Chapter 16 #3
“Step-mama reminded Wealtha repeatedly that I’d had a London Season, though Wealtha pointed out that my Season was entirely unsuccessful.
Orla implied that I’d tried to make Wealtha look shabby before Magnus Johnson.
Step-mama also painted me as a miser on the shopping expedition to York.
She more or less added that I’m lazy and headstrong and the most burdensome relation poor Wealtha could have been saddled with. ”
Swidhelm reached for Miss Fielding’s hand, caught himself, and patted her wrist. “I’ll send them to the dower house, the pair of them.”
“I would have to go with them, but thank you for the sentiment. There’s more.”
St. Didier wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more.
Swidhelm sat back. “Say on, and don’t be diplomatic.”
“Orla has done the same thing with me. Implied that Wealtha is a burden, stupid, vain, and immature, and I have been happy to nod along. Wealtha can be all those things, but she is also young, motherless—not even a step-mama—and coping with the loss of an inheritance that any young woman would be hard put not to miss.”
“Orla is keeping you and Wealtha apart,” Swidhelm said. “You and Wealtha have much in common. Loss of your mothers, local connections, financial challenges, family history… And yet, Orla has sown resentment between you.”
“That,” St. Didier said, “is the work of a nasty soul. You three women have had to muddle on as best you can for years, yoked together by circumstances and necessity. You should be allies.”
Miss Fielding stood, collected St. Didier’s empty glass, and took it and her half-consumed portion to the sideboard.
“Step-mama has never been my ally, and now I’m wondering if she’s Wealtha’s ally.
I’ve always thought she doted on Wealtha, but Wealtha probably thinks that Orla defers to me.
Wealtha did not want you, Mr. St. Didier, searching for his lordship, and my will prevailed. Orla capitulated to my arguments.
“I set the menus,” Miss Fielding went on, remaining by the sideboard, arms crossed.
“I decide when the underfootman can take a holiday to see his family. I see the wages paid and handle what passes for the household accounts. That is all so much duty to me, but to Wealtha, Orla likely paints each responsibility as unearned authority and evidence of my grasping nature.”
Swidhelm stood as well and dealt the fire a rather savage poking up. “Why? You are all that stood between Wealtha, Orla, and the poorhouse. I can understand that Orla wanted Blackstock for herself, but that is no reason to drive a wedge between you and Blackstock’s daughter.”
St. Didier got to his feet and had to steady himself momentarily with a hand on the back of his chair. He’d drunk his nightcap too quickly and sampled the wines at supper too freely. Bad form, that.
“Orla Tuffington Fielding might simply be mean in her bones,” he said. “She was overshadowed by her lovely sister in girlhood. Her sister had the better settlements, and her sister married the better man. Blows like that can leave the heart scarred.”
“Don’t expect me to pity her,” Swidhelm retorted, putting the poker back on the hearth stand.
“If I learn that Orla had anything to do with my mother’s flight into scandal, Orla’s effects will be tossed onto the drive in the middle of a downpour, and she will be offered only the knacker’s cart to take her to the posting inn. ”
Make her walk through the mud barefoot. That was the brandy talking.
“I don’t see how Orla could have inspired your mother to leave Blackstock,” St. Didier said, “but the hour is late, and my faculties are dulled by good spirits. I will leave the two of you to ponder these recent developments. I daresay focusing on more sanguine topics might lead to a better night’s sleep. ”
He withdrew, though, in all propriety, he should not have. He should have offered to light Miss Fielding up to her room, sent Swidhelm a menacing glower over his shoulder, and defended the dignity of the house with his best finishing governess manners.
Why must every fledgling peer stumble into amorous thickets just as he’s learning to manage his title? The pattern became no easier to watch for being repeated the length and breadth of England.
No more nightcaps.
St. Didier left Swidhelm and Miss Fielding standing in close conversation by the sideboard. Their voices quieted as soon as the library door was shut, and St. Didier would have bet his best pair of old slippers that a fierce embrace was underway.
The Bard had the right of it. The course of true love never did run smooth…
Not ever, and especially not when a smooth course was most earnestly deserved.
Richard’s hands traveled over Mabel’s back, leaving trails of comfort and pleasure. “Orla hurt your feelings.”
Mabel bundled more snugly into his embrace. “Not exactly. Step-mama and I have never been close. I concluded as a child that she found Wealtha easier to love, and that meant I was left in peace to a greater degree. That feels marvelous.”
Dangerously marvelous, blast and bless him.
“Orla upset you, then.” Richard moved his hands to Mabel’s shoulders and squeezed gently in a slow, circular motion. Had Mabel been capable of purring, she would have rivaled Thunder at his most sonorous.
“Orla disquieted me.” Mabel took one final sniff of the balsam and cedar scent lingering about Richard’s person and ended the embrace.
“She disparaged me relentlessly, all the while pretending a sort of pity for all my shortcomings and great sympathy for Wealtha, who has suffered for being my relation-of-convenience.”
Richard set about tidying up the ledgers on the reading table. “You have suffered from Wealtha’s petulance and self-centeredness. I don’t hear you whining about it.”
“I do whine, sometimes. The steward has caught me in more than one self-pitying mood.”
Richard stacked the ledgers atop one another.
“We all have occasional weak moments. What you describe with Orla is more of a campaign, pitting you and Wealtha against each other. Orla has entertained at the Glen only minimally, and thus neither you nor Wealtha have developed more than nominal ties with the neighbors. I know what it’s like to always be the outsider, Amabel.
To be perpetually cast on one’s own meager resources. ”