Chapter Eleven
Of all the infernal cheek! How dared he come into her home? How dared he inveigle himself into the position of her mother’s secretary? And why was he still using the name they’d used to protect their anonymity whilst traveling together? Had he no sense of decency at all?
She was very tempted to throw the watercolor set Roland had given her on the flagstone floor of the orangery and jump on it. But that would just mean a mess for the maid to clear up, and that was unfair.
She seized her drawing book, opened it at the most recent page, and glared at the portrait of Roland she’d sketched from memory.
That could be destroyed without creating a mess—there was a fire in the parlor, and she could enjoy ripping the picture into tiny shreds before casting it into the flames.
Only one thing stayed her hand—it was an exceedingly good portrait.
She had the color of his eyes just right, a vibrant blue like a summer sky.
She’d captured the slash of his eyebrows, the straight line of his nose, the amused quirk at the edges of his generous mouth, and the determined chin.
His corn-colored hair curled about his ears and flopped over his noble forehead.
Anyone looking at the portrait might think she’d imagined the perfect man.
Only he was real—startlingly and alarmingly real, and only a few moments ago, he’d been standing in the same room with her.
Her fingers tensed on the paper, then she flung it aside in annoyance, hating that her hands refused to tear it to shreds. But then, hurting his picture wouldn’t punish him at all, would it?
Why? Why was he here? He’d seemed so noble, so heroic when they were fleeing from their enemies, but what did she really know of him?
Had she forgotten already that he could be deceitful and foolish?
Had she forgotten how dangerous he was? He held far too many of her secrets in those capable hands.
Was his sudden, unexpected appearance at Mundlingham Castle part of some hideous ploy to reveal those secrets?
Had he entered into one of those abominable wagers with one of his friends, as young men of his ilk were wont to do?
The only thing she could be sure of was that he would come back.
He’d understood totally that he owed her a full explanation, especially since she hadn’t given him away.
It would be entertaining to watch Mama deal with him when the revelation came, which it surely would.
Mr. Roland Chetwynd, younger brother to the Earl of Aylsham, had no right to anonymously enter Lady Beatrice Ashby’s home.
Not only would Mama tear him apart with her vicious tongue, but she would also ensure that all the tabbies of the ton did the same thing.
Roland Chetwynd would be hanging his head in shame for the rest of his life.
It was impossible to settle down to anything.
Each time Lissy tried to sketch one of the plants in the orangery, her pencil quivered on the page, and she had to abandon the attempt.
There were no seedlings to re-pot because it was the wrong time of year, and nothing needed watering because she’d done it this morning.
She must find something to do while waiting for Roland’s return—she didn’t want him to think she had nothing better to do than wait.
Disconsolately, she trailed across to the grapevine and began snipping off the wizened grapes that had never filled out, and casting them into a bucket—until the sound of the door opening had her spinning around, her heart thumping painfully.
She drew a deep breath, ready to release a volley at Roland, but it was Mama who came into the room. The fight left Lissy’s body like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
“Please sit down, Lissy.”
She did what she was told and clasped her hands in her lap. At least her mama had thus far spared her the tirade she knew was coming and had seemed more concerned about her physical well-being than anything else. Now, Lissy must prepare herself for The Grand Telling-Off.
“I have a simple question for you.”
Lissy lifted her chin. She’d had good reasons for leaving, and she’d make sure Mama heard about them.
“Ask away.”
“Did you truly love Mr. Oscar Treadwell?”
This was not the opening gambit she’d anticipated. Nor was her answer to this question the same as it might have been a week ago. She wondered just how much Mama knew about the situation in London.
“I will answer that if you agree to answer a question of mine.”
Her mother pursed her thin lips, and her eyes were a steely blue, but she nodded with barely veiled impatience.
“I thought I loved him. I have subsequently discovered he wasn’t worthy of that love, so if you want assurance that I no longer care for him, you can have it.”
There was a glimmer of triumph in that gimlet gaze. Lissy repressed a sigh. “Now for my question. Did you convince Oscar to abandon me, and how did you do it?”
