It had been a long time since Dermod had invited a guest to the Schull estate. So long, in fact...he laid down his quill and looked out of the window thoughtfully, recalling that the last invitation he had issued had been to the woman who was now his wife. There had been other invitations sent since, but he somehow didn't count members of her family. Not when they were effectively part of his own family now. But it had been so long, that he had had to think carefully about the correct wording for a written invitation to the estate. Were he to send a letter than lacked the full address, the recipient would be unable to see the castle, even if he was standing at the edge of the grounds. That, in fact, was precisely what he had done the first time Gabriella had visited. He could still remember the confusion and then amazement on her face as they had stood before the castle and it had been revealed to her for the first time.
The concealment charm... it was still a source of concern. Nobody knew whether it would pass to Ivana or Rhiannon when he eventually passed beyond the veil, or whether it would simply lift if there was no male heir. He refused to consider any other possibility.
A hoarse croak near the open window signalled the imminent appearance of Bran. The writer flicked his wand, and a strip of meat left from his lunchtime repast flew out of the window to be grabbed by the raven, who then landed on the windowsill and peered around eagerly for more.
“No more. Anyway, it's time. You remember what to do†he told the bird “and take that crow with you. She know who you're looking for..†Despite advancing age and an increasingly short temper, the raven was highly intelligent and appeared to like being set tasks worthy of his brainpower, and thus flew off with nothing more than another surly croak. The sky was cloudy and overcast, but as yet dry and only a little oppressive. Dermod glanced at the clock. A little past the hour; ample time to speak with the elves and ensure all was in order for tonight's dinner.
Ample time, in fact, to ascertain that Gabriella was neither in her own study or the library, and she appeared to have taken his sister out into the grounds with her. No doubt they would be in the Rose gardens, which were flourishing as they hadn't for the past fifteen years. The roses, the herbs, the stables...with each month that passed the estate lost a little more of the settled air of neglect that had lain upon it for so long. As he left the kitchens, the Irishman felt a certain sense of pride that his castle and its surroundings had blossomed under his wife's care... a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and Sorrel bustled past, his teatowel of finest Irish linen freshly ironed.
Dermod stepped into view as the heavy door opened, realising for the first time that the weather had broken and it was now raining heavily. “Come in, my lad, I hope the storm didn't catch you unawares?†he asked as the elf waited to take the guest's coat and anything else it might be required for. The writer's eyes slipped fleetingly to the bottle in the young man's hand, and his lips twitched ever so slightly in approval. Not just of the fact that Donn had bought alcohol, for there was a more than ample supply in the castle cellars, but that he hadn't come empty handed. “Will you have some tea, or perhaps something stronger? The library is this way...†he gestured to his right where the door stood open. Despite the warm weather of earlier in the day, when they entered the room there would be a fire blazing and refreshments laid out on the low table close to the green armchairs.
[OOC: Sorrel is the (male) head house elf. Although he treats them reasonably well (by some standards), Dermod always thinks of his house elves as 'it'.]
