Chapter 12
Edmund’s worst fears came to pass. His brother’s hand hadn’t responded to treatment. The honey, cabbage, and willow bark poultice made no difference, and neither did cauterising the blisters. The pustules were spreading up his arm.
“Thwaitepiddle,” His Grace barked at him. His usual charm had been replaced with a foul temper and with no one else watching, His Grace had no reason for charm.
“Yes?”
“I must write to Paynestone. His daughter will be a great match for you.” Even as he was dying, Edmund’s brother was still trying to control his life. Edmund nodded, trying not to sigh.
“And what about George? Would you like to see him?”
His Grace shrugged. “He knows my door is always open.”
Edmund knew better than to respond to that nonsense. The last he knew, or George knew, His Grace had instructed his staff to prevent George’s presence on the estates. “I will get your secretary.”
As he walked down the hallway, he supposed he should tell George that his father was dying and that the ban was over, but really all he wanted to do was go to The King’s Book Club and see Gabriel.
He’d spent every night there in the past fortnight watching him perform, and then every night together in bed.
It’d been the best fortnight in Edmund’s life.
They’d even practiced his lecture on breeding roses, and they’d found two other scientists to speak on principles of agricultural linebreeding to fix desirable characteristics.
Edmund was ready for tomorrow night where he would talk to an audience, although he still couldn’t shake the notion that no one wanted to hear him rambling on about his roses.
“Thwaitepiddle.” The butler addressed him.
“Yes?”
“There is a delivery for you. A small box from a printing house.”
Edmund smiled, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. “Excellent.” He’d been waiting for this order, and so he followed the butler and took the package, opening it right there. With his brother sick, he wasn’t as careful as he might be.
“Dance cards, my lord?”
Edmund swallowed. How foolish of him to do this in front of his brother’s staff. “In a fashion, yes. If you must inform His Grace of this, tell him they are...”
“I will not bother His Grace with such triviality. Go and take them to your young lady.”
Edmund nodded, gratitude flowing in his veins like a light sea breeze on a hot day.
He grabbed his coat, went out into the terrible December weather, and called a hackney.
Thinking of spring while the cold winter wind whipped around him had him shivering and when the cab driver asked where he was headed, he dithered. George or Gabriel? Duty first.
“To Kelmscotts.”
George greeted him in the yellow drawing room. “I heard a rumour that my father is sick.”
“Yes.” Edmund tensed, waiting for the snide comment, but this was George, who merely leaned back in his chair.
“There are no secrets in this town. It can’t be serious as he’s sent no word, unless you are here...” George straightened, his frown deepening.
“He didn’t send me, but it is serious. He has rose gardener’s disease.”
“Pardon?”
“A few weeks ago at a ball, he didn’t like the way Bennington spoke to him about you, and so he ordered the gardeners to destroy my Himalayan musk rose.
Unfortunately he made the error of picking up a branch without gloves and got a thorn stuck in his palm.
Rose thorns carry a disease and now he has it. ”
“What disease?”
“No one understands it. But it causes pustules that grow from the original wound and there is no cure.”
“His Grace is dying?”
Edmund swallowed. “I believe so, yes. I asked my friend Jean-Pierre Vibert in a letter and his reply arrived yesterday. A few people have been known to survive if the infection is stopped early, but once it begins to spread there are no records of survivors. And no known treatment.”
“Oh.” George’s young face flushed and he brushed his palms over his eyes. “Did he mention me?”
The hope in George’s question tied a knot in Edmund’s stomach. He shook his head slowly.
“The stubborn fool. Will he go to his death having banished his heir?”
Edmund suddenly realised that everything would be different with George as the Duke. His brother would’ve twisted this situation to suit him, but George showed true anger, real emotion at the situation, and this marked him as different. More humane.
“I asked him.”
George leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and his eyes wide open. Hopefully. “And?”
“He said his door was always open.”
George frowned. “That’s all he said?”
“In those words. He knows my door is always open.”
“But ... but that is not an apology.”
Edmund nodded slowly. He had been disappointed by the comment and now he knew why it had been a pointless thing for his brother to say.
“It’s not in his character to apologise.
If you want to reconcile, I can try to help that happen.
” He wasn’t sure how he would do that, given the way his brother didn’t listen to him, but for George he could try.
“No. I’m not sure why I should be the one to reach out when he was the one who banished me.”
Edmund agreed, or maybe he didn’t. Complicated moments like this always took him a while to navigate.
He wanted some time to figure out what he should do.
He could see George’s opinion but his brother was dying and didn’t that mean something, or maybe it only increased everyone’s position, in which case George was correct.
“I can’t believe he would banish me over something as small as the school rowing team, and now he’s dying he wants to pretend that he never did that, and that I should be the one to return to him and beg forgiveness?
No. He wronged me and if he can’t acknowledge that, or bring himself to apologise, he can go to his grave—”
“George. As much as I agree, whatever you decide now is forever.”
George slumped in the chair. “Isn’t that the same for him?”
“I don’t understand.” Edmund hated when conversations became all twisted and this one was too complicated for him.
“Neither do I.”
