Chapter 22 #2
“Oh…” Lucy squirmed. “I suppose you might see it that way. But I am certain that having a child of your own will be just as rewarding. And surely, not too far away.”
“Maybe…” Amelia pouted.
“Do not pout, dear,” Lucy’s stepmother corrected her daughter. “And do not look so glum. Yes, Lucy has a child now, but it is not her own.”
Lucy gritted her teeth when she heard that, but she chose to say nothing.
“When you have a child, it will be a part of you,” her stepmother continued to Amelia. “Which will be far more rewarding…” She looked pointedly at Lucy. “And I should know.”
“One day in the near future, I am sure,” Lucy said, forcing down her anger, just as she forced her smile.
“Sooner than you think,” her stepmother said as she shared a knowing look with her daughter.
“What does that mean?” Lucy asked.
“Oh, did we not say…” Her stepmother’s smile grew such that one would think she had won some sort of great victory. “Amelia is engaged.”
“What?” Lucy cried. “Truly!” She beamed, and it was real, because she was truly happy for her stepsister. “Amelia, why did you not tell me?”
“You did not ask,” Amelia said simply.
Lucy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She saw now why her stepmother and stepsister had asked to visit her. Not because they wished to reconnect. Not because they wished to develop a relationship finally. But so that they could brag about Amelia’s engagement.
Do they really think that I will be upset? As if this is somehow a threat to me?
Lucy shook her head to herself, just as a slight smile touched her lips. Despite all that had happened to her of late, she understood now just how much she had changed since her marriage. Her stepmother was so desperate to get the best of her, while Lucy simply did not care.
“I am so happy for you, Amelia.” She reached out and took Amelia’s hands. “Truly, I just know you will make a wonderful wife.”
“I will,” she beamed proudly.
“So, tell me, who is the lucky man who has stolen your heart?”
Her stepmother smirked as she sat herself up. “Lord Jonathan Barrington, the Viscount of Wembley.”
It took Lucy a second to understand why that name sent a shiver through her spine. There was something familiar about it… a name she had heard before but could not remember where… just as she had no idea why it brought such feelings of dread.
She bit into her lip, she cast her mind back, she thought hard, and that was when it hit her.
Her eyes widened and she gasped. “No!”
“We met just two weeks ago,” Amelia explained with a sense of clear pride. “At a garden party. As he tells it, he saw me across the garden, time slowed when he met my eyes, and he knew in that instant that he would make me his wife. Is that not romantic?”
Lucy had met Lord Wembley only the one time, but it was enough for her to know that there was nothing romantic about the man who now called Amelia his fiancé. Her blood turned cold, the sun outside dipped behind a cloud, and it was all she could do not to empty the contents of her stomach.
Romantic? Lord Wembley does not know the meaning of the word! He is repugnant. He is repulsive. He is also cruel and wicked. Why, he is the very reason I was forced to marry in the first place!
The urge to dismiss Lord Wembley outright grew inside Lucy like a fire. She wanted to warn her stepsister. She wanted to beg that she not go through with this union. Yes, her and Amelia might have never truly gotten along, but Lucy bore her no ill will. Just as she wanted what was best for her.
“Lord Wembley…” She spoke carefully, desperate to keep her emotions at bay. “Yes, I have met him once before.”
“You have?” her stepmother asked as if surprised, even if Lucy was certain she knew the details.
“Just the once,” Lucy said. “At the charity patronage where His Grace asked to marry me. We spoke for a few minutes.”
“Was he not wonderful?” Amelia cooed.
“Clearly a man of good taste,” her stepmother added. “Not one to rush at the first entrée on offer. If so, he might have asked for your hand.” She laughed as if it were the most absurd thing of all time.
“He has been so sweet to me,” Amelia continued. “And I just know how happy he will make me.”
Lucy was struck by an extreme crisis of conscience. One that she did not know how to placate.
On the one hand, she thought it best to say nothing. Her stepsister was clearly enamored, this marriage would go ahead regardless of what Lucy said, so why make things worse? Just be glad that she was not the one marrying her and be done with it.
On the other hand…
Amelia is like me in so many ways. A victim of our parents, never truly having a say in anything, and always used like pawns on a chessboard. I wonder if Amelia feels anything for the man, or if she has just been told how to feel. Does she even know the difference?
