The funeral of Bustopher Jones had been a lavish affair, and well attended though not by many actual mourners. The day after, Mistoffelees went out to the country house to find the rest of his uncle's papers, and start setting his inheritance to rights.

A short while later he sent a telegram to Coricopat, asking him to come and confer over several discoveries he'd made.

Coricopat took the morning train from London, arriving later in the day and getting a carriage to the estate. He knocked on the door and assured the servant who answered it that the master of the house had in fact sent for him on matters of business. He was shown to one of the front parlors to wait for Mistoffelees.

Shortly therefore, Mistoffelees entered quickly, a smile breaking out on his face when he saw the other.

The taller tom turned from the window where he had been standing, his expression mirroring his lover's, "Mistoffelees."

He pulled the mottled tom in for a quick kiss before stepping back just as fast. "There's more servants here," he said, softly. "Come, into the library. We need to discuss some things."

Coricopat nodded, following the other through the halls to the library, murmuring, "I see a lock on this door at the least."

Mistoffelees laughed. "That would just make them suspicious, and quite a few of the servants don't much like me yet. Or, rather, they don't know what to make of me and that might as well translate into dislike at this point. They're loyal to my mother, my uncle, or Victoria, not me. Yet, anyway," he said, sitting down. "I'm actually figuring on a few notices."

The mottled tom laughed quietly at that, "Well, notices certainly aren't the worst thing that might happen. It gives you the opportunity to hire some that might have a shade more loyalty for you."

"It does," Mistoffelees agreed with a nod, sitting behind the desk and shifting, uncomfortable being there. "At any rate, discretion is certainly the feeling of the day."

Coricopat circled the desk, leaning against it, "As it always has been. I assume there is actual business for us to discuss considering the estate you've suddenly come into."

"I was basking in your company first," Mistoffelees replied, only partially teasing before sighing and handing Coricopat a number of papers. "It appears my uncle was as good at lying as I've become. The estate is knee deep in debt."

The lawyer took them, looking them over and working through some quick calculations, "Which of the holdings do you hope to retain?"

"I am uncertain, at the moment," he replied.

"The town house and this estate?" Coricopat offered.

"Well, yes," Mistoffelees said, blinking once. The thought hadn't even occurred to him. "The estate will have to remain intact, and the tenants. But he has a variety of properties in the North and a few in, in the colonies I think that could be sold off with little trouble. There's also plenty of his... more outlandish tastes I would not mind selling off such as sculptures and furniture."

The solicitor nodded, "I would start with the northern holdings. Then the Irish ones. From there, see what is still owed and what else can be sold to pay off the debt before selling the sculptures and furniture-as at least some of that will require replacement I'm sure."

"I don't mind replacing some of it," he said, making a face. "I would just prefer to be rid of it and deal with replacements as they are needed. Even if my mother and I stay in the townhouse a while longer..." he paused, running a paw through his hair. "It's not awful, but it would still require some curtailing of expenses."

"It will, yes. I can see about setting the sale of the northern properties into motion once I return to London."

"If you would," he murmured and considered for a moment.

Coricopat inclined his head, "Of course." He glanced at the smaller tom, "Something further on your mind?"

He tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk. "Isn't everything enough? Come on, he said, standing again. "Let's go outside."

The mottled tom hesitated, but nodded, "Lead the way."

Offering him a faint smile, Mistoffelees weaved through the house quickly, exiting near the rose gardens at the front. Trailing behind him, Coricopat paused, "May I ask where we're going?"

"One of my uncle's many extravagances was a garden," Mistoffelees shrugged. "It's pretty. I know the neighbor has been eying it for years but, I just wanted to be outside and moving. Life's felt cooped up lately."

"How large is it?" his lover asked as they entered the garden.

"Six acres," Mistoffelees replied, glancing back.

"It's quite the area," he remarked, falling into step beside the smaller tom. "Useful for getting lost in."

"Something like that," he agreed, looking around. "I know he was never one for actually coming out here though."

"It is lovely, even if he didn't come out here it was well invested in."

"It is," Mistoffelees agreed, paw brushing along the branches of a tree. "It's a nice place to think."

"Do you have a favorite section of it?" Coricopat's gaze swept over an elegantly arranged set of rose bushes.

"Over here," he said, taking one of Coricopat's paws and holding it. The mottled tom squeezed his paw, letting him lead him through the gardens.

Mistoffelees stopped to settle on a bench underneath the weeping willow. "You don't think the idea that I'm mired in debt might be enough to annul an engagement do you think?"

