Chapter 28
Victor paced the home gardens of Mulford Manor with a pounding headache and a temperament black enough to frighten servants from his path.
The late afternoon air ought to have soothed him, yet every chirping bird and blooming rose only worsened his foul mood.
His head throbbed viciously from the amount of whisky consumed the previous evening with Morgan.
Worse still, not even a drink had managed to dull the ache of Charlotte’s absence.
He stalked along the stone path beside the hedges with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The gardens were in full bloom, bright with pale roses and lavender swaying in the breeze. Charlotte would have liked the sight of it. The thought irritated him further.
“Good Lord,” came a familiar voice behind him, “you look like death wrapped in expensive tailoring.”
Victor stopped and turned sharply. Lionel stood several paces away dressed impeccably as usual, though amusement flickered openly in his expression.
Victor narrowed his eyes immediately. “What are you doing here?”
Lionel raised a brow innocently. “Must I require permission to visit my own family home?” Lionel shrugged lightly. “I came to see Grandmother.”
Victor stared at him flatly. “Liar.”
Lionel’s mouth twitched. “Very well,” he admitted after a moment. “Grandmother sent me a letter.”
Victor groaned under his breath. “She claims you have been behaving like a wounded bear.”
“I am perfectly fine,” Victor muttered.
“Yes, naturally,” Lionel said dryly. “That explains why the servants look terrified.”
Victor resumed pacing immediately. “I have business matters occupying my thoughts.”
Lionel followed leisurely beside him. “And those business matters are named Charlotte?”
Victor shot him a dangerous glare. “Careful.”
Lionel ignored the warning entirely. “You truly are miserable without her.”
Victor hated that everyone seemed capable of seeing through him lately. He preferred conversations kept superficial and easy, filled with meaningless wit and safe distance. That had always been simpler. Yet Lionel continued walking beside him with irritating persistence.
“She left only days ago,” Victor said stiffly. “There is no cause for dramatics.”
Lionel gave him a long look. “You are wearing mismatched gloves.”
Victor glanced down in horror. “Damnation.”
Lionel laughed outright. “There he is,” he said. “My impossible elder brother.”
Victor removed the offending gloves irritably. “Do stop grinning at me.”
Lionel folded his arms. “Not until you explain why Grandmother believes you are in emotional collapse.”
Victor scoffed. “Elizabeth exaggerates.”
Lionel snorted. “Victor, she practically begged me to come save you from yourself.”
Victor rubbed tiredly at his temple. “Wonderful.”
Lionel’s expression softened slightly. “You are worrying her.”
That immediately sparked irritation. “I have done nothing.”
Lionel stared at him incredulously. “You have been stomping through the house in silence for days whilst your wife resides elsewhere.”
Victor’s jaw tightened. “It is temporary.”
Lionel raised a brow. “Is it?”
Victor stopped walking entirely. “What precisely are you implying?”
Lionel sighed heavily. “That perhaps your wife did not flee her home for amusement.”
Victor glared. “She needed time to think.”
“And why exactly does she need time?” Lionel asked pointedly.
Victor looked away sharply. For several moments, only the rustling hedges filled the silence between them. He could have lied. Normally, he would have. Yet exhaustion weighed too heavily upon him now.
Finally, he muttered, “Because I told her I do not want children.”
Lionel blinked once in surprise. “Ah.”
Victor resumed pacing immediately. “She was upset.”
“I imagine she was,” Lionel replied carefully.
Victor exhaled harshly through his nose. “I told her I wished everything to remain between us only.”
Lionel frowned. “And why is that so terrible to you?”
Victor stopped again. “Because everything I possess will be inherited by you, and I am fine with that.”
Lionel stared at him blankly. “What?”
Victor laughed bitterly under his breath. “You were always meant to inherit, and I always meant to not have heirs.”
Lionel looked utterly bewildered. “Victor, what nonsense are you speaking?”
“You should have had our parents longer than I,” Victor snapped suddenly. “You should have grown up with them.”
Lionel went completely still.
“Instead I…I took them from you,” Victor said.
Silence settled heavily between them.
Victor moved toward a nearby stone bench and sat down hard upon it, suddenly exhausted. The confession left him feeling strangely hollow. Lionel slowly sat beside him without speaking at first.
Finally, he said quietly, “Victor.”
Victor stared ahead toward the gardens. “Do not.”
