When Travis burst through the doors of the drawing room, his gaze fell upon three individuals - Lady Kendall stood at a distance, her nephew Evan Kendall stood opposite Travis, and he could only see his mother's back, her coiffed hair on display.

"What's all this uproar in my abode?! Don't you have more fitting matters to attend to than to engage in a clamour here?!" the Marquess exclaimed with fiery indignation.

"Uproar?!" Lady Kendall retorted, her visage flushing. "So, you perceive an uproar, but you have, perhaps, failed to take note that your mother is with child!"

Travis came to an abrupt halt as if Lady Kendall had issued him a slap. Corinne then slowly turned towards her son, and indeed, her gravid belly was indicative of her maternal condition. It came as a shock and disbelief to him, and his gaze flitted back and forth between her abdomen and her countenance. All he could muster was to inquire, "With whom?"

"With the Earl of Darlington," his mother replied quietly, though with unwavering resolve.

Travis believed he might have misheard, so he approached her and repeated the question. When he received the same answer, he looked at the pale Evan, who was quiet and visibly swallowing hard out of nervousness.

"You—" Travis began and, like an enraged bull, lunged at his self-proclaimed friend, grabbing him by the collar and shaking him vigorously. "You deceiver, scoundrel... you audacious blackguard!" he yelled.

"T-Travis, it was an ac-accident," Evan defended himself, trying to free himself from his grip.

"So, an accident you say?!" Travis bellowed. "By chance, my mother fell right onto your cock, and suddenly, you impregnated her?!"

"That's enough, Marquess," Lady Kendall shouted, trying to pull Travis away from her nephew.

Corinne, out of respect for her condition, stood aside, but she didn't find the scene amusing at all. Travis shook off the old matron's hands, then straightened up and struck Evan in the face with his clenched fist. The sound of a broken bone followed, and the Earl fell to the ground, blood immediately flowing from his nose. At this commotion, Lafferty appeared.

"Your Lo—"

"Shut your beak and the door!" Travis yelled, and the butler promptly obeyed.

Then the Marquess approached his mother and gazed into her impassive countenance once more.

"Do you retain any shred of propriety at all?" Travis ranted, "Every time I turn my back on you, you pierce me with a dagger, mother! Laying in bed with someone I know and hold as a friend, akin to a common harlot!"

The sound of a resounding slap echoed through the room as it struck Travis' visage, causing his countenance to contort sideways.

"Mayhap you do not fancy the course my life takes, Travis," Corinne responded composedly, "but I am a rational being capable of independent judgment and decisions."

Travis kept his countenance aside, averting his eyes after the slap. Yet, following her utterance, he derisively harrumphed and returned his gaze towards her. His cheeks bore a flush, and a fiery indignation simmered within his very core.

"You are with child, unmarried, and, in such a situation, if you pardon my candour, one's honour is implicated – if this is meant to serve as a model of sound decisions, then I am a paragon of virtue, a saint in my own right! Regrettably, your choices extend their ramifications to my reputation as well!" 

Travis then took a deep breath before continuing: "Nevertheless, it seems inconsequential to you, for not too long ago, I found myself narrowly escaping assassination, the blade intended for me, dispatched by my very own mother," he said with exasperation, sweeping his arm in emphasis. 

His eyes then shifted to Evan, who remained grounded, and subsequently back to Corinne. "In this predicament, the prudent course would be to bring the child into this world discreetly, far from the prying gazes."

"By no means!" Lady Kendall exclaimed thunderously. "The child is the heir of the Kendall family! The wedding can be conducted in Gretna Green for what I care! Given Lady St. Arcey's preference for a secluded life, no one will ever question the baby's age. However, I will not allow the child to end up with strangers!"

Travis started to laugh, but it was a laugh filled with deep contempt. "Clearly, you have it all thought out, you shrewd old bat," he said to Lady Kendall, "but know that I will not participate in this charade."

He turned on his heel and, a few days later, left for Marlborough, where he remained for years without further contact with his mother or anyone from the house. The latest tidings of her life were gleaned from whispers – ultimately, she and Darlington took the plunge, exchanging vows in grandeur at the church, witnessed by a multitude of onlookers. The ensuing scandal lingered unabated for a year.

Today Travis stood by the coffin, and his pondering among the memories was suddenly interrupted by the sound of brisk footsteps. It was a priest who greeted him quietly, approached the coffin, and lifted its lid. The Marquess was met with the sight of a person whose death he had certainly not foreseen this soon. 

