Chapter Nineteen
“Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.” – Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare.
Graham woke slowly, blinking in the sunlight. It took him a moment to recollect that he was not in his own bed, in his own room. The curtains were slightly ajar, letting light stream into the room.
His arm had gone to sleep. Twisting, he saw that Ursula was still sleeping, turned away from him, her head resting on his arm.
A perfect night.
He lay there for a moment, watching her. She was so peaceful, her lashes fluttering on her cheeks, her hair lying silkily on her neck.
Beautiful, he thought, fighting the urge to lean forward and kiss her.
Graham did not intend to wake Ursula. He tended to rise earlier than she did, and a quick glance at the clock told him that it was past his usual hour.
Gingerly, he slid his arm out from underneath Ursula’s still form, and sat up slowly, stretching.
He was still naked from the night before, the sheets sliding against his skin and pooling luxuriously in his lap.
Ursula was naked too, her bare shoulders rising out of the nest of blankets.
Graham gently lifted the blanket to cover her shoulders carefully so as not to wake her.
It was cold in the mornings, after all. He clambered out of bed, picking up his discarded clothes, and slipped noiselessly out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
Dressed, washed, shaved, and ready for the day, Graham descended the stairs, humming to himself. He had work to do around his estate and Morrison would come with him which would keep him away from Ursula until that evening.
No matter, he thought, we’ll eat breakfast together. I will assure her of my regard, and when I return tonight, we will have a proper conversation about our future together.
Why should we not find as much happiness as any other wedded couple?
With this happy, optimistic thought in mind, Graham burst into the breakfast-room.
At once, he locked eyes with his mother, and his spirits dropped.
Margaret sat at the head of the table, sipping tea. The table was set for breakfast, but she had touched none of the food.
“You have risen later than usual this morning, Graham,” she remarked coolly. “It is not like you.”
Graham flashed a smile. There was an iciness about his mother’s demeanour that put him on edge. He did not like it.
“I was awake until late last night,” he responded, taking a seat beside Margaret. “Where is the post?”
She flashed a brief smile. “Richards brought in the post just now. There it is.”
Graham flicked briefly through the envelopes. Many were addressed to him, but a good number of them were addressed to Ursula, or to them both. Invitations, no doubt.
Feeling his mother’s eyes on him, Graham glanced up. She was watching him closely, a tightness in her face. When their eyes met, she flashed a brief smile.
“Are you expecting anything in particular?” she asked coolly.
Graham blinked. “I… No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason.”
“Have you received correspondence this morning?”
“No,” Margaret answered, a trifle more quickly than was usual. She set her teacup down with a decided clack. “I have something to speak to you about, Graham. It’s rather serious.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, oh. It’s not proper for a viscount to carry his wife in his arms across the courtyard and through the house, in front of the eyes of all the servants. I hope not to see such a display again.”
At once, the last of Graham’s good humour evaporated. Tossing aside the letters there was nothing there that needed his immediate attention so he turned to his mother.
“Is that so? Mother, I believe I have said this before but let me say it again. My marriage is not your concern. I will behave as I wish in my own house, and nobody will stop me.”
Margaret’s eyes blazed. “Your mother said that too and look at what her fate proved to be.”
Graham jerked backwards as if he had been struck. He stared at his mother, no his stepmother, it was harder than ever to remember that she was the woman who had raised him with an appalled stare.
Margaret turned crimson, glancing away. Perhaps she regretted her words, but at any rate, it was too late.
“Forgive me,” she said crisply. “I slept badly. I am in an ill-humour. I should not have mentioned… that woman.”
Graham swallowed thickly. He felt ill, and any appetite for breakfast had vanished entirely.
“You are forgiven, Mother, but this leads us nicely onto another subject,” he managed, his voice shaking. “I have been thinking of how to broach this subject with you.”
Margaret took a long sip of her tea. “Oh?”
“The plain fact is, you cannot stay here.”
Now it was Margaret’s turn to flinch. She replaced her teacup, her hands shaking so intensely that tea slopped into the saucer.
“What do you mean, Graham?” she managed at last.
Graham breathed out slowly, careful to look his mother in the eyes.
