Authors: Lavinia Kent
Strangely, she did not feel tense now
. She still felt anger at Tristan for his blatant disregard of both her feelings and reality. She felt sadness for how close they had come to something wonderful. And she felt frustration, all encompassing frustration. How could such a smart man be so stupid?
She turned to Violet with a smile
. “Yes, I am feeling much better this day. I am still sore, but in general I believe I am well, if still tired.”
Violet nodded, but Feli
city spoke up. “I remember how exhausting it was to carry a child, particularly in the early months. Nobody appreciates how difficult it is before it even shows. I think it is actually easier as you grow closer to confinement and everybody around you becomes so solicitous. Don’t you agree?” She turned to Violet.
“I am afraid I wouldn’t know.
” She looked down at her hands, but Marguerite could not mistake the bleakness of both voice and expression.
Felicity realized her error and changed the subject
. “So where is my son? Unless, I am mistaken he did promise to be here.”
“I am afraid he has not yet returned from his morning ride,” Marguerite said
. “It is past his normal hour to do so, but I have noticed that when he has something to ponder he is often delayed.” She certainly hoped he was taking the time to think about things. If they were to proceed in the marriage together certain matters would be settled and settled soon. Otherwise, the country might be an attractive option.
She looked up to find Felicity staring at her
. “Yes, he was like that as a boy. He was the most charming company, but if he wanted to think off he went alone.”
As if knowing
that he was the center of conversation, Tristan chose that moment to enter the room. “Felicity, Violet, Marguerite,” he tilted his head to each, “I wish you a good morning.
“How are you this morning, Marguerite?”
“I am well, my lord. How was your ride?”
He looked momentarily nonplussed by her use of formal address, but quickly recovered
. “It was satisfactory. I had an errand I needed to be sure was complete.”
Something in his tone gave her pause
. “And was it?” she asked.
“Yes, it was.” His eyes glinted with some hidden satisfaction.
Felicity coughed, once, drawing attention back to her. “Are you ever going to call me mother again? I know this is not the time to ask, but I am not sure when I’ll catch you in the same room again.”
Tristan walked to Marguerite
. He placed a hand on her shoulder, ran a finger along her skin just above the edge of her blouse. She drew a quick breath in. He turned back to his mother. “Would it please my wife if I did so?”
For a moment silence held
. Marguerite pressed her brows together. Was this a gift, or some trick of conversation? If a gift it was certainly a strange one, but perhaps a deeply felt one. If a witty parlay of conversation – No, she would take his words as they were offered. “Yes, it would please your wife if you did so.”
She could not see Tristan’s face for he stood behind her, but Felicity’s expression was taut with anticipation.
“Then yes, Mother. I daresay the time as come to put our differences behind us.”
“You understand then that –“ Felicity’s words were garbled with their speed.
“No, I cannot say that. I do not think I want to ever know more about those dark days. Let us say that I have come to understand emotion is not always rational or controllable and that life does not move according to plan.” Tristan squeezed Marguerite’s shoulder.
Felicity, evidently, was not ready to concede the point so quickly
. “If you would only let me explain. It is not what you think.”
Tristan stepped forward and held up and hand to stop
the conversation. “Do not press, mother. It has taken great thought for me to reach this point. I want to live from this moment forward and let the past rest.”
“But . . .” Felicity let the word trail off
. She was clearly considering how much she had already won. Marguerite could almost see that one word
mother
repeating inside her head. Felicity bowed her head. She would take what was offered.
Tristan continued to look at his mother for a moment and then
turned to his wife. She could see the question in his eyes. She stared into their silver depths for a spit-second, then turned and looked at the empty space on the couch beside Felicity.
He
drew his brows together and she thought he would balk at her unspoken request, then he gave the barest suggestion of a bow and went to sit beside his mother. Felicity moved a little to the side. They did not touch. Nobody spoke.
Violet sat to the side, she had been silent for a while, but as if sensing the tension between the other three she smiled at
Felicity. “Do you plan to stay in Town after the end of the season? I know Wimberley has some beautiful land on the coast. I am sure an ocean breeze would be most refreshing if the heat continues.”
“You are quite right.
” Felicity answered. “I once loved the shore during the hottest months of the summer. It has been some years since I could indulge myself. I tend to spend the majority of the summer in Town, although I do attend the occasional house party.”
Marguerite wished she could kick Tristan
. She should not have had him sit out of her reach. She had never imagined all Felicity had given up when her husband died and her son quit speaking with her. To have gone from mistress of this house and all the estates to an unwelcome encumbrance would have tried the strongest of souls.
Tristan remained silent and Marguerite wondered if she dared issue an invitation without his agreement
. She did not understand why he had become so cooperative this morning. She started to speak and then stopped. Nobody would be happy if Tristan’s agreement was forced. She turned until she faced her husband directly. “I am sure you are both correct that I will find the sea air invigorating. I wonder how I will make do with the lack of company, however. I have lived such a quiet life, but these last few months in the city have changed my outlook. I must confess I am not sure at all how I will survive without my friends.”
Neither of the wome
n had any reply.
