Chapter Fifteen
“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.” – Measure for Measure, William Shakespeare
Ursula woke in a jolt. She’d overslept, but it didn’t matter.
Stretched out on her bed, she twisted, the sheets tangling around her legs, and stretched luxuriously. The events of last night would have seemed like a dream, if it weren’t for the tiny, barely-there bruise on her hip where Graham’s fingers had tightened just a little too much.
It’s not exactly a proper consummation, she thought, I’m not entirely sure that it would count. But it is something, surely?
Had he felt the same desire she had? She thought so, but besides her own feelings and the warmth of his touch, where was the evidence?
He had left hurriedly, and Ursula was not sure whether to be pleased or disappointed.
On the one hand, she was glad to have a few moments to collect herself and think through what had just happened.
On the other hand, it was difficult not to feel as though he had hurried away deliberately.
Sighing, Ursula rolled onto her back and stared up at the canopy above her head.
Perhaps last night was not about me at all. Men have needs, do they not? They have desires and outlets which are forbidden women. Perhaps that is all I was. An opportunity. An outlet.
This was not a pleasant thought. Ursula was still mulling it over when a knock came on the door.
“Only me, your ladyship!” came Ruthie’s muffled voice. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Ursula called back, pulling herself into a sitting position against the headboard and pulling the quilt up to her chin. Ruthie bustled in, bearing a breakfast-tray.
“The usual hour for breakfast is over, and Mr. Richards was going to keep it ready for you, but his lordship said that we should bring you breakfast in bed instead,” Ruthie explained, carefully setting down the tray-legs on either side of Ursula’s knees.
“He said that married women ought to be taking breakfast in bed.”
Ursula said nothing, staring unseeingly down at the spread waiting for her. Why had Graham said such a thing? Was it a form of congratulations? Did he mean to say that after last night, the matrimony had been effectively consummated and thus she was a wife?
Or perhaps he simply wanted to eat breakfast alone. Perhaps it was neither of these possibilities, and he only said the easiest thing.
“I added a cup of chocolate,” Ruthie pointed out, beaming hopefully. “I hope you like it. Cook doesn’t often make chocolate, on account of his lordship and the dowager not drinking it.”
Ursula flashed a smile up at her maid. “It all looks delicious, Ruthie. Mm, and this chocolate is divine! Do give my compliments to cook.”
Ruthie beamed wider. “I’m so very pleased, your ladyship!”
She busied herself with straightening the covers and bustling around the room while Ursula meditatively sipped her chocolate.
“So, you say that the dowager does not drink chocolate?” Ursula remarked slowly. “She must stay here a good deal for you to know her preferences.”
“Oh, she is always here, your ladyship. Mrs. Richards said once that it seemed that she was Lord Sinclair, not…” Ruthie trailed off, paling, and shot an apologetic glance at Ursula. “Forgive me, your ladyship, I shouldn’t have said that. I can never keep my mouth closed. Have I offended you?”
Ursula blinked, a little surprised. “Offended? No, Ruthie, I am not offended. Of course, it won’t do you or cook any good to repeat such a thing about Lord Sinclair and his mother, but I never want you to feel that you cannot be honest with me.
I value honesty a great deal, and I don’t believe that anybody should have to temper their opinions too strongly. ”
Ruthie looked a little relieved at that, nodding and bobbing a quick curtsey.
“It isn’t that Lord Sinclair is a weak man, or overly attached to his mother or in that sense,” she quavered, twisting the hem of her apron into a thin roll between her fingers.
“It’s just seems that he’s too tired to argue with her.
Everything with the Dowager is a battle, as you can well imagine. ”
“Yes, I can believe that,” Ursula murmured.
“I am pleased you told me, Ruthie, and I’d like to make something clear.
You can speak of it amongst the other servants, if you wish.
I am the mistress of this house, not the Dowager Lady Sinclair.
I have the greatest respect for my mother-in-law, but this is not her house.
If she gives you orders which contradict mine, hers are to be disregarded.
