Chapter Twenty-one
Aubrey had taken a moment to smooth Maeve’s skirt and missed the vile look on his mother’s face, but Maeve would never forget it.
Eliza joined them as they went out to the carriage.
As the others had already departed, the three of them ended up alone in a carriage together, which only added to Maeve’s nervousness.
She had been trying to avoid being anywhere near Eliza and was now seated across from her for the thankfully short ride to the Russells’ home.
“Father seemed a little better today, don’t you think?” Aubrey said, breaking an awkward silence.
“No, I didn’t think so. I know you’re hoping for a miracle, Aubrey, but that’s not going to happen. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long. The doctors in New York told us he’d be lucky to see Independence Day, let alone the end of the month.”
Only because Aubrey was pressed against her from shoulder to knee did Maeve feel him sag from the way his mother’s callous words dashed his hopes.
Maeve reached for his hand and cradled it between both of hers while sending his mother a defiant look.
How dare she do that to him when he was looking for hope anywhere he could find it?
“We will need to discuss what happens after your father passes,” Eliza continued, with no sense whatsoever that she had wounded her son.
“We will discuss that only after he is gone,” Aubrey said.
“You’re soft like him,” Eliza said with obvious disdain.
“I’d rather be soft like him than hard like you.”
Oh God, Eliza had not appreciated that.
“You disappoint me, Aubrey.”
“So you’ve said, Mother. But I find that I no longer care whether you hold me in high regard.
I have been a good and dutiful son to you and to my father.
After what Maeve and I encountered when we arrived in Newport, I find that I’ve lost respect for you.
Grandfather used to say we are only as good as the way we treat others.
I believe he would be appalled by the way you treat others. ”
As Eliza fumed, the carriage came to a stop and the door opened to the Russells’ footmen, eager to help them out.
Eliza extended her hand to the first footman.
“I’m glad we had this conversation, Aubrey.
It clarifies things for me.” And with that, she was gone, swept up into the crowds entering Chateau de la Mer, or House of the Sea.
It was grander by far than the Nelsons’ home, with a ballroom big enough for the five hundred invited guests who filled the massive room.
Scoring an invite to the Russells’ ball was the goal of every Newport socialite, or so Maeve had been told.
She held on tighter to Aubrey’s arm, fearful of being separated from him in the crush. Derek and Catherine were in front of them, Simon and Madeleine behind them. To her left, Maeve saw Aubrey’s sister Adele and her husband, Edward, who had come up from the city for the weekend.
The massive crowd only added to Maeve’s anxiety, which had spiked during the tense conversation with Eliza in the carriage.
If she’d maintained a small hope that her mother-in-law was going to accept her son’s choice of a wife, those illusions had been shattered in the last few minutes.
The woman was up to something, and whatever it was would be ugly for Maeve.
Did Aubrey feel the same way? She wished she could ask him but had tried not to say too much to him about his mother, out of fear of offending him.
As bad as she could be, Eliza was still his mother, and even though Maeve was now his wife, she had known him for such a short time.
How could she possibly compete with the mother he’d known for thirty-two years?
Her stomach turned, and she felt overly warm. Waves of queasiness added to her discomfort, making her fearful that she would toss up her accounts right there in the foyer of the Russells’ palatial home.
She faltered, and Aubrey turned his attention toward her.
“Sweetheart, you’re so pale. Are you all right?”
Maeve shook her head because she was afraid to open her mouth to speak.
He moved quickly, dodging people and skirts and footmen to get her to the ladies’ retiring room with all due haste.
It had a sign on the door designating it for ladies.
She went inside, hoping he hadn’t followed her into a space reserved for women.
Several ladies were gathered around mirrors at a long vanity table.
Maeve zipped past them and into one of two stalls that was thankfully open. She leaned over the stool and heaved up the light snack she had eaten that afternoon. Her entire body hurt from the effort to be quiet as she was sick.
“. . . the Irish housekeeper.”
“. . . would’ve been a terrible scandal were it not for the duke and duchess.”
“. . . never leaves her side.”
The scandalized whispers of the other women had Maeve’s face burning with embarrassment.
Of course they were talking about her every chance they got.
