A Closed Heart by Oster, Camille (guided reading books TXT) 📗

Laughter called his attention. There were children in the house. A score of them—five, or maybe six. He couldn’t recall—they seemed to be proliferating.

Trying to focus on his reports, he ignored them, but they were having a very enjoyable time out there. Finally giving in, he got up and went to the window, seeing them all out there with a Shetland pony carrying one of the children around. Where in the world had that come from? Was that from his stable? He’d never bought a Shetland pony. Maybe his father had, and he’d never noticed it.

The children seemed to love riding around on it, and Jane was running along ensuring the child didn’t fall off. She looked bright and fresh, a broad smile on her mouth as she ran alongside the pony. Hair utterly loose as she seemed to prefer it. Completely inappropriate.

Eliza was hugging one of her children to her legs and Octavia had one on her hip. Atticus was clearly excited. Even Mr. Fuller was out there with a tray of drinks that he was placing on a foldaway table.

In a sense, he felt excluded because this hadn’t been discussed with him. Saying that, taking the children out for a pony ride around the lawn wasn’t something he should be consulted on.

Drawing himself away, he returned to his desk. His job was to ensure the welfare and benefit of this family, and the greatest pleasure was to know he’d made advances. Beyond that, when he could, he would press for the improvements in public policy to make advances for everyone else. That benefitted his standing, but it was more of a personal pleasure. Health, education and social services. Improvements could be made that would benefit the country as a whole.

Benefit to the state was also a Roman ideal. The state was strong when its citizens were strong. These were important lessons, but many were too shortsighted to see beyond their own benefit. Securing oneself and securing the state were not mutually exclusive. Both could be achieved—if one was clever enough.

The laughter continued outside, but Julius stayed in the study, focusing his attention on some of the policy committees he served on. Eventually they shifted back into the house somewhere. Perhaps to rest after a strenuous afternoon. Following suit, he finished and took himself upstairs to change for supper.

The salon was empty by the time he reached it, but Octavia soon appeared, and he greeted her. “I trust you had a nice day,” he said.

“It was marvelous, but I’m quite shattered. No one ever tells you that children are so occupying, particularly when you travel. I think they become overexcited with new people and places. But there is nothing wrong with children being overexcited, is there?”

A statement Julius wasn’t entirely sure he agreed with. From the look of it, his sister didn’t invest sufficiently in discipline and decorum in her children. They were wild things, and it wouldn’t be to their benefit in the long run, but his opinion on childrearing wouldn’t be welcomed by his sister. Few of his opinions on anything were welcomed by Octavia.

Jane appeared and she seemed to lighten the room from the heaviness that typically lay between him and Octavia, and he couldn’t readily explain the source of it. It wasn’t as if they’d fallen out, but things had changed after his father had died. As if they hadn’t found their places after. He was sorry for it, but discussing things with her were difficult.

Eliza came shortly after and the full complement of dining companions were there. Conversation flowed easily between the women, who talked about some book that had made a splash in certain circles. It wasn’t something he cared about, so he sat and sipped his whiskey. It was one Caius had recommended, and it was nice.

“Summers in Brighton are very nice,” Jane said. Clearly the conversation had moved on. “We’re lucky in that way. It certainly doesn’t get stifling like London does. The summers are lovely, and the winters are mild, when the sea air keeps it a little warmer. One wouldn’t think it, but it does.”

“The warmer weather must come up from France as well. London is deeply unpleasant in the summers.”

“It’s getting better,” Julius said and all the women turned to him. “They’re doing a great deal of work on the sewage system.”

“And what do you know of the sewage system?” Octavia challenged.

“Quite a bit, actually.”

“That should clear away a lot of disease,” Jane said.

“Yes,” Julius agreed.

“Still, I prefer Brighton in all seasons. Saying that, we can get some frightful wind if the sea is right for it. There are definitely days when it’s best to stay indoors. They do say it rains more than in other places, but I’m not sure that’s true.”

“I have to say, I love being in the country in summer,” Octavia said. “It’s a time for family—and perhaps a house party or two. Saying that, father wasn’t particularly keen, and Julius is most definitely walking in his footsteps. Are you planning any house parties this summer, Brother?”

“I thought we were having one right now.”

“Don’t be droll, Julius.”

“When have I ever not been?”

“Will you be done by then?” Octavia asked Jane.

“Yes, I should be.”

“Shame. I think you would have liked it here in summer. It’s absolutely lovely.”

“And what do you paint in summer?” Eliza asked. “I take it the mist is not the topic du jour then.”

“I don’t know,” Jane said. “I can’t really tell what I will focus on. Inspiration strikes and you know when it does.”

“Where do your ideas come from?” Octavia asked.

“I don’t know. They just arrive. Like a spark that takes your attention. It can be anything. A movement, a person, a color or a combination of colors.”

“I thought artists went out