Page 86 of The Winter Companion

Sir Oswald Bannister had been a source of sick fascination to them. An archvillain, as sinister as a rogue in a Penny Dreadful. Justin had been both angry and intrigued to learn such a man was his father. Alex had only suspected the truth of his own parentage, but that had been enough to spark his obsession. As for Tom, he’d always been more interested in the treasure than in Sir Oswald himself. While Neville…

Neville had simply been loyal.

“You were my friend,” he said. “Our friend.”

Justin snorted. “Some friend. Putting you all in danger.”

“I…I n-never blamed you for the accident. I was never…n-never angry with you. Not for that.”

Silence stretched between them.

“But you were angry with me.” Justin’s eyes searched his. “Why?”

Neville was amazed he had to ask. The answer seemed evident. “You left m-me behind.”

“Neville…”

“I c-could have…”

But the words wouldn’t materialize. What he wanted to say—to express—after all these years. That he could have weathered any storm if his friends had been there. That without them, he might as well have perished in that fall.

His fingers clenched on the brush. He wasn’t upset with Justin. He wasn’t. It was the past. Decades ago. He told himself it didn’t matter.

And then the words came. Dozens of them, rushing out, all at once, in a broken, disjointed tumble of pent-up emotion.

“The orphanage…the accident… B-but you…you left m-me there. Do you know what…what it was like? To b-be entirely alone? I had n-no one of my own. No one to…to c-care if I lived or d-died.”

Justin’s face was ashen. “I cared.”

“You weren’t there.”

“I know that. At the time I thought it was best. To break my apprenticeship, and to join Her Majesty’s Army. To find some way to make money for us all. But I was just a lad myself. A boy, like you and Tom and Alex.” He briefly looked away. “I didn’t leave until I knew you were safe.”

Neville didn’t respond.

“You were safe, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” He was that. Safe inside the walls of the convent. Just as he was safe here at the Abbey.

“The money I sent back—”

“It helped me. I was…grateful.”

“Grateful.” Justin repeated the word with disgust. “We both know it wasn’t enough for any sort of life for you.”

Neville’s fingers slowly loosened on the brush. Some of the emotion dissipated. He regarded Justin from over Adventurer’s withers. “I had a life.”

“In a convent? Little better than a servant in their stable?”

“It was better than the orphanage. I…I didn’t mind it. Not once I…adjusted. I liked b-being with the horses. Outdoors. I n-never wanted anything else.”

“You didn’t know anything else.”

Neville didn’t argue the point. It was the truth. He had no experience of the world.

But he wasn’t a recluse.

He regularly went into the village, stopping in at the King’s Arms, the telegraph office, or the new bookshop. When strictly necessary, he could even deal with strangers.