A hectic start to my weekend. Having spent the day at Leeds Steampunk Market (I kept to my budget, but then accidentally boought a chaise longue on the way home) I edited three short chapters, which I typed up after some light gardening (the loganberries are responding to my threads to bring them under control come winter by fruiting even more enthusiastically). Rupert has done some more research, and a visit from Chroistophe has unforeseen consequences:
He'd found no evidence in the diaries that Mama and Papa had spent time together in the December of 1962, or even in January 1963 – he might have been an early baby, after all – but with no definite proof that they hadn't met then, even though there was no mention of Mama whatsoever in any of the diaries he'd read, Rupert had allowed himself to hope that his fears were unfounded. Then he'd met Papa's new friend.
There was nothing overt they did or said in front of Rupert that told him they were together – they were hardly likely to kiss each other in front of him like some of Mama's more extravagant swishy friends – but he sensed an understanding between them that he'd never seen between Papa and Mama. How had he deceived himself for so many years? Papa was too confident about himself to have ever married Mama under some mistaken belief that he could become what he wasn't.
Rupert knew himself to be a Peveril – his looks told everyone that much – but he wasn't really Papa's son, no matter what was printed on his passport and birth certificate. He loved Papa, and he loved Mama, but he needed time to work out how he was going to forgive them for lying to him all these years.
no subject
He'd found no evidence in the diaries that Mama and Papa had spent time together in the December of 1962, or even in January 1963 – he might have been an early baby, after all – but with no definite proof that they hadn't met then, even though there was no mention of Mama whatsoever in any of the diaries he'd read, Rupert had allowed himself to hope that his fears were unfounded. Then he'd met Papa's new friend.
There was nothing overt they did or said in front of Rupert that told him they were together – they were hardly likely to kiss each other in front of him like some of Mama's more extravagant swishy friends – but he sensed an understanding between them that he'd never seen between Papa and Mama. How had he deceived himself for so many years? Papa was too confident about himself to have ever married Mama under some mistaken belief that he could become what he wasn't.
Rupert knew himself to be a Peveril – his looks told everyone that much – but he wasn't really Papa's son, no matter what was printed on his passport and birth certificate. He loved Papa, and he loved Mama, but he needed time to work out how he was going to forgive them for lying to him all these years.