Chapter Thirteen
Minutes after the last carriage pulled away from the house, Beatrix heard another arrive.
The countess was directing the footmen that they might take away the plates of cakes and sandwiches when Mr. Feldstaffer announced the viscountess and the dowager.
Why on earth had Lord Chester’s mother and grandmother come?
As the countess looked at them, rather stunned, the viscountess said breezily, “I know we come late, my apologies. We were unavoidably delayed.”
The countess motioned for the footmen to leave the cakes and sandwiches. “Do sit down,” she said mechanically.
Beatrix was certain her mother was searching her mind for the correct way to handle the situation.
Neither the countess nor Beatrix had expected to see them.
The countess thought she might receive a letter of some sort.
The earl had asked to be consulted in answering it.
She did not know precisely what they had discussed or where their opinions had landed, her mother had only told her to leave it to the earl.
“Well gracious me,” the viscountess said after the footmen had exited the room. “Of course I do know that our musical evening ended in an awkward manner.”
Awkward was a very mild way to describe it, Beatrix thought.
“Rest assured, we have conducted long and serious talks with our son.”
Beatrix’s eyes widened. Did they somehow imagine that this idea of a match was still on? How could they possibly think it?
She glanced at her mother. The countess’s expression was inscrutable. Beatrix dearly hoped she was not taken in by this brushing off of what had occurred.
The dowager nodded knowingly. “We all know how men are.”
“I am afraid we do not,” Beatrix said.
The viscountesses’ teacup clattered on its saucer. The countess looked at her daughter in surprise.
“Yes, yes, I know, Lady Beatrix,” the dowager said. “You have been raised very sheltered, which I approve of by the by. The seamier side of the world can come as a shock to a young lady such as yourself. What came to light is a regrettable situation, but common enough.”
Beatrix could hardly believe what she was hearing.
The viscountess and the dowager meant to snap their fingers and take them all back to an earlier time.
A time when everybody had been hopeful of a match, including Beatrix herself.
A time when Lord Chester’s mistress had not been shouting on the street outside of his house.
She was to be supplicated by the absurd excuse of “we all know how men are.”
“I can assure you, my grandson is much chastened,” the dowager said, looking very confident in that idea.
Beatrix glanced at her mother. The lady sat stone-faced, and Beatrix got the idea that the countess would just allow them to talk, eventually get them out of the house, and then consult with the earl over what had been said.
It would not do. There could not be left an inkling of hope for a match. Beatrix was well and truly tired of it.
“I suppose something has been done for Miss Wister,” she said.
As she had imagined, neither the viscountess nor the dowager had expected to hear Miss Wister’s name said aloud.
She was to be spoken of in euphemisms, as if she were not a real person at all.
As if she was not a person with feelings and hopes and fears.
Beatrix did not know what had brought Annie Wister to such a way of life, but surely there had been circumstances.
Perhaps the poor lady had never even considered that particular way of life, but when Lord Chester had professed his love, her judgment had been overcome.
The dowager, in particular, looked offended over having the lady’s name spoken.
“Nothing will be done for that harlot,” the dowager said. “A woman like that gets what she deserves, which is nothing at all.”
“A woman like that,” Beatrix said, “has been lied to and coerced into believing that Lord Chester would wed her.”
“Then she is a very stupid harlot,” the dowager muttered.
“I can assure you,” the viscountess said, “it was not like that. Our son has told us the circumstances. He was seduced, not the other way around. That woman took advantage of a man’s weakness.”
Beatrix laughed. “Well if that was what she was doing, she could hardly find a more suited candidate.”
The countess gave her a warning look and Beatrix understood it perfectly. It was one thing to hold such an opinion, but another to say it aloud in public. Nevertheless, she would put the final nail in the coffin of this absurd idea of a match.
“Allow me to be direct,” she said. “I do not like your son. I have never liked him. I imagine I am not alone in that. I imagine a great deal of people do not like him, as he is rather unlikable. I imagine even some in his own family do not like him. Dowager.”