With that in mind, Lucy came to a decision. A foolish one, she knew. But it was also right.
“There is something I need to say.” She spoke levelly and was sure that her expression was one of sympathy. “And please, do not think I say this out of malice or spite or envy. All I want for you, Amelia, is to be happy. Please, believe that.”
“What is it you wish to say?” Her stepmother almost looked pleased, as if she knew what Lucy was about to announce.
“I mentioned just now that I have met Lord Wembley, and while that single instance was brief, it was enough for me to…” She sighed. “It was enough that I know the type of man who he is, Amelia. Just as I know that he is not nearly good enough for you.”
Amelia leaned back. “What does that mean?”
“He is not honorable. He is not kind. When we spoke, he came across as a man who sees women as prizes to be won, tools to be used, and nothing about him suggested that he had so much as a romantic bone in his body.”
Amelia gasped. “How could you say that?”
“I am merely trying to help you, Amelia. That is all. I only want you to be happy and I know that such happiness will not be found with Lord Wembley. It cannot possibly be.”
“You do not know him at all!”
“I know him well enough. Please, Amelia.” She tried to take her stepsister’s hand, but it was refused. “You can do so much better, and you deserve so much better. Do not make this mistake because you will spend the rest of your life regretting it.”
Amelia’s upper lip curled into a snarl. “You were right, Mother. About everything.”
Lucy’s stepmother sighed. “I told you so, did I not? How jealous she would be.”
“You did.”
“What?” Lucy looked between them. “Jealous? I am not jealous.”
“You are,” Amelia sneered. “Just as Mother said you would be. Oh, we all know the type of man who you married, Lucy. Everyone does! And just because you are not happy does not mean you have to make everybody else miserable.”
“I am not doing that at all!” Lucy cried. “I am only trying to help!”
“Help yourself, you mean!” Amelia cried. “You think that you are so much better. A duchess. Ha! I would rather be unwed and live alone than married to His Grace.”
“Amelia, please!”
“You have always hated me,” she continued. “Just as Mother said.”
“I am disappointed in you, Lucy,” her stepmother sighed. “Here we are, trying to build bridges and make amends for past mistakes. I admit, I was not always easy on you as a child. And yet, the moment you see a chance to attack and drag down your sweet sister, you cannot help yourself.”
“That is not what I am doing!” Lucy looked pleadingly between them. “Lord Wembley is –”
“Twice the man your husband is,” Amelia sneered.
“No!”
“And after all I have done for you,” her stepmother continued, looking mighty pleased with herself. “You cannot even pretend to be happy. Shame on you, Lucy. Shame.”
Lucy looked from her stepmother to her stepsister. Amelia snarled, her stepmother smirked, and neither looked as if they had any intention of listening to her.
This is why they are here. To remind me of my place. To remind me that no matter what changes, how much I grow, I will always be seen as less.
Why did I think it would be any different?
To make matters worse, Lucy sensed that the day was far from over. If she knew her stepmother, the worst was yet to come.
* * *
“What do you mean, Lady Beatrice Whitcombe is here with her daughter?” Marcus asked the valet who had just entered his office.
“It is as I said, Your Grace, she arrived just ten minutes ago.”
Marcus stared with bewilderment at the valet as if the man was speaking another language. “Uninvited?”
“From what I understand, the visit was arranged yesterday.”
Marcus was in his office, and he had been hard at work when the valet came to see him. Finally, after a week of mental turmoil, he was starting to find himself again, able to push his wife to the back of his mind and pretend that she did not exist.
He wanted it to be that way. No, he needed it, for his own sanity.
However, upon hearing this most surprising bit of news, his work became suddenly forgotten, while his confusion was very quickly replaced with anger.
I understand that Lucy is upset with me. I understand too that she wants little to do with me. But she knows that where the ton is concerned, perception is everything! Just as she knows that this is still my home, and if we have guests, I am to be told.
“Thank you,” he said carefully. “That will be all.”
The valet was quick to hurry from the office then, likely because he sensed Marcus’ anger brewing.
For a few moments, Marcus stayed seated, running through his head what he meant to do.
Common sense and good decision making told him that he ought to ignore this visit.
He and Lucy had not been in the same room for a week, and he worried what might happen should they be forced to spend time together.
Worse, if Lady Beatrice noticed how awkward things were between them, what she might say, and what she might do, would be catastrophic.