Coricopat smiled faintly as he joined the other, "I'm certain you could indicate it and see about it being broken."

"I suppose, someday, I should do the sensible thing, get married and produce an heir but," he paused again and shook his head. "I just can't."

"Perhaps your cousin will remarry," the mottled tom responded in regards to the heirship. "I know it's a concern, but I can't say I'm sorry you have no desire to be married."

Shifting, Mistoffelees leaned his head against Coricopat's shoulder. "Well, now I have to be into politics it seems."

The mottled tom gently looped an arm around the other, "Yes, it would seem you have no choice in that matter."

"I could do what many lords do, which is to ignore the entire thing and go off wherever I wish to do whatever I wish. But frankly I would rather be somewhere where I might be able to achieve some good."

"You could ignore it, but if you did you wouldn't be you. That hope to achieve some good is that dreamer I fell in love with," Coricopat murmured.

Mistoffelees smiled up at him. "And do you promise to be always honest with me?"

"As honest as a lawyer can be," the other answered with a faint smile.

"For you? That's remarkably honest," the black tom said with a grin.

The taller cat smirked, "So long as you think so."

Unable to help it, Mistoffelees leaned forward to kiss him softly before shifting back. "We should... probably see about that paperwork that will need to be dealt with."

Coricopat glanced around the garden as he nodded, "Yes, we probably should."

Leaning in to kiss him again Mistoffelees drew back, rising. "Here, let me show you the rest of the gardens. Then we should go in."

Coricopat rose, resting his paw briefly on the other's cheek, "Lead on."

v.v.v.v

Tilting his head back, Mistoffelees tried not to shift too obviously. "Are you sure meeting him off the ship was a good idea?"

Serafine ran a paw over her gown, "I don't know. But I did not wish for him to return to England without someone he recognized here to greet him."

"Still," the smaller said. "I worry."

She glanced at her son, "Would you have preferred he meet us at the townhouse?"

"At least there I might have been comfortable," Mistoffelees said, spine tense but he sighed. "I just don't know what to do with this wait."

"I doubt even being there would have granted you all that much comfort. You could have sent a servant with me," she reminded.

He bit his lip, tail swishing behind him. "That is true. But I wouldn't want to send you here alone."

"Thank you for coming and waiting with me," she murmured, resting a gentle paw on his arm.

He offered her a faint smile and nodded as he watched the cats filing off the ship.

Serafine's gaze swept over the passengers as they made their way down the gangplank, seeking a specific tabby pattern.

"I'm not even sure what he'd look like anymore," Mistoffelees said. "You'll recognize him right?"

Just then a tabby came off the ship, looking around like he didn't quite expect anycat to be there.

The black queen froze momentarily, before drawing a deep breath and nodding, "That's him, just off the gangplank." She stepped forward, paw still on her son's arm as she murmured an apology to a couple of cats until she finally reached a place where she could meet her husband's eyes. "Orion."

The tabby paused for a long moment, before grinning widely. "Sera?" he asked, glancing at the stiff black tom beside her. "Misto? Is that...?"

His wife smiled, softly though the honesty in it was enough to make that soft smile the most brilliant one she'd had in many a long year, "Yes, Orion. It's me. And yes, this is Mistoffelees. Mistoffelees, your father."

"You're a lot bigger then last time I saw you," Orion remarked, a paw almost going out automatically to rest on Sera's arm.

"I was a kit then," Mistoffelees replied, still feeling stiff.

"What happened?" Orion asked, looking back over at his wife. "I got a telegram after years but I still don't know why."

Sera pursed her lips at that question, "My brother happened. I believed you dead until the morning that telegram was sent."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Truly," Mistoffelees said. "I found all your letters when I was dealing with his papers."

The red tabby gave him a long look. "You have grown up, haven't you?"

"It's been quite a few years," Mistoffelees said. "Age is bound to do that."

Serafine nodded, "We have the carriage waiting, and it would be far better to continue in private."

He laughed then, nodding. "Well, some things in England never change."

His wife offered him another of her soft smiles, nodding toward where they had left the driver and carriage, "Then shall we return to the house?"

"Is it the same townhouse?" Orion asked. "Will Jones be there?"

"It's the same townhouse," Mistoffelees agreed. "My uncle will not be present however."

Glancing at her son, Sera answered a bit more clearly, "My brother has passed recently. Mistoffelees now owns the estate."

