Chapter 20 #2
Petting the loyal dog, Tamsin couldn’t help but grin, unused to being as open as her friend was with her emotions. Married women were afforded more leeway with such things as public displays of emotion, but Tamsin was still quite new to it.
She cleared her throat and resumed a more appropriate public posture. “I mean it, Tilly. How am I supposed to know? If I do something because I love someone, but they also expect me to do it, which is it?”
An easy shrug accompanied Matilda’s answer. “Both, sometimes.”
“That is singularly unhelpful.”
She sighed. “I thought it rather wise.”
“I came to you for answers,” Tamsin protested, scratching Athena behind one pointed ear. The dog was watching ducks waddle from beneath a tree toward the water.
“No.” Matilda tapped her parasol on the side of the bench, like a judge with a gavel. “You came here because you knew I would not give you orders.”
That silenced Tamsin rather abruptly.
It was true. Matilda would never tell her what to do, but she would listen. Matilda always listened. And that was, Tamsin realized, what she had hoped to find in her husband. Someone who cared enough about her to pay attention. To truly know her.
How painful to discover that truth within herself over a month after her wedding.
Her friend’s gaze sharpened. “Are you unhappy, Tamsin?”
“No.” The answer came so easily, Tamsin didn’t have to examine it. No. She wasn’t unhappy with Roman. Even now, after their first disagreement, the thought felt wrong.
“That sounds instinctive, and truthful. Then the next question I must ask is this. Are you happy?”
That answer took longer to put together.
Tamsin thought of Roman sitting beside her with a book.
Roman’s dry observations arriving so unexpectedly, she sometimes laughed aloud.
The warmth of his mouth when he kissed her.
The weight of his hand at the small of her back.
The dogs following her about. Frances greeting her with delight every time she entered a room.
The peculiar pleasure of hearing someone announce Lord and Lady Hartwell and realizing the ‘lady’ was her.
The key turning in the lock.
“I think,” she said slowly, “I could be very happy.”
Matilda raised her eyebrows. “Now we are getting somewhere.”
Tamsin frowned. “I did not say that I am currently happy.”
Another little sound, not quite a hum, came before Matilda’s answer. “No. You did not.”
“You are breathing in that judgmental way again—”
“Not this time.” Matilda tilted her head to the side, her smile widening.
“I would call it speculative breathing. I am speculating, Tamsin. I have known you nearly our whole lives, and I have been acquainted with your husband for a few years now. You might consider me the expert in him, between the two of us. Since the moment I heard about your engagement, brief as it was, I have performed a great deal of arithmetic in my head on the both of you.”
“Arithmetic?”
“Of a sort.” Matilda popped her parasol open again and put it over her shoulder.
“I think the two of you are quite well suited to one another. Your bad habits are similar, but so are your hearts. Both of you want what is right and best. Neither of you are any good at leaving a single thing in someone else’s hands. ”
That certainly did not sound like something that should cause problems. “Being self-sufficient and responsible are good things, I should think.”
“Of course they are, darling.” Matilda rose from the bench. “Oh, look. Lady Emily and Lady Juniper Sterling are out walking. Let us join them. I have great hopes for the four of us to form a great alliance.”
That put an end to their private conversation without Tamsin having solved anything, though admittedly she felt better for having said so much of what was troubling her out loud.
When Tamsin returned home after a very pleasing afternoon walk with her future sister-in-law and her sister-in-law, Mrs. Briers, the housekeeper, met her at the entry.
“My lady, we have received a note that Mr. Eastwood is expected at dinner this evening, along with his betrothed, as well as Mr. John Sterling, and Lady Juniper Sterling. Tonight’s meal was meant for only the three family members at home, with fish as our prominent dish.
Now we have seven to dine, Cook doesn’t think there is enough time for something suitably grand. ”
Tamsin’s first instinct was to ask what Frances ordinarily preferred in such circumstances—but as her lips parted to form the question, she stopped herself and reconsidered. “What have we in the house other than the fish?”
Mrs. Briers’s brows lowered. “Other than fish, my lady?”
“Yes. What would Cook have served us tomorrow?”
“There is the joint of mutton, my lady, and two fowls. Cook meant one for tomorrow and the other for the servants’ table. There are quite a few vegetables and Cook always has a few sweet pastries laid by.”
Tamsin considered this. “Then roast both fowls, and the mutton as well. Cook may serve the fish she has, and anyone fortunate enough to be seated near it may have some.”
The housekeeper hesitated. “For company, my lady?”
Perhaps it was a little irregular, but even still… “Mr. Eastwood still lives in this house on occasion, and Lady Emily is to marry him. Mr. Sterling and his wife are her family. I think we may safely concern ourselves more with feeding them rather than impressing them.”
Mrs. Briers considered the idea a moment before nodding. “A family dinner. That is a fine idea, my lady.”
Tamsin waited.
Mrs. Briers waited too.
Apparently, there was to be no objection.
No justification of her decision required.
“I think that is a perfect resolution.” Tamsin did not fight the desire to smile.
A lady ought to permit herself a small triumph, now and then.
“A family dinner. Intimate. Last minute, yes, but because this is also their home.”
“Very good, my lady.” The housekeeper actually returned her smile.
“Thank you, Mrs. Briers. That will be all.”
The housekeeper departed, but Tamsin remained where she was for a moment.
It was a peculiar sort of power, she decided.
She had solved a problem that was, in fact, hers to solve.
She had stated what she wanted without considering if anyone else would approve…
and that had been enormously satisfactory.
It had not pressed upon her the way the decision would have in the Mayweather household.
When she had been forced to make similar arrangements in her childhood home, she remained braced for the rest of the day, waiting for the moment when her father or stepmother would decide if it had been the right one.
But Mrs. Briers had already gone to inform Cook. Not ask, not inquire: inform. The rest of the family would be none the wiser as to the decision made; they would simply enjoy the outcome. No one was coming to tell Tamsin whether she had chosen correctly. The matter was settled.
How very strange.
And how very pleasant.