When he had last been in this room, that place of honor had boasted a portrait of his grandfather. Now, in its place, two portraits hung side by side. Both were remarkably similar and yet not at all the same. Both were portraits of young boys and all four faces shared a similarity of features that bespoke of family. Aside from the difference in the artists’ styles, the two portraits could have been of the same two boys. But the one on his left was of his father and his uncle when they were perhaps ten and twelve years of age. The one on the right was of Gray and Win, painted when they were ten or eleven. While the style of the older painting was a bit more formal, the artist had managed to capture the affection of the older brother for the younger. As for the other portrait, Gray distinctly remembered sitting for the artist and putting him through their own version of a ten-year-old’s hell. Finally the beleaguered artist had threatened them with dire consequences if they did not behave. “Dire,” as Gray recalled, meant their behavior being brought not to the attention of Uncle Roland but of Aunt Margaret. It was Aunt Margaret who had wanted the boys’ portrait painted, even if a photograph would have been easier and less painful for all concerned, and woe be it to anyone who thwarted her desires.

“Are you back for good, then? Or is it too soon to ask?”

“It is something to consider.” Gray didn’t mean to be elusive, he simply wasn’t sure how long he would stay in England. He wasn’t certain if this was merely a visit or if his return was permanent. At the very least, he would stay as long as his uncle needed him, although he had taken the precaution of booking passage on a ship back to America the day after Christmas. The passage, however, could always be canceled.

“We shall discuss it later, then,” Uncle Roland said. “Your aunt will be delighted to see you as well.”

“Where is she? I expected to see her fly down the stairs the moment the servants brought news of my arrival.”

“If you had written of your intention to at last return home, she would have been here.” A chastising note sounded in his uncle’s voice. “But as she had no idea, she has been in London for the last few days visiting with her sister’s family, shopping for Christmas gifts and whatever else she deems necessary to insure the merriment and festivities of the season. She is expected back the day before Christmas.” He smiled. “You, however, are the best gift she could have asked for. She has missed you. As have we all.”

“As I have missed you.” He studied his uncle closely. “Uncle, how are you?”