Simple Daniel was quickly persuaded by Laura and overcame his fear of boarding school. By the time he left, the boy only regretted having to part with his aunt and family, but he headed to school without much reluctance.

After Daniel’s departure, George caused barely half the trouble he used to. Perhaps it was because the older brother he used to play pranks with was gone.

George missed his brother, but he was also secretly glad he was away. The rival for his aunt’s attention had disappeared. While romping through the forest with his aunt, George could have her all to himself. For a young boy, there was no greater joy.

After Laura delivered gifts and a light conversation about her London visit concluded, she and George held hands and went to play in the forest. Olivia, utterly enchanted by the hat Laura had brought, went upstairs to her room to find a dress to match it, while Mr. Fairfax, donning his new hunting gloves, headed to the game preserve. Only Ian and Mrs. Fairfax remained in the drawing room.

Mrs. Fairfax toyed with the brooch she had received as a gift.

“My goodness, how could anyone choose something so refined?”

“Laura picked it out.”

“Of course your wife did. You always buy things that are supposedly good for health. Such a dull boy.”

Mrs. Fairfax pinned the brooch onto the thick shawl she was wearing. The elegant yet restrained design complemented her plain appearance and simple attire without any discord.

“I love it. I must thank Laura again before she leaves.”

Seeing his sister delighted with his wife’s gift, Ian felt a warm satisfaction.

“So, what did the Londoners say about Laura, now Mrs. Dalton?”

“No one chattered openly, but they looked at her as if she were Her Majesty the Queen.”

Mrs. Fairfax gave a sly smile, her mocking expression an exact mirror of her younger brother’s.

“Laura’s the same person she was as a maiden, but now that she’s Mrs. Dalton, they see her worth.”

“That’s how nobles are. Such snobs. By the way, when will little Ian wake up? I’d love to see him before I leave.”

“Wait a bit. I’ve told them to bring him as soon as he’s awake.”

Ten minutes later, the drawing room door opened, and little Ian entered, holding the nanny’s hand.

Ian’s face lit up at the sight of the child.

“Uncoo.”

Dressed in a tailored sailor suit, little Ian called out to his uncle with a tongue that stumbled over words.

“Come here.”

Ian opened his arms wide.

As the child toddled close, Ian, with the practiced ease of an uncle to many nephews, scooped him up and sat him on his knee. His large hand gently ruffled the thick, dark curls sprouting from the boy’s crown. The child beamed, delighted to see his uncle.

Big Ian whispered to little Ian.

“Your uncle brought a gift for our little man from London. It’s in my pocket—go find it.”

The child began fumbling through his uncle’s pockets. Out came a matchbox, a wallet, a silver cigarette case, a handkerchief, and a peppermint. Finally, the boy found a small, colorful gift box.

With clumsy fingers, the child unwrapped it. Inside was a tiny train-shaped toy.

The boy stared at the toy, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He squirmed with joy, squealing loudly.

Ian laughed heartily and glanced at his sister across the room.

“Looks like he loves it, doesn’t it?”

Mrs. Fairfax, who had been discussing nursery matters with the nanny, gave her brother a cursory nod before resuming her conversation. She loved her children but was not one to be swayed by their fleeting joys or sorrows. Her temperament was consistent, from her first child to her last.

When the discussion ended, Mrs. Fairfax told the nanny to go downstairs for tea. After the nanny left, she stroked the sapphire brooch once more before turning her gaze to her brother.

Her younger brother was utterly engrossed with the young nephew on his knee. He chuckled at the boy’s play, pretending to drive a train through the air, and listened earnestly to the child’s lisping explanations of imaginary train stops.

Mrs. Fairfax watched him intently.

Ian had always loved babies, even as a child himself. At eight years old, when his first nephew, Henry, was born, he was beside himself with joy. Later, when Olivia arrived, he played with her just as he did now, sitting her on his knee. He doted on Daniel and George, too, showering them with affection until their antics nearly turned Dunville Park’s green woodlands to ash.

Watching Ian play with her son, a subtle question crept into Mrs. Fairfax’s mind. It was a rather foolish curiosity, but she never hesitated to ask her brother anything.

“When are you going to have a child?”

Ian, who had been immersed in a train journey as little Ian’s conductor, looked at his sister.

“What’s that all of a sudden?”

“You’ve been married for a year now. Why no news yet?”

Ian gave a short laugh.

“You’ll have to ask God about that.”

“Are you doing your part?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mrs. Fairfax clicked her tongue.

“Did your trip to London make you dense? I’m asking if you’re properly planting the seed for a child with Laura.”

