Chapter 7
“I have invited them all to dinner.”
“What, Mama?” she asked, barely cable to comprehend it. “The entire family?”
“Exactly, my dear,” her mother enthused before her brow furrowed a little. “Although I must confess, I did not realize quite how many of them there were.”
Nimue could hardly put her thoughts together as her mama took her through the hallways and upstairs to her bedchamber.
“You look horrendous, my dear. Whatever happened to you out there? I do trust that the comte took good care of you and that nothing untoward happened.”
There was a strange, hopeful note to her mother’s voice that Nimue tried to ignore. She had to ignore it. She hoped her mother wasn’t secretly hoping she’d fall in love and marry Jean-Luc, and that she was only allowing Nimue to be with him so that such a thing might happen.
Suddenly, she wondered just how sick her brother actually was, for she could hear him racing around downstairs.
No, not even her mother would do such a thing.
Her mother knew how desperately she wished to remain unmarried and be the prop of her parents’ old age. It was something she was looking forward to immensely because she had every intention of saying exactly what she thought once she reached forty.
It was something that truly appealed to her.
As an unmarried young lady, she couldn’t say whatever went through her head, but if she held firm and didn’t marry, she would be able to, and it would be positively delectable. It was simply one of the many things she loved about the idea of being a single woman of significant means.
“No, Mama,” she said firmly, though she hated to lie. “Nothing happened.”
Her mama let out a disappointed sigh, but then she gave a cheerful nod to bolster them both.
“Come along, my dear. We must set you to rights.” And with that, she thrust her daughter into her bedroom, shut the door behind them, and headed to the wardrobe.
“The party should be a wonderful affair,” her mother said as she pulled out a dressing gown. “It seems as if there are several siblings, all with their wives and husbands. The dowager duchess shall come, and you’ll never guess what!”
“What?” Nimue managed as she wiggled out of her still-wet things and took the dressing gown from her mother.
Her mother clapped her hands together, as excited as a child on Christmas morning. “We shall have an actress here!”
Nimue gaped. “Mama, you wish to invite an actress into your house?”
Most people of the gentle class did not associate with theater people publicly. Perhaps the grandest of the ton did. But they were a different sort altogether.
“How could I not wish to invite an actress into my house, darling? She is the dowager duchess’s sister. One of the most famous actresses to ever live! And we shall have to invite all our closest friends.”
“Mama,” Nimue began, feeling her head begin to spin with her mother’s excitement, “I do not know if our house shall bear it.”
Her mother batted her arm playfully. “Of course it shall. Of course it shall. Our house is just the perfect size for a party of about forty. I do not think that we could do forty-four, but forty we can manage.”
She let out a perplexed note. “Mama, whatever are you thinking of?”
For her mother was clearly up to something.
Her mother sat Nimue down before her dressing table and mirror and began to undo her daughter’s hair.
Given the state of it with the rain, it was no simple task.
Her mother hunted for pins and untwisted bits and pieces as she explained, “All of this because of your new friend.”
“Mama, you must not take advantage.”
Her mama stilled and her face became quite serious. “I am not. They are our neighbors. I invited them and had the boldness to do so because of your new acquaintance. But I should have already done it. Are they better than us, my dear? Are they so very grand? No. Nor should we act thus. Besides, they have accepted. It is wonderful, my dear.”
She took her mother’s hand, rather ashamed of herself for making her mother feel badly. The truth was they were as good as anyone and should never shirk from that. Her parents had always been insistent on their worth as people. It was why none of them bowed and scraped to Jean-Luc. He seemed to enjoy that very much.
So, she squeezed her mother’s hand. “You are right. The party will be marvelous.”
Why couldn’t her mother be friends with the Duke of Westleigh and all of the Briarwoods? Why couldn’t they invite the entire family to their house? She’d never been particularly worried about the difference in class before. And it didn’t seem as if the Briarwoods were that concerned about it either.
From what she could tell from Jean-Luc, his family was a wonderful one. And if he was a book that she could take out from a library, all of the Briarwoods were volumes that she could learn from too.
It would be most horrible of her not to wish to invite them to their house and learn as many things as possible.
“Mama,” she said softly, “did you always know that you wanted to marry Papa?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I did not. Your father and I disliked each other the moment we met.”
