Page 17

With a final nod to Peter, Nicholas swept from the room, leaving father and son alone in a silence that seemed to stretch endlessly.

Elias stood awkwardly, acutely aware of his son's presence but unsure how to bridge the chasm between them. He had never been good at this - the easy affection, the casual conversations that seemed to come so naturally to other fathers. Every interaction with Peter felt like navigating a slope littered with sharp, jagged gravel, fraught with the potential for missteps and hurt feelings.

Peter shuffled his feet, still clutching his drawing. "Should I... go now, Father?" he asked hesitantly.

Elias felt a pang of guilt at the uncertainty in his son's voice. This wasn't what he wanted - this distance, this formality between them. And yet, he couldn't seem to find a way past it.

"No, stay," Elias said, forcing himself to soften his tone. "Tell me... tell me more about your drawing. What made you choose that particular view?"

Peter's eyes widened in surprise at his father's unexpected interest. "Well," he began hesitantly, "I like watching the birds in the old oak tree. They're always so busy, flitting about and building nests. And the way the light changes throughout the day, casting different shadows... it's fascinating."

As Peter spoke, his initial nervousness faded, replaced by a quiet enthusiasm. Elias found himself drawn in, seeing the world through his son's eyes for perhaps the first time.

"You notice a great deal," Elias observed, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice. "That's... that's good. A keen eye is a valuable asset in many pursuits."

Peter beamed at the praise, straightening his shoulders. "Miss Nancy says I have a talent for observation. She thinks I might make a good naturalist someday."

Elias felt a flicker of surprise. He hadn't realized Peter had such specific interests. When was the last time he'd truly spoken with his son about anything beyond his studies?

"A naturalist?" Elias repeated, trying to keep the skepticism from his voice. "That's... an interesting ambition."

Peter's face fell slightly at his father's tepid response. "You don't approve," he said softly, more a statement than a question.

Elias sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not that, Peter. I just... there are certain expectations for a young man of your station. The sciences are all well and good as a hobby, but your future lies in managing the estate, in politics, in…"

"In being just like you," Peter finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken hurt and disappointment. Elias felt as though he'd been struck. Is that truly how Peter saw him? As some looming, inescapable fate?

"Peter, I…" Elias began, but his son was already backing towards the door, his earlier enthusiasm completely extinguished.

"I should go, Father," Peter said, his voice carefully controlled. "I have lessons to attend to."

Before Elias could formulate a response, Peter was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.

Elias slumped into his chair, burying his face in his hands. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? He'd tried to connect with his son, to show an interest in his pursuits, and somehow he'd only managed to push the boy further away.

Nicholas's words echoed in his mind: "Talk to him, Elias. He's reaching out to you. Don't push him away."

But how could he bridge this gap when every attempt seemed to end in failure? How could he be the father Peter needed when he could barely manage to be present in his son's life at all?

Determined not to let the moment slip away entirely, Elias rose from his chair and strode purposefully towards Peter's room. He paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to steel himself before knocking softly.

"Peter? May I come in?"

There was a moment of silence, then a quiet, "Yes, Father."

Elias entered to find Peter sitting at his desk, bent over a book. The drawing lay discarded on the bed, a silent reminder of their earlier conversation.

"Peter," Elias began, his voice gentler than usual, "I... You must understand my position. I am merely … looking out for the estate, for our name. I didn't mean to dismiss your interests. It's just... being Duke of Fyre comes with certain responsibilities, and I worry about your future."

Peter looked up, surprise evident in his eyes. "You do?"

Elias nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Of course I do. You're my son, Peter. Everything I do, every decision I make,is with your well-being in mind. I know things are not always easy, but… from the day after tomorrow, there will be a mother in this house and I do hope that we will… benefit from it."

Peter was silent for a long moment, processing this information. Then, in a small voice, he asked, "Do you think she'll like me?"

The vulnerability in that simple question nearly broke Elias's heart. He moved without thinking, crossing the room to kneel before his son's chair. "I believe she will. She… I do not know her that well, but she does seem quite intelligent and insightful."