Chapter 2
“Iwill not apologize to Peter, Mother,” Madeline protested.
The argument had been going on since his arrival.
It was midday when the Linfields left for Crawford Hall. The estate was only a few miles away, and as the Dowager Duchess of Pemberton had promised Lady Crawford that they would arrive just before dinner.
Peter remained quiet, still enraged by his sister’s trickery.
Only a day ago, he had received a letter from Madeline in which she claimed their mother had suddenly fallen ill.
But upon arriving at the cottage that both ladies shared in Arlington, he was greeted by their glowing and perfectly healthy mother.
“I am not asking for an apology, Maddie. You have disappointed me, and I am still furious. How could you lie about our mother’s health? Do you know how worried I was?”
Peter knew that his tone was rather reproachful. While he did not normally speak in such a way to his little sister, he could not keep the rebuke from his voice because he wholeheartedly believed she deserved a round scolding.
“I imagine you were terrified,” Madeline replied defiantly. “As you should have been.”
Peter inhaled sharply. He was appalled by his sister’s brazen attitude.
Did she not see the worry on my face yesterday? Could she not tell that I dropped everything to rush to Mama’s bedside?
“You do not have the power to dictate my feelings, Madeline,” he said in a weary tone.
“Your actions were calculating and manipulative.” He looked away from her and stared out the window for a long moment before whispering, “When you were a child, you never would’ve dreamed of filling my heart with such dread. ”
“I am not a child,” Madeline retorted. “I have changed, Brother, and grown up long ago. I no longer wish to cower before anyone—man or woman.”
Peter opened his mouth to admonish her once more, but she barreled ahead, cutting him off.
“You would have known the myriad ways I have changed if you had come to visit more often or spent time reading my letters,” she cried, crossing her arms over her chest.
She leaned towards the opposite window, putting as much space between them as possible in the confines of the carriage.
Peter thought of the stack of untouched letters that lay on his nightstand. He had meant to read them. Really, he had. But every time he picked up one of Madeline’s missives, he would drop it back on the table unopened.
He had only torn the wax seal on the letter yesterday because the back had been marked Urgent, and when his butler delivered the post and pointed out the directive, Peter had felt compelled to check what the matter was.
Not wishing to dwell on it, he changed the topic.
“How can I find you a husband if you insist on being deceitful?” Peter uttered in defeat.
Madeline turned away from the window and met his criticism head-on. Her brow creased, her nostrils flared, and her cheeks flushed.
“I do not want a husband. I already have everything I need in our cottage. Arlington is a delightful village. We have splendid neighbors. Mother and I could be happy here forever.”
Peter sighed. He could well secure his sister’s future if she genuinely wanted to eschew marriage. However, he understood that young ladies could be fickle. What his sister thought she wanted today might seem dull tomorrow.
“You only say that now, Maddie. In time, you will change your mind,” he pointed out.
While he waited for his sister to form an acerbic response to his prudence, he cast a glance at their quiet but amused mother. He watched her lips slowly curl into a timid smile.
A soft pang of pain struck his almost numb heart. He had never seen his mother smile, especially when his father was still alive. He never knew that her smile, even the tiniest one, could be this beautiful.
“I already told you not to misplace your disappointment, Peter. It was my idea for Maddie to write you a letter about me being sick,” she confessed once more.
“But Maddie could decide for herself and not do as she was told if she knew it wasn’t right,” Peter argued, avoiding her eyes.
Suddenly, his mother took his hand, and he jolted at the softness of her touch.
“But was it not right for me to want to see you?” she asked, catching his stare.
Finally, Peter met her eyes. “We should visit each other… and we do… occasionally.”
Madeline scoffed. “I have not seen you in two years, Peter.”
“Has it been that long?” Peter searched his memory, trying to recall the last time he’d made the trip to Arlington, but came up with no answer.
“And my letters must have gotten lost because you have not written to me in more than six months,” Madeline added, listing his failings without answering his question.
“I am sorry for neglecting my correspondence,” Peter conceded. He squeezed their mother’s delicate hand. “And I do see now that I should have made it a priority to visit more often. But I am here now. Would it not be best to return to the cottage and spend a few days together?”
Madeline let out an aggravated snort that was most unladylike. “We accepted Lord and Lady Crawford’s invitation, and we shan’t let them down.”