The dowager was clearly steaming over the comment. But then if she did not wish to hear it, perhaps she ought not have made her dislike of her grandson quite so obvious.
“It seems feelings are rather raw at this point,” the viscountess said. “Perhaps we ought to give things time to settle.”
“You are grasping at straws, madam,” Beatrix said. She rose and said, “Good day to you.”
Beatrix left the room and left her mother to deal with her friend and the dowager. She was quite sure Miss Sprite would practically fall over when she heard what had been said. The countess would probably have plenty to say about it too.
Nevertheless, it had to be said. She felt a great weight lift off her shoulders now that she’d said it. She’d been forceful and direct.
Now she would go and hide in Caroline’s room for as long as possible.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lord Chester had been harangued for hours. Hours and hours of rambling complaints about what a gentleman ought to be, all the while the dowager hurling insults in his direction. He’d wanted to throttle her. Though, he fully realized that would not help the situation.
The situation, itself, was far worse than he could have predicted.
The veil of his parents’ adoration had fallen away.
They no longer believed everything he said, no matter how preposterous.
They no longer held him up as a paragon.
The light of admiration had dimmed in his mother’s eyes and gone out entirely in his father’s eyes.
He’d done his best to paint Annie as a seductress, taking advantage of a young lord who did not know what he was getting himself into. He was not certain anybody believed him.
Then the real recriminations came. His father told him that he was to return to his estate.
He was to be cut off, and the London house would be closed.
He could make do with whatever he could eke out from his land.
The viscount did not even know that he’d long dismissed his steward and the estate was in total disrepair.
He very much doubted there was even a vegetable growing there for his dinner.
At that moment, he’d decided that the only course of action to get his carriage back on the road was to convince his family that there was still hope for a match with Lady Beatrix.
How much had she heard, anyway? Would she really blame him?
Would Lady Beatrix even choose to acknowledge some low creature who had ideas above her station?
They had, as he had hoped, grasped at the shred of hope he’d offered up. They developed a plan that the dowager and his mother would visit the countess on her at-home day, going late to catch her and Lady Beatrix alone.
Lord Chester did not think there was much sense in the dowager going along on the call. She was not exactly a peacemaker. It would be his mother who would smooth it all over.
He’d paced the drawing room for nearly two hours, waiting for them to come back. They would tell him all was forgiven. He would get out of being sent home. He would slip off to Annie’s and smooth things there.
Finally, their carriage returned. He could not read the expressions on their faces as they were helped down to the road.
The dowager did not even stop in the drawing room. She passed by and called, “Congratulations. She hates you even more than I do.”
His mother did stop in the drawing room, staring at him with her big sad eyes. It felt as if things were closing in on him. Every avenue of escape was being cut off. All because of a forged letter.
This was all Harrelston’s fault. It had to be.
Lord Chester was more determined than ever that Monroe succeed with Lady Beatrix.
He’d bailed that fellow out several times.
If he were to be cut off and the London house closed, he would need funds.
If Monroe secured Lady Beatrix, he would secure her very generous dowry and would have those funds to lend. Or pay back, as it was.
Monroe was to attend Lady Dudmore’s house party, as was Lady Beatrix. A house party was conducive to moving things forward and Monroe was determined to do it.
Lord Chester did not know what he could do to help the effort along. He would be nowhere near the scene.
At least, he had not planned on it. Of course, just now it might behoove him to be quick on his feet and change plans as needed.
He’d have to think about that.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Corbyn had been surprised by several things during his visit to Lady Beatrix.
He’d been surprised to find Lord Monroe there.
He was well aware that Monroe had an interest in Lady Beatrix, but he’d thought her treatment of the fellow had been rather dismissive at the Secrets Exposed party.
Apparently, Monroe either did not take in the hint, or he was intent on ignoring it.
He was persistent, and that was something to be aware of.
Especially since Monroe would be attending the same house party that Lady Beatrix would travel to.