“I don’t deny it. I couldn’t let you throw yourself away on some undeserving person. He was given the opportunity to continue along the path the pair of you had foolishly set yourselves, but he chose the sensible option.”
Lissy narrowed her eyes. “Mama—what did you do?”
“I simply asked Dashwood to tell him that I would disinherit you if you married Mr. Treadwell. Even though you thought you’d be able to support yourselves, the prospect of having a wife who would never be able to keep him in comfort was enough to frighten off your art tutor.”
Lissy gazed out the window, concealing a hot, angry tear.
“Why do you only see everything as grisaille? Why can’t you see the nuances of color in any picture?
Oscar didn’t abandon me because he only cared about the money I’d bring to our marriage.
He simply didn’t want to see me disinherited.
Therefore, one can equally assume that he left me for my own good, thus making his defection a noble sacrifice.
” She suspected this was untrue, but she wasn’t going to let Mama gloat.
There was a brief, bristling silence, and her mother glanced away.
Then she said, “You can think that if you like, my dear, but I acted from altruism and in what I believed to be your best interests. You are young, untried, and know little of the world beyond the castle walls. You cannot be expected to make informed decisions on your own. One day, you’ll realize that. ”
“If I am uninformed, it’s because you’ve given me little occasion to pass beyond the castle walls.
Don’t you understand that you made this place into a prison for your children, and that we’ve all been desperate to escape?
I was only the last to do so because I am the youngest, and you had me running around at your beck and call like some kind of lady’s maid.
I have no intention of remaining here—I’ll just find a more reliable method of escape and use my own resources instead of trusting anybody else. ”
This was an empty threat—she’d made no further plans whatsoever.
But Mama wasn’t to know that. The other thing she didn’t want her mother to know was the depth of her disappointment in Oscar, now that he’d shown his true colors.
She must also never know how that revelation had come about, because it would lead to further discoveries that would knock the final nails into the coffin of her reputation.
“I can only say that I’m sorry you’ve been so unhappy here. But happiness is something none of us can expect to find in life—it’s a virtue to be content with one’s lot and manage as best one can. Happiness is a luxury afforded to the few.”
“Then I should like to be one of the few, just once.”
Her mama blinked, then continued, “However, I do appreciate that I have been somewhat hard on you, and I mean to make amends in various ways.”
Lissy’s ears pricked up. Make amends? This was novel!
“It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you, Mama. You interfered in something very important to me and took away my choices. I’m your daughter, not your plaything.”
She raised her eyebrows and gave her mother what she thought was a determined and haughty look. It had the opposite effect to what she’d hoped.
Her mother chuckled. “You look just like I must have when I was in a fit of pique as a young girl.”
“This is not a fit of pique. I’m furious with you, Mama. Please don’t mock me.”
Her mother’s expression sobered. “My apologies. The first thing I’ll do to make it up to you is to hold a masked ball.”
Lissy struggled to hide her surprise. A masked costume ball? A proper party? With guests, and music, and dancing?
“Indeed?” was all she managed to say.
“I think it’s high time we reminded people locally of who is the most noble family in the area.”
“I think everyone already knows we’re the foremost family in Mundlingham.” Lissy peered at her mama, not sure what to make of this extraordinary news. She couldn’t remember any soirées or balls after Papa’s death. Whatever did Mama mean by holding one now?
“This surprises you. I expected as much. I have another reason, and that is that if we hold our heads high and continue as normal, no one will ever believe any scurrilous rumors they might hear about my youngest daughter eloping with an art tutor.”
“I should think holding a masked ball would rather give the impression that you do have something to hide. It seems a bit of an excessive reaction.”
Mama lifted her chin and stared down her nose. “I’m glad you feel able to speak your mind at last, Lissy. I’d always thought you a bit of a mouse.”
Lissy was still gaping in outrage when her mama said in a kinder tone, “But people can change. I see changes in you, and you may very well see changes in me.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Did that mean Mama had found a paramour? Great heavens—that would mean changes indeed! Unless the fellow was an absolute martinet, she might enjoy a much more relaxed existence within the castle walls.
“It would be ungenerous of me not to give you the benefit of the doubt, Mama. But all the same—a costume ball?”