Chapter Twenty-Five
Max carried Yihui into the parlor, well aware that his mother would follow.
“Shall I set you in a chair?” he asked Yihui. “Or would you prefer to stay—”
“Whom did you meet out there?” his mother interrupted. She crossed to stand right before him with her hands on her hips. “What did you say? What did she say?”
He gave Yihui a wistful smile. “I think I’ll take you upstairs. My mother and I will be in conversation for—”
“Of course, she needs to stay!” his mother exclaimed. “If we’re to see her transformed into a duchess, I need every moment with her.”
Max paused, stopping himself before he said that it was all a ruse. His mother was not known for her discretion. She wasn’t a terrible gossip, but she did enjoy the attention garnered from a tall tale. And Yihui was as great a tale as they could get.
“Mother, I think her instruction can wait. She can’t even walk yet.”
“As if a duchess needs to walk!” she huffed. “And you’re the one who began this by taking her outside. If you had consulted me, I would have told you to wait until after the Season was done.”
“She cannot be cooped up in a bedroom for that long.” Giving in to the inevitable, he set Yihui down in the nearest chair.
“I am trying to help you,” his mother huffed. “I’ve spent the last week thinking exactly how it should be handled. I have asked you to come speak with me, but you have refused. And now we are in a pickle.”
“Mother, I am managing things. The prince has demanded—”
“I know what Prinny said.” His mother peered through the curtains to see the great many people promenading out front. “Why didn’t you consult with me before you took her out in daylight? You know better than that.”
“And you know better than to lie to Prinny. He saw her yesterday, remember? He knows she is not—”
His mother rounded back on him. “And if her health takes a disastrous turn?”
A lie? “Prinny would see through that in a second.” Though, if enough time passed, the man might choose to ignore it. It was hard to say. Either way, Max much preferred to act rather than hide, and so he had taken Yihui out to face the world.
His mother obviously understood that. She pursed her lips with dismay. “Well, it’s done now. What did she say and to whom?”
Max smiled, his amusement getting the best of him. “She said ‘What ho’ to Lady Marsh. We all thought it very funny.”
If he thought to distract his mother with this anecdote, he was sorely mistaken.
The lady looked like she would have an apoplexy on the spot.
But since his mother often looked like that, he wasn’t concerned.
He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been sent for her smelling salts only for her to recline dramatically on a settee for an hour with no visible injury.
This time was no different. She set her hand on the side table, leaning over as she gasped for breath. She could breathe just fine, but she enjoyed the drama of it. Even Emmaline gave no credence to the way Mama waved her hand in front of her face and glared at whomever was in the room.
“Mother—” he began, but Yihui interrupted him.
“Help me!” she cried as she tugged on her sleeve. “Get me to her!”
Oh dear. Clearly, Yihui did not understand about his mother’s preference for drama. “Please, don’t upset yourself. Mama’s spells—”
“Bring me to her!” the woman commanded.
He gave in. There was no need explain that Mama was exaggerating. She’d figure it out soon enough. So at her direction, he carried Yihui to the chair nearest his mother. Yihui immediately leaned over toward his mother.
“Please. Her…” She pointed to her wrist. “Give me her arm.” Then she looked at his mother. “Lady, please sit down.”
He groaned. His mother was very prickly when not addressed correctly. “Your Grace,” he said softly to Yihui. “She is properly addressed as ‘Your Grace.’”
Yihui nodded and then pointed to a chair. “Your Grace, please sit down!”
His mother’s face was already regaining color, her breath slowing though not yet returned to normal. He supposed she had decided she’d had enough attention.
“See? She is better,” he said as he helped guide his mother to the chair next to Yihui.
“Give me her arm!” Yihui commanded again and in a moment, he set his mother’s limp arm in her grasp.
“What are you doing?” his mother said weakly. She didn’t appear angry so much as curious. More attention, he supposed.
Yihui didn’t answer, but her expression was one of concentration as she apparently counted his mother’s heartbeat.
“I have seen this before,” she finally said.
“So have we,” he said. Then he tried to give his mother the benefit of the doubt. “She has spells. They never last long. She’s perfectly fine afterwards.”
