Chapter Nineteen
P
Mater was, quite possibly, the world’s most cooperative invalid.
Arabella took on the task of seeing to her comforts and found it quite an easy thing.
She was thanked regularly, and Mater had no qualms about simply requesting the things she wished for.
If these were the circumstances under which Arabella would pass her years as a companion, the experience would not be an unpleasant one. She would be needed and appreciated.
The future she now anticipated was far better than the one she’d faced at her aunt and uncle’s house. Indeed, when they had berated her only two evenings before, a veritable army had come to her defense. She would be watched over in this house, even after the guests were gone.
Even after Linus was gone. She pushed aside the disappointment that realization caused.
She knew perfectly well her aunt had been behind the rumors that had driven a wedge between them.
No gentleman wished to have his hand forced.
If not for that, would he have continued sitting with her, his hand wrapped around hers, bringing a smile to her face and a sense of belonging to her heart.
The house party was not yet over. Perhaps in the time remaining, they could regain some of the connection they’d had. She hoped so.
Lady Lampton arrived in Mater’s rooms midmorning and, with a comfort that spoke of familiarity, took a seat near her mother-in-law. There was a closeness between the two ladies despite their disparate personalities.
“You have Philip in an absolute panic, you know,” Lady Lampton said. “So I thank you for that.”
Mater smiled. “I will assume, then, he is no longer making a drawn-out spectacle of himself for the ‘benefit’ of our guests.”
“Less of one, at least.” Lady Lampton did not seem particularly annoyed.
Indeed, the same fondness Arabella had seen in her face as she’d spoken of the blessing of having a kindhearted husband returned.
“One would think that after bloodying himself brawling at the river, he would tiptoe more carefully around His Grace’s temper.
Yet he seems determined to continue provoking him. ”
Mater and Arabella exchanged looks. They both knew full well Philip’s reasons for testing the duke’s endurance, but as they involved Lady Lampton, revealing those motivations did not seem at all the right thing to do.
She eyed them both with growing suspicion. “I have stumbled upon something, it seems.”
“My lips are sealed,” Mater said.
Lady Lampton turned fully to Arabella. “And what about you? Do you know all our secrets as well?”
She offered her ladyship a dry look. Lady Lampton was perfectly aware of the fact that she was privy to a great many secrets.
Mater pieced things together on the instant. “How many of us have told you things in confidence?”
“All of you,” she admitted.
Lady Lampton seemed surprised. “Even Charlie?”
Arabella nodded.
Despite the lingering effects of illness, Mater’s gaze sharpened on her. “What is weighing on that boy’s mind? I see it in his face and in his posture. It has been there for some time, truth be told, but has grown more pointed of late. He won’t talk to any of us.”
Arabella would not divulge what he had confided in her but wished to ease some of his mother’s worries. “He and I have shared a special kinship ever since the day he ruined my best morning dress by splattering it from top to bottom with thick, putrid mud.”
Mater laughed at the memory. “I was so put out with him. The mischief he has caused over the years. You’ll remember, I packed him up, along with Caroline, who was staying with us at the time, and hied him off to Havenworth.”
“My other gowns were most grateful to you,” Arabella said.
But Mater’s amusement turned to regret. “I was especially frustrated with him because I knew your uncle did not allow you sufficient pin money to replace what Charlie had ruined.”
“He did on that occasion,” she said, “which, I assure you, came as an utter shock, both to me and my aunt. She, in fact, was rather livid. She never could countenance any of his finances being used for my benefit.”
“I didn’t realize your uncle kept the truth of it a secret.” Mater’s remark made little sense.
“Kept what truth a secret?”
She smiled gently. “I replaced your gown. I could not bear the thought of you suffering because my nearly grown baby could not seem to keep himself out of trouble.”
“You replaced it?” Had Mater truly been so aware of and concerned about her situation long before inviting her to the Park? “That was very kind of you.”
“I ought to have done far more than that.” Sadness touched her words, even a bit of guilt.
Arabella could endure receiving her position out of kindness, even charity, but guilt and pity were not to be borne. “You have done a great deal for me,” she reassured Mater. “I am happier here than I have been in some time.” In eleven years, in fact.
“I can honestly say the same.” Lady Lampton spoke with more emotion than Arabella had ever heard from her.
