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bottle out. Perhaps it was not right to think that her salvation was held in a bottle, but she was in so much pain she had to take something to kill it.
    Licking the bitter syrup from her lips, she replaced the cork and crossed to her bed for just a moment to gain her thoughts and let the medicine take its effect.
    Chapter 4
     
     
     
    “Perhaps we should wait for the Lady of the house.” Allen paused by his chair, correcting his friend who took no pains in taking his seat awaiting his homecoming feast.
    “She is probably still washing away all of that dirt from her daily activates, or she is trying to choose which pants from my wardrobe she should wear?” Reaching for his wine, Robert paused when he could sense his friend’s displeasure. Pushing his glass away from him gave his anger a moment to simmer before slamming his hand on the table, ringing the place settings. “Damn it! Why should I not relax and enjoy a feast in my own home? It is my hard work of the years that has paid to bring this dinner here. And on that point, why shouldn’t I expect my wife to be waiting in the drawing room sitting at easy with needle point or whatever it might be that a Lady might do. Instead, I find my home and lands left to ruin and my wife dressed and acting as a laborer and my steward nowhere to be seen to answer to any of this!”
    “Perhaps it would be best if we waited in the parlor for now and I get a few drinks in you until you can once again speak with a bit of logic and sense?” Allen questioned. “I think that after all these years it would not be a fitting reunion if you take your wife in hand and beat her with the other?”
    Robert did not listen to his friend’s reason. Instead, he was bewildered by the entrance of little Sprout, who had decided to make his appearance. The curly top boy’s face was washed and dried and his clothes were a bit more fitting to be worn in this house. So much so, that he remembered wearing those same clothes when he was a youth.
    Sprout bade them both welcome and took his seat at the head of the table. He sat straight and held his head up with a grace beyond his years. Watching the boy, Robert could not help ignore a stabbing curiosity. Now that he got a good look at him he noticed that little Sprout had no resemblance to sweet Sarah. The hair, eyes, and mouth where all wrong, but he did remind him of someone.
    Allen was the first to approach. “Master Sprout, how good of you to join us.” Taking a seat to the boy’s right, he struggled for the words.
    “Please excuse my tardiness, my mother required my help.”
    “Ah! So at last I get to meet this lovely Sarah I keep hearing about?” Allen leaned back, smiling to his friend and but did not have Robert’s attention. “But surly that is not customary here? After all, isn’t she—” He was silenced by his friend’s suddenly white washed face.
    Feeling all the life drain from his body, as color washed away from his face, Robert staggered to Sprout’s seat. Kneeling besides the boy’s seat—his seat—he looked the boy eye to eye.
    “Sprout?” His voice was cautious.
    “Yes, sir?” With arched eyebrows, the boy held as still as he could.
    “If I ask you a question I need you to swear to your honesty.”
    “Of course, sir.”
    Clearing his throat, he tried to find the strength to find what he needed to know. Reaching for the boy, he wrapped his hand around the boy’s neck, trying to feel some connection to the youthful stranger. His thumb brushed a wayward curl that stuck out over the boy’s ear. The perfect match to his own.
    “What is your given name, Sprout?” His voice was low and steady…steadier than he was himself.
    “Robert? What are you getting at—” Allen was silenced by a quick look from his friend, before returning his attention back to the boy.
    “Tell me!” Robert swallowed back his anxiety. “What is your name?”
    “Robert, sir.” The boy’s voice was shaken, nearly frightened.
    Swallowing