SIXTEEN #2
Father had adored Mamma, but she hadn’t returned his love in similar measure. Any affection she had for him died at Matthias’s birth. Matt knew from an early age that he was the cause of his father’s broken heart. A visible representation of the disintegration of his parents’ marriage.
“Gracious!” A pinch appeared in Cecily’s brow. “That can’t be entirely true, as Lady Isla is younger than yourself.”
“No, it is most decidedly true.”
It took Cecily a moment, but she connected the dots. “Lady Isla isn’t your father’s daughter.”
“She is not. But I tell you that fact in strictest confidence. Our father claimed Isla as his own at our mother’s pleading.
And despite a great many shortcomings, my father wasn’t a heartless man.
I cannot say he ever felt much attachment to Isla—he certainly never doted on her—but he housed and clothed her and never spoke a word otherwise about her parentage.
In fact, I only learned the truth after our father’s passing.
He confessed the whole to Piers on his deathbed. ”
That hadn’t been the only shocking disclosure. The rest . . . well, he and Gray were still dealing with the repercussions. The two unanswered letters moldering in Matt’s study made that clear.
“So your father fostered your love of horses, but I gather he has been deceased for quite some time, has he not?”
“Yes. Over a decade. He died a few years after my mother.”
“Why did you decide now to begin this venture with retraining horses? Why not years ago?”
Matt gazed out over the rolling hills, trails of woodsmoke from scattered farmsteads rising into the blue sky.
Briefly, he contemplated giving Cecily a disassembling answer.
Something that wouldn’t paint him in a pathetic light, but it was no use.
He wanted to know every facet of her, and that meant offering up the inverse—every aspect of himself.
“I haven’t always been so . . . ambitious.” He chose the word carefully. “For many years, it was simply easier to stay at home, locked away from staring eyes and prying questions.”
“But why not pursue a profession, like the church?”
“As you’ve witnessed, others view my missing arm as a sign of divine disfavor.
I can’t imagine that I would have been accepted as a clergyman.
Besides, my parents prevented me from attending school or university.
They didn’t hide me away, but neither did they wish to parade my defects in front of the world.
You have seen firsthand how matters progress when in company. I am a misfit in all ways.”
She pinched her lips, as if holding in words.
“No need to censure your opinion now,” he said on a soft laugh.
“I must disagree with your assessment,” she sighed. “I wouldn’t describe you as a misfit. It’s more that . . . past experiences have primed you to expect cruelty, and so you interact as if braced for it. Or you perceive it where none was meant. That is all.”
Matt sat with the notion for a long moment. “You might have a point.”
“Also, I feel the need to say—you have the bearing and demeanor of a soldier. You appear commanding and capable. That is why people assume you were injured in battle. It is a more logical conclusion based on your deportment.”
Mmm.
Cecily had said something similar that first day at the castle.
“But we are veering off topic,” she continued. “Why now with this venture?”
“Many reasons, I suppose. The idea began several years ago, to be honest. I had always been disinclined to read Admiral Lord Nelson’s biography—”
“Pardon? Why would you be reluctant?”
“You are not the first to voice surprise. Everyone expected that Lord Nelson’s history would be inspirational.
But it was, unfortunately, the precise opposite.
I didn’t want to read about the heroic exploits of a man who was missing the same arm as myself.
A man who, unlike myself, bore his burdens with stoicism and verve.
It felt like pouring salt on the festering wound of my inabilities and cowardice. ”
She nodded. “I can understand that.”
“On a particularly low day, I finally picked up the biography, determined to read it as a sort of bitter tonic. A brutal reminder of how unworthy I am. Yes, such thoughts were ridiculously self-pitying.” He waved his stump to halt her words.
“Surprisingly—for me, anyway—I did find the book inspirational. Nelson faced a horrendous ordeal—the injury and loss, the pain and change to his body—and he absorbed it into his identity. He didn’t ignore the differences between the before and after, but neither did he curse his fate.
He simply refused to allow his injury to change his goals.
It made me rethink how I saw myself and my own capabilities.
It gave me the courage to step outside my limited world. ”
“I am glad that the narrative affected you so.”
“Well, do not assume that I have been successful. You’ve seen firsthand the hash I’ve made.”
“But you have taken a step forward.”
“True. Around the same time, Isla married, and her choices fanned the spark that Lord Nelson had ignited. My sister had always appeared so quiet and obedient, quick to listen to Gray and meet his demands. And then, Tavish Balfour returned home after seven years in the army, and Isla seized her love for him with both hands, defying Gray and fighting for the life that she wanted. It was stirring to witness.”
“And you esteem her husband? You said he was a friend.”
“Tavish? He is indeed. And he dotes upon my sister. Perhaps that was also part of the catalyst . . . seeing them so happy together. They have a small estate in Gloucestershire and are ridiculously in love. It’s hard to witness their life and not want something similar for myself.”
“Love and a purpose. I can’t think of two more precious things,” Cecily said, voice wistful.
Then why haven’t you reached for them for yourself? he thought.
“You have a gift for working with horses,” she continued. “You coax them out of themselves and heal their fears. Indira here is a new animal.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you . . .” she began hesitantly, “do you suppose your methods would work on all creatures? To help them overcome ingrained, instinctual fears?”
Matt frowned, and then her meaning dawned. He suspected Cecily might be asking for herself.
“I think the process would be the same, no matter what or who was afraid,” he replied, careful to keep his tone even.
“The only way to overcome a fear is to face it. A creature must be exposed—over and over, in a non-threatening manner—to the thing that causes alarm. The repetition slowly, over time, causes the instinctual fear to abate.”
She nodded, but a pensive divot marred her brow.
He wasn’t sure of her aims, but she was right about one thing—he did understand wounded animals. And he also knew when not to push. Cecily would share her secrets when she felt safe enough to trust him.
“I think these two are spoiling for a good run. Shall we give them one?”
Matt had scarcely finished the question when Indira took off like a shot, the sound of Cecily’s laughter harmonizing with the wind.