“What?” she gasped.
Her mother smiled gently. “I truly never told you this?”
“No, you have not.” Nimue turned in the chair and stared up at her mother, wondering what else her mother might have kept secret from her all these years. “We have all thought that you two were a love match from the beginning.”
“Not at all,” her mother scoffed. “Your father hated cards. I loved cards. I loathed dancing. He adores it. Both of us enjoy books, and we loathe Descartes and several of the more recent philosophers. We hated discussing politics. For he was quite stuffy, and I favored the Whig party.”
She frowned. “You both discuss the state of the world all the time now.”
“It is because your father and I taught each other many things. I taught him how to be kinder. And he taught me how to love myself for me, not for my looks or dowry. But it took time, for I was always so polite, and your father, as you can tell, likes to be blunt. I found him to be terribly, terribly rude.”
She laughed. “Well, he can be terribly rude, Mama.”
A tender look softened her mother’s face. “Yes, my darling. He is, but he’s your father, and I love him dearly. He has such a good, kind heart. And if we’re honest here, you’re more like your father than you are like me.”
“That’s not true, Mama,” she protested.
“You say so many things that come into your head.”
“I do not,” she defended. She thought she’d done such a good job of keeping them in her head. “I have to wait almost two decades to let them all out.”
“That’s what you think, my dear,” her mother said gently, “but I do think you’ve let more than half of them out already.”
She sucked in a dismayed breath. “Would you have me act differently?”
“Never.” Her mother bent down and took Nimue in her always wonderful embrace. “You wouldn’t be my darling then, and I adore every bit of you. But I do think that if you were to pick a certain someone, a French comte would be able to handle you better than anyone else.”
“Handle me, Mama?”
“Well, someone must be as spirited as you are, my dear. You would need someone like him.”
She pulled back and took her mother’s hands firmly. “I am not going to marry him.”
Her mother nodded then, a resigned look crossing her face. “Of course not. Apologies. I never should have intimated it. But I just thought perhaps because you were asking about me and your father that you were suddenly considering the possibility of matrimony.”
“No,” she rushed, for she did not wish to give her mother hope. “I was simply curious.”
“Did you kiss him?” her mother asked abruptly.
“Mama! How can you ask me such a thing?”
Her mother gave a delicate shrug of her lace-covered shoulders. “Very easily. I say a few words: Did you kiss him? And then you reply.”
She let out a note. “Mama!”
Her mother’s eyes flared with mischief. “You did. You definitely did.”
She groaned. How had she ever thought she could keep this to herself? She stood swiftly and headed to her bed, wrapping her hands around the carved wooden post, trying to decide what to say.
At last, there was only one thing she could say. “I did, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry him.”
Her mother nodded, brushed her hands together, and in the dimming light, she crossed to the crackling fire and lit a taper. Then she took the taper and lit several candles on the dressing table. She took her time until the room glowed with dancing lights.
It was clear she was gathering her thoughts. When she put the taper down, she faced Nimue. “Of course it doesn’t have to mean that you’re going to marry him. My dear, many a young girl has had a roll in the haystack with a handsome fellow. Now the trick is not getting caught and, of course, not getting hurt. It’s very difficult.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“My dear, how unbecoming.”
She snapped her mouth shut and said, “But Mama, did you and Papa…?”
Her mother suddenly looked very pleased with herself. “Now, I will confess that I never had an affair with anyone but your father, even before we were married. But I’ll tell you that my dear friend Violet did. She had a lovely little tryst with a young man, and she was very happy for it. I think it made her marriage.”
Her mother’s words stunned her. All her life, her mother had never hidden anything about marriage or the physical love that happened between a man and a woman. She’d encouraged Nimue to read all sorts of books, both romantic and scientific, so that it wasn’t a mystery.
Still, her mother had never encouraged her like this before. “Why are you saying this?”
Her mother pursed her lips, then began, “If I must confess, it is because you do not plan to marry. And I think you plan on settling down to a quiet but good life. That is wonderful, but you deserve to at least know what it can be like between a man and a woman. Before you resign yourself to an existence without men, you should see if you truly wish to live without one. And how could I deny you the pleasure of that scrumptious Frenchman?”