Relief almost released the tension in Edmund’s stomach and he realised he’d been holding his hands into tight fists.
“I don’t understand why he banished me over the rowing team. And I don’t understand why he thinks I should come crawling back to him and beg his forgiveness when he wronged me.”
“He doesn’t believe that he wronged you.
He believes that you are at fault because you didn’t obey him, and you should apologise for that first. You left him without his permission and he thinks you are at fault.
” Edmund had dealt with his brother for years and it had taken him a long time to understand that His Grace was never wrong about anything.
George barked out a harsh laugh. “And so his door is always open because all of this is my fault. All because I didn’t row for the bloody school team.
I left his house rather than agree with his assessment that I was selfish in choosing not to row, and his response was to make that choice to leave permanent, and in doing so, he took away my decision, my choice.
If I wanted to return, I couldn’t because the staff were instructed not to let me on the estate, and now .
.. now that he’s dying, I should be the one to reconcile and anything he did along the way either didn’t happen or was also somehow my fault? ”
“Yes?”
“Then no. I choose no, and I will figure out how to live with that choice. If he wants me to reconcile, he can apologise for banishing me.”
Edmund used to have that energy when he was that young, but now all he wanted to do was run away and rest in Gabriel’s arms. “Soon this will all be over.”
“Will it? He’ll find a way to control me from the grave.”
“He can try, but you’ll be Duke and he’ll be dead.” Edmund swallowed. Saying that out loud was too harsh, and he wanted to run to his greenhouse and hide.
“Thwaitepiddle. You aren’t supposed to say that.” George’s eyes were wide and his cheeks slightly flushed.
“We are already speaking frankly. This situation isn’t ideal and His Grace has left the choice to you. Whatever you choose, he will take advantage of, and perhaps in a way that we can’t predict.”
“If that is true, then all I can do is wait for an apology. I’m not walking through his door without one.”
Edmund wished he had the confidence to make that choice. All his life he’d let his brother do what he wanted. He’d let his brother manipulate him because his roses were more important than any of the ways his brother tried to make him miserable.
“I’ve spent over a month thinking about this, ever since he banished me, and there’s nothing I would’ve done differently.
I don’t believe I’m selfish, and I think his reaction to my choice to get some space from him was an over-reaction that he can apologise for.
If he’s not going to do that, then I have my whole life to ponder why he was so stubborn and preferred his opinions over wanting me. ”
Edmund’s heart broke for George because that summed it up well. “He’s a Duke with all that power and he still wanted more. I think he enjoys controlling us. He always threatened my roses whenever I didn’t obey him.”
“And now the roses will kill him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have destroyed them.”
“Maybe but I wish he’d listened when I told him to be careful. Rose gardener’s disease is awful, a slow agonising death that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”
“I wouldn’t wish these feelings on anyone either.
I shouldn’t have to grapple with the despair of being discarded by my father, of knowing that he doesn’t care for me, not even as his heir.
He doesn’t love me. All he cares about is my obedience, and worse, it’s confusing because when I obey, he’s fun and interesting and he used to teach me about how to be a Duke, and he’d reward me. It’s confusing.”
Edmund nodded. “Almost no one else understands that. They don’t see the way he erodes your confidence, they only see the charm, because no one is disagreeing with him in society. He’s a Duke. All they see is that.”
“It’s as if he saves the worst of himself for those closest to him.”
“But only once we can’t leave. That is really your greatest sin.
He banished you for daring to leave him, and .
..” Edmund gasped. “He will never apologise because he believes you should apologise for leaving first. He must believe that you erred him first and therefore his actions are fully justifiable.”
“And so, it is only logical that his door is suddenly open to me because this is all my fault?”
“I don’t agree with that, but I wonder if that is what he thinks.”
George shook his head. “If this is love, I don’t want it.”
“Love?” Edmund blinked at the sudden change in direction.
“Aren’t parents supposed to love their children? If he can throw me away, he never loved me, and what am I to do with that?”
“What has made you wonder this?”
“Kelmscott adores his children. I didn’t know a family could be like that until I lived with them. The worst part is that I feel unlovable. What is wrong with me?”
Edmund puzzled over that. “Nothing is wrong with you. His Grace is controlling, and you refused be to be controlled. If someone is a problem here, it’s also me. I let him control me. Even on his death bed, he is arranging a marriage for me.”
“You could say no.”
“But how would I protect my roses?” Edmund knew he could be stubborn but he just couldn’t see a way out of this situation.
George leaned forward. “All you need to do is delay. When I’m the Duke, I will never threaten your roses. And then you can find someone to love, and who will love you. Just as I will, one day, because I’m stupid enough to want love even though I’m not worthy.”
Edmund glanced at the box by his feet. He’d already found someone.
George, of course, noticed. “Go to her. Tell her that you’ll soon be safe.”
“Thank you.” Edmund grabbed his box of dance cards and rushed from the room, towards Gabriel and a future.
Maybe they could have a future together.
Bennington had managed it with Mr Mardin, the owner of The King’s Book Club, and wasn’t that another sign that his own love affair might possibly turn into a grand forever type of love?