Chapter Fifteen #2
He felt suddenly light-headed. Dark spots played before his eyes. A dart of pain pinged the back of his head, as if someone had stabbed him with a sharp knife.
In the dark years after Eleanor’s death, he had believed it was his fault. That he should have done more. Perhaps it was so, but it did not change the facts. His mother had purposely tortured Eleanor until she felt she had no choice.
“No, Mother. You are lying. Perhaps to yourself. Perhaps not. Rebecca always claimed you knew exactly what you were doing at all times. I made excuses for you, but I know the truth now. Just as I know the truth about Eleanor. I loved her. I would have protected her if I’d known what you were doing.
The guilt is yours, Mother. Yours alone.
And I will not let you do the same thing to Sophia. ”
“Sophia.” Constance’s lip curled slightly.
“The governess. How very practical of you. Even as a boy, you always chose the most logical path. Did she seduce you? Or did you simply realize you needed a mother for Amelia and she was conveniently placed? If only you would have waited for the Season. I had several women picked out for you. Women of noble birth.”
“First of all, Sophia is the daughter of a duke.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” Constance said.
“Secondly, I love her.” The words came fierce and sure.
“She is a gentle, sweet soul who loves Amelia and for whatever reason, me. In fact, she was willing to give up a noblewoman’s life to stay with Amelia.
She would have stayed as her governess over having a husband and home of her own.
You will not say anything against her, or you will leave this house immediately and never be welcome back. ”
“She’s a duke’s daughter playing at being a mother. A girl from a disgraced family who saw an opportunity and took it.”
“She’s my wife. And this is her home. You are a guest here, Mother.
And not a particularly welcome one.” Henry moved to stand directly in front of her.
“Let me be absolutely clear. If you say one more cruel word to Sophia, if you try to undermine her in any way, if you so much as look at her wrong—you will leave this house and you will not be welcome back. Ever.”
“How dare you speak to your mother that way—” his father began, but Constance held up a hand.
“Let him finish, dearest. I’m curious to hear what other threats our son has for us.”
“You will not interfere with my marriage,” Henry said through gritted teeth. “You will not question Sophia’s fitness as a wife or mother. You will not make comments about her past or her family.” He cocked his head to the right, narrowing his eyes.
“I would never do any such thing,” his mother said piously. “I’m insulted you would think so.”
“What do you want, Mother? For once, just tell me the truth.”
His mother’s eyes flashed. “Amelia is my granddaughter. And she has been taken from me.”
“Amelia is my ward. And as of three days ago, Sophia is her legal mother. Rebecca’s will was very clear about who she did not want raising her daughter.
You must respect Rebecca’s wishes. And even if you refuse, you have no power to change what is done.
Amelia belongs to me and Sophia, just as Rebecca wanted. ”
“Rebecca was confused. Overwhelmed by new motherhood. She didn’t understand what a terrible choice you were. You were always a cold, calculating one. That is who you have always been.”
“Rebecca had never been confused about anything in her life. Of the three of us, she was the one who knew exactly what kind of woman you are.” Henry’s voice was cold. “That’s why she chose to exclude you. And I will honor that choice.”
Constance’s mask slipped for just a moment, and Henry saw raw fury beneath.
“You ungrateful, insolent, spoiled man. How dare you speak of Rebecca as if you knew her better than I. She was spiteful and vindictive. For no reason, mind you. She wanted to hurt me more than anything in the world. That was her purpose in life. And certainly in death. What kind of daughter keeps her child from her own mother and father?”
“Do not say anything about my sister, do you hear me? She was perfect. Despite having you for a mother. Her last and final act was to save Amelia the same fate she endured, which was to be raised by you. You made her miserable. You know it’s true.
I don’t claim to understand your motivations for anything, but I know what you did to us.
I know how you undermined our self-confidence, manipulated us into doing what you wished.
But here is what I now know, Mother. Loving us is not the same as controlling us.
And that’s all you’ve ever wanted.” He turned to his father.
“And you—you’ve stood by and let her destroy your own children. What kind of man does that?”
Arthur looked away, unable to meet his son’s eyes.
