Spoiler:
Year -92 of the King's Calendar
Laden with baggage, the stocky young man stumbled down the last of the carriage’s steps and onto the cobbled driveway where a couple waited, warm and anxious smiles on their faces.
“Father!” He exclaimed, dropping his burden and gathering up his old man in a tight embrace.
“Hah, Peter. That lass you’ve courted been feeding you up, has she?” His father’s rumbling baritone was punctuated by boisterous chuckles, and drowned out Peter’s retort. Slapping his boy on the back, the man turned Peter to his mother, and gestured at the small bundle she cradled in her arms. “There she is, your sister. Can you believe it?”
Peter gaped and righted his crooked cap. “Beautiful,” he whispered, brushing the baby’s swaddles aside to gaze at her plump cheeks and rosy complexion. He leant in to kiss his mother’s forehead. “Have you thought of a name for her?”
“Not yet,” his mother laughed. “We were waiting for your opinion. Matthew wants to name her Lydia, after me, but I think she’s more of a Margaret.”
Carefully, Lydia passed her precious cargo to her son and knitted her fingers while he inspected his younger sibling. Peter took the utmost care with her, but then, she knew he would. He’d always been gentle as a boy, and she knew he would make a wonderful father someday.
“Margaret suits her perfectly. This one’s a lady through and through; kept you waiting for much too long, but she was worth it.”
Matthew cut in with another boisterous guffaw. “Can you believe there’s twenty-four years between you and her? If she takes that long to get ready now, I dread her adolescent years.”
All three of them laughed. Returning Margaret to his mother’s arms, Peter suggested they head inside, out of the cold. The two men began to collect Peter’s luggage as Lydia hurried inside, but the pudgy boy caught his father’s shoulder once she was out of earshot.
Consternation weathered that round, kindly face.
“Father, I… I’m in trouble.”