“I believe so,” Benjamin replied, glad his mother seemed to approve. “I realize our wedding happened rather quickly, but we saw no reason to delay it.”
“Oh?” his mother asked as she took a seat in what had always been her favorite chair. “Please tell me this marriage did not come about due to…circumstances?”
“Circumstances?” Benjamin asked. He glanced at Cecilia, who had turned a deep red and wondered what on earth his mother had meant.
The Dowager Duchess waved a hand at him. “Oh, do not listen to me,” she said. “I can be a bit old-fashioned.”
Benjamin still had no idea what the woman had meant, but since she did not wish to discuss it any longer, he let it go. “And what brings you to Bantry, Mother?”
His mother sniffed at him. “Do I need a reason to visit my family?” she asked in an offended tone. “Plus, I have yet to meet my daughter-in-law, and I wished to see who the mother of my grandchildren would be.”
“Of course,” Benjamin replied, feeling foolish once again.
The maid returned with a fresh tray and placed it on the table.
“So, tell me about yourself,” the Dowager Duchess said to Cecilia as the maid handed her a teacup.
“Well, I am from Sturminster—Brightstone Manor is the name of our home—and your son and I met through my father.”
“I see. And your family name?”
“Birks, Your Grace.”
“Birks?” She repeated the name several times in a low voice as if trying to pinpoint the name. “I know of no Birks in the Sturminster area. Did your family recently move there? There are the Birks of Northumberland; are you related to them?”
“No, I do not believe so.”
The Dowager Duchess tapped her lips with a finger. “And what of the Birks of York? Perhaps you have a tie with them?”
“No.”
“I see,” his mother replied before taking a sip of her tea. “So, then is your family of a lesser title? Perhaps your father has received at least a Knighthood?”
“No, Your Grace,” Cecilia replied. There was a sadness to her voice that Benjamin could not mistake. It was clear that she understood what his mother meant by her inquiry.
“Cecilia’s father is a man of the gentry, Mother,” Benjamin explained. “He has become a wealthy man through several successful business dealings and has a fine head on his shoulders.”
“The Gentry. Well, where would our country be without the hardworking middle class?”
Benjamin laughed. “Oh, Mother, the gentry is considered something a bit more than the middle class, do you not believe?”
“Perhaps. Regardless, I know they are not a part of the nobility.” She took a sip of her tea and then added, “But as I say, what would we do without them? I imagine we would be doing the work ourselves.” At this she laughed, as if she had said something highly humorous.
“I imagine that what you say is true, Your Grace,” Cecilia replied. Benjamin did not miss the clip of her words.
His mother, however, did not seem to notice. “But of course it is true,” she replied. “Can you imagine the child of a noble family doing menial tasks such as sweeping a floor or polishing the silver?” She laughed again, that same condemnation behind the sound.
Benjamin could not help but notice how Cecilia’s jaw tightened, and he did not blame her for being upset. He had never seen his mother act so hatefully. Or perhaps he had never taken notice of her words before.
“And your business matters?” the Dowager Duchess asked as if she had not just insulted the class from which her daughter-in-law came.
Laura returned with the new tea tray and Cecilia had her place it on the table. The Dowager Duchess watched Cecilia pour the tea as if she would be asked to give her daughter-in-law a mark for her ability in completing the task.
“They are going well,” Benjamin replied when everyone had their tea, once again allowing his mother to change the subject. He had never been able to influence her opinion on any matter; there was no sense he should think he could do so now. “Lord Forsworth would not agree with the terms I set forth for one of his holdings in Kent, so I had to pay more than I had expected. However, at least we will be doing business.”
The Dowager Duchess clicked her tongue. “You have always given up too easily,” she said as she set her teacup on the table in front of her. “You have always struggled with standing up to those bigger than yourself. If your father were here, he would have been successful without even so much as a discussion over the terms. And he would have gotten a better price by the time the deal was completed.”
“I believe Benjamin is quite successful in all of his endeavors,” Cecilia cut in with a forced smile.
Benjamin shot her a warning look and her lips thinned before she took a sip of her tea.
The Dowager Duchess chuckled. “I am sure you do, my dear. One of your standing more than likely believes that all those of higher position are much better than they truly are.” Benjamin went to say something but his mother went on. “I do wish your father were here. Everything ran so smoothly with him in charge. It is too bad that he had to die at such a young age.” She gave Benjamin a pointed look.
Benjamin felt his face heat up as competing emotions rose in him. “I am sure he would, Mother” was all he could say.
“Well, we know what happened there, so I will leave it at that.” The Dowager Duchess glanced around the room. “Are there not teacakes?” she demanded.
“I will have some brought up immediately,” Cecilia said as she rose to ring the bell.
