Chapter Sixteen #2
Kitty assumed a contrite expression and hung her head. “I’m sorry, Grandmama.” Although Verity doubted very much this was true.
With Kitty silenced momentarily, she seized the opportunity to direct the conversation. “You must have seen a lot of change here at Luxborough in your time?”
The old lady sucked her lips in over what appeared to be toothless gums and nodded.
“I was married at seventeen and that was over eighty years ago now. There’s been a lot of changes here over the years, although before that woman took over the Dower House, I lived there after my Marcus died.
A long time ago now.” A hint of resentment had entered her voice.
“Had to give it up when my daughter-in-law, that infernal French woman, became a widow herself. Had the cheek to demand it of me as though it were her right. Though, if we’re being pedantic, she’s only merited the title of dowager since your wedding, missy. ”
So the other dowager, Jonnie’s mother, had removed herself from the main house possibly the moment her husband had died.
Had that had anything to do with Kitty’s arrival, and her beloved brother Jonnie’s determination she should be treated as part of the family?
She must have been incensed at the idea of housing her late husband’s illegitimate child.
Could that have made her up and depart for a completely different house?
“I have not as yet had the pleasure of meeting the other Lady Dunster.” How odd it was to be one of three living Lady Dunsters. Awkward at the least.
The Dowager, whose sagging, wrinkled cheeks had flared with spots of angry red, hawked and spat into the cold fireplace.
“Pah. You’ll not find much pleasure in her company, I can assure you.
A pox on the woman. The only good thing she ever did in her life was to give me my Jonnie and then take herself off in a huff sixteen years later. We can do without her here.”
Well, there was no dissembling with her.
Interesting to find the old lady in agreement with her granddaughter.
Verity thought of the portrait in the haunted hall and a shiver ran down her spine.
The other countess did not look like the sort of woman she could take to.
She was inclined herself to agree with the consensus of opinion, even though she’d not met her yet. And forewarned was always forearmed.
It might be a good idea to steer away from subjects that made her hostess angry. “The house is most impressive,” Verity tried.
“Were you brought up at Somerton?” the dowager asked.
“Beautiful house. Parts of it a sight older than this one.” She waved a dismissive hand.
“This place was built from scratch towards the end of the sixteenth century, but Somerton goes back a century or more before that. Lovely old place. Always liked it but I don’t suppose I’ll ever see it again now.
Can’t get about any longer. Can’t even get out of this chair on my own. Old age can be most humiliating.”
This was easier to answer. “When I was a child, I lived in the Dower House with my own grandmother. About a mile from the main house, across the park. I had a very happy childhood there. My grandmother was a wonderful woman.”
A snort of laughter. “And you think I might not be?” The old lady reached out a liver-spotted and skeletally thin hand and seized Kitty’s small plump one. “You tell her, child, whether I’m a wonderful woman or not.”
Kitty made no move to escape, but turned her cheerful face to Verity. “Grandmama is the nicest person here at Luxborough, you can be certain.”
Was she? So far Verity had only seen an acerbic and dictatorial old lady. That didn’t say much for the rest of them.
Kitty must have seen the skepticism on her face, for she nodded with vigor. “When I was born and my mother died, Grandmama backed up Jonnie against his own mother so that I could be brought up here, which I believe was one of the reasons his mother decided to retire to the Dower House.”
Might the old lady have only done this to spite her hated French daughter-in-law and perhaps drive her from the house she considered her own? A distinct possibility.
Kitty beamed at her grandmother. “I may not be legitimate, but Grandmama has always treated me as though I was.” She turned her own hand over and threaded her fingers through the old lady’s bony ones. “I love her very much.”
As for Kitty, she seemed to love everyone. Except Jonnie’s mother, of course.
Was that the sparkle of real tears in those rheumy old eyes?
The sensation that the love was mutual settled over Verity and made her smile.
She spoke from the heart. “You are both very lucky to have each other.” If only her own grandmother had not died, how different would her life be now?
“Your grandmother has you to brighten her days, and even though you have no mother, in its place you have the love of a grandmother, which I know is a treasure beyond all other things.” Both of them had grown up without a mother’s care.
They had much in common, which might be why she’d felt so confident in revealing her secret to Kitty.
The dowager retrieved her hand and harumphed. “That’s as may be, but don’t I recall that young whippersnapper viscount uncle of yours having a ne’er-do-well brother? Is that man your father, missy? I assume he must be.”
There was nothing for it. “He is indeed my papa.”
The sparse eyebrows, that had been painted in with a harsh line of black, rose towards the old lady’s impressive wig.
“And if my memory serves me right, which it so often don’t, didn’t your papa leg it to the Continent with yet another French hussy?
Seems to me there are all too many French hussies in your combined families. ”
Determined not to allow herself to be offended and cause a scene, as, after all, she was dealing with someone very old who probably thought she could say exactly what she thought, Verity had to nod.
“Although I have no knowledge of whether my mother was a hussy or not, as I knew her for so short a time before she died. She was not…interested in her child.”
The dowager nodded. “If she was French, then she was a hussy. Just like my daughter-in-law. All the Frenchies are either hussies or revolutionaries and not to be tolerated.” Those startling brows formed a heavy frown as she glanced at Kitty.
“We’ve had enough of scheming French hussies around here, haven’t we, child? ”
Kitty nodded with enthusiasm.
This conversation was becoming more and more confusing.
Obviously the old lady’s dislike of the French was rooted in her dislike of Jonnie’s mother.
This was a rather sweeping statement as Verity knew well that not all French women were hussies.
But it would not be good to provoke an argument in any way on so short an acquaintance and with so elderly a lady.
However, from what she knew of her own mother, it was entirely possible the old lady might be correct in her case.
Without warning, the old lady suddenly sank back into her seat with a sigh, her eyes glazing over and staring sightlessly into the distance. Her whole body had deflated, the spark of life she’d been exhibiting doused, as though someone had blown out the candle of her mind.
Kitty leaned towards Verity. “She’s having one of her turns.
I’ll fetch her nurse. She has the room next door.
We’ll get no sense out of Grandmama again today.
” She gave a little shrug. “We were lucky she was so receptive and alert, I suppose. She’s like this.
” She waved her hand at her grandmother.
“More often than not nowadays. Chatting away to me one moment and the next away with her head all befuddled.”
And she departed to find the nurse.
Verity sat back in her seat, regarding the Dowager.
Gone was the acuity and intelligence and in its place only the husk of a woman remained.
And with it had gone the vitality that had been apparent when she’d first laid eyes on her.
She now looked every one of her ninety-seven years.
How cruel life was, to rob her like this of herself, to snatch away her memories of those she loved.
Verity had encountered an old man like this, far away now in a villa in Italy, outside Florence.
Papa had wanted to steal his money, but seeing the state of their mark, Verity had refused.
Papa had not been pleased, but he couldn’t have done it alone.
She could still see that old man’s face as he smiled up at her out of eyes as rheumy and faded as the Dowager’s, thinking she was his long-gone wife returned to him.
She’d sat and held his hand until he’d slept, then crept away to rejoin Papa, full of guilt at what they’d been planning to do.
She wiped a tear away before Kitty and the nurse returned, not wanting them to see.