As her son, he tried to remember a single happy moment with her, her one good character trait, but in vain. She eluded him in his memories, just as she did in life when she concealed her addiction, and later her pregnancy from him. To further exacerbate the matters, there was not a single missive to apprise her eldest child of her deteriorating health. Travis found himself unable to shed a single tear for her, even after seeing her lifeless form. His mother lay there with a peaceful expression on her face, one he had never seen during her lifetime. Corinne was pale as the snow falling outside, but she bore no signs of suffering.

Mother had now found eternal rest, while I am left here to carry the weight of life further, Travis mused inwardly. At that moment, the butler, Lafferty, approached him.

"Your Lordship–," he began, but Travis was quicker. "Leave me in damned peace," he snapped.

The butler exhaled, yet he remained undeterred. "There is someone here who wishes to meet you, after all, you are his appointed guardian."

How self-centred, Travis thought, that she continues to torment me with her decisions even beyond death, beyond her grave! 

Yet, it was the duty he couldn't avoid to prevent further misery.

"Very well, where is he?" Travis turned to the butler at last.

"My Lord, please follow me."

Travis followed him into the adjacent room, which served as a vestry. As they entered, a small fair-haired figure immediately dashed from the opposite side of the room towards the butler, hiding behind his legs. Only one bright green eye and part of a face peeked out.

"Don't hide, Ted—I mean, Lord Kendall. Marquess St. Arcey, may I introduce you to your half-brother, the Earl of Darlington, Silas Theodore Kendall."

Travis inwardly sneered at the butler's audacity. He remained still for a moment, observing young Teddy, who still appeared fearful of him. Travis then approached Lafferty, crouching down to be at the boy's eye level. He extended his hand towards Teddy, who gazed at it curiously, unsure of what to do at that moment. After a brief hesitation, the lad plucked up the courage, stepped out from behind the butler's legs, and placed his small hand in Travis'. Marquess gave it a gentle, yet short-lived shake, but neither of them smiled. It was as though both of them sensed that their meeting on this day was a matter of fate, and trust in each other had yet to be established.

"Will you take him home, Your Lordship? If not, Lady Kendall—"

"Lady Kendall has caused enough damage as it is," Travis interjected sharply while rising up from the floor, causing Silas to be startled once more, hiding behind Lafferty's legs.

In a poor attempt to quell the rising tension, the majordomo said: "It wouldn't be fair to accuse the aunt of her nephew's actions."

"Are you forgetting she raised him?!" Travis retorted with irritation.

"And you, sir, were raised by your mother," the butler countered, his tone unaccusing. "Furthermore, until now, you have not been exactly present in bo—Lord Darlington's life."

Travis grunted but said nothing further. He turned on his heel and made his way back to the main hall with the casket. However, as he retreated, Teddy darted from behind him, calling out, "Mama, mama! Don't sleep! Wake up, mama!"

The boy then started weeping, as he was still too tiny to reach the elevated casket, his little hands resting on the raised platform. Travis approached him, bent down, and gently stroked his blonde locks. The boy quickly turned towards the Marquess, his large green eyes reflecting sorrow and hope at once.

That young lad comprehends nothing of this today, crossed Travis' thoughts. I dread the day when I shall have to convey it to him, along with all the particulars.

And in that moment, he sensed a mysterious force enveloping his heart, causing the sturdy iron walls he had built around it to tremble.

"I extend my sincerest condolences," he whispered softly to the boy. The first tears welled up in his eyes, not for the mother, but for the little orphan. Kneeling down once more beside him, he spoke tenderly, "Our mother has entered an eternal slumber, Silas; she shall not awaken."

"But why?" Teddy cried.

Travis sighed. "For her time has drawn to a close. Can you recall how she looked like, her countenance?"

Little Teddy nodded resolutely.

"Then preserve that memory for all time. And in case you ever happen to forget, I believe we shall find a portrait of her in the estate."

He offered his hand to Teddy, who took it without hesitation this time. People had begun to gather at the church in honour of the late Countess, and Travis noticed Lady Kendall's resentful expression as she held back a few pews away from them. He then nodded to Lafferty.

"Lafferty, make sure that old bat keeps her distance."

"Very well, My Lord. I shall arrange it so."

Travis was convinced that Lady Kendall wanted to take Teddy from him, despite his mother naming the Marquess as the boy's sole guardian. However, she couldn't afford a public scene, so he relied on the fact that they would escape as soon as the situation allowed them to. He was determined to avoid all genuine grief for his mother or the condolences given by the scarce number of guests, as he only felt one thing – great relief. 

Soon, the service for the deceased had ended, but Travis almost hadn't noticed, as he hadn't paid any attention to what the clergyman was saying at all. No matter how nicely he spoke of her, Travis knew the bitter truth, as did his face, which bore the scar from her past impulsive act. Once the service concluded, a short procession was formed to follow the Countess to her final resting place at the cemetery behind the church. It was cold, and the frost was bone-chilling – it was said the gravediggers had been working on the Countess' grave for a day and a half.

