Page 122 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
His father let go. ‘Have I let you all down? Is that how it seems?’
Henry swallowed back against the lump of tears in his throat. ‘No. You have not let us down.’
His father’s fingers combed through his hair. ‘But you aretelling me you wished for support and you have not received it from me, and so I suppose that is why you turned to Susan.’
‘No, it was not that way with Susan. Susan and I became closer in London. You told me months ago I would know if it was love. I knew in London. I knew when I went to Brighton but Susan would not be disloyal to Alethea, and when I returned she had left. But our love could not be deterred. I could not deny it and nor could she in the end. There is nothing for you to regret on my part.’
His father stared at him. ‘If you know how it feels to be in love then you may imagine how it feels to love your child. I will never forget the day you were born. I had not thought I would marry until I met your mother again, so, I had never even thought about children. I was convinced I would never become a father.
‘So imagine then, when you were born, and I held you in my arms for the first time. It has felt the same when each of your brothers and sisters were born, and William… The last… And as special as you… the first. And he is gone, and I was not there to hold him in his last moments of his life as I should have been.’
His father’s eyes shone bright.
Henry wrapped his arms about him, only to offer comfort and not receive it. ‘Mama was there with me. We did not let him feel alone. Not for one moment.’
His father’s arms came about Henry as he accepted the embrace. ‘I cannot let him go,’ he said.
Henry held tighter. ‘We will not let him go, we will never forget William. I have sworn to myself I shall recall a memory of him and say his name every day of my life.’
His father’s body jolted and there was the sound of a choke that was half sob.
‘And I swore, I will make the most of my time with the others,’ Henry finished.
A sound like an animal in pain breached the air and then his father’s shoulders shook as he wept silently.
The emotion in Henry coiled but not like the snake. It was as tight as a charged copper spring, the energy it could exude banking up.
His father pulled away and wiped at the tears with the heels of his palms. He sniffed, then coughed. Then said, ‘I cannot forgive myself for not being with him.’
‘William would forgive you. It would upset him to see you like this. It would upset him if he thought you were paying less attention to Stephen and Gerard because he had died. He would not want his death to be the cause.’
His father shook his head but more tears leaked from his eyes. He wiped his forearm across his face. ‘Forgive me. I have not cried until now. It seemed such a selfish thing because my tears would be for myself not William. But these tears are for you all. For you all as the young children I held and playing games with – and for William who is missing.’
‘He will always be with us. He is in our hearts and memories. We will not allow him to be missing.’
‘No.’
His father wiped his forearm over his face, then his hand held Henry’s shoulder. ‘I love you, son.’
‘I know.’ Henry thought of Susan saying that and smiled. But it was true that it was in the way Samson knew it. There had never been doubt, or need to challenge it. It was why he had the freedom to live carelessly. ‘I love you too. Even when you stare me down and reprimand me.’
His father’s hand fell and he laughed. ‘I know. I know because I loved my father, even when he banished me.’
They embraced again.
He let his father go. ‘Will you return with me?’
His father shook his head. ‘No. I shall ride to the mausoleum. I need a little more time alone with William, I still have things to say that I want him to hear.’
Henry’s mind spun with images from the hours he’d sat beside William’s body, and the feel of his brother’s cold body in his arms as he’d carried him downstairs. His father had not lain William down yet; he was still holding him in his mind trying to keep William with them in a way he could not. Life had to continue, with William as a part of their memories.
Henry turned away. His heart pounded and there was pressure at the back of his eyes. He ignored it, and strode on across the grass to another exit to reach the place on the far side where his horse grazed.
When he reached the horse he walked the stallion to a wall to mount, now he cared about protecting his life. He would not risk death now he had Susan.
His father had sat down on one of the ruined walls, and a hand wiped his eyes.
Henry pulled the reins and spun his horse about. Then he kicked his heels and set it into a gallop.