And if I discover that I have been disobeyed, then there shall be consequences.
I have to… I have to be a viscountess, Ruthie.
If not, I’ll be swallowed up alive, upon my word. ”
Ruthie nodded slowly. “I… I do believe I understand, your ladyship.”
“Thank you. That means a good deal to me.”
Ursula finished her chocolate and placed her delicate cup on the tray.
It was hardly a surprise to learn that her mother-in-law had previously ran the house as if she were its mistress.
With Graham needing to take the responsibility of viscount and running the estate, he would have had little time to care for his own house.
His mother’s help had probably been welcome.
But she won’t give up that power so easily, Ursula thought.
She would command a great deal more status as an acting Lady Sinclair, and considerably less as the Dowager.
If he’d wedded Lady Annabella, or a similarly pliable woman, then Margaret would have been able to control her quite nicely and therefore retain her status. She would remain head of the household.
But he took me as his wife instead.
Ursula clenched her jaw. She was determined to pry Margaret’s claws off the household and away from Graham. Her mother-in-law was welcome in their household, but only if she would stop trying to turn every interaction into a battle.
If I can keep Graham on my side about this, we can both face her, Ursula thought. That reminds me, I had better consult with him about last night, too. No more misunderstandings. No more awkwardness. We will discuss it frankly, like a pair of adults and a wedded couple.
With a newfound strong determination, she glanced over at Ruthie.
“Once I’ve breakfasted and gotten dressed, I wish to speak with Lord Sinclair. Tell me, where I can find him?”
Ruthie glanced up from folding a pile of linens.
“Oh, didn’t I inform you, your ladyship? Lord Sinclair went out directly after breakfast. He said he won’t be home until supper.”
***
“My mother is complaining of dampness in her cottage, or something or something to that effect.” Graham said heavily, swirling his brandy around in the glass.
It was entirely too early for brandy, but he had awoken with an aching head and a sensation that he had not slept enough.
In short, he felt rather ill. The brandy would not help, but for the moment it was giving him a much-needed rush of energy.
“Why do I sense disaster impending?” Jonathan responded, wincing.
Graham sighed. “She wishes to say with me. Only a few days, she assured me. Or a week. No more than a week, she insisted.”
“And you don’t believe her?”
Graham raked his hands through his hair. It was a hard thing to accuse one’s own mother of lying, but he couldn’t help but feel that she was, at the very least, stretching the truth.
“I believe she is trying to insert herself into my matrimony,” he said at last. “I wedded against her advice, and she can… she can hold a grudge. She blames Ursula entirely, which is of course ridiculous. I believe she wants to mould Ursula into a ‘proper’ daughter-in-law, and into her idea of a correct viscountess.”
Jonathan thoughtfully sipped his own drink. He was drinking tea, rather than brandy. In fact, Jonathan drank very little alcohol. Graham rather admired his restraint.
“I cannot help but feel that your Lady Sinclair would be quite resistant to moulding of any kind,” he remarked.
“Yes, but my mother is also stubborn. Very much so. I want a quiet life, Jonathan, and I don’t wish to constantly mediate disputes between my wife and mother, the two women who are the dearest to me in the whole world.”
Jonathan pursed his lips. “A pursuit of a quiet life, as you put it, generally strips away one’s peace and quiet in the long run.”
“I know, I know.”
“Besides, I had no idea that your wife had suddenly become so dear to you.”
Graham flinched at that, glancing up at his friend. Jonathan was staring into the depths of his tea, seemingly engrossed.
He had thought of little else but their encounter last night, of course. Ursula’s face appeared on his mind whenever he let his thoughts drift. Generally, being preoccupied with one’s wife was a good thing, but theirs was not a usual situation.
“I believe my motives are not altogether pure regarding her,” Graham said at last, a trifle hesitantly.
Jonathan glanced at him, lifting his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Considering the circumstances, I should not take liberties, wouldn’t you agree? It would be wrong of me. She did not want to wed me. I had the chance to choose, but she did not. I should leave her alone, shouldn’t I?”
