The Restless Viscountess

Chapter 14

“It is a dangerous thing with brothers, to think that you could be as strong as them, or as wise as them, or as good as them. To believe that you could have been the same person, if only you hadn’t gone a different way. To think that your parents raised you the same, and that your genes combined the same, and that the rest of what has happened in all your triumph . . . or failure.” David Levithan, Are We There Yet?

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Chapter Fourteen

Simon followed his brother shamefully as James stormed away from their pleasant picnic. He did not know what to say to his brother. How could he make him understand? 

Once the brothers were a ways away from their party, James turned on Simon and took a deep breath. James looked angry, confused, and hurt. These emotions were not what Simon had ever wanted to inflict on James. He had wanted to spare James. He had also wanted to spare himself. 

“Simon, what on earth happened to you?” James demanded to know, shaking his head. He exhaled gruffly. “Tell me the truth. Do not lie to me again.” 

“James …” Simon began hesitantly. He honestly did not know where to begin. 

James seemed to decide where he wanted Simon to start. “Your wound. You were shot by one of your men. Why did you not tell me this?” 

Simon could not start there. He made his way over to one of the many mossy boulders that littered the hilly landscape and sat down. James followed him and sat down beside him. “I was a proud, young soldier,” he began quietly. “I was good. I was very good at what I did. I was a natural leader. I was trusted with a regiment at such a young age. I was awarded commendation after commendation.”

“I know you were,” replied James. “I was so proud of you. You were the only brother of mine who made something of himself.”

“Which was exactly why I did not tell you what happened and why. I did not want to tarnish the image of me that you had. I wanted you to stay proud of me.” Simon did not know if this was a good enough reason. His silly pride had stopped him from communicating with his brother. 

James furrowed his eyebrows and sighed. “Simon, I would have been proud of you no matter what happened. Simon, why could you not tell me any of this?”

Simon swallowed his pride and continued on with his tale. “I could not tell you how afraid I was, how terrifying every moment of battle was. I wrote you about my victories and my commendations but I could not tell you about the fear.” There was another he had to tell about the fear. How would James take the next revelation? “That was why I married Helen.” 

James’ eyes widened. “Married?” 

Simon nodded once, confirming it. 

James shook his head and uttered, “Simon. Tell me about this Helen. Where is she?” 

“She died,” he replied, “three years ago now.” Simon chastised himself. He felt terribly guilty for neglecting his brother for so long. The more he continued, the more details and secrets he realised that he had been concealing. 

“A marriage, a gunshot wound, and now a dead wife, I am sorry, Simon, but how could you have excluded me from all of this? I had a right to know, I had a right to take care of you!” James exclaimed. 

“You are right, of course,” he said apologetically, “but I can only tell you that I thought I was making the right decisions at the time.”

James was silent for a moment before he nodded, allowing Simon to continue.