Shaking his head, Arthur spoke. “There’s no reason you can’t, if that’s what you wish. My stable master is the man who taught me. He has quite a way with horses. If you’re interested, we can talk to him later.”
“Yes, I would love that.”
“Come, the lake I was telling you about is just over that ridge, through the tree line.”
“Is there a path?”
“Oh, yes. Mother used to love coming here during the summer. Father would sometimes join her. Roxanne and I learned at an early age that that was their time together and we weren’t to bother them.”
“I understand,” Charles replied as he blew out a breath.
“What is it?”
“I missed out on so much being sent away. I never had a normal childhood because people didn’t understand me or didn’t want to.”
“I can’t say I understand what you had to accept as normal, but it seems unfortunate things couldn’t have been handled a bit differently.”
“My temper was a large part of the problem. If I got in a rage, there was no telling what I might do. Frazier’s the only one who was able to help me keep it under control.”
That was all true. Though Frazier had shown him ways to calm his temper, there were times when he had to go off by himself so he didn’t go off in a rage. He never knew when it would happen or what would set him off. Writing was just one of the things he learned to do during these times. He could closet himself somewhere where he’d be alone, calm himself before returning to something he was in the middle of writing or making notes for an upcoming book. He was never disturbed. Sometimes he would go to a particular tree in the woods, sit on the ground, and make notes in a notebook or just sit with his back against the tree trunk and close his eyes. Listen to nature.
His thoughts were interrupted by Arthur. “Are you all right?”
Charles brushed it off. “Yes, of course I am. Just trying to remember things.”
“Come, we’re almost there. After we’re done here, I’ll show you the cottage.”
Charles nodded. “Has the cottage ever been lived in?”
Arthur began walking his stallion toward the tree line. “The estate manager’s parents lived in it until they both died. It’s been sitting empty for about two years.”
“Two years?”
“The estate manager keeps it up. Sends men to clean up the outside and inside when necessary.”
Charles followed his brother, nodding in response to his questions. The walk through the trees was short. On the other side, the sun was reflecting off a small body of water. To one side, partially hidden by shrubs and trees, sat a small house made with a lot of glass, reminding him of a conservatory. Lots of windows meant lots of sunlight.
Dismounting the chestnut, Charles secured the horse to a small tree. He noted from the side Arthur doing the same exact thing while coming off his stallion quickly. He tethered theanimal by himself. The only one who leapt around with not a problem was Roddy.
Arthur motioned for him to follow. They neared the glass house. It wasn’t huge, but large enough for one or two people. The front of the house, the parlor, had a spectacular view of the lake in one corner of the room. The rest was hidden from view. The portion with the view was still partially hidden to the untrained eye. One would have to know what they were looking for.
Farther back there was a bed and a small kitchen with a hearth. The furniture was more than he anticipated. It appeared someone had lived there not too terribly long ago.
“This is nice and quiet. I can see why Mother loved to come here.”
“Yes,” Arthur replied. “On occasion during the summer, she would bring Roxanne and me here.”
“She was afraid of me. I remember that.”
Running his hand through his hair, Charles looked out at the small lake. It was a painful memory to have, knowing your own mother was afraid to be around you because you were different from your other children. What he did know was that he couldn’t stay in this cottage.
“I want to see the orchards and this other cottage.”
“You don’t want to spend more time here, explore the lake side?”
Charles shook his head. “No, I’ve seen enough.”
Once they’d remounted, Arthur told Charles to follow him. Charles watched as his brother and dog galloped off. He tried to keep up as best he could but was no match for his brother’s stallion. He hoped he hadn’t upset Arthur by not wanting to spend more time. The truth was it had long been something he tried to erase from his mind. He never knew his mother because of her fear, and though his father came to visit him perhaps oncea year, the two never knew each other in the way some father-son relationships developed.
