Adrian had managed to convince a guard to allow him into the Duke's chambers before he returned from the trip he had taken over the weekend. He sat in a chair near the hearth. His leg was better, he didn't need support to walk, he just had his shin wrapped in a bandage to keep the bone set. The fire was lit and he had a brandy sifter in his hand. He had instructed the guard to not tell Edmund about his return. He sat there in the monotone light of the fire, on a particuarly bright morning.

He sat there, thinking back on his days before his accident. His life had been collected back then. He was left to pick up the shards. He still had refused to accept any news about Serenity, he wanted to hear it from Edmund. For better or worse. He excepted the worse. He sighed and drank from the glass. Good stuff. He leaned back and looked towards the door. No Edmund yet. He sat and waited.

He pulled the small bible he carred on him from his pocket and began to read it. After his marriage he had become even more religious than he had ever been and hoped to stay that way. Faith had helped him through more than enough.

It had been a tiring day, spending too many hours pouring over possible candidates for the open parliament titles. Duke Edmund had long since been set on auto pilot, his body moving through the proper motions while his mind craved only slumber or maybe food and always drink. The incessant growling from his stomach let him know it didn’t appreciate the missed meals but instead his hands clasped a stone mug filled with the dark ale he had grown so fond of. It doused the pangs of hunger effectively as well as sharpened his thoughts for the time being. At first, everything was always clearer as if the liquid somehow heightened his awareness. Only later after several more heartily filled mugs were emptied did the dizzying clouds pass over. Eventually he would retreat to his chambers, very rarely ever being publicly drunk. There he would pass out, perhaps wait up enough for Lady Catalina to come or just simply welcome the dark oblivion that took over all his cravings. He had gotten slightly better since the festival and being reunited with Catalina. She was his comfort and usually a blessed distraction from the overwhelming desires for more booze. He had finally found tranquility with a woman he loved except now his body belonged to another and this time, it wasn’t any human or God but the devil itself. The demon called alcoholism.
Had the duke been less intoxicated perhaps he’d have noticed the queer expression that passed across his chamber guard’s face. The servant had never been cause for suspicion before though and Edmund was already too far gone to pay much heed. As the heavy set of wooden doors were pulled open for Pemberton’s duke, Edmund strolled in carefully. He knew his steps were being measured out now, having passed the point of walking without actually thinking of it. It was only when he lifted his gaze that all color drained from his face and he nearly became as white as the ghost he saw before him. A faint chuckle could be heard outside the doors as the stone mug hit the marble floor, its contents spilling across the room. Edmund’s mouth hung open and he struggled to fight against the booze that drowned his veins. A couple deep guttural noises issued forth from his throat but nothing decipherable. Unless he had gone completely insane, Marquess Adrian was casually sitting in the corner of his private room, reading a Bible as if the Lord Himself had sent him.
Edmund managed to croak out a single word: “Adrian?!” he asked, his voice full of disbelief. He forgot all formalities as he desperately tried to combat the drinks he had consumed along with the shock he faced just now. The guard popped his head in, grinning like a fool, as he politely inquired, “Everything alright, your Grace?” Looking to the room’s other occupant, he nodded and addressed him as well. “Marquess Smith” before giving order for a second servant to hurriedly wipe up the mess from the duke’s dropped drink.
Edmund suddenly gathered his wits about him, crossing the room in three long strides. Not caring who was there to witness it, the duke of Pemberton pulled the marquess into a quick, awkward hug. Edmund hadn’t ever previously hugged a man but at the moment, he didn’t stop to think about it either. With an amazed grin on his face, Edmund faced the man he thought had died over a year ago.
“Marquess Adrian, I believe you’ve got quite a story to tell... not to mention Llyn to run,” Edmund couldn’t stop the smile. It was as if a miracle had come true. Only after those first few seconds did he remember Serenity and some of the joy faded from his expression. The honorable Marquess Adrian Smith had returned to a marquesate long since vacated by his wife. "By God, it's good to have you back," Edmund said and he meant it.

