Symphony of Lilacs

38. Men are Morons

I couldn't resist the title, OK.

The sun gives its last glimpse through the trees. A figure of coal awaits in its branches, blinking. It only keeps watch, never moving hither and thither. Shaking my head, I say, “You’re not giving the entrance exam?” I sit upright in my seat in Henry’s study. 
He's sitting in front of me, the uncanny dexterity of order staring back at us. 

“I am giving them, but who knows if something like last year happens again?” Henry shrugs. 

I frown, running a hand through my hair. “But you were bedridden for almost four months last year. You're much better now.” 

That makes my brother laugh. 
“Since when did you become so adamant on sending me to Cambridge? Tired of me, already?” 

“Of course, I was the boarding school boy and you were the day scholar one. Balance must be restored.” I roll my eyes, avoiding the raven in the window 
“Think about what Grandmother Penelope will say!”
Though, to be candid, we would never have had so much time together if he went to a boarding school, especially after the age difference. 
Henry was only three-and-ten when I graduated from Harrow.
Still, four years of medical school never stopped us from being an embarrassment for our grandmother and her poodle.

“Grandmother isn't coming for our birthdays in September on her physician's orders.” Henry presses two fingers against his neck. “I’m not going to worry about her cane hooking around my neck.” 

“Henry, we’re talking about the woman the Grim Reaper fears. Don’t get your hopes high,” I say, a hand running around my own throat.

“That’s the exact reason why none of us are worried about her not coming, except for our parents.” Henry waves a dismissive hand. 

“Speaking of parents, why did you and Father have to go to the Ingrams' a few days ago?” I ask, tapping my thigh in the process. 
The chirping of birds becomes lighter and lighter with the sun's drowning. Except for one bird that hangs like a noose.

Henry’s light demeanor shifts, as his brows furrow. He frowns.
“Mr Ingram does not wish to remain part of the board of governors. He says he can only take care of his property, not the business anymore.”

“But Mr Ingram has been working fine in the board for years, despite his lower limb paralysis.” 

Henry frowns. 
“That was why Father tried convincing him, but…” he sighs, glancing back at me. “You never knew about all of this? We have been discussing this for quite some time.”