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When Lily loved, she loved completely, and that was Neville’s one regret. She had eyes (oh those wondrous hazel eyes) for only one, and that one was not him. Through a cruel twist of fate it happened to be his brother. His reclusive hunchbacked brother.
It was Archie that got to gaze into her sparkling hazel eyes day after day after day. It didn't matter how much he longed for even the slightest glance his direction. It didn't matter the adoration he would have showered her with. It didn't matter that she might be the only woman he ever truly loved. Because she loved Archie, and Neville couldn't take that away from him, no matter how much anguish he felt. Brotherhood could truly be a curse.
It was with no light heart that he stood behind Archie on his wedding day, watching him lift the veil. He would have given anything, his practice, his reputation, to be the one kneeling across the altar from her. Anything but his brother’s happiness. He had smiled through the ceremony, through his toast to their health, their first dance as a couple. Lily had taken the opportunity to dance with everyone, laughing all the while. Neville was stunned the entire time she waltzed with him, relishing the touch of her hand on his shoulder, the feel of her slender waist. It was over too soon.
Misselthwaite had gotten harder to live in after that, surrounded by Lily. He was haunted by the silver of her laugh, the luster of her hair, and those hypnotic hazel eyes. He would sit in his study staring out the window that overlooked her garden for hours. Watching her dig and sing and dance and sit on that old crooked branch, legs dangling. It wasn’t long after that he moved out, seeking his own fortune, attempting to put the past behind him. He threw himself into his practice, treating patient after patient, keeping himself busy, but Lily was always there on the edge of his mind, watching with her hazel eyes.
Occasionally, he would indulge himself in the fantasy that she had never met Archie, that she was here living with him, supporting him in his work, reserving the home of her eyes for him and him alone. In return he would give her all he had to offer, and an undying supply of love. She had contented herself to the uncertain future of a second son, and their life was humble but perfect.
These dreams could never last though.
She sent him a letter once, asking him to hurry back to Misselthwaite. He had been filled with dread and anticipation on his way home. He had met her and Archie in her garden. She was blushing as she explained that she hadn't had a red letter day this month, nor the last, and wanted him to confirm her suspicions. Once he had, they had asked him to remain to care for mother and child after the delivery. He had agreed to it before she was even done asking. He never was able to deny her anything.
The pregnancy was uneventful. Lily progressed quite, well, and Neville had never seen two people so happy. It made him ache inside, every time Lily pressed his hand to her growing stomach to let him feel the baby’s foot, reminding him of what he could have had. She still spent a lot of time in the garden, but her state prevented her from doing much now. Neville found himself back in his study gazing at her through the window. One night he saw her climb into the old tree, despite his warnings not to. She was due any day now, the midwife had said. She was sitting there contentedly and then suddenly she wasn’t.
Time slowed as he watched the branch break, Lily falling through the air. He was out of his chair tearing through the house before she even hit the ground.
“Archie, come quick! It’s Lily in the garden!” was all he had been able to get out before he was out the door, rushing to be by her side. By the time he got there she was breathing heavily, forehead slicked with sweat. He knelt next to her taking her hand, and she squeezed it tightly. He realized that she was going into labor, and screamed at the old gardener to fetch the midwife. Ben moved faster than he had in ages at that.
Archie showed up a few moments later, leaning heavily on his cane, and took Lily’s hand from Neville. Neville stood, and moved back a few paces, allowing his brother this moment with his wife, wishing it was him, then cursing himself for the thought.
He stayed stoic through Lily’s cries of pain, and obediently left when the midwife asked him to. Archie didn’t though, Archie stayed with Lily all through the labor, until Colin came into the world screaming as newborns are wont to do. He was finally allowed back in as Lily took her final breath and the light left her eyes.
Simultaneously, the brothers’ hearts broke in two. Archie threw himself over Lily’s body, sobbing horribly, screaming for her to come back. Neville was much more reserved in his grieving, remaining stony faced until safe behind the locked door of his study later in the day.
As the days after Lily’s funeral drug on, Neville found himself remaining in the manor. There was a large chance that Lily’s infant son had inherited his father’s condition, and the last thing Archie needed was to lose another in his grief. He promised he would stay to help the child, and promptly closed down his business, moving into the manor permanently.
It wasn’t much longer before Archie came to him with his own troubling news. He had been seeing Lily. She was in his dreams, her spirit was wandering the halls, he could feel her breath, the touch of her hand, and her eyes were on him everywhere he went. Neville’s heart twinged with jealousy at this. Even in death Lily only had eyes for Archie.
He gave Archie the best advice he could. Travel. Get far away from Misselthwaite. He would take care of the affairs while his brother cleared his head. Archie reluctantly agreed, and Neville was relieved. He did still care for his brother. His brother who wasn’t used to being haunted by Lily every moment.
Archie left for Paris soon after, leaving Neville with Miss Medlock and the wet nurse to take care of Colin. The house was lonely without Lily, and far too big for one man Neville quickly discovered. He found himself paying late night visits to Colin’s bedside. He would stare at the infant in restless sleep, and wish that he had never been born. Not that he would die, he wasn’t a complete monster. It went against his standards as a doctor to wish harm on the child, but that didn’t stop him from being a painful reminder of everything he had loved and lost, everything he was never able to have. He supposed such thoughts made him less than pure at least.
He paid nightly visits to Lily’s grave, late, when no one would notice his absence. He would kneel on the cold damp earth, tracing the letters etched into the headstone, and shed tears over the lost love that never was his. He still felt Lily’s eyes on him everywhere, but now he knew even fantasizing was useless. All he had left now was his promise to care for her child, the child that could have been his.