The House of Lennon

I

...

Success was its own reward, but he was not an ambitious man. As long as his needs were met, and his dignity intact, very little could shake him.

...

He knew of the Lennons by virtue of the fact that everyone knew of the Lennons. Put simply, they were rich and noble, but only the current living matriarch, a woman known as Mistress M, acted like it. Her sister, the true heir, was bolder than most of their strata appreciated until she was struck by a wayward carriage. Her relationship with her spouse was strained, to put it kindly, and one day he disappeared altogether. Both adults left a son in Mistress M's care (as well as half-sisters here and there) which they had christened John.

Some whispered if it was not more appropriate to have named him Judas. Or Jackal.

He had the blood, and the upbringing, but none of the restraint of their kind. His grace was a self-serving facade. Once it fell away, there was often a feral cat in its place, angry and loud either with anyone unfortunate enough to court his wrath or the world at large. His true nature, whatever it might be, was shrouded by a cloud of rumor. Some said he was tortured, mad. Others called him downright offensive and murderous. Others still regarded him as a genius, for they had heard him play and sing and knew great art only came from great pain. Yet still more gossiped about his personal life, certain in their hypotheses that, as he was of age, John was married, but the wife was sequestered in opulence because he bore her a son before a proposal. A subset of said camp disputed that, claiming the real reason she was away was so he could retain his bachelor image for the sake of several affairs. Either that or court his dear friend and hunting companion Mr. McCartney. And finally, there was the truly fantastic sect that believed he wasn't even human. Those were grindings of the rumor mill Richard could scarcely stand to hear, but hear he did thanks to proximity, whether he liked it or not.

Visitors to the House of Lennon reported covered mirrors at every turn. A talk with the Mistress confirmed this was indeed John's doing, yet as it was one of his less destructive habits, it was tolerated. It was also noted that John himself was more active at night, going so far as to sleep through wholesome hours unless otherwise prompted. When he was awake and took dinner with guests, he was listless until served a vintage redder than any they had ever seen.

They didn't know what to make of it, but Richard did. He simply refused to make it known. After all, who was he to add fuel to this inferno?