“No,” his mother said firmly. “It is much too late to wait for them to be delivered.” She gave a derisive sniff. “In my day, if a guest came calling, teacakes and a variety of sandwiches would have been brought up without the guest making the suggestion. But I suppose times do change.”
Benjamin shook his head. Yes, his mother had returned, but somehow, he found her words to be much more offensive than he ever thought before. And with one look at Cecilia, he realized that she, too, felt the same.
Chapter Thirteen
Cecilia sat looking down at her creamed potato soup without seeing it. It was not that Mrs. Bradley’s soup was unsavory. Quite the opposite. What had Cecilia’s teeth on edge and the food tasting devoid of flavor was the company of the woman who sat across from her—the Dowager Duchess.
The woman had thankfully left to take a nap once she had finished her tea, leaving Benjamin in a foul mood and Cecilia ready to throw something, preferably at the woman in question. However, since that could not happen, Cecilia would have happily thrown whatever breakable item she could have put her hands on at a wall if only to give herself the satisfaction of hearing it break. The Dowager Duchess had the comportment of a bulldog and the tongue of a snake. On the surface, most of what she said was innocent, but the meaning behind her words was clear.
Benjamin had refused to discuss his mother’s attitude, and Cecilia wished she could have had a tray sent up for supper, sending word that she was suffering from a headache, but then Benjamin’s mother would know exactly how her words had affected her. Cecilia would not give the woman the satisfaction. She would prove that she had every right to sit at that table, as much right as the Dowager Duchess herself. Plus, perhaps Cecilia could guide the conversation this time so it would remain civil rather than allowing her mother-in-law to speak her mind, which held nothing but contempt.
Despite Cecilia’s plans, however, the conversation was immediately taken over by the Dowager Duchess. Not only did she continue to belittle Benjamin and share in some misconceived notion that he was incapable of doing as well as his father, but the woman also continued to insinuate that Benjamin had something to do with his father’s death. The idea that Benjamin had the capability to physically harm someone, especially a family member, was incredible to Cecilia. Benjamin could be overbearing at times, and he certainly had shown her on many occasions that he could be bullheaded, but to cause someone’s death, especiall
y that of his father? No, it could not be so. His mother had to have been doing what she could to cause discord in the household, for there was no other explanation for the woman’s actions or words.
That knowledge only brought on more questions. Why did Dowager Duchess feel the need to place blame on Benjamin for his father’s death? How had the previous Duke died in the first place? The fact he was dead was already certain, for his title could not have been passed on to Benjamin if the man was still alive.
Benjamin never talked about his father. As a matter of fact, he never talked about his family at all. However, after meeting his mother, Cecilia could only imagine the difficulty in discussing someone as hateful and demeaning as the woman across from her.
“Please tell Mrs. Bradley that her soup is just as delicious as I remember,” the Dowager Duchess told a footman, who bowed deeply in reply. Before the man could leave, she stopped him. “And would you ask her to make one of her apple scones?”
“We will be having strawberry tarts for dessert this evening,” Cecilia said. “Mrs. Caplin and I prepared the menu for the week just yesterday and I understand that Mrs. Bradley has already baked and cooled the tarts. I would hate to see them go to waste. Perhaps I can ask her to make scones for tomorrow’s breakfast, if you would like.”
“I would like them this evening,” the Dowager Duchess replied with a haughtiness that made Cecilia’s skin crawl. “They will taste wonderful with coffee after dinner. Do you not think so, Benjamin?”
Cecilia glared at her husband. Would he not say something to set the woman straight? Unfortunately, he did not.
“Yes, Mother, I believe that would be nice.” His answer was said as if he had not given the idea any thought, and Cecilia wondered if he had even heard a word his mother had said.
“Well, if you will excuse me,” Cecilia said as she pushed back her chair. A footman rushed forward to help her but she had already set her napkin on the table. “I am afraid I have developed a headache. I hope you enjoy your scones, Your Grace.” She gave the woman a light bob of a curtsy and walked toward the door, trying with all her might not to stomp as she did.
The woman was insufferable! Cecilia knew that if she stayed for even a moment longer, she would have said something she would have deeply regretted before the night was through, and with her relationship with Benjamin finally beginning to build, she did not wish to take the chance of ruining whatever progress they had made out of revenge for words spoken by a woman who had never lifted a finger to do even the smallest of tasks in her life.
However, if he did not do something soon to stay his mother’s tongue—whether her words debased Cecilia or Benjamin—Cecilia feared she would say something she would likely regret, she was sure of it.
***
After spending several hours in her room, first pacing across the floor from one end to the other, to the point Cecilia worried she would wear the rug to the floor, and then sitting at her writing table staring down at a blank piece of parchment meant to be used for a letter to her mother, Cecilia finally gave up all pretense of her headache and went downstairs.