Little Teddy clung to Travis even more tightly than he had in the church. Travis gazed at the young boy and reflected:

Silas Theodore Kendall, Earl of Darlington. Your name means 'beseeched' or 'prayed for'... yet you were merely a pawn in our mother's intrigues. Who's to say whether she genuinely cherished you as a mother ought to love her child... but, in the end, you were bestowed with a middle name, and that's certainly more than she ever gave me.

Although his musings were harsh, they were not aimed at the innocent lad but rather at the woman who had just been laid to rest. The mourners took turns scattering clods of cold earth upon her casket. As the gravediggers began to shovel the soil with their spades, Travis discreetly directed his brother to the side and signalled to Lafferty. Just then, he overheard a familiar voice exclaim, "This is outrageous!"

Nonetheless, they had already reached the carriage and were soon on their way to Reading. It was well past midnight when the carriage halted in front of Travis' ancestral residence. He carefully lifted the slumbering Teddy from the seat and handed him over to Lafferty, subsequently, Travis disembarked. The entire house was alight in tribute to Corinne, with a candle flickering in each window in her memory. Travis drew in a deep breath and reentered the home he had not crossed the threshold of in nearly four years, all the while pondering the twists of fate and the long-awaited return to the ancestral abode he once cherished as a child.

The following morning, his valet roused him, announcing the visit of Chief Magistrate Gibson.

What in God's name does that dolt want at such an ungodly hour? Travis mused. He reluctantly donned his attire and descended to the drawing room.

"Good morrow, Your Lordship," Gibson greeted him.

"Good morrow, Chief Magistrate," Travis responded with a touch of sullenness as he took his seat.

Gibson concealed a smile beneath his well-groomed moustache. "It appears that early mornings are not to everyone's liking."

Travis fixed his tired, slightly bleary eyes upon the magistrate. "Under usual circumstances, I would not concur, but you may have overlooked the fact that I interred my mother just yesterday."

"Ah, yes. Please accept my heartfelt condolences, sir."

Travis nodded in acknowledgement but continued to study Gibson with a stern gaze, thinking, If your only purpose here is to offer condolences, I'll personally kick you back to London.

"I beg pardon for this untimely intrusion, sir, but I bring news that cannot be entrusted to parchment. Besides, the journey to Reading consumes a fair portion of the day, and I must return ere evening."

He then cleared his throat and continued, "We've made progress on your assailant as today we know his name. We're working with two theories in your case – either someone sent the assassin after you due to personal grievance, or we're on the trail of a well-organized group. We're still investigating, and I believe we'll uncover the mastermind behind it."

Travis settled into his chair and leaned on its backrest, a smile playing on his face.

"So, it took you more than three years to find out his name. No wonder dangerous well-organized groups are operating right under your nose." 

Gibson blushed. "Sir, that's an insult," he said, flustered.

"My apologies, I've had a rough week," Travis replied, his mischievous smile still intact. "But I hope that you and your constables will manage to unveil the villain, or villains before I turn into a frail, broken old man. If I happen to live that long."

Gibson's face was now the colour of crimson.

"We have excellent people working on your case, Marquess St. Arcey. I do, however, strongly recommend that you exercise caution and not trust those around you too readily."

In fact, Travis thought to himself, I already have very little trust in your abilities, Chief Quip Gibson.

"With all due respect, Chief Magistrate Gibson, this meeting could have been just a letter," he said aloud, and in his mind, he chuckled at the mental retort his companion probably harboured.

Soon, the men bid their farewells, walked together to the main entrance, and when the sturdy doors closed behind Gibson, Lafferty turned to Travis and spoke in hushed tones:

"My Lord, I happened to overhear a conversation between two constables who arrived with the chief. They mentioned patrolling certain outskirts of London until they finally uncovered a lead. If it pleases you, perhaps we could venture there ourselves – we might unearth more than those two clods and a chief stub."

Travis gave him a reserved glance and replied, "I'm not certain whether I trust you enough to venture into a lion's den with you, Lafferty. But I surely shall contemplate it."

Then he briefly surveyed the hall and continued, "And if you please – it is the Christmas season, yet our estate resembles a mausoleum. Attend to that and promptly."

With such an order, he turned on his heel and departed. Lafferty contemplated reminding the Marquess of the mourning for the late Countess, but instead, he muttered a profound curse under his breath, waved his hand dismissively, and proceeded to fulfil the Marquess' instructions.