"I," the orange tabby blinked. "Should I be sorry?"

"Probably not," Mistoffelees shrugged, getting in the carriage. "Mourning is a formality."

Orion shot his wife a half startled look.

Serafine suppressed a smile as she climbed in as well, "There is some loss, but not much. My greatest concern is for his daughter and her mental state. But, no, there was no love lost between myself and my brother, and he always saw Mistoffelees as first your son, second mine, and third his heir."

"I'm just surprised at how blasé he was," Orion muttered after them before stepping inside. "So, you're the Baron now?"

Mistoffelees tried to offer him a smile. "Yes. There have been some troubles with the estate. He left it in quite a large amount of debt."

"I can help," Orion said, quickly. "I've actually made quite a bit of money in Australia."

"Don't help too quickly," Mistoffelees said with a smile. "I want to justify selling off some of his effects first."

That finally earned a quiet laugh from his mother, "Please tell me that atrocity in the front parlor at the country house will be leaving? Beyond the properties I'm certain you're having seen to."

Her son smiled again and Orion relaxed slightly. "I believe that has already been picked up to be taken away for auction."

"Oh thank the lord," she murmured. "I will never understand the purpose of that piece."

"To look as pretentious as he could?" Orion offered.

"Quite probably," Sera agreed.

Mistoffelees glanced once more at his father, trying to keep his ears up. "It's good to see you," he said, softly.

Orion glanced at him, and reached a paw out, resting it on the black tom's shoulder. "It's nice to meet you now."

Serafine looked between the two most important toms in her life and settled back against the seat with a smile.

v.v.v.v

The wedding of Munkustrap and Bombalurina was hardly the social event of the season. In fact, it wasn't even on the season's calendar. But the day dawned beautifully, and found Tugger trying to figure out the laces at the last possible moment.

"Everything was fine this morning," Bomba snapped.

"That was this morning, apparently," Tugger said. "Hold still, your veil is crooked."

Munkustrap, meanwhile, was bordering on panic in another room. Everything was planned and prepared and set for the ceremony, but he couldn't seem to keep still, and likely wouldn't until he was actually at the altar standing next to her, and he certainly wouldn't relax until after the ceremony.

Macavity looked at him over his glass. "You look tense."

"Of course I'm tense, Mac. Wouldn't you be?"

The ginger tabby thought about Victoria, and how brightly she smiled at him over paperwork and bit back a faint smile. "Okay, point. But this is supposed to be a happy day."

Munkus offered his older brother a nervous smile, "And it is, Mac. Happiest day I've had so far, perhaps. But that doesn't mean I'm not completely on edge about it."

"You'll do fine. You just have to remember a vow, right?" Mac said, resting a paw on his shoulder.

"I...yes, just the vow."

"Then you'll do fine. You're good with words."

Munkus offered him a faint, crooked smile, "Thanks Mac."

"You're a big kitten," Macavity smirked at him. "Just act like you always do and you'll be fine."

"Like you're much better," his younger brother responded, shaking his head.

"I'm not getting married."

"Ever?" the silver tabby countered.

"Not today," Macavity said, eyes widening slightly. "If I end up married, we'll deal with that when it comes. For now, you calm down and I'll go check on Tugger."

Munkustrap drew a steadying breath and nodded, "Alright. I'll see you in a bit."

Macavity moved back, meeting Tugger in the hall. "You look on edge," the ginger remarked.

"The bride has been put together," Tugger returned. "That's all I can give you right now." He swiped Macavity's drink, getting a scowl from the other tom.

The wedding was a small, intimate affair and the ceremony was neither too long nor too short. The bride was lovely in her gown and the groom handsome at her side. Surrounded by friends and family Munkustrap Hollister and Bombalurina Harris were wed. It made no difference in the way society moved, but two lives were intertwined and if the road ahead was hard, they would face it together whatever came.

It was, in other words, everything a wedding should have been.

Jemima turned to Pouncival when the ceremony ended, offering him a small smile. Scandal had already exploded over their engagement, which had just gone public. "It's lovely," she murmured. "Do you think we could get away with as little fuss?"

"I think we've already created far more fuss," he answered with a grin. "But I think we might be able to attempt it."

She laughed. "You're right. I can handle a larger wedding for your sake more than anything."

Pounce chuckled, "Glad to hear that. I'd rather it not be much bigger either, honestly."

"We'll manage, whatever comes," she smiled. "Come, we must speak to them."

"Oh, I suppose if we must," He grinned in response, offering her his arm.