Yihui shook her head. “Your Grace,” she said carefully, “I know a tea to make your heart better.”
Max all but rolled his eyes. His mother’s heart was fine. She’d been suffering from a lack of attention all her life, and this was her way of getting it. He must have made a sound or perhaps Yihui was merely observant, but she turned to him with a dark look.
“You think she lies.”
“They all do,” his mother cried.
“Of course not,” he lied. “I believe she gets overwrought when people disagree with her.” That was as polite a statement as he could make in front of his mercurial parent.
“They say that in China, as well,” Yihui said. “Women never get help from my father. But if a man clutches his heart as you do, there are seven doctors to give him medicine.”
“Really?” his mother asked, clearly hanging on every word.
“She is just overwrought,” Max repeated.
“Yes, she is.” Yihui turned to his mother. “I will make you the tea. It will calm you for a time, but you cannot allow yourself to become so upset. No matter what people do, you must keep yourself calm. Your life depends upon it.”
“My life!” the lady gasped.
Oh good heavens. He should have warned Yihui about his mother’s dramatics.
“I will show you,” Yihui continued. “Do you feel your heart?” She tapped her neck. “It beats very hard?”
“Yes! Yes, it does!”
“You must learn to control that.”
“What? But it’s my heart! How can I—”
“I can teach you if you want to learn, but you cannot expect them to understand.”
By them, she clearly meant Max, which was deeply insulting. He cared for his mother. He loved her, but he also understood her faults.
Nevertheless, Yihui continued. “You have had this most of your life?”
“Since Max was first born.”
Yihui nodded. “So he has seen you like this his whole life. He does not believe.”
“None of them do. Not even Emmaline, and she sometimes has fits of her own.”
Max frowned. “She does not.”
His mother sniffed. “She does! But she doesn’t tell you because of how you react. And your father, too.”
He folded his arms, irritation getting the better of him. “But there is nothing wrong! You will be up and railing at me again in five minutes as if nothing happened.”
“But something did happen!” his mother shot back. “And no one listens!” She was dabbing at her face with a handkerchief as if she cried. It was all playacting, and it irritated him that Yihui was falling for his mother’s lies. Especially when she patted his mother’s hand.
“Men do not listen to women’s complaints,” Yihui said. “That is why there must be women doctors, women who give medicine.”
“But are there any of them?”
Yihui straightened up. “I am an apothecary.” She struggled to form the English word, but it was clear enough. “If you will let me, there is a tea. But you must remember, it will only ease the pain for a little while. You must learn to control yourself.”
“But is that truly possible? I have no control over my heart.”
Yihui tsked loudly, her expression as fierce as he had ever seen it. “What do they teach girls in this country? Why do they say you cannot learn?” She looked to him. “Girls can read. Women can control themselves.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but what could he say? He’d wanted his mother to control herself from his earliest memories. And he wanted her on Yihui’s side instead of railing at them both. He just hadn’t expected that they would bond together in this way.
Meanwhile, Yihui looked about the room. “Take me to your place of medicines. I will find you what is needed for the tea.”
She’d had his mother complete cooperation until that point. The woman had reveled in the attention but fell short the moment it involved a strange Chinese tea.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “The duke says they aren’t real fits.”
Yihui nodded. “And your son believes his father. Even his daughter. But what do you feel? When you are very angry?”
His mother tapped her chest. “Tight. It’s very tight.”
“And your eyes? Black spots?”
“Yes! Sometimes.”
“And afterwards, you are very tired, yes?”
“Yes!”
Yihui nodded. “I have seen many cases of this, but only you can decide if you will take the medicine.”
“You think it will help?”
“Yes.”
His mother dabbed at her eyes. “Very well, Max. Take her on that ridiculous pony and get me her medicine.” She sniffed.
“Don’t talk to anyone along the way. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how impossible it will be to train her correctly before the wedding.
Or that I shall be working very hard on your behalf. ”
Of course, he wouldn’t forget. She wouldn’t let him.
“Yihui is doing very well,” he intoned.