Marguerite could almost feel each measured breath her husband took
. He looked at her, looked down at his knee and tapped his fingers against it idly. He glanced back up. “You are going to insist I do this right, aren’t you. Well, I never did believe in half measures anyway.” He tapped his knee again. “Mother, Violet, we would be delighted if you would join us in a week or two when we travel to the shore – which is apparently our destination. I will let you know when the arrangements have been made.”
Felicity agreed quickly
. Marguerite could see her fear that her son would change his mind at any moment. Violet considered a moment and the demurred. “I am afraid I have made other plans. Perhaps in the fall we could manage something. I hesitate for fear you will think I am inviting myself, but I have always heard of the wonderful harvest festival you have at Glynwolde.”
“Of course you must come – assuming of course that we will be there.
” Marguerite glanced at Tristan to be sure that she had not overstepped her place.
He gave no indication that she had
. He stood and faced her. “I daresay that is where we will be. I try to oversee as much as I can myself, and I would like the child born at Glynwolde. I am not sure when it will become unsafe for you to travel. I expect we will take up residence at the end of the summer and stay through the winter. Is that agreeable to you?”
All the tension Marguerite had felt over that last day began to loosen
. Tristan might not have expressed his feelings fully in words, but his actions were speaking for him. He was trying to resolve things with his mother and he was actually speaking as if they had a future with the baby. There was hope. Still, she could not make matters too easy for him, he had hurt her too deeply with careless, callous words the previous day. “I believe that sounds like a good plan, however we should discuss the details more fully.”
Tristan looked perplexed
. She restrained a smile. He was not used to finding any obstacles in his path. She knew he wanted to say more, but this was not a discussion for company.
Marguerite turned to her guests
. “I do look forward to your company over the coming months, but now I am afraid I grow fatigued. Will you promise to come and visit again soon? I know I still have much to learn from you both and I look forward to enjoying your companionship.”
“Oh, I had not considered how tired you must still be from yesterday’s events
. Please forgive us. We must be on our way.” Felicity took Violet by the hand and prepared to depart. She hesitated and then walked to Tristan. She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He did not respond, but neither did he step away.
The ladies left
.
Tristan turned to Marguerite as he shut the door to the parlor behind them
. “Should I help you to your room? You do look a little pale.”
“Nonsense
. I am tired, but I am sure sitting with my feet up will restore me. Perhaps if you could bring me a footstool . . .”
Tristan moved to follow her request and soon Marguerite was comfortable
. She let her head fall back against the back of the chair. She truly was tired, but she was also unwilling to let further time pass without talking with her husband.
She closed her eyes, but spoke, “I trust you have no urgent plans that require either your attention or your presence.”
“No.” She heard him retake his seat on the couch. “I had planned on spending the day at home. I can attend to my accounts and some correspondence if you need quiet.”
“I will rest better after we have talked.”
“You make our discussion sound ominous.”
“I do not mean to do so.
” She opened her eyes and lifted her head. “Do you debate that we have much to speak of?”
“You are
, of course, correct. I actually tried to speak with you last evening, but you had fallen asleep.”
“I would apologize, but I am not sure that anything I said would have made sense
. I must admit I found the day quite trying.”
Tristan leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, his elbows firmly planted on his knee
s. He grinned. “You sound as if you are having tea with Lady Smythe-Burke. I thought we had moved beyond such social politeness.”
“I did too, but after yesterday –-“
“Yesterday I was an ass. Is there more to say?”
“I believe th
ere is a great deal more to say,” Marguerite snapped back. “We cannot pretend that yesterday did not happen.”
“Why
not?”
“If you do not clean a cut it can fester
. You wounded me yesterday and I cannot pretend that you did not. And while your actions this morning speak well of our future, they are not enough. I need words.”
“Words?”
“Yes, you have implied that your feelings have changed since yesterday in regards to the baby, your heir if a son. I need to understand how they have changed and why. I am not feeling particularly trusting.”
Tristan leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling
. “I do not know exactly what you want.”
“I want to understand you.”
“I am a simple man. What is there to understand?”
Marguerite snorted
. It was not polite, but it was called for. “You are not a simple man and you well know that you are not. You shift between the man I have come to – to love –,” she said the word and did not regret it, “and the man who can ignore his mother for four years without ever giving her a chance to explain—“
Tristan cut her off
. “I know what I saw and what I was told. Is it not enough that I am willing to move past it?”
“Are you really prepared
? Pretending it never happened will not put it behind you. Felicity will be our child’s grandmother. I want to know that she is truly welcome in our home, not just tolerated. Can you do that? Can you manage to forgive her?”
“I can try.
” He sat up straight again, examining her, trying to judge if his answer had been enough.
Was it enough
? It was not as much as she wanted, but it was as much as she could reasonably expect. The question was, did he really mean it?
“Do you lie?
” Marguerite let the question hang. She had not known she was going to ask it until it left her lips.
His skin grew pale beneath the skin
, his lips pressed together. He looked deep into her eyes as if he searched her very soul. “Yes, I lie. I lie frequently and without remorse. I am a very good liar.”
It was her turn to grow pale
. For the first time with the pregnancy, her stomach began to rise in revolt.
Tristan rose, suddenly, and came to kneel before her
. “I do not lie to you, however. I have never – that I recall –lied to you.”