“I believe that it is a bad idea for you to remain here,” he said slowly. “I know that you have many friends who would love to have you stay for a few weeks, if the repairs on your home do not yet allow you to return.”
There was a taut silence between them. Margaret’s hands were shaking, and Graham noticed that she tucked them under the table as if to hide them.
“So, I see,” she managed. “I am being turned out of my own house all for the sake of that walking scandal of a girl.”
Graham rose to his feet at once.
“Mother, you are speaking of the Viscountess Sinclair. My wife. I cannot allow you to speak of her that way. Can’t you see? This insistence on disrespect is what has driven us apart. Why can you not be happy for me?”
“Happy?” Margaret echoed, standing up with a rush that rattled the crockery on the table.
“How can I be happy when you have wedded soiled goods? You do not love the girl! You entered into matrimony with her out of obligation and some sense of misplaced honour. There is nothing to be happy about here.”
“I am falling in love with her,” Graham barked back, his voice raising and echoing around the silent room. “I do love her, Mother. Can you not be happy about that?”
Margaret blinked at him, almost amazed. For an instant, he thought he saw regret in her eyes.
The expression was fleeting. She tilted up her chin and scowled.
“I will not be dismissed like an unwanted servant simply because you have allowed your judgement to be clouded. May I remind you that this matrimony has sunk us greatly in the eyes of our neighbours. We have lost status and respect, which has lowered our standing considerably. That respect must be clawed back, bit and bit. And who do you think will do the clawing? Not you, that is for sure.”
Graham was forced to turn away, striding over to the window to calm himself. He breathed in deeply, composing himself, before turning back to his mother.
Margaret still had a mulish expression on her face, but there was an element of nervousness in her eyes now, too.
“I want you to move out of this house, Mother,” Graham said quietly. “There is not enough room for the three of us, it seems. You may take supper with us if you wish, but after that, you must go. I hope I am properly understood.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. He would miss breakfast and begin his work right away. It might calm him down.
And I hope that my mother is gone by the time I return.
***
Ursula woke to the sun on her skin. She turned onto her back, stretching luxuriously, and yawned.
The first thing she noticed was that Graham had gone. That gave her a pang of disappointment. Sliding her hand over the empty mattress beside her, she found that it was cold, indicating that he had been gone for more than few minutes.
What does it matter, though? She thought lazily. After last night, I am sure of his affections. I imagine he’s waiting for me in the breakfast-room downstairs.
Ursula dressed quickly and hastily, throwing on a loose day-gown and thrusting her feet into slippers. She didn’t even bother to put up her hair properly. Ruthie could attend to that later.
Humming under her breath, she skipped down the stairs, moving straight to the breakfast-room.
Graham was not there. Margaret, however, was.
Ursula skidded to a halt, suddenly regretting her light, informal clothing. Margaret stood by the window, staring at nothing in particular, and glanced over her shoulder when Ursula’s entered. Her expression gave nothing away.
"Good gracious, Ursula, how dishevelled you look! I suggest you dismiss that girl Ruthie, if she does that to your hair.”
Ursula swallowed. “I didn’t ask Ruthie to do my hair at all. I thought I would eat breakfast before I got properly dressed.”
Margaret gave a tight laugh. ““Upon my word, my dear, that isn’t proper at all. You ought not to have dismissed Lady Annabella’s offer of decorum lessons, I believe.”
That stung, and Ursula bit her lower lip, hard.
“Please do not speak to me in that manner, Margaret. I don’t appreciate it. Where is Graham?”
“He went out,” Margaret responded airily, waving her hand.
This gave Ursula something of a start. So, Graham had not waited for them to take breakfast together. And judging by the comfortable way Margaret was sipping tea at the window, he had not discussed the idea of his mother moving out.
Feeling somewhat betrayed, Ursula helped herself to some tea.
“Did Graham speak of anything important to you?” she asked, as carelessly as she could.
“No, only pleasantries,” Margaret responded, not turning around. “Why, should he have mentioned something important to me?”
Ursula bit her lip. “No.”
Margaret turned around properly, fixing Ursula with a cold and intent gaze.
“You seem rather pleased with yourself with morning, my dear,” she said abruptly. “I cannot help but wonder, however, if such contentment might be premature.”
Ursula glanced up, faltering. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing.”