Death angered Amery. It was a random and senseless act that pained him. Three months, his brother had been gone, and it was a keen sense of loss to wake up every day and feel it anew. The whole family was grieving, even, and though it came from devastating circumstances, they had formed a stronger bond that Amery could only hope would last beyond the aftereffects of Grayson's death.
But it pained him to see his sister-in-law fade out of his life, anyone's life, entirely. Alone with a child, knowing what her husband had been and why it had ended for him—no, that was pain and isolation Amery could but imagine. It was not fair, that when she so desperately needed a shoulder to lean on, needed that emotional support, there was little for her. From her in-laws, no less. He loved his sisters, truly he did, but the heartlessness which they felt for Ophelia staggered him.
So he was taking matters into his own hands, finally. He understood the need to grieve, to isolate one's self after such a traumatic event, but they were family, were they not? They'd both lost an important person in their lives, and why should they suffer alone when they could ease the pain together? The time for withdrawal and evasion was over, or so Amery hoped she'd agree.
Taking the liberties only an elder brother could, he emerged by Floo in the drawing room, dusting soot from the shoulders of his cloak as he surveyed the space. Any time he was here, the sameness surprised him. He expected it to be different, because he was—they all were. But it persisted, just with the illusion of being duller. Or perhaps he was projecting, as he felt that most profound sense of loss that surely must be reflected in his surroundings.
No sister-in-law in sight. "Ophelia?" he called, trying to moderate the level of his voice, unaware if the babe was resting.
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