Bram—”
“Are you ashamed of us?” his friend demanded, cutting him off. “Is that why you didn’t bring her here? I can come up with no other reason, seeing as for many years, we have shared every aspect of our lives with you.”
He sighed, long and heavy again and then ran a hand through his hair. “I was wrong,” he said simply. “I’m sorry. I am not one to share confidences, as you know.”
“But I am your oldest friend, and we are your family,” Bram said, waving toward his nephews.
“It’s only that we want you to be happy,” Leo said gently. “We’re your family, like Uncle Bram said, and you’re one of us. But knowing you have blood relations out there... it saddens me that you haven’t seen them or gone back to your home.”
“Maybe it’s time to find a way to reconnect with them. Unless they were truly hideous to you. That would be unforgivable,” Alex added.
“Because we know what it’s like to be adrift,” Leo said. “We know how it hurts to be alone. But we had Uncle Bram and Aunt Ivy—and you. You stepped in when we needed someone. We’ll always be here for you, Mungo, but you should try to reconnect if you can.”
The brothers then left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind them, leaving Mungo alone with Bram. A thick silence settled in the room.
“I’ve hurt you,” Mungo said. “That was never my intention.”
“I know it was not deliberate,” Bram replied evenly. “I know you. You don’t like to open up and share what’s inside. But the fact that you did not bring Fenella here hurts because she is of your blood, and therefore important to you and us.”
Mungo swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in his throat.
“But,” Bram continued, “you’re my brother in every way that matters. I love you. So I forgive you. Just don’t do something like this again.”
“I will promise you that, but it’s not my way to speak of personal things.” Mungo did not return the declaration of love out loud, but his friend knew what lay in his heart.
Bram smiled faintly. “Well, perhaps it is time to change your ways, or no woman will have you.”
“I’ve no need for a woman.”
Bram raised a brow again.
“For marriage, if that’s your meaning.” Mungo refused to acknowledge the heat climbing up his neck.
“I think you’re wrong, but time will tell which of us is right. You are a man of means, after all, so if you wish to set up your own household, you could.”
“I don’t,” Mungo muttered.
They’d given him money from the Pavlov fortune. Bram had simply put it into the bank and attached his name to it so the deal was done before he could stop it. It would sit there unless he wanted to do something with it.
What did he need money for? He’d saved enough of his own over the years. Besides, the Nightingales would fall into trouble the minute he left them.
The thought of living without them wasn’t one he ever wanted to contemplate because he and his family were estranged, and if he didn’t have the Nightingales, he didn’t have anyone.