clear.
“Does your hope for his recovery cloud the reality of his situation?”
“I am certain that it does.” Richard breathed out heavily. “I was glad to leave the family home and enter the army. I could not wait to go. I watched my brother drifting along ahead of me; he had no responsibility other than to stay alive.”
“And that was something he seemed to threaten on a daily basis by his lack of purpose.”
“Exactly!” Richard stood and paced around the small library.
“It infuriated you?” Judge Darcy asked when Richard shrugged. “Did you ever think that you could do better?”
“Naturally.” He stopped and played with a marble statue of a horse. “It is good that I had to go and earn my way.”
“Because you thought you might very easily have followed his path?”
Their eyes met and Richard nodded shortly. “I think that is what kept me away from Matlock and my family for so long, I was determined to prove myself . . .” His head shook again. “. . . to myself.”
“We share many of the same qualities. You have the confidence that you would never have gained had you been born to the position. That will serve you well when you eventually become the earl.”
“Or I could remain in the army and continue to pursue the career I have worked so hard to build, and be satisfied with that.”
“That point is moot considering your brother’s situation. I think that the decision was made years ago for you, when he breathed in his first dose and has ever since chased that elusive euphoria again.”
“I tried it once . . . but I do not remember what I did well enough to have wanted to chase the feeling again. Actually, I thought it was a waste to not remember.” The judge nodded understandingly and Richard paused, “Say he recovers and I have given up my career believing that he will not.”
“He will not recover, Colonel. I have not the decade of abuse that he has experienced under my belt, and thank God I am not physically diseased as he is, but I do understand the toll that his body is suffering, let alone his mind. That is my personal area of expertise.” Closing his eyes he let out a long breath. “It is moving how you obviously love him, despite the unforgivable havoc he has wreaked upon your family, and the burden you will be forced to shoulder to repair what has been left in his wake. You are not dissimilar to Fitzwilliam, you know. He was born to his position, but he has faced terrible and momentous decisions as a result of the havoc others have inflicted upon him.” Rising from his chair, he went to stand before the Pemberley landscape.
Richard had been searching for an opening, and it seemed that it had at last presented itself. “He would do anything to help his sister who failed so terribly.”
“She did not fail . . .” His eyes expressed the depth of the pain he was feeling and Richard followed his gaze.
“Is that where Darcy went over?
“Yes.” The judge said quietly. “I visit daily. I was just on my way out when you arrived. Susan becomes quite worried about my vigil and often sends Samuel after me.” He looked at Richard and saw an expression of doubt on his face similar to the one that his wife wore. “She need not worry, and neither should you.”
Richard inclined his head. “It is the best view of the estate. I remember hearing you speak of it quite fondly on numerous occasions.”
“Yes, I imagine that you have, it seems to have been an obsession of mine. No more.” Seeing Richard’s cocked brow he laughed hollowly, “I spoke so passionately of it that my own son was hesitant to admit his own fondness for his ancestral home. Do you know that he wanted more than anything to somehow set down roots in a town close enough to Pemberley so that his children would know where they were from? Because he loves it so much? Darcy knew, I never did.”
“But it remains