May sunshine slanted through the lattice windows. Marquis Albert was invigorated after his morning canter with  equerry, James.

He  was preoccupied. Two years had passed since the demise of his aged father, Squire Albraith.

 Primogeniture required that he name an heir who would inherit Longbourn Manor after his own death. Having neither  siblings  nor spouse, and aged  forty, he was without issue.

Glancing at the sepia photo of Lady Annabelle,  a   tear  flowed down his cheek. It was not to be. Annabelle succumbed to yellow fever in her twenty-fifth  year. A few brief romantic relationships ensued.  Bereft, he embraced a bohemian lifestyle.

 He heard voices in the foyer. A woman’s voice echoed through Longbourn Manor.

There was  a  knock on his bureau door and  Footman Edward, entered.

‘A lady requests your presence, Marquis.’

‘A lady,’ the Marquis repeated. 'Pray, what is the lady’s name?’

Edward hesitated a moment. Seeing the quizzical look on the Marquis’s face, he replied, ‘Lady Eleanor, Sir.’

Marquis Albert arose purposefully from his seat. Arranging  his legal documents on the bureau,he hurried towards the foyer.

Taking the marble stairs two at a time, he came to a halt, on the final step.

It had been four years since he and Lady Eleanor had ended their year- long relationship. He caught sight of the small child by her side.

‘Good morning, Lady Eleanor,’ Albert said.

‘Good morning , Albert,’ Lady Eleanor replied, ‘and this is your  son, Albraith.’

Charles struggled to maintain his composure.

‘ Lady Eleanor,’ he began,’ do join me in the morning room.’

 Lady Eleanor entered, holding her son’s hand.

‘Marquis,’ Eleanor said, ‘Albraith is the joy of my life. He will soon be  four years old. He has your chestnut eyes.’

Albert sat opposite Eleanor as she blurted out her story.

‘But Lady Eleanor,’ Albert continued, pushing back his greying locks, ’our relationship was brief, hardly a year.’

‘Yes,’ Albert,’ that is so,’ Eleanor replied, ‘but  with moments of consummate passion.’

‘How am I to prove that Albraith is fruit of my loins?’ he enquired.

Eleanor’s face paled. ‘I have no proof, sir, beyond my word and honor.’

‘Why have you waited so long to advise me of   my son’s existence,’ Albert enquired.

Eleanor replied. ‘My father would have disowned me. My brother inherited my father’s estate  and settled a small stipend for me and my son.’

Albert’s eyes narrowed.

Eleanor began to weep. ‘It is important for a child to know his father.’

In the ensuing silence, Albert’s thoughts raced. 

He almost felt a tinge of   regret  for his lascivious lifestyle.

As Eleanor rose to leave, Albert looked at Albraith’s dark eyes, hoping to detect therein some telling hereditary trait.

Lady Eleanor and Albraith left the Manor and climbed into the waiting carriage.

As the sound of the horses’ hooves faded , Albert was disconcerted.

A hint of joy, mingled with skepticism filled his soul.

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