Flustered, Ian quickly covered little Ian’s small ears with both hands. Fortunately, the boy, absorbed in his train, didn’t notice his uncle’s sudden gesture. He was a splendid little conductor.

“Mind your words in front of the child.”

Unlike her brother, whose face had flushed at the blunt question, Mrs. Fairfax remained unfazed.

“He’s no different from a monkey. He doesn’t have the wits to understand us yet.”

“How would you know?”

“I know because of you. You don’t remember anything before you were thirty months old.”

“That’s because you keep making up things that never happened.”

Mrs. Fairfax frowned, as if deeply offended.

“Boy, I’ve played countless pranks in my life, but I’ve never committed the sin of fabricating falsehoods. Especially not memories with my brother—there’s no need to invent them. They’re plenty entertaining without embellishment.”

“If you’re going to bring that up again…”

Before he could finish with “I’m leaving,” Mrs. Fairfax narrowed her eyes and began reminiscing.

“I remember you at twenty-seven months. You were a bright little thing. On days I was invited to a ball, you’d toddle around me as I dressed, listing all the gifts you’d give me if I stayed home: ginger biscuits from the nursery’s porcelain jar, the toy soldier set from your playbox, the horse doll you slept with. Once I was fully dressed, you’d cling to my legs like a koala, bawling, ‘Don’t go, sister. Don’t leave Ian!’ My dress hem would be ruined with your snot, and I’d have to change.”

Ian’s face twisted as if he’d bitten a worm.

“I don’t remember that.”

“See? Humans don’t recall anything before thirty months.”

“Because it’s a made-up story.”

“Look at this boy. If you don’t believe me, ask Rams wick.”

“I’m not playing along with your tricks.”

Ian shot back coldly.

He firmly believed the episode his sister described was false. Not only did he not remember it, but even if it were true, he didn’t want to admit it.

Mrs. Fairfax shrugged.

“Denying it doesn’t undo what happened. Now, back to the point. The baby?”

“You sound like a loan shark. It’s my marriage—stay out of it.”

“If you weren’t the head of Whitefield, I wouldn’t meddle. Have you forgotten that if you don’t have a son, your land goes to some distant cousin you’ve never met? Come on, Ian, be honest. Are you putting in the effort at night? Should I send you some of my husband’s tonics?”

Flaring up, Ian shouted without thinking.

“I don’t need that stuff—I’m breaking the bed every night as it is!”

Mrs. Fairfax burst into laughter, nearly falling backward.

Ian’s face turned crimson. He’d fallen for his sister’s trap and blurted out private details of his marriage.

“Well, Ian, with a wife like yours, that’s only natural. Especially since you’re still so green for your age.”

Ian was relieved he hadn’t uncovered his nephew’s ears.

His sister grew serious again.

“If it’s not about frequency, is it the seed? Tell me, is there something wrong with your seed sack? Is it empty like a torn bean bag or spoiled like a crate of rotten apples?”

Mrs. Fairfax stared pointedly between Ian’s legs, as if she could see through his clothes. Ian hurriedly shifted his nephew to sit between his thighs, shielding himself from her gaze.

“You never stop, do you? Even if I’m your brother, don’t make crude assumptions about my body. And what does smoking have to do with having children?”

“It’s very relevant. Around here, heavy smokers always seem to have no children—or one or two at most. Families with ten or more? Their husbands don’t touch liquor or tobacco. Just last week, the twenty-fourth child was born at the apothecary Schulz’s house. Mr. Schulz doesn’t smoke, drink, or eat more than a slice of meat at supper.”

“Sounds like Mr. Schulz should take up smoking. Or better yet, sleep in a separate room.”

Ian replied dryly.

“What’s wrong with that? If you can have them, why not have plenty? Mrs. Schulz is as strong as an ox. Less than a week after giving birth, she was out raking the potato field.”

Ian wondered why women’s health varied so wildly. One could bear twenty-four children and still work the fields, while his sister’s body had grown fragile as glass after her fifth. Always carrying a quiet worry for her health, Ian found Mrs. Schulz’s vigor more astonishing than Mr. Schulz’s prolificacy.

“You’re always chain-smoking. Why not quit cigars for the sake of an heir?”

“I can’t quit. I’ve been at it for over fifteen years—it’s part of me now.”

Mrs. Fairfax sighed.

“Father gave you a bad habit.”

“I’ll agree with you there.”

Mrs. Fairfax fell silent, perhaps thinking of other solutions.

Ian, too, sank into thought.

“Hm. A child, huh.”