Chapter 34 - Stephen
Stephen slouched on the leather sofa in the parlor. His elbow was cocked, his head resting on his hand. At his feet, Miss Beets chewed happily on a massive, smoked bone he’d procured from the local butcher.
One of the only good things about his mother’s penchant for collecting strange animals was that many rooms on the first floor lacked rugs. Even still, some poor servant was going to have to mop up the small puddle of drool collecting from Beets’s current delight. A tidy dog, she was not.
Funny—Canterbury hadn’t warned him about the great quantities of drool that mastiffs produced.
And the consistency of it. Someone really ought to perform a study of the stuff.
Surely there was some use for a viscous material that, when wet, could hardly be wiped away.
And it dried to the consistency of cement.
Don’t be daft, Vera had said.
She’d said it fondly, hadn’t she? At the outset, Stephen was sure of it. Her eyes had been warm and full of something that made him press on. Her expression had kindled hope within his chest. If only her brother hadn’t interrupted at that precise moment.
But as days of her absence passed, Stephen’s confidence wavered. His memory reformed, turning her fondness into contempt.
“Don’t be daft” was hardly a comforting response to that all-important question.
“Yes” was the gold standard, but Stephen would have gladly accepted a “certainly” or a “sure,” or even a “maybe” or an “I must consider it further.”
But she’d left him with “don’t be daft.”
Stephen sighed. His mother stiffened across the room where she was sorting books, but didn’t turn.
The tomes on animal husbandry and care were going with her.
He’d asked her to make a list—he didn’t like the idea of depleting Bertforth House’s library; he was going to send for replacements from London.
“Well, I asked her,” Stephen finally said.
His mother turned, several books in hand, her eyes bright. “Oh Stephen, how wonderful. Congratulations.”
“You may keep your congratulations on ice. She didn’t have time to answer before her brother whisked her back to London. The entire experience was ghastly—I bared my heart and received no response at all.”
Stephen wasn’t positive, but he could have sworn his mother’s lips trembled in something that looked suspiciously like laughter. He narrowed his eyes. She gave a noncommittal hum and turned back to the bookcase before he could confirm her expression.
Outside in the hallway, there was a sudden eruption of childish conversation and giggling.
Benjamin and Anne had entered through the front door, trailed closely by Hortense.
The maid was just beginning to show her condition, but Stephen had always thought it unnecessary that women were cloistered away when the effects of marriage began to show.
Ridiculous. Certainly they were to be treated with additional care, but women didn’t cease to function when with child. He could think of none better to watch the children than Hortense—she wielded her firm tone and that fearsome ironwood umbrella with equal amounts of precision.
“Well?” Stephen finally prompted once the happy gaggle had retreated up the stairs.
“It sounds like a trying experience, darling. Hopefully, the next time, it will go better.”
“The next time?” For a head-swimming moment, Stephen thought his mother meant the next woman. He sat straight, his heart suddenly playing the part of a bass drum in a discordant symphony. “There will be no next time, Mother. It’s her or nothing.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. You two are a perfect match.”
“You meant the next time I propose.”
“Indeed.” Jacqueline added several books to the pile and bent to make neat markings upon her parchment.
Stephen thought about her words. It had occurred to him that there would have to be another conversation, but if he were being honest, he’d thought that his initial question and declaration of love would stand until he received an answer. He’d asked; Vera was required to answer… Wasn’t she?
Except that things had changed. Her circumstances had been dramatically altered from one moment to the next.
He’d proposed to the woman he loved—a penniless lady without household or family.
Now, Vera had been restored—and rightly so.
But the way Stephen had handled the initial proposal was not at all the way he’d have handled things if he’d known Vera hadn’t been disowned by her family.
There was a proper procedure, and in the haze of his affection—and because he believed her cast off from her family—Stephen had disregarded all of it.
He jerked to his feet. Miss Beets gave him a curious side-eye but kept munching her bone. Her back turned, his mother gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a hastily covered laugh.
“Mother, will you please stay on at the house awhile longer and look after things? I must go.”
“Good heavens, finally.” Jacqueline shook her head. “I swear, if you weren’t such a fine doctor, I might suspect you were a bit of an idiot.”
Stephen ignored her and strode out the door.