Chapter Fifteen #2
“It is your first in your new home!” Her smile dimmed. “I understand my son has gone out to his dig.”
“His dig?”
“He did not tell you about the dig?”
“No.” Because that would require actually talking to Katie rather than issuing commands.
“Oh, Gerrit,” Betje muttered under her breath. She shook herself and met Katie’s gaze. “I was hoping we could wait to have our talk, but I can see that won’t be possible.”
“Our talk?” Katie repeated, beginning to sound like a parrot.
“Come, my dear. My chambers are much more comfortable than standing about here in the corridor.” She glanced at the bare walls but did not comment as she led Katie back toward the part of the house referred to as the family wing, one of the four rectangular blocks that extended off the main portion of the building.
The dowager chattered the entire way, flitting from subject to subject like the butterfly she so resembled.
Yet again Katie marveled that this woman was related to Dulverton.
The dowager was the antithesis of her son.
While he skewered a person with his intent, stone-cold gaze, the dowager’s eyes never rested on any single object for more than a few seconds.
And while Dulverton rarely spoke more than two or three words together, his mother hardly stopped chattering.
Betje’s chambers were as fluffy and bright as the woman herself. Indeed, the sheer amount of pink—carpets, wall hangings, drapes, silk-covered settees—was a bit hard on the eyes.
The duchess waved a hand to the room. “I had this chamber done when the drapers came to refurbish the master and mistress suites,” Betje said. “Do you like it?”
“Oh, yes. Very much,” she lied. “They must have worked fast,” she added.
“I told them it was an emergency. And it was, it was.” She pulled a face, as if she’d just smelled something foul. “It was all brown, brown, brown, brown, brown!” Betje gestured to the pink-on-pink silk settee. “Please, won’t you sit?”
“You mentioned a dig?” Katie reminded the other woman once they were both seated.
“Er, yes, I did. Were you aware that my son is one of the foremost authorities on fossils in England?” she asked, bristling with pride.
“No, I was not,” Katie admitted. But that would explain all the fossils. So, that was what her husband did all day, every day.
Her brother Doddy had been wild about fossils.
And because Katie and Doddy—separated by only two years—had been all but joined at the hip when they’d been younger, Katie had gone on fossil hunts with him.
They hadn’t found much, but they’d had great fun digging until their mother had put an end to it, insisting Katie’s time would be better spent learning how to behave like a lady.
What had ever happened to Doddy’s rather pitiful fossil collection? Did he still hunt for fossils? Katie hardly knew her little brother anymore, seeing him only briefly once or twice a year.
“It is a hobby he learned from his father,” Betje went on. “Boon was also well-respected in the field, as was his father.”
“And where does he go to do this digging?”
“He has an encampment right here on the estate.”
“Encampment? Do you mean he has someplace else that he will stay?”
“It is a commodious tent, and I believe it is equipped for overnight stays, but I cannot imagine Gerrit will use it with you here.” Betje’s brow furrowed. “Or at least I hope not,” she added, more to herself. “But that is what I wished to talk to you about.”
“His encampment?”
“No, no, not that, but rather how you might, er, accommodate yourself to my son.”
A spike of irritation stabbed her at the other woman’s words. How much more accommodation could there possibly be? Dulverton already controlled every facet of her life.
“I know the circumstances that spurred your betrothal, my dear.”
“I should think all of Britain is aware your son was forced to marry me.”
“Tsk, tsk.” The dowager scooted closer on the settee and patted Katie’s hands, which were clenched in her lap. “You must not sound so bitter.”
“Trapping one’s husband in a kissing contest is hardly something to take pride in.”
Betje chortled delightedly. “Oh, now you are giving me a severe look. But I must say it warmed my heart to think of my son marrying a woman with such daring.”
“Not to mention such a stupid woman.”
Again, the dowager laughed. “There is no denying your behavior was a bit wild and reckless,” Betje said, squeezing Katie’s hands as if to take any sting out of her words. “But that is not always a bad thing.”
Katie gave the other woman a look of disbelief, earning another laugh.
“You think I am a bit crazy, don’t you?” Thankfully, Betje went on rather than wait for a response. “You will have observed that my son is neither of those things.”
“Yes, I have noticed,” Katie said dryly.
“In many ways Gerrit is very much like Dulverton. Er, I mean the last duke,” Betje amended.
“I suppose that is quite normal with fathers and sons,” Katie said when the dowager appeared to fall into a distracted reverie.
“What’s that, my dear?” Betje said after a moment.
“I just said that it seems natural for sons to be like their fathers.” Although she dearly hoped that Doddy was nothing like their profligate, gambling father.
“Oh yes. Just so,” Betje said with a nervous laugh, her pale skin coloring for some reason as she gave Katie a strange, almost evasive, look.
“Er, yes, Gerrit does get his looks from Boon’s side of the family.
But I was referring more to their rather stringent requirements when it comes to their surroundings and such.
” She gave one of her titters of laughter, but this time Katie heard no amusement in the sound.
“I sometimes wonder if Gerrit inherited anything from me at all.”
Katie could understand that.
“Gerrit was not happy to discover me here last night. I knew he would not like it. He forbade me to come to the wedding ceremony.”
Katie felt intensely uncomfortable. “My sister Hyacinth—er, the Duchess of Chatham—was the only family I had at the wedding and that is because I lived with her and her husband for the last five years. But I didn’t invite any of my other siblings.
His Grace probably did not want to make you come all the way to London for such a small affair. ”
The dowager smiled sadly. “You are kind to try and make me feel better, but the reason Gerrit did not invite me is because he does not care to be around me. You mustn’t feel bad for me, my dear. I’m afraid I brought it all on myself.”
Katie suspected that was at least partially true. She’d only been married to Dulverton a few days, but she already knew the duke required a certain sort of order in his surroundings. Why would Betje have thought it was a good idea to change things so drastically at Briarly?
But Katie did not want to make assumptions, so she said, “Are you talking about rearranging the house?”
“No, not for what I’ve done to Briarly, although I know that by trying to make the house more comfortable for you, I have angered him.
” She frowned, and the expression made her look like an angry, fluffy little bird.
“But I don’t care anymore. For years I have let him slowly turn into Boon.
But it must stop now, before he is lost forever. ”
“What are you talking about?”
“I am talking about how Gerrit has become a cold, isolated, and lonely man. You must not allow him to go on the way he has, Kathryn. You are his wife, and it falls to you to challenge him.”
“Challenge him?” she repeated, utterly mystified.
Betje nodded. “Yes. Gerrit needs to have his rigid expectations challenged—or at least questioned. It was a failure on my part that I never did so with Boon. He told me how things would be, and I capitulated utterly. Like Boon, Gerrit is wealthy, powerful, and accustomed to being obeyed. In short, Gerrit is the master of his world. But he has forgotten this is your world, too. It is not right that Gerrit should have everything his way. And I think it is not good for him. He is so rigid, so very closed off from others.” The older woman’s blue eyes were vague, as if she was looking at something not in the room.
“I should have never given in to all Boon’s demands,” she said in a voice that was a dry husk of her normal ebullient tone.
“But Boon was so much older and so very wise and dignified that I thought he knew best. I thought he—” She broke off and stared at her hands, which were clasped together so tightly the knuckles were white.
“I have to tell you something and it is shameful and embarrassing. But you must know. You must have a chance to do better,” she whispered, more to herself.
She met Katie’s curious gaze. “I was younger than you when I married Boon—only seventeen—and he was a few years older than Gerrit.”