She nodded. For a moment, she thought he might press her, but decided it was his turn.
“And what about you? What are your secrets? Will you tell me?”
“Sure. I’m an open book,” he said facetiously. “What would you like to know?”
There were many things she wanted to know about her husband. Why, every now and then, she glimpsed a different man hiding behind that reserved facade. Why he’d never visited the home he said he loved so much. And, not least, why he hated his father so much. His irrational panic at being locked inside the nursery was the obvious place to begin. She was scared he would begin to panic again if he relived his memories. But it was a risk she had to take if she were to ever figure him out.
“What happened to you here?”
His hands balled into fists which he clamped against his mouth. Then he inhaled sharply and clasped his hands on his lap.
“I was locked up here. For long periods of time, with only the staff bringing me food.”
“What? Who on earth did such a thing?”
“My father. The step-father you care so much about.”
“But what on earth did you do to make him do that?”
He shrugged. “It was never anything much. I think it was mainly that I disobeyed him. I’ve never been good with authority.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to reconcile the image of her step-father, purposely locking up his eldest son, who loved the open spaces. She couldn’t believe he’d been so cruel. “But I am surprised Charles did such a thing. I never saw a cruel side. Never.”
“Then you were lucky. I guess loving your mother and you must have changed him.”
“Maybe we didn’t challenge him. We needed him to protect us.” She stopped suddenly, realizing she’d said too much. “I mean, we were new to England and didn’t know anyone else.”
“Ah, he would have liked that. You appealed to his macho side.”
She shook her head. “I find it hard to reconcile my knowledge of your father with what he did to you.”
“My advice? Don’t try. He’s not worth it.”
“How did it all end?”
“I ran away. I slept rough and stole when I needed food. It was that which saw me locked away again. In a reform school this time. Father refused to help, said I needed to learn a lesson. And I guess you could say I did.”
No wonder he hated his father so much. And no wonder he’d rejected love and battened down his defenses to keep himself safe. He’d learned those lessons too well.
“I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”
“Yeah, well. It’s in the past.”
He rose and opened the sash window to let in the evening air. She went and joined him. She touched his arm hesitantly, needing to connect with him, and followed his gaze to the formal gardens which flowed down to the lake, like a silver streak in the fading light. Above them, the first sprinkling of stars could be seen.
“But, despite all of that,” he said, “I love this estate. Just breathing in the air, listening to the sound of the trees in the wind, the distant horses, foxes, birds.” He closed his eyes, and she was caught by his rapt look, so different from usual. “It’s like the place is breathing, beating with one heart, to the same rhythm as mine.” He opened his eyes, shot her an embarrassed look. “I’m talking rubbish, of course.”
“It’s not rubbish. It’s how you feel. How could what’s in your heart be rubbish?”
The silence lengthened and deepened, in tandem with the twilight.
“Ah,” he said, distracted by the sight of a moth which had flown in and was battering itself against the shade of a reading light. “Maybe that is my secret. When my heart was open as a child, I was caught like that moth.” He walked over, cupped the moth in his hand and released it out the window, before closing the window once more. “But unlike the moth, I never recovered.” He grunted. “I don’t even feel that that boy has anything to do with me. It’s as if I’m talking about someone else.”
“Maybe you need to connect with the boy you once were.”
“How can I? He’s no longer with us.”
“Are you sure?”