Read Online Circles of Time by Phillip Rock - Free Book Online

codes.”
    â€œOf course,” the earl said listlessly. He toyed with his glass of port while William said his goodbyes to Fenton and hurriedly left the room.
    â€œHe’ll be out the front door like a cannon shot. Be back after midnight, tipsy more than likely.”
    â€œYouth must have its fling,” Fenton murmured before taking a sip of wine.
    â€œI’m sorry about the dinner. Rather a waste of a damn fine saddle of lamb. I can’t for the life of me understand what got into Alexandra.”
    â€œCan’t you?”
    The earl scowled at his glass as he turned it slowly between his fingers. “You couldn’t be closer to me, Fenton, if you were my own son. I can talk to you with honesty. I—well, dash it all, I can’t forgive the girl. I regret the day she came home and brought that child with her.”
    â€œ That child has a name.”
    The earl glanced up sharply, then sat back in his chair. He looked drawn and tired. “Colin. There’s never been a Greville with a Scot’s name. Never been a Greville, as far as I know, born within an inch of the bar sinister. Call me what you will, but, damn it, sir, there are codes of behavior that one must live by or the world will revert to barbarism.”
    â€œWith all respect, sir, we’ve just witnessed four years of barbarism. Alex’s fall from grace seems rather puny in comparison. I won’t presume to question the validity of your moral convictions, but if Alex has some fresh viewpoint regarding Charles—”
    â€œThe man is shell-shocked,” the earl said firmly. “Damn it, Fenton, my son wouldn’t have been committed to a hospital if he weren’t. It may be a damn hard bullet to chew, but in all probability he’ll be shut away for the rest of his life.”
    Fenton’s right hand began to twitch. He put down his glass and placed the offending member under the table and slapped it against his leg. It was his own symptom of shell shock, a muscle spasm that would occur unexpectedly and cause the fingers to stiffen and the thumb to jerk. It often happened when he was reviewing the men, and he had solved the problem by shoving the hand in his pocket. It gave him a nonchalant air that always pleased the troops— “The bloomin’ ol’ Hawk’s a proper toff, he is!”
    The hand had first betrayed him one morning at Hill 60 when he had ordered D Company over in support of the Royal Warwicks, who were floundering in the German wire. The move had been anticipated, and when the men had gone fifty yards from the trench, nested machine guns had caught them in a crossfire and all he could do was watch them die. He had wanted to scream in horror and rage, but that would have been an unthinkable—and unpardonable—thing to do in front of the men. His hand had done the screaming for him, as it still screamed from time to time in moments of stress.
    â€œShell shock is an odd thing,” he said with forced calm. “It can destroy a man’s mind or merely numb it. No one who spent any time at all in the line came away totally untouched. It’s not a disease but a compound of ghastliness, an accumulated burden of horrors. Charles had more than his share of shocks and withdrew into a safe world of his own, but that doesn’t mean he can never come out of it.”
    â€œI’ve been led to believe otherwise. He’s been in this state since nineteen seventeen. At peace with himself, Fenton. Attempting to bring him back to reality could snap his mind completely. He functions—dresses and undresses himself, feeds himself, goes for walks. He seems blissfully content in his dreams and should be left alone. I will not tolerate interference from Alexandra in this matter.”
    Fenton’s mouth felt dry as brass and he wet his lips with port.
    â€œFrom what I can gather, Colonel Mackendric had some rather positive ideas for treatment of shell-shock