“You’ll stay for dinner tonight,” Henry said, his tone brooking no argument. “But tomorrow morning, you will return to London. And you will not come back unless you’re invited. Which you won’t be.”
“This is my house,” Constance hissed. “I grew up here. This is my home more than it’s yours.”
“It was your brother’s house. Now it’s mine. And you have no rights here. None.” Henry moved toward the door. “Dinner is at seven. I expect you to be civil to my wife. If you cannot manage that, you can eat in your rooms and leave at dawn.”
He opened the door and stood waiting.
His father rose reluctantly. His mother remained seated a moment longer, her dark eyes boring into Henry with such venom that a younger version of himself would have flinched.
But he wasn’t that boy anymore.
Finally, she stood. “This isn’t over, Henry.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “It is.”
They left, his father first, his mother pausing at the door to deliver one final barb: “Poor Sophia. She has no idea what she’s married into, does she? This broken family. This sad, haunted house. You.”
“She married me,” Henry said. “And she did it knowing everything. My past. My family. All of it. And she loves me anyway. That’s something you’ll never understand, Mother.
Being loved despite your flaws. Loving unconditionally, without expecting anything in return.
Because you’ve never loved anyone that way in your life. ”
Constance’s face hardened. Then she swept from the room without another word, with Arthur following behind like an injured dog relying on his master for crumbs.
Henry closed the door and leaned against it, his hands shaking with suppressed rage. He’d done it. He’d confronted her. Defended Sophia. Set boundaries he should have set years ago. But he knew his mother. She wouldn’t simply accept defeat.
And God help him, what would she do next?
*
Dinner felt like walking into a war already lost.
Henry escorted Sophia into the dining room after the proper procession from the drawing room—his father had escorted Sophia as the highest-ranking male guest, while Henry had offered his arm to his mother with all the warmth of escorting a viper.
They took their seats according to protocol: Henry at the head, Sophia at the foot in her rightful place as hostess, his parents on either side. The footmen began serving the first course—a clear soup with vegetables from the glasshouses.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of silver on china. Then his mother broke the silence.
“This is not nearly as flavorful as Cook used to make when I lived here.” She looked around the dining room with proprietary nostalgia.
“How many memories I have of dinners here. My mother was such a hostess. The finest families pined for invitations to her parties and dinners. George’s wife, however, was not known for her social skills.
Or managing a household. How is Charlotte managing as a duchess?
I can still see her wearing dungarees, chasing after you two boys.
” She shuddered. “Dreadful that George and Anna let her run around that way. Although, it did win her a duke in the end, now didn’t it? ”
“Charlotte’s home is well run,” Henry said. “And she and Thomas are very happy together.”
“But no children?” Constance clucked her tongue. “Makes one wonder, doesn’t it? If it’s such a love match after all.” She took a delicate sip of wine. “And Sophia, it must be strange for you—managing servants you once worked alongside. Have they been difficult during this transition?”
“Not at all,” Sophia said. “Everyone has been welcoming and trusting.”
“The staff adore her,” Henry said.
“I see,” Constance said. “Perhaps they think of her as one of their own. A rags to riches type of story.”
“They respect her because she is kind and fair,” Henry said. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”
“We are very fortunate to have such wonderful staff,” Sophia said. “Without Mrs. Bromley, I would be lost.”
“Oh dear me. That’s just what I was afraid of,” Constance said. “The housekeeper is now the mistress of this fine home.”
“Sophia is the lady of the house,” Henry said. “And the staff defer to her wishes.”
“Are you the type who believes servants can be your friend?” Constance asked Sophia, but didn’t wait for an answer.
“Some might say it blurs important boundaries. Servants need to know their place. And their mistress needs to maintain proper distance. But then, you’ve only been mistress for three days.
I’m sure you’re still learning.” She paused dramatically. “From Mrs. Bromley. The housekeeper.”
The soup plates were cleared and the fish course brought out—turbot in a delicate sauce.
“Tell me, Henry, why was the marriage done in such haste? Might I be expecting a new grandchild sooner than nine months from now?”
Henry’s mouth dropped open. “Mother, how dare you insult us that way. We married because we’re in love and we knew it was best for Amelia if we became a family sooner than later. It’s as simple as that.”