“My home life was one of constant rejection and sorrow. Being an”—she swallowed back a word before finally allowing it free—“an invalid meant enduring endless disdain and dismissal, even from my own parents. Yet this past year and more, I have been met with acceptance and loving kindness.” She took hold of her mother-in-law’s hand. “I have not been left to walk alone.”
“My husband always wished for a family of daughters,” Mater said.
“He, of course, would not have traded his sons for the world, but he longed for girls of his own.” A mixture of nostalgia and grief filled her voice.
“He often imagined this house filled with a family of strong, caring, fierce women. I see that dream of his coming true all around me.”
Quite to Arabella’s surprise, Mater took her hand with the one Lady Lampton was not holding. Oh, how she hoped that meant Mater felt her late husband would have approved of Arabella’s presence and of the woman she had become, that he had, in some degree, imagined her a part of his home.
“And for my boys’ sakes, I am grateful that they share their father’s appreciation of intelligent and resolute women. They are so very like him.”
“I think you would be wise to tell Charlie that.” Arabella hoped she was not betraying a confidence. “And in the most specific terms you can.”
Mater’s pained gaze turned fully on her. “Charlie doesn’t remember him, does he?”
“Not well.” She disliked speaking a truth she knew would cause Mater further sorrow. “I think knowing him better and knowing that his father lives on in him would mean a great deal.”
Mater squeezed her hand. “I will do that.”
“And will you also start taking the powders Dr. Scorseby prescribed you?”
Mater’s eyes opened wide, as did Lady Lampton’s.
“I told you everyone has been telling me things,” Arabella said.
Mater, in tones of mock outrage made all the more entertaining by the twinkle in her eyes, said, “Then you can just tell that nosey physician that I have, indeed, been taking his nasty powders and they are working every bit as well as he said they would.”
“You have been ill?” Lady Lampton pressed. “Beyond this current bout, that is?”
“Nothing at all serious,” Mater insisted. “A touch of dyspepsia is all. Dr. Scorseby makes everything out to be a crisis. I think he enjoys the feeling of panic.”
Lady Lampton smiled knowingly. “He does have a flair for drama, does he not?”
Drama? Panic? Arabella hadn’t noticed either. It seemed, despite being in company with him evening after evening, she didn’t know him very well.
“What dramatic pronouncements has he made about your health of late?” Mater asked her daughter-in-law.
“Only that I am in no more pain than can be expected for one with an utterly broken body,” Lady Lampton said. “And that he does not expect my situation to improve, though he has instructed me not to give up hope.”
“Hope is a powerful thing,” Arabella observed. It had sustained her through her darkest days.
“As is a friend and a reliable confidante,” Lady Lampton said to her. “And we have been fortunate enough to find that in you, Arabella.”
Hearing herself called by her Christian name proved more moving than she could have predicted. For the first time in a very long time, she felt as though she belonged.
A knock sounded on the door of Mater’s sitting room, though it was slightly ajar. They all looked in that direction as Linus peeked his head inside.
Linus. Arabella held her breath.
“Forgive the interruption,” he said.
“Nonsense, Mr. Lancaster.” Mater waved him inside. “The infirm are always in need of diverting company.”
“I take leave to doubt you are so very near death’s door.” He stepped inside, offering quick dips of his head to Lady Lampton and Arabella before taking Mater’s outstretched hands in his own. “You appear in better health than you did last evening.”
“Whether or not that is true, I will thank you for saying it.” She indicated he should take the only vacant seat in the sitting area, the one directly beside Arabella.
He did so and then, without looking at her, said, “I am surprised your Dr. Scorseby is not here looking after . . . everyone. He asked about you at least a dozen times last evening after you had retired.”
She returned his teasing in kind. “I am surprised your Mrs. Blackbourne is not here looking after . . . you. She ran you to ground at least a dozen times in the first quarter of an hour she was here last evening.”
Mater grinned unrepentantly. Lady Lampton’s amusement showed as well, though in an expression more subdued than her mother-in-law’s.
“Ah.” Linus looked around at the lot of them. “I see I have stumbled into a gossip circle.”
“It was not a gossip circle until you arrived,” Mater said. “I fear you may be a bad influence.”
“Well, I have come with news, so perk up your ears, ladies.”
Arabella could not hold back her amusement. He lightened her spirits like no one else. He even managed to pull a fully bloomed smile from Lady Lampton, something she had not often seen.