Chapter 2 #3
“Because I was young and foolish and a coward. I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m only telling you the truth.”
“Why?”
“You deserve to hear it. And your sister asked me to tell you.”
Thomas shook his head, another cough tearing through him before he could speak. “No. I deserved the truth ten years ago, when it might have meant something. Not now. It’s too late to ease your conscience. And I refuse to be a balm so that you might sleep well at night.”
“I don’t sleep, Tom. Haven’t for years.”
Fred turned away and watched the sun that washed over the countryside and the sea.
The light was warm, almost pink. Soon it would turn lavender.
Birds called and a light breeze blew and it was all so beautiful that he had to close his eyes.
He had no interest in beauty that wasn’t hers.
No interest in being warmed by the sun if she wasn’t next to him, face upturned to soak it in.
“Fred,” Thomas said after those long, long moments of silence. “There has to be a reason you kept this quiet. What was it?”
Fred looked up at Thomas, his oldest friend.
The one who was sick now, dying, because of his betrayal.
Because of his actions. And he said the words.
“I let her seduce me, Tom. I let her have her way with me. I—I…participated. And because I was with the Baroness, Eva took out the carriage. And your parents died. You went to war. You’re dying, Tom.
And it’s all my fault because of what I let her do. ”
Yet another cough tore through Thomas then as if to put a point on it, but the man only shook his head after.
“I am dying, but that’s not your fault, Fred, no matter what ugly things I might have said to you.
Half the men in Crimea came home with tuberculosis.
More, probably. That’s bad luck. And illness.
I cannot lay the blame for it at your feet. ”
“Would you have gone if I’d told the truth? If Eva had gone before the magistrate?”
Thomas shrugged. “Probably. We’d still have needed the money.
I would still have had to look out for Julie-bug.
I was already there when you inherited and offered the annuity.
” He spent a few moments looking out at the sea before he continued.
“I understand why you blame yourself. I do too, blame myself I mean. I knew, even then, that something wasn’t right about that woman and what she was doing.
But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.
I don’t think I had the right words for it. ”
“But I participated.” Fred’s words were barely above a whisper.
“So you did. But, Fred, that doesn’t mean a goddamned thing. That doesn’t make any of this your fault. Christ, even if it had been a full blown love affair you still didn’t kill my parents. Nor did you give me the wasting disease.”
They sat quietly then, side by side as the sun danced off the sea. Finally, Thomas asked, “Is Julie-bug alright? Is that why you’re here?”
“She’s gone back to Farrow Cottage.”
“She’s left you?”
Fred turned his head at the unexpected timbre to Thomas’s voice. It was far gentler than he’d heard from him in years.
“She has. And it’s no less than what I deserve.”
Thomas sighed. “I no longer believe you when you say things like that, you know. Tell me then. All of it.”
So Fred did. He told Thomas about the letters—the ones he had written and never sent.
The vow of celibacy he’d made and how he’d felt when he’d broken it.
How much he despised himself for his weakness.
And more for lying to Jules when she’d asked him not to.
For being too weak to tell her the truth, to be her husband instead of Chester.
“All because I was afraid,” Fred said, finally, his voice rough. “I let myself be Chester, even though I knew what would happen when I did.”
“Fred,” Thomas said and there was a softness in his voice that Fred hadn’t heard in a long, long time.
“Go back to Farrow Cottage. Talk to Julie-bug, not to me. She’s got a heart big enough to forgive any amount of arseholery.
Trust me I would know. But you have to show her that you love her.
Show her who you are. She needs that, Julie-bug does. She needs to know the truth of you.”
Fred looked at him askance. “Does this mean—”
“It means I don’t have enough time left to hold grudges. And you were right when you said we were more alike than I knew. I’ll do better, Fred, if you will too. And tell my sister to come and see me. I miss her.”
“That won’t be necessary,” a voice said from behind them. “I’m already here.”
Fred turned then to see his wife. He stood, nearly knocking the chair backwards in his haste.
“Jules,” he said.
“Fred,” she greeted him. “I came to see my brother.”
He watched that roseate light sweep over her features and gild her face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d been right earlier, there was no use for anything beautiful if Jules wasn’t a part of it.
“May we have some time, please?” she added and he nodded his head to her.
“As you wish,” he said and left them both.