She hadn’t given them sufficient opportunity with Catherine or Madeleine always by her side, but she’d deluded herself into thinking she’d somehow managed to evade the gossip.
It had probably been happening all along, just not where she could hear it.
“. . . if she’s pregnant, Eliza will die.”
Maeve used the tissue to wipe her mouth and hoped she hadn’t ruined her appearance by being sick.
“Ladies, if you’ll excuse us for just a moment. I’d like to check on my wife.”
Aubrey. Dear God, he couldn’t be in here.
“Of course, Mr. Nelson,” one of the whisperers said. “We hope she isn’t ill.”
“As do I.” He came up behind her in the stall and wrapped an arm around her. “Are you all right, love?”
“I will be.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I need to clean up and a drink of water would help.”
“I’ll go get it for you. Will you be all right for a few minutes?”
Maeve nodded. She needed time to herself to collect her thoughts and find her composure.
Aubrey kissed her forehead. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
After he left the room, Maeve sat at the vanity, easing into the chair carefully in deference to the stomach pains that were continuing to make her sweaty and uncomfortable.
She had no idea how long she sat there, breathing through the pain, when the door opened and closed, the snick of the lock sliding into place jolting her.
She spun around to find her mother-in-law glaring at her. “We need to talk.”
Eliza Nelson was the last person on earth Maeve wished to speak to, but Eliza had bided her time, and now she had Maeve right where she wanted her—locked in a room with no way for Aubrey or his illustrious friends to help her.
“You may not be aware of this, but the man you married is brilliant,” Eliza said.
“I know that.”
“Shut up and listen.”
Maeve was horrified by the crimson creep that came from her chest to her face, hating that it gave away feelings she’d much prefer to keep hidden from the other woman.
“He’s brilliant. He’s been on the front lines of using refrigeration in rail cars and has helped to revolutionize the way food is transported in this country, putting the Nelson name on par with the Vanderbilts, Astors and Russells.
Anderson and Alfie are competent businessmen.
Aubrey is the genius. He doesn’t know it yet, but when his father passes away, he will be named the new chairman of Nelson Industrial. ”
Maeve listened to what Eliza said with a growing sense of dread. Why was Eliza telling her these things?
“Under no circumstances can he have an Irish wife who was once in service to the family. He needs a wife who will understand the demands of his new role and who can adequately support him as he takes the company to even greater heights. That wife will not be you.”
Maeve had known it was coming, but the words sliced through her like a knife to the chest nonetheless.
“What’s it going to take to get rid of you?”
“P-pardon?”
“You heard me. How much do you want?”
Maeve stared at her in disbelief. What was she saying?
“Have you gone deaf and dumb now? Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m asking you or that it’s not exactly what you hoped to gain by marrying my son.”
“I . . . I don’t want your money.”
“Please,” Eliza said, scoffing. “Don’t insult my intelligence. Name your price and hurry up about it. I don’t have all night. I have far better things to do with my time than deal with the likes of you.”
“I have no price.”
“Everyone has a price.”
“I don’t.” She forced herself to look the other woman dead in the eye. “I love Aubrey. He loves me. That’s all I want.”
Eliza laughed. “That’s rich. He doesn’t love you. He loves fucking you. Are you too stupid to know the difference between love and lust?”
Shocked to her core and horrified by the vulgar term, Maeve could only stare at Eliza and wonder how a mother could be so callous toward her own son.
“What will people say when they find out you murdered your former husband?”
How did she know that? Maeve’s mind raced with horror at the implications of Eliza knowing about her past. “I didn’t murder him. I defended myself—”
“Save the theatrics. If word gets out that you killed a man, you’ll be shunned by everyone who matters—and so will Aubrey. Is that what you want for him?”
“How would the word get out?”
Eliza waved away the question with a sweep of her hand.
“Let me put it to you this way—if you don’t leave him, immediately, he’ll be passed over for the opportunity of a lifetime.
Serving as chairman of Nelson Industrial will cement his rightful place as a titan of business and society.
He’ll make history. You say you love him.
Would you deny him such an opportunity?”
Maeve’s heart broke in two, the searing pain leaving her breathless.
“Well? Would you deny him that?”
“No,” Maeve said softly. She would deny him nothing.
“Then you’ll leave immediately. Tonight.”