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‘I’m not a child now, though. I can certainly understand about this if you want me to.’
‘I do not talk about myself. About...’
‘I want to know, Briggs,’ she said. ‘I want to know you. It matters to me. You matter to me. And what matters to you will mean something. I can understand. Please, give me a chance to understand.’
‘If I’ve learned one thing in this life it is that when you give too much of yourself away there will always be those standing by waiting to tear pieces from you. It is inevitable. My father...’
‘I’m not your father.’
‘Believe me, I did not confuse you with my father.’
‘What got you interested in this?’
‘Beatrice, this is not a wound that you can heal. I have learned to be different. I am content to see to my interests on my own time. It is not of any matter.’
‘I want to understand you. And if you would deny us...’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘You want to understand me?’ He advanced towards her, and Beatrice shrank away. The intensity that radiated off him was confusing. For there was more happening inside him than she could fathom. There were things he was not saying. And it... It wounded her. Confronted her.
He grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her up against him. ‘Do you pity me, Beatrice?’
‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered.
‘You pity my son, I think.’
‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘I don’t pity William. I care for him. He is a wonderful... Unique child. He is not like everyone else, and that... I know what that’s li
ke. It doesn’t matter whether it’s because of buildings, or an illness, it amounts to the same thing. You end up on the outside looking in. And sometimes the loneliness is so bitter that you can do nothing to combat it. No, I don’t pity him. And I don’t pity you.’
‘You might. If you knew the truth. About me.’
‘Tell me, then?’
‘My father wanted a son. He always wanted a son. When he had his son, his heir, his life was complete. And then he had his spare. The problem is, his heir died. His perfect, precious heir. And then he was left with... Well, they are spares for a reason.’
‘Briggs... I had no idea. I didn’t...’
‘My brother died when he was ten. I was two. I don’t remember him. But I already showed signs of lacking where he succeeded. In every way I was inferior to my brother. And my father took every opportunity to make sure that was known. My brother spoke in full sentences by his first birthday. I could not speak when I was four. I was lost in my own mind. Often turning over concepts and problems that I could not express. I became obsessed with small things. Knots for a while. Shoelaces. Small things. Eventually, I became entranced by gardens. Plants. I wished to know all about them, how they grew and where. So I learned. I became fixated on the orangery in my family home. And meanwhile, my father was trying to get me interested in other things. Trying to get me so that I could go to school and not be... Mocked brutally for the fact that I couldn’t converse about anything more complex than an orchid.’
‘But you...’
‘Yes. I do well now. I learned. A bad combination of isolation and my natural self, I believe, made it harder for me for longer than it might have. If not for your brother, I would never have found my way at school. I’m certain of that.
‘But it does not matter.’
‘It does matter. It hurts you still.’
‘My obsessiveness served me well in places in my life. In school, when it comes to managing the dukedom. With women.’
She flushed. She did not want to hear about him with women.
‘I might always be the spare in the eyes of my father, the son that meant less to him. That he loved less. But... I have found other ways to gain appreciation. He used to punish me. When I could not speak on the topics he wished me to.’
‘Oh,’ she said. And of course she thought of the way that he had punished her. Of course she thought of that. How could she not?
‘You feel out of control when you’re a child.’
‘You like to feel in control.’