[Sorry it's been so long. My muse dissapeared.]

"Yes, yes. It is me. God sent you no message in the form of your friend's ghost."

Adrian chuckled as the servant nodded to him. What he wasnt expecting was Edmund embracing him. Or the smell on his breath. He had been drinking. Too much. Out of character for him. Edmund never seemed like a drinker.

"I know. They probably have been doing well under my wife's rule. How has she been, might I ask?"

He sighed. He was tired, even for having woken up an hour ago. He drank a little from the pewter pint cup he had next to him. It was good and warm. He glanced at Edmund. He appeared to have not slept for days, and had been drinking heavily.

"It is good to be back...but tell me one thing, why, on God's green Earth have you begun drinking heavily?"

Edmund smiled, couldn’t stop the spreading grin. It was inconceivable that Adrian lived. Not only lived but breathed. Edmund watched him draw in, release that breath, as if he feared the man might fall over dead now right before him. Now when there was finally some shred of hope given in the form of the marquess come back from death itself. Edmund grinned all the while his thoughts raced. Parliament. Their plans. Free education. The duke clasped his hands together to focus his mind, refuse to holler out the relief he felt.
As he heard Adrian’s question though asking of Serenity, all of Edmund’s joy and hope and relief instantly vacated him, that one moment before the duke managed to force the smile on again. He steadied himself upon the back of a wooden chair, its feel beneath his hands hardening as the pressure built. He would rather feel the resulting splinters than inform his trusted friend of Serenity’s whereabouts. But he knew he had to answer him, knew he would feel as if he himself was entering the dagger into the other man’s flesh. He knew Adrian had loved Serenity, had even for awhile questioned why the marquess had married the woman. Until he knew, until he understood that once you find love, you can’t brush it aside as he had done with Cecily.
Edmund sighed, that single sound releasing all of the regret he felt at doing what must be done. He looked into Adrian’s face, sought his eyes with his own and held there evenly.
“Serenity is gone, Adrian,” the drop of formalities as easy as it had been in the past. “She’s acting duchess of Marcheford now.” He paused then, gave time for the news to sink in. Quiet now, he added, “She thinks you’re dead, as did us all.”
Edmund could only watch and wait, knowing the misery that would come. “The plague left many deceased, and then Pemberton... when Duchess Esabell returned only to pass a month later, we very nearly had the civil war. It would have been the end of the duchy,” Edmund said despondently. Lifting his gaze now, he peered out the window over the old desk he so often sat at. No one save for Nathaniel had dared question his drinking and only then the viceroy was careful to phrase his words. Edmund couldn’t meet Adrian’s glance now, knowing the weakness in him was beyond his control. He was passed the point of drinking to drown sorrow. He drank in order to live. Ironic but true. He needed the alcohol as much as he needed the air to breathe, or so his body thought.
“Drink, which first brought such blissful escape from the pain, has now become the anchor that holds me under,” he admitted aloud, finally, the very first time that he would voice the fact. He seemed older now, older than even the past few years brought. In his sight was fear, plain old fear. The duke of Pemberton was afraid of who he’d become and only the marquess knew just how frightened he really was.

"Hmm...I'll have to talk to her then."

He said, mostly to himself. How? He didn't know. She would probably believe him to be an illusion. Maybe some relative hellbent on taking Adrian's place. Who knows. He sighed and drank more of the hot cider in the cup beside him. He was relying less and less on alcohol.

"The plague. Funny. The one thing I was afraid of didn't kill me. Memory did."

He shook his head at his friends explaination. He couldn't critisize him for what he was doing. Adrian had gone through the same thing. For much of his life. He hoped Edmund came out of his faster than Adrian had. Alcohol. It lured the strongest men into it's weakening grasp. Adrian pulled the pipe from his jacket. He put the stem into his mouth before putting the tobacco into the bowl and packing it down. It took two tries to light it.

"Other than everyone believing I was dead and the plague ending....what have I missed during my isolation?"