“As if you know what it takes to be a duchess.”
He winced. It was an old argument between them.
She believed she managed a thousand things which he and his father never appreciated.
That might have been true once, but Emma was the one handling things nowadays.
And yet, his walk with Yihui had made him question a few things.
She had pointed out something he had never considered, and he wondered now what else he didn’t understand.
Could his mother truly be ill?
“I shall ring for Emma. She should sit with you.”
“No, no!” his mother cried. “Don’t do that!” Yet more proof that she wasn’t truly sick. If she were, she’d be begging for help.
“Why don’t you want Emma here?”
“She’s painting.” His mother rolled her eyes. “You know how she gets when she’s painting. If we interrupt her, she’ll only be cross and make me more upset.”
Yihui touched Max’s arm. “Trust your mother to manage her own body. She can decide if she needs help.”
Max nodded. He supposed that was the only sensible solution. But he didn’t like that Emma had suddenly resorted to painting. She only did that when she was very upset.
“Do you know why—” He cut off his words. If his mother knew why Emma had locked herself away with her paints, she surely would have said. Besides, that was a problem for another time. Apparently, he had to take Yihui to an apothecary now.
“Very well, Mama,” he said giving the lady a deep bow. “Yihui, you are not too tired? It is a long way.”
“I want to help your mother as soon as possible.”
Another walk then, and a long one. “I’ll call for Blue.” Then after he had sent the order, he remembered the one thing he’d meant to ask his mother.
“Mother, do you know of a good tutor for reading and writing?”
The lady frowned at him. “I know of several who have excellent recommendations. Why?”
“I should like to hire one for Yihui.” He glanced at her, making sure she understood this next bit was for her benefit. “And for whatever servant should wish to better themselves.”
“Better themselves? Whatever do you mean?”
“With reading and writing.”
His mother gaped at him. “You have taken leave of your senses. The servants have plenty to do without adding learning on top.”
“Nevertheless, I should like to. Could you send out a query to the tutors? Or shall I apply at the employment office?”
“Oh good God, don’t go there. Never mind, I shall do it for you. Just one more task among the hundred others.”
He barely held himself back from rolling his eyes. “Thank you, Mother.”
“Just get me this Chinese tea. I shall write your letters while I wait.”
He nodded as he carried Yihui outside. Blue was brought back soon enough, and she settled into the saddle with ease. But just before he left, Chiverton caught his attention.
“Yes?”
“Her Grace wishes to ask you something before you depart.” The butler glanced disdainfully at Yihui and Blue. “The stable hand can hold the pony while you speak with her.”
Max nodded, disliking his own butler’s attitude, but choosing not to make an issue of it. After all, Chiverton had been their butler as long as Max had been alive. As such, he was given a little latitude. Though he was determined not to abandon Yihui for long.
“I’ll be right back,” he said before he headed in to see his mother. He crossed quickly into the parlor where his mother was already at her writing desk. “Did you need something else, Mother?”
“I did,” she said as she looked up from the desk. “Have you written to the church yet? To post the banns?”
He winced. For all that his mother was dramatically inclined, she was not stupid.
“Er, no. I have not.”
“Do you think the regent will forget to check the papers?”
He shook her head. “No.”
“Do you think to delay him then? Say you had forgotten about this?”
Perhaps.
“Most wise,” she said with a nod. “You mean for her to cry off, yes?”
Since she’d already worked it out, he might as well admit it.
“Yes. I’ve explained it to her.”
“Good. I’ll shall support your charade in every way I can.”
He frowned at her. “But you just said that she was the only one who understood you. You were getting along famously with her.”
“Well of course I did. She’s going to get me that tea. Doesn’t mean I should accept her into the family. Good lord, imagine what your children would look like.” The lady gave a delicate shudder.
And that had him stiffening in anger. “She’s a smart woman, Mother. Worthy of respect.”
“Then she’ll have no problem landing on her feet—so to speak—once this dreadful situation is over.” She set her hands together on her lap. “Now go on. Get me this Chinese tea. I mean to try it and pray it doesn’t kill me.”