“I do not believe you. You cannot be contented sitting here year after year and only ever emerging when William returns home.”
At the name of his younger brother, Nathanial flinched and then despised himself for it. No doubt his mother would have seen it and, in observing it, would know what troubled him despite his protestations that there was nothing that worried him.
“William is a very happy, contented, healthy young man.” Lady Ashbourne’s voice had gentled all the more. “My dear boy, you need not worry about him.”
“He has a limp.”
Lady Ashbourne shook her head. “It is a very minor limp, Ashbourne. And he is alive which is the most important thing, is it not?”
Nathanial closed his eyes as memories began to flood him. He had been laughing and playing with his friends in the middle of his father’s estate grounds. They had been foolish, choosing to walk across a large branch which they had placed across one of the rivers which ran through the gardens. They had always been warned to be careful around it but he had been of an age where he had given no heed to such things.
William, of course, had been younger and determined to impress Nathanial and his friends though he had done his best to ignore him. Too late had he realized that William had attempted to walk across the branch. Too late had he realized that his brother was not present and too late had he sprinted to the pond and made his way across the branch to pull him to safety. William had been grey, his eyes closed. When Nathanial had passed his brother to his friends, his own clothes pulling down to the pond with the wet, William’s foot had caught under the branch. Not only had he been so utterly irresponsible as to miss where his brother had gone, he had then caused him further trauma in his poor handling of William as he had pulled him from the pond.
“Do not think of that.”
Nathanial looked sharply at his mother who was smiling gently. Somehow, she had known how his thoughts were being tormented.
“Think on how you revived your brother,” she said, softly. “Your father found you carrying him back to the house – conscious.”
“And screaming.”
“But that is better than being drowned, Nathanial.”
It was not often that his mother spoke to him in such a tone but this was one of complete sympathy – a balm that Nathanial refused to settle upon his heart. This was not what he deserved, not what he wanted. All he desired at present was to be by himself, to drown himself in books so that he would not have to think of that painful memory that simply would not leave his mind.
“I will write to Lady Amelia.”
Without warning, his mother rose from her chair and walked to the door, perhaps seeing that he desired his own company. “And I will accept on behalf of both of us.”
“You will do no such thing!” Nathanial rose from his chair, walking across the room to where his mother stood, though she did not so much as flinch. “I do not want to attend and therefore, I shall remain at home. If you wish to join them then please, take the carriage, take whatever you wish butIshall – ”
“You shall attend with me.”
The cool, crisp words of his mother made Nathanial’s frustrations grow all the more. She was either unwilling to listen to him or determined not to and both were irritating him utterly.
“Mother, please understand. I have no intention of making my way to societal events. I have no desire to be in company with any other. William will soon be home for the Season and – ”
“Your brother is to remain in London for the Season.”
Nathanial stopped dead, his eyes flaring. “I beg your pardon?”
“I received a letter from him yesterday. He is going to be remaining in London for the Season, though he does intend to return at Christmastime.”
His heart ripped from his chest as he took in a long breath. Seeing William, being certain that he was quite well, was a balm and a comfort that he needed year on year. It was his time to see that his brother, albeit with a slight limp, was still hale andhearty, an occasion for them to be in one another’s company so they might reminisce and laugh together. It happened every year and thereafter, once William had returned to Eton or now, given that he was finished there, back to his own estate, Nathanial would slowly begin to retreat back into the darkness and the heaviness that came with it. He would remember the limp that his brother had, would fear for his brother that he would never find a suitable bride thanks to his infirmity which was, of course, Nathanial’s fault.
“You will see your brother again, of course,” his mother continued, as Nathanial tried to breathe in past the tightness in his lungs. “He will come back to the estate for a time but he must spend more time at his own estate – or in London – now. The time for him to step into his role is at hand and, therefore, he considers what he requires for his future.” Her eyebrow arched. “Namely, a bride.”
Nathanial’s mouth fell open. “Mother! One moment you are asking me to go to a literary event and now you are asking me to go and seek out a bride?!”
She smiled. “I am. After all, you are a Duke and you must continue the family line, must you not?”
A heaviness settled on Nathanial’s heart and he shook his head. “I would rather go to the literary event rather than have you speak to me about matrimony, Mother.”
A quiet laugh escaped her and with a shake of her head, Lady Ashbourne left the room, leaving Nathanial once more to his solitude.
Taking in a long, slow breath, Nathanial closed his eyes and waited for the relief that his solitude would bring him… but it did not come. Instead, he felt his mother’s words about continuing the line settling on his heart and weighing it down. That was one of his responsibilities, he knew, but it was not something he was able to consider. Not as yet. That would require him to stepout into society, to go to thetonand seek out someone to come and share this house – and his life – with him. At the present moment, that was not something he could even consider, not when his life was so very contained within these four walls.
Letting out an exclamation of frustration, Nathanial rose from his chair and strode to his desk. Pulling out a piece of fresh writing paper, he sat and picked up his quill, writing out his reply before his mother could change his mind. Writing his regret – none of which he truly had – he let Lady Amelia know that he would not be attending the literary salon but thanked her for the invitation.
