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Freddie’s widow jumped as he said her name. The child she was holding clung to her neck and started to whimper. “Welcome home, Alec,” she said quietly. “We were overjoyed to hear of your—your return.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. Everyone was looking at him, and with such naked curiosity and emotion. It made his skin crawl to be the focus of so much attention, after years of avoiding all notice.

“Well,” said his mother with an effort at cheer, “shall we go inside? You must be tired, Alec dear, and in want of a drink.” Clinging to his arm, she steered him into the house.

He couldn’t help glancing up and around as he passed through the high arched door into the main hall. He might have left only a month ago; the house was just as he remembered it inside as well as out. The butler and housekeeper were waiting within, and from the quick patter of footsteps, the rest of the servants had also been loitering about the hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man come back from the dead. Alec tried to rein in his dark mood, but it all began to seem ghoulish.

“Farley, see to Major Hayes’s things at once,” his mother told the butler. “Mrs. Smythe, send tea to the drawing room, along with. . . ” She glanced up at Alec. “A bottle of port, and some brandy.” The servants bowed and hurried off. “Come, dear,” she said to Alec. “Won’t you sit with me?”

Like a funeral cortege everyone filed into the sitting room. Marianne followed after sending her children upstairs with a nursemaid. The thought that he was attending his own funeral grew more pronounced; irrationally, Alec felt like saying it aloud to provoke any other reaction. Only his mother seemed oblivious, settling herself in the chair that had always been hers, beaming at Alec as he sat next to her.

But then no one seemed to know what to say. The silence grew more and more ominous as they all sat and hardly looked at one another. Alec finally forced himself to speak. “I only recently heard of Freddie’s death. If I’d known⁠—”

“Then what?” Julia said under her breath.

He was almost relived. Perhaps if they had a loud, screaming row, it would air out the grievances everyone must be feeling, like ripping a bandage from a festering wound in one painful swoop. Alec turned toward his sister. “What do you want to know, Julia?”

She lifted her chin, taking up his challenge. “The same thing we all want to know, I daresay. Where you’ve been for five years and why the bloody hell you didn't send Mother even a single word that you were alive⁠—”

“Julia!” cried her mother.

Julia’s mouth pursed. “I was just answering his question, Mother. Didn’t you say we must go on as if nothing had changed?”

Anthea Hayes flushed. “Not today, Julia,” she said with steel in her voice.

“No, no.” Alec held up one hand, watching his sister’s face burn red. “Let her speak. Julia and I were never coy with each other.”

Julia’s hands balled into fists in her lap. “Weren't we?” she retorted. “And yet you've been exceptionally coy these last five years, neglecting to tell us you still lived and breathed.”

His sister was seething with fury, and oddly it made Alec feel better. This was better than sitting and being stared at with amazement and suspicion. "I wouldn't call it coy or neglectful⁠—"

"Oh?" She sniffed. "Perhaps willfully deceitful, then."

“Julia,” said Marianne softly.

His sister opened her mouth, then closed it. She lurched to her feet. “Pray excuse me, Mother. I feel a headache coming on and would like to retire to my room.” She shot a furious glare at Alec before sweeping from the room.

He clenched his jaw as the door slammed shut behind her. Marianne sent John a worried look, and John replied with a tiny shake of his head.

“I am so sorry,” said his mother, reaching out to put her hand on his. “Julia is. . . Well, it was a tremendous shock. . . ”

“Mother, I understand.” Alec shook his head. “I don’t expect her to be overjoyed.”

“Julia always loved you so. This has been a very hard week for her,” she replied. “She was distraught after Waterloo, when we heard. . . But she will come around in time.”

In time. The thought of the weeks and days ahead made Alec’s head ache. If this was the reaction from his family, how much worse would it be when he met neighbors and old friends? He might as well have come home with the word "traitor" branded on his forehead. “I’m sure it’s very hard on you as well.”

“Oh, no!” His mother’s face lit up. “When the Peterbury boy wrote to us, telling us you were alive and well— Alexander, you cannot know what happiness I felt, and then doubly so when your letter arrived a day later. This has been the longest week of my life, waiting to see for myself. Your father. . . ” Her voice wobbled. “He would have been overjoyed as well.” Tears glimmered in her eyes.

“Excuse me,” John murmured, rising to his feet. “I have some things to see to. . . ” He trailed off and coughed, looking ill at ease.

“And I should go to the children.” Marianne rose. “You must wish to have some time together. Welcome home, Alec.”

In the silence after their departure, Alec turned to his mother. “I know everyone will have questions, Mother. You mustn’t tell Julia she should go on as if nothing has happened.”

She pressed her lips together. “Julia should moderate her tongue.”

Alec was surprised into a short laugh. His sister had always been the most outspoken of the Hayes children, for she had known she was the apple of their father’s eye and would get away with anything. “Why start now?”