But the words were already coming now after years buried beneath silence.
“That summer I came home from Eton,” Victor said lowly. “And you were gone visiting Grandmother.” Lionel listened quietly. “I wanted to see you.” Victor swallowed hard. “Father was busy. Mother tried convincing me to wait.”
He laughed bitterly. “But I kept insisting.”
Lionel’s face softened with dawning understanding. “Victor…”
“I begged them,” Victor admitted hoarsely. “For days.” His hands tightened together painfully. “Eventually Father relented.”
The memory rose sharp and merciless before him.
Rain upon carriage windows. His mother was smiling tiredly across from him. His father is reading correspondence. Then horses screaming.
Victor shut his eyes tightly.
“The carriage overturned,” he whispered. “I remember glass breaking.” His voice roughened further. “Then nothing.”
Lionel stared at him with visible grief. Victor laughed hollowly. “When I woke afterward, they were dead.” His throat tightened painfully. “And I lived.”
Neither brother spoke for several moments.
Victor rubbed a hand over his face. “Afterward, I could not bear another carriage.”
Lionel nodded slowly. “That is why you always ride horseback.”
Victor gave a sharp, humourless smile. “Rather obvious now, I suppose.”
“You were a child,” Lionel said quietly.
Victor ignored him and continued. “I realized then how easily everything can vanish.” His gaze drifted toward the gardens. “So I stopped allowing people close enough to matter.”
Lionel frowned deeply. “Victor, that is not the way.”
“I can not survive that grief again,” Victor admitted. “Not with my wife.” His jaw tightened. “Not with children.”
Lionel looked genuinely stricken now. “You truly believe their deaths were your fault.”
“Were they not?”
Lionel immediately shook his head hard. “No.”
“I asked them to go,” Victor snapped.
“You were a child,” Lionel said again. “Children ask for things every day.”
Victor looked away. “It changes nothing.”
“Yes, it does,” Lionel argued. “You did not overturn that carriage.”
Victor’s expression hardened stubbornly. “Had I not insisted, ”
“Then perhaps something else terrible would have happened another day,” Lionel interrupted sharply.
Victor fell silent. Lionel leaned closer now, his voice unusually earnest. “You cannot spend your entire life punishing yourself for surviving.”
Victor looked down at his clasped hands. Years and years of guilt sat there between them like a third presence. He had built his entire existence around avoiding pain before it could strike again. Yet somehow Charlotte had made him begin wanting impossible things despite himself.
Lionel sighed heavily beside him. “Do you know what truly angers me?” Victor glanced sideways cautiously. Lionel gave him a tired look. “That you keep using me as your excuse to remain miserable.”
Victor frowned. “What?”
“You speak as though your entire life must be sacrificed for mine,” Lionel said firmly. “As though I require your guilt to survive.” Victor opened his mouth, but Lionel continued. “I do not want your title born from misery, Victor.”
Victor stared at him silently.
“I want my brother,” Lionel admitted quietly. “I have wanted him for years.” Something painfully unfamiliar tightened in Victor’s chest. “You shut everyone out after the accident.” Lionel gave a sad laugh. “Including me.”
Victor looked away again. “I did not know how to return.”
Lionel nodded slowly. “Then start now,” Victor said nothing. “Grandmother loves you. Charlotte loves you.” Lionel’s expression softened further. “And despite everything, I still love you too, you stubborn bastard.”
Victor barked out a startled laugh despite himself. Lionel grinned faintly. “There he is again.”
Victor shook his head tiredly. “You are insufferable.”
Lionel leaned back against the bench comfortably. “Runs in the family.”
For the first time in years, sitting beside his brother did not feel strained or distant. It felt strangely easy. Victor found himself wondering how many things he had lost by refusing to let anyone close after all these years.
And worse still, whether he might lose Charlotte entirely if he continued doing so.
* * *
Charlotte sat between her sisters in the carriage as the Brown women prepared for their outing upon Saville Row, and the noise within the coach nearly rivalled the chaos of the London streets outside.
Joan insisted upon visiting a modiste first, while Penelope declared that bonnets were of greater importance because a poor bonnet could ruin an entire appearance.
Harriet fluttered her hands dramatically between them and declared that she would perish before noon if her daughters continued quarrelling at such volume.
Charlotte leaned back against the squabs and tried not to smile at the familiar disorder of her family.