Jonathan set aside his tea and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
They were drinking their respective beverages in Jonathan’s study, enjoying companionable silence.
At least, they had been enjoying companionable silence until Graham found himself talking.
He was talking, of course, about Ursula.
Little else seemed to fill his thoughts these days.
“When you say liberties, what exactly are you referring to?” Jonathan asked heavily.
Graham glanced away, biting his lower lip.
He had no intention of revealing the details.
He could still recall how warm Ursula’s skin had felt, how smooth the curve of her back beneath her thin chemise.
He remembered how she’d pressed her fingers into his shoulder, leaning back against him until he felt as though she might collapse entirely if he let her go.
Without a doubt she had gotten pleasure from the encounter, whereas Graham had ended it before any hint of his own desire could be noticed.
He’d lain awake for most of the night, tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep.
Even when he had finally fallen asleep, he had dreamt of Ursula.
She danced through his dreams, smiling at him over her shoulders, constantly just out of reach.
He said nothing, and at last Jonathan heaved a sigh and sat back in his seat.
“I see. You are not particularly hard to read, Graham.”
Graham bit his lip, finally glancing back at his friend. “You understand what I mean, however? She is in a situation not of her choosing. Why should I put in her in further discomfort?”
“Do you think she is uncomfortable?”
Graham blinked. “She does not love me.”
Jonathan shrugged, crossing one leg over the other. “Perhaps not. But might she, one day?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Let me be clear,” Jonathan leaned forward once more, lifting his eyebrows. “Impure motivations in the past count for less than one’s actions in the present. Do you understand?”
Graham thought for a moment. At last, he spoke.
“My parents’ matrimony was not one of convenience,” he said at last, his voice quiet.
“But after a while, the air between them was sour. I know the circumstances of their matrimony, and how the scandal dogged them for years. All that work, all that shame, and yet they hated each other after all. Even as a young boy, I knew how much they despised each other. My father never lifted a finger to help my mother in any way, or to make her life easier. In return, she humiliated him in public whenever she could. I recall long, tense dinners, while they threw insults at each other. I remember the way they looked at each other. Most of all, I remember friends and family members commenting, when they thought I could not hear, how fond they had seemed of each other directly after the matrimony.”
“And you believe that yours and Ursula’s matrimony is destined to follow the same course,” Jonathan continued flatly.
Graham bit his lip, glancing down into his brandy glass once more.
“Can you blame me for worrying?” he murmured. “I do not want my life to go the same way. I don’t deserve it, and nor does Ursula. I believe that to remain on cordial terms, the safest wager is to remain friends. Why clutter up a matrimony with… with…”
“With real emotion?” Jonathan finished, sounding amused. “Graham, why must you build up walls? What is wrong with falling in love?”
“Now, you are being quite hypocritical. You aren’t in love.”
Jonathan pursed his lips, draining his teacup. “Perhaps I have not found the right woman,” he countered. “Yet, at least. You are already wedded. If I were wedded, I should apply myself to falling in love with my wife. It seems wise. Did you leave her at home, by the way?”
Graham felt a twinge of guilt. He should at least have told Ursula that he was going out for the day, instead of letting her find out through the servants.
What is wrong with me? Why must I run away? Perhaps this is what my father did. Perhaps that is why Mother is so prickly about him. Perhaps they once had the opportunity for love, too.
I wonder what went wrong.
Instead, he drained his brandy glass and set it down with a click.
“I daresay you are correct, Jonathan. You generally are. For now, however, I should appreciate a day of conversation and relaxation, if you don’t object. Have you time to attend our club?”
Jonathan sighed, and Graham got the sense that he had somehow disappointed his friend.
“Yes, if you would like. But Graham, I wish you would think about what I have said. Do not occupy yourself too much with the past – it has been and gone and we cannot change it – but concentrate on the future. Your future.”
Graham smiled wanly. “I shall, do not worry. I shall.”