"You'd like them fine if you knew them better," she grinned.

"I have no doubt of that, after all, you like them."

Laughing, she hooked her arm through his and dragged him up. "I'm so happy for you," she told Bomba, who beamed, happier then she'd been in a long time.

Pounce shook Munkustrap's paw offering quiet congratulations. The patched tom turned to Bomba, "All Happiness to the both of you in this."

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him before glancing back at Jemi. "I suppose I'll soon enough have my own congratulations to offer. Except you're taking my darling friend all the way to America. Just be sure that if you let harm come to her, an ocean probably wouldn't be enough."

Pouncival smiled at that, "I have no doubt that you would find some way to avenge her. I will do my best to love, cherish, and protect."

"Good," Bomba said and offered him a grin as Tugger approached.

Munkustrap offered his brother a smile as the leopard-print tom reached them, "Tugger."

Tugger engulfed him in a quick hug. "So, feel different yet?"

The silver tabby stiffened slightly at that, blinking, "A bit more relaxed, and far happier than I thought possible."

"Good," Tugger said, patting him on the shoulder. "Well, let me know what married life is like then. I hear it's supposed to be quite lovely."

"Supposed to be, yes," Munkus offered his younger brother a bit of a grin.

"You'd better hope it is," Bomba said, sliding an arm through his. "I've given up a very nice home for this." Tugger laughed.

The silver tabby offered his wife a smile, "I'm sure it will be."

She kissed him lightly, looking over at Tugger. "Is your place going to be alright by yourself?"

"I promise I'll eat and clean and everything," Tugger rolled his eyes.

Munkustrap chuckled at that protest, "Of course you will, Tug. Cleaning would mean more time away from your paper."

"The press has to be clean," Tugger said.

"But not necessarily the apartment?" his brother offered.

"I'll try to remember to clean that too," Tugger laughed.

Munkus grinned, "Careful, we may hold you to that."

"I said I'll try, not that I would promise," Tugger shook his head, kissing Bomba's cheek. "Congratulations again."

v.v.v.v

Mistoffelees curled up against Coricopat's shoulder, purring lightly. "Well, we almost got through an entire chess game that time."

That garnered a drowsy laugh, Coricopat's paw tracing up and down his lover's arm, "Almost. You were winning."

"Got distracted," he said, grinning again and moving his arm around the mottled tom's chest.

The taller cat smirked, purring, "Did you indeed? I never would have guessed."

Laughing, Mistoffelees starting tracing a pattern on his far arm. "Have things been... progressing alright?"

"They have been, yes. There are a couple of potential buyers for a few of the northern properties, and they're willing to pay handsomely for them," he replied, his eyes half-lidded and his voice almost sleepy.

"Good," Mistoffelees said, kissing his chin.

"How is it having your father here?" The mottled tom opened one eye fully to look at him.

"He..." the black tom paused a long moment. "Is very, well, loud. But he's kind. It's very different."

That earned a grin, "Well, kind is good."

"He's a dreamer," Mistoffelees grinned faintly. "I think you might like him."

"You know it takes me time to warm up to dreamers," Coricopat answered, tilting his head enough to kiss the tip of the other's ear.

The ear flickered. "You don't have to warm up that much," he laughed. "But, you would, in the end, like him."

The mottled tom chuckled, "I'll take your word for that."

Mistoffelees grinned, nuzzling his shoulder. "You should. You should take my word for everything. Especially as I'm a Baron now."

Laughing, Coricopat tilted his head back slightly, "A Baron you may be, but I still remember the tom who shared my umbrella and made me honest."

"Alright," Mistoffelees said, grinning broadly. "Listen to that tom then."

The solicitor arched his neck and leaned down to kiss his lover, "I intend to."

Curling his fingers against Coricopat's chest, Mistoffelees' smile turned softer. "I love you," the mottled tom murmured.

"And I the same to you," Mistoffelees murmured, a paw running through his mottled headfur.

Coricopat tilted his head into the touch, purring softly. Leaning in, Mistoffelees kissed him again, the movement languid and slow, letting himself relax back into the mottled tom.

Sorry for introducing Orion so terribly late into the story. There was another arc we were discussing, but several factors got that cut out of the story, which makes his introduction feel a bit off. However, we hope you enjoyed the story as we come to what, at this point in time (and is likely to remain so) the end of the story. The biggest issue this story ever had was lack of an ending point so it doesn't feel very definitive. But, we hope you enjoyed the ride anyway!