She could not believe what her mother was saying. “Mama, you think I should have an affair with Jean-Luc?”
“Jean-Luc, is it?” her mother asked gently.
She blushed. “We are friends.”
“Good. That is even better. For a friend will be kind.” Her mother was silent for a long moment. “Affair is such a strong word, my dear. So many people think they have to be prim and proper when the truth is that my parents and the generations before were all wild. There is a sort of veneer to society that hides what is truly transpiring. People appear proper but are actually doing all sorts of things. But I think if you would like to enjoy yourself with that erudite man, who clearly admires you, then you should. And then you will genuinely know if you wish for a cold bed for the rest of your life. For you will not be able to have affairs on this island. It is too hard to keep many secrets. One? Yes. Over and over? No.”
“I see.” And she did. Her mother was warning her that she wouldn’t be able to indulge herself with men if she hoped to live her good, quiet life. Perhaps it would be all right if it could be hidden, but the more one did something, the harder it was to hide.
Her mother suddenly grew serious and crossed to her as the evening’s shadows danced over her careworn but still beautiful face. “I must add this cautionary note. If a child ever is in question, my dear, you must marry him. You understand?”
She swallowed. “Yes, Mama. But I want to make sure I truly understand. You are giving me license to…”
Her mother lifted her hand and cupped Nimue’s cheek. “I’m giving you license to be free. Something rare that few can ever truly have or handle. We have wealth, and we have importance. And I don’t care what anyone thinks about us. I am a landowner and my family are landowners, as are your father’s, for hundreds of years. There’s a little bit of privilege to that. Use it.”
She could hardly believe what her mother was saying to her, and yet her heart soared. For she had hated the idea of keeping something from the mother she loved so much. “I had no idea you would say such a thing.”
Her mother let out a trill of a laugh. “My love, it’s only the people with new money that need to be concerned about what the world thinks.”
Her mother let her hand drop, then took a step back. “Good, then.”
“Have you always been like this?” Nimue blurted.
“Yes, my dear, I always have.”
“But you seem so—”
“What?” her mother broke in kindly.
“Well, you’ve never left the island, and you’ve always been married to Papa. Happily. You don’t seem to be someone to take risks.”
“You should have seen me before I met your father,” she mused. “I was half wild. Road horses bareback. I kissed the blacksmith’s son. Nothing else happened, mind you. Your father is the only man I’ve known. But no one could tame me until him. I loved to be daring. To take risks.”
“I think I am more like you, Mama, than you care to admit.”
Her mother’s eyes shone with emotion. “Perhaps you are right, my dear. But I will tell you this: I would never make this suggestion to either of your sisters.”
She cocked her head to the side, intrigued. “Why not?”
“Because neither of them are like you, Nimue. They wish to follow the fairly common path. But you? Not you, my love. And I know that, in your head, you are certain that you are not going to marry. But I’m not so sure about your heart. As I said, I want you to be absolutely certain that you are choosing the future you actually want. Once you’ve been in his arms, you might never wish to leave.”
Oh, but she would because he had no wish to marry either. And the Briarwoods and the comte? They weren’t natives to the island. No, they were like birds. They came for a time and left. And he too would fly away and out of her life.
He was the perfect choice for this, even if her darling mama didn’t truly see why.
“You are very sweet to think of my future, Mama.” Then she swallowed. “You’re certain there’s no danger of you—”
Her mother shook her head, causing her curls to dance. “Life is full of exciting possibilities, my dear. Some people call that danger. I refuse to.”
And with that, her mother leaned forward, pulled her into her warm embrace, and kissed her forehead. Then she turned without a word and left Nimue to think of their conversation.
Nimue plopped herself down on the bed, feeling discombobulated.
Had that truly just happened with her mother? Had her mother spoken like a grand dame of the ton, or an eccentric figure from the novels they loved so well? No.
Her mother had spoken like a woman who believed that no young lady should throw her life away on etiquette and rules and live with regret, ruing past choices and opportunities lost.
Nimue found herself smiling, loving her mother more than she ever had before.
For her mother understood her need for one affair of the heart, one great lesson in amour, and no one would be better at that than Jean-Luc.