The Clarendon Rose by Kathryn Anthony Read Free Book Online

days.”
    “Right.   So, that’s what I’ve been looking into.   Funny thing is, there’ve been other rumors.”
    “Rumors?”   Clarendon sat forward.
    Bastian nodded.   “Another old army fellow—Claude Anderton—has also disappeared in the last year or so.”
    Clarendon frowned.   “The name’s familiar…”
    “Right.”
    They subsided into silence, as Clarendon racked his brains.   Then he sighed, shaking his head.   “No.   It’s not coming to me.   No doubt I’ll remember sometime after you’re gone, and will have forgotten again by the time I see you next.”
    Bastian nodded.   “Well if you remember anything useful, do pass it along.”
    In the ensuing pause, Clarendon felt Bastian’s watchful scrutiny.   He washed down his mouthful of breakfast with a sip of coffee before meeting his old friend’s gaze.   “Out with it, old man.   I can feel you’re dying to ask me something.”
    Bastian shook his head.   “Sorry.   It’s just—how have you been, Clare?   Really been, I mean.   Not just the polite nonsense.”
    Clarendon felt a familiar weight settle in his chest as he thought about how to answer his friend.  
    “It kills me that I didn’t even get back in time for the funeral,” he said finally.   “On top of everything else, I mean.   The fact that I was such a failure as a son.”
    “I didn’t know your father well, but I’m fairly certain he didn’t think of it that way.”   Another pause.   Bastian cleared his throat.   “You’re looking better though.   Better than the last time I saw you, I mean.”
    Clarendon smiled without amusement.   “No doubt being able to stand upright and speak without slurring does create a better impression.”
    “And the opium?”
    Clarendon shook his head.   “One afternoon, about six months ago, I woke up feeling like I’d just dragged myself through hell.   And I knew that if I continued the way I was going, sooner or later, my luck was going to run out.   I’d be dead within the year.”   He swallowed, feeling the sick hollowness rise up in his throat once again.   “Instead of being glad, instead of wanting it, I just felt empty.”   He rubbed his face.   “I thought about Father and Edmund getting the news, and I realized that wasn’t how I wanted to be remembered.”  
    He paused, glancing at his friend.   “Something inside me shifted after that.   Maybe it was just the sudden recollection of the kind of man I had hoped someday to be—“   He shook his head.   “I don’t know.   But I knew I had to start doing better, if I didn’t want to have lived a meaningless life and died a meaningless death.”
    Sebastian nodded, his expression somber.   After a few moments, he spoke.   “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”
    “You may have mentioned that a few times already.”
    “I keep hoping that if I repeat it often enough, you’ll actually start hearing me one of these days.   You have to stop hating yourself.   You did your best.”
    Clarendon could feel his body tensing.   “I did not.   I as good as knew Pepridge was involved with shady dealings.   I didn’t say anything.   Just relayed the orders I had been told to issue.”
    “You didn’t know for certain at that point, Clare.”
    “I had suspicions.   I should have voiced them.   I owed my men that.   Instead, I took the path of least resistance because I couldn’t be bothered.   And they’re dead because of it.”
    “They’re dead because it was war.”
    “I gave the orders, Bastian.”
    A pause.   “So did all the self-flagellation and running away actually get you anywhere?   I mean, aside from half way across the world from anyone who gave a damn about you, and half out of your mind with self-hate, alcohol and opiates?”
    Clarendon let out a slow breath, refusing to be baited.   “I don’t blame you for being angry.   But it seemed like the only way at the time.”   He met his friend’s gaze