Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Philip was in his office when Percy knocked on the door.
He was supposed to be working, but he found it impossible to focus. It had been two days now since Iris left him and try as he might, he simply could not forget about her.
Why is it so hard? When we first married, pretending that she did not exist was the easiest of things! And now that she isn’t here, it’s all I can do not to think about her.
The memories only made things worse. He wanted to focus on the bad.
The hard times. When he had hated having her around and spurned the very sight of her.
But whenever she came to mind, he would see her smile, her kind eyes, hear her laughter as if she were in the room.
He would remember the taste of her lips, and the last night they had spent together…
That is what makes this all the harder. A perfect night, confirmation for both of us that we were meant to be together. Suddenly torn asunder because… because of me.
He did not even blame her anymore. That she had broken his trust was one thing, but his reaction was unnecessary. It was a defense mechanism and rather than admitting the fact, he’d dug in and refused to budge. Stubborn until the end.
When Percy appeared in the doorway, he was glad for the distraction.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Percy remained leaning on the doorway. “Where else would you be hiding.”
“I’m not hiding,” Philip said sharply. “I’m working.”
“If you say so.”
Percy said nothing after that. He folded his arms and watched Philip behind the desk. His expression flat, judgmental, and fixed upon him with the sense that he had something he wanted to say. Something Philip guessed he wasn’t going to like hearing.
“What?” Philip barked. “What is that look?”
“What look?”
“Whatever it is,” Philip continued, temper rising. “You did not come here to gawk, did you? So come on then, out with it.”
Percy exhaled sharply from his nose. “I just thought you’d like to know, I decided to go for a little wander through the manor. It occurred to me earlier that since arriving here, I’ve spent most of my time in the western wing…” He raised an eyebrow at Philip.
Philip frowned. “And? That’s where your rooms are located. This is not exactly new information.”
“Figured I might check out the eastern wing,” Percy said simply. “It’s been so long since I’ve bothered wandering to that side of the manor.”
Philip felt his stomach twist and he grimaced from the sensation and the fresh wave of despair it brought. He knew well what Percy was implying. Just as he knew this was not a conversation he wished to have.
“Good for you,” Philip said dismissively and then bent his head down as if he meant to get back to work. “Now, if you do not mind, I have work—”
“I was surprised by what I found…” Percy pushed himself off the doorway and sauntered inside. “Although I suppose I shouldn’t have been. And don’t worry, I didn’t go into your bedroom. That is not what I mean.”
“Percy…” he spoke through a clenched jaw.
“It was the rest of it that drew my interest. How barren it was. How empty and lifeless. Almost as if it were on purpose.”
Philip’s right foot began to tap. “This is a big house. Until last month, I was its only resident. I can’t be expected to keep up every square inch. What would be the point.”
“Oh, I know that, Philip. I just find it strange that the eastern wing is where you have chosen to turn a blind eye.” He reached the desk and placed his palms flat on it as he leaned over. “I can’t help but wonder if there is a reason.”
“Say what you mean,” Philip snarled without looking.
“You know what I mean,” Percy shot back. “Just as you know what it means.”
Philip’s breathing had become heavy. But it was not anger that was doing it. Rather, guilt and shame took him fully in that moment so that he felt the small office turn around him.
As a child, the eastern wing had been where his mother and father resided, the duke and duchess’ wing, as it was known.
And after his father had died, his mother had stayed there for two years before she too had passed on.
And during those two years, during which Percy had been born, not once had Philip dared to venture to that side of the house.
Sometimes, he could still hear Percy’s cries echoing down the hallways.
He could remember clearly having to listen to it, hating the sound and what it meant.
A constant reminder of what his mother had done to his father, a death that was not her fault, but Philip always felt she should be blamed for.
And when she fell sick, he still refused to go and see her. He did not want to! So assured was he in blaming her for everything, he was happy to pretend she did not exist. Dammit, he wished that she hadn’t.
It wasn’t until after she died that Philip realized his mistake.
Percy had been two years old and with Robert still just a boy, it had fallen on Philip to raise him.
He’d had no choice but to venture into the eastern wing, turning his father’s room into his own, shutting up the rooms where his mother had been because even then he wanted nothing to do with her.
But then he held Percy in his arms, stilled the baby’s crying, and slowly he had come to understand just how foolish he had been.
His mother had needed him. Yes, she’d made a horrible mistake, but that hadn’t changed who she was. Her husband dead. A baby to raise alone. And her oldest son, ignoring her because he was too stubborn and self-righteous to forgive.
Realizing this had crushed him. But rather than doing the healthy thing and moving on, Philip decided to try and forget, hoping that if he left most of the wing abandoned, pushed his mother from his mind, he could simply pretend that he wasn’t at fault and not hate himself as he still very much did.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Philip said, his voice barely a whisper.
“It’s not about what you say,” Percy said, his tone softening. “It’s about understanding, Philip. Realizing that what happened with our mother… I know that she hurt you. I know how much you hated her for it. Just as I know you wish you had forgiven her when you had the chance.”
“But I didn’t,” Philip said, his breathing turned ragged as he felt his chest constrict. “I didn’t forgive her. And then she died and I… I…”
“You raised me,” Percy said. “When you didn’t have to.”
He scoffed. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“That’s not true.”
“It doesn’t make up for it,” Philip shot back, almost as if he was angry. “I couldn’t forgive her. And I used raising you as an excuse to make myself feel better about it. What does that say about me?”
“That you’re a slow learner.”
“This isn’t funny, Percy.”
“Who’s laughing?” He walked around the table and rested a hand on Philip’s shoulder.
“You need to get over it, Philip. Not just that you didn’t forgive her.
And not that you hate yourself for it – what it has done to you, is what I mean.
This inability to trust. Your disdain for marriage.
Thinking that you don’t deserve to be happy.
And why? All you have ever done, as far as I can see, is protect people who needed it.
Me especially. If anyone deserves to be happy…
” He chuckled softly. “I’d say it’s you. ”
Percy was right. About everything.
His hate for what his mother had done to their father had shaped his views on marriage.
His inability to forgive her before she died had in turn made Philip hate himself.
But as stubborn as he was, he’d never been able to admit it.
Unable to recognize that not all mistakes were equal, he refused to forgive where he should.
And the consequence of this was a life lived alone for fear of being hurt.
“Philip…” Percy said in a whisper. “Say something.” His hand squeezed harder on Philip’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Percy.”
“What for?”
His laughter was bitter. “For everything, it would seem.”
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”
For a second time, Percy was correct. But was it too late?
Iris had left, conceded already that the two of them could not work.
What good would forgiveness do now? If anything, it might make things worse as it would prove once and for all that this was Philip’s fault and if he hadn’t been who he was, he could have stopped it.
His body began to shake. He felt tears welling in his eyes. On the verge of breaking, he turned and threw his arms around his younger brother. And Percy, always there for him, hugged him back.
All this time, I have been the one who looked after Percy… or I thought I had been. Perhaps it is time I allow someone to look after me for a damn change.
Nothing else was said after that. Just Philip and Percy hugging away his sorrow. He had made so many mistakes. Many of which were past the point of forgiveness. But at least he knew it now, and maybe in the future he would be able to change himself rather than failing as he had done with Iris.
A shame that she was not here… that once again, he had missed his chance to do as he should have done. Typical Philip, realizing his mistakes when it was too late to do anything about them.