The trip took a while; it was a long trip using a carriage. They had stopped their place a few times, getting just before night hit. 

He got out. “It’s good that we got here before dark.” 

They were now in the manor; she had never seen much. 

Their aunt always went to visit them instead, but this was just able to rival their old home. 

“I’m going to stay here whenever I’m not needed in Belleni,” he said. 

“So, we’re going to be with Zia Cecelia?” Restituta asked. 

Alfonso smiled, appreciating it too. Federico had mostly paid attention. 

“Yes, it was an agreement. Your mother knew I was going to come here.” 

She was a mother, with two daughters that Restituta heard of. She would meet them. 

“Your cousins, they’re old enough to play with you and Alfonso.” He gave a smile to them. 

She looked forward to it, longing for companionship, the cousins that she met were all gone. The friends that she knew, including a dear Violante Conti, that she missed. 

“I can get letters to Violante. Her parents are still more than willing to talk to you.” He looked as though understanding it. 

Alfonso wasn’t old enough to remember any playmates that he had, other than his sister, who he latched onto as her only other choice. 

He had cradled her hand as they walked to the door of their aunt’s house. 

Her aunt was a woman, towering, slender, with brown hair in a bun, with curls framing her face. She dressed in white, akin to the newest fashion, bringing out her blue eyes. 

She had only but a sweet smile for them. 

Beside him was their uncle, Fausto, with his blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He dressed in a light blue suit, and his long hair worn to the side. It reminded her of her father, a memory that was painful now. 

They knew he passed, but not anywhere. 

Her aunt took a moment to cup her cheeks. 

Fausto took Alfonso up, eager to go in. 

“Do you want to enter?” Perhaps understanding that she was wary, or tired. Ent Cecelia looked down, lifting her skirts so that she could talk to her. 

Restituta felt uncomfortable, getting used to looking up to Leonora, as the old women suffered from a bad back, and rarely bent it. 

“You don’t have to talk to me like that.” She had gotten used to it. “But, yes.”

She didn’t know why, but Cecelia looked at her strangely, a look that she felt she had seen before. 

Federico put a hand on her shoulder before guiding her into the house.