“But this whole thing is preposterous,” Peter protested.
“I heard others say that they were going to Crawford Hall this week for Lord and Lady Crawford’s wedding anniversary soiree, and I thought they were jesting.
” He paused and looked at his mother, then turned to his sister. “Who celebrates their wedding day?”
“People who are in love,” Madeline snapped.
Their mother’s response was much calmer.
“The Fitzroys are one of the few people I have grown fond of while living in Arlington,” she said. “They are good people, Peter. Besides, an anniversary party? I believe that is the most romantic thing I have heard of in my entire life.”
Peter huffed, exasperated.
“Also, I believe their daughter has not married yet. Perhaps you could get acquainted with her,” his mother suggested. “She is a lovely girl.”
“Mama, no!” Madeline screeched. She had been angry with Peter before; that much was true. But now, when she spoke, her eyes blazed with fury. “You cannot doom Lavinia to a life with Peter. He will not be a good husband to her. He is incapable of loving anyone other than himself.”
Peter shook his head slowly. His little sister did not understand him at all.
“I do not plan to marry, Mother. Not now, and perhaps not ever,” he muttered in a stern but quiet voice.
He was about to say more, to explain why he could not see himself settling down with any woman, when the carriage slowed.
They arrived at Crawford Hall right before dinner.
Peter had not spent much time in Arlington. As Madeline had mentioned, he seldom visited, and when he did, he only stayed for a handful of days. But when the carriage stopped in the drive, and the footmen began to unload their luggage, Peter took the chance to admire the place.
Crawford Hall was a gigantic fortress. It was made of massive slabs of stone that even in the afternoon light looked dark gray and imposing. Tall turrets reached high into the sky. Near the center of the structure, there was a large bit of masonry work. Peter squinted up at it.
Ah, the Crawford coat of arms.
He could not see the words, which he presumed were in Latin, traced around the shield, but he admired the craftsmanship, nonetheless.
He meant to stand there a bit longer, simply admiring the verdant lawn and the spectacular wooden doorway, but his mother tugged at his sleeve, indicating they should go inside.
They were immediately escorted to the door, through a hallway, and into the drawing room, where the Fitzroys awaited them.
“Henrietta!” a woman with wispy brown hair and a wide smile exclaimed in greeting.
Even though Peter had not been introduced to their hosts yet, he assumed this was Lady Crawford, since she greeted his mother with such warmth.
“It’s so delightful to have you back.” A gentleman strode forward next. He wore a waistcoat that perfectly matched Lady Crawford’s gown, so Peter quickly figured that this was the Baron Crawford.
Lord Crawford bowed his head and gave a smile.
“You look lovely, Lady Madeline,” Lady Crawford said.
“I could, and I will, say the same for you, Lady Crawford,” Madeline replied. Her light brown eyes twinkled merrily. “One would think you got married just yesterday rather than twenty-five years ago.”
“Ho-ho!” Lord Crawford let out a bellowing laugh. The sound reminded Peter vaguely of bagpipes being tuned. “You are a sweet young lady, Lady Madeline. We are so pleased to have you here.”
The Dowager Duchess leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I do hope you did not delay dinner on our account.”
“Yes,” Madeline said as she tossed a cold look over her shoulder at Peter. “We did not mean to be late. It is only that Peter was dragging his feet.”
Lady Crawford blinked at him. Her eyes, which were a nice, soft blue shade, flickered with concern.
“Are you unwell, Your Grace? Should you perhaps have stayed at the cottage?” She gave his mother a horrified look.
“I would hate to think that His Grace carried dreadful miasmas with him all the way from London.”
She backed away a step, putting plenty of distance between the two parties.
“Lady Crawford,” Peter uttered in a low voice, “I feel perfectly fit. I am here now and am pleased that you chose to invite me to your party.”
It cost him a little something to craft such a beautiful lie.
There were dozens of places he would rather be at that moment than standing in Lord and Lady Crawford’s home.
But when he looked at the beatific smile on his mother’s face, he knew he could not leave.
He must stay the week and make the very best of this party.
“You are most welcome, Your Grace.” This time, it was Lord Crawford who spoke. “We have heard so much about you, and I admit that I am relieved to finally meet you in person.”
Lady Crawford elbowed her husband sharply.