Lisabeth had, in fact, been the one who convinced Daniel to pursue theater and perform his first time on stage. She helped him get a part in a play for which she was auditioning, albeit a small part, and Daniel had been thrilled. Fortunately, his father had not found out about him performing onstage, but Daniel soon learned, based on his father’s opinion of Lisabeth, what would happen if he ever had. It took him many years after George’s and Lisabeth’s deaths to develop the idea, but eventually, he came up with the only identity by which the theater community, and its spectators, would ever know him, the Specter.
Daniel’s father’s disapproval of the theater only grew when he learned of the courtship between George and Lisabeth. And, after George died, Daniel’s father used that to further his distaste for the theater, and of actors in particular. While Daniel did not wish to hide things from his father, however harsh and singular-minded he may be, he also did not wish to stifle his love for the theater. He felt that his continued participation in the theater was especially important after George died, because he knew that his brother loved the theater just about as much as he did, especially after he met Lisabeth.
When George had met Lisabeth, Daniel’s father had humored the quite apparent fancy they had for one another. The Marquess had not truly believed that one of his sons could ever be truly interested in a lowly actress, and, Daniel believed looking back, had managed to convince himself that George was only taking pity on the woman and trying to improve her reputation with the eligible men in the ton by letting her be seen at social events with him.
However, whe he had confronted his elder son and learned that George planned to marry Lisabeth, the Marquess flew into a rage. Daniel had overheard much of the conversation by mere chance. His father had summoned his brother to his study but had failed to close the door all the way, and Daniel could hear their voices resonating throughout the upper level of his childhood home.
“No heir of mine shall ever marry an actress,” the Marquess had shouted.
“We have already started with the arrangements, Father,” George had said. Although Daniel could not see his brother’s face, his voice told Daniel that his expression was one of heated defiance. “And there is nothing you can do to stop any of it.”
“If you truly believe that, then you are indeed a fool,” Daniel’s father had said.
“You are the fool,” George had proclaimed. “A selfish, blind fool.”
“Yet it is I who can see the scandal that such a marriage would bring to this family,” the Marquess bellowed.
“That is the only thing with which you are concerned,” George had said. His brother’s voice had dropped and, admittedly, he had had to strain to hear what his brother had said next. “You care nothing for your own son. You care only for your reputation, for what others think and say about you.”
“Milord?” a voice snapped Daniel out of his thoughts. In his reliving of the memories, he had not realized that the carriage had come to a stop at his father’s front door. Apparently, it had been sitting there for some time, because the door stood wide open, and the servants waiting to receive him looked unamused and impatient.
“Forgive me,” Daniel said to the coach driver. He exited the carriage quickly and walked in the open door. Looking at the irate faces of his father’s servants, he decided that an explanation would be futile. Instead, he followed the butler to his father’s study in silence, trying to push away the lingering memory of that argument between George and their father.
When they reached the study door, Daniel waited as the butler announced his arrival. At the sound of his father’s commanding beckon, he entered the room. The Marquess did not even bother to rise from his seat behind the desk, and Daniel felt the dread in his stomach swell.
“Hello, Father,” he said, keeping his voice bland and his head high.
The Marquess merely nodded in acknowledgment and gestured for Daniel to sit. As he did, he saw that there was a tumbler of brandy identical to the one in the Marquess’s hand already awaiting him. How thoughtful of you, Father, Daniel thought. He picked up the glass and took a long sip, raising the tumbler toward his father in a gesture of thanks, which went promptly ignored.
Father and son sat in silence for several long moments, sipping their respective drinks, neither man looking directly at the other. Daniel considered many things to say to his father to begin the conversation, but ultimately settled on none of them. He knew that, with things as strained as they were with his father, he would be better off remaining silent and allowing his father to speak his piece when he was ready to do so.
It took the Marquess longer to speak than Daniel had anticipated. Daniel had even considered excusing himself and telling his father that he had a business meeting. However, he knew that his father would likely know better, and thus he sat and waited in the uncomfortable silence and prayed that his father would eventually speak and get to the crux of the matter for which he had been summoned to his father’s presence.
“How are you, Daniel?” the Marquess asked at last. Daniel discerned from his father’s tone of voice that he was not asking out of genuine curiosity or concern, but rather out of obligation and lack of grace to properly begin the conversation with his own son.
“I am well, Father,” Daniel said, keeping his voice calm and bland, although he felt anything but. “How have you been keeping?”
The Marquess cleared his throat but did not answer the question. Instead, he finished the drink he held in his hand and poured himself another. After another long pause, the Marquess looked up, but not directly at his son.
“Do you think that I have not noticed your lack of participation in the family business?” Daniel’s father said bluntly and with little emotion.
“What?” Daniel asked dumbly. His father’s question came with so little warning that he did not know what was happening.
“Do not insult me, Daniel,” the Marquess said. “You are my sole remaining heir, yes?”
Daniel took a deep breath and considered his words carefully. He chastised himself for not anticipating the possibility that his father had summoned him there to discuss the family business and tried to think carefully about what he said to his father.
“Yes, Father,” he said.
His father nodded, swirling his refreshed drink in his hand.
“And do you not think that I expect to see you more involved in business matters than you have been?” he asked.
Daniel shifted in his chair and took another long drink from his glass.
“I have been rather busy as of late,” he said. The words sounded lame even to him, and he knew instantly that it was the wrong thing to say to his father.
“Busy with what?” the Marquess asked. “You have so little to do with the family business, and you have none of your own. What is it that keeps you from fulfilling your obligations?”