As luck would have it, the Dowager Duchess had retired not long after dinner. Apparently, Mrs. Bradley had indeed made the woman apple scones, but after all of the “excitement”, or so the Dowager Duchess had called it, she had gone to bed without eating a single one. Cecilia felt bad for Mrs. Bradley, but the woman was only a simple cook and would never have complained, especially to the current Duchess. Cecilia made a mental note to ask Angie if anything was said about the actions of her mother-in-law. If the lady’s maid would tell her, that is.
The house was dark as Cecilia moved down the long hallway and stopped at the closed door to the study. Her candle flickered, shortening and lengthening the shadows around her as she listened for any sound of Benjamin inside. She heard a mumble and felt a sigh of relief that he was indeed inside.
Her knock was answered by a loud “Come!”, and when Cecilia opened the door, she was shocked by what she saw. Benjamin sat slouched in a chair before the empty fireplace with his coat and shirt both unbuttoned and lying open to reveal a broad and muscular chest.
When he saw her, he snorted and took a drink from his glass. “What do you want?” he demanded.
“I came to see if you had retired or not.”
“Well, apparently I have not,” came his curt reply. “Again, I ask you, what do you want?” His words were a bit slurred, and Cecilia considered leaving him to his drunken fate. Men who were inebriated were never ones with which one could easily converse, or so had been what little interaction she had had with such men. However, his shabby state made her feel sorry for him. Just spending a few hours with his mother had brought her to such a state she could have spent the remainder of the night drinking herself to the state in which her husband currently found himself. If she were one to drink, that is.
“I wanted to see how you were,” she said carefully. In the man’s current state, she was unsure as to whether or not he would see her seeking him out as a good or a bad thing. “I know your mother…”
He sat up and shot her a glare. “Do not speak of my mother unless you have something amicable to say about her. I will not have you defame my mother in any way.”
Cecilia clenched her jaw. “You know nothing of what I was going to say,” she said, though he had been right. She had meant to say the woman was insufferable but was glad he had interrupted her before she the words had tumbled from her lips. However, that did nothing to curb her annoyance at him.
He waved the hand that held his glass and the liquid spilled over the side. “My mother is a saint,” he stated. “She has never spoken to me the way she did tonight.” He turned and narrowed his eyes at her. If he had been standing, he more than likely would have been swaying on his feet. “This is all your fault. If I had not married you, she would have finally been happy.” He pulled himself from the chair, almost falling over in the process, and began to pace. “Oh, why did I do it? Why did I go against my better judgment and marry without thinking of the consequences?” He plopped himself back into the chair, which creaked under him.
She stood rooted in place and said nothing. What good would it do to add coal to the fire? For anything she said would only ignite his anger further.
“She warned me that women like you married men such as myself for our money.”
She stared at him with as much intensity as she could muster. “When have I ever asked you for anything?” she demanded in a quiet but firm voice. “I have no interest in material things; despite what your mother says, I find I do not need wardrobes full of dresses, gowns, and shoes. I also do not need jewels or other finery. You have no right to accuse me of something I have never done.”
A snort came from the man in the chair and Cecilia realized that he had fallen asleep during her tirade. His rantings, Cecilia knew, were simply that. Rantings. She also knew she should not take his words to heart, but she could not help but feel hurt by what he said. However, men in his condition tended to say things they did not mean, or the meaning was something other than what they intended.
She leaned over him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Benjamin, perhaps you should go to bed,” she said quietly. “Would you like me to help you?”
His eyes fluttered for a moment and then he looked up at her with blurry eyes as if seeing her there for the first time. “Cecilia?” h
“Yes, it is me. Come, I will help you to bed.”
He allowed her to take the glass from his hand and place it on the table. Their movements were slow as Cecilia had to bear much of his weight as he stumbled along, and traversing the stairs was a feat in itself. At least twice Cecilia worried they would tumble back to the lower floor and the servants would find them lying with broken necks at the bottom of the staircase.
However, after what seemed an eternity, Cecilia opened the door to Benjamin’s bedroom and helped him to the bed. After removing his boots and coat, she allowed him to fall to the
bed before she pulled his feet up and covered him with the blanket.
As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm and looked into her eyes, a beseeching look on his face. “You know I can never love you.”
Her heart caught in her throat. It was difficult to remind oneself that a drunken man could say things he did not mean when he gave a look that could have belonged to a sober man.
“We’ll see,” she replied. No, she would not allow his words to take away what little they had built between them over the past weeks. Once the Dowager Duchess left, they would once again be able to build up their marriage. Right now, however, a drunk man could not think straight enough to decide their future, but she refused to give up hope.
Chapter Fourteen
The days that followed did not improve. The Dowager Duchess continued with her carefully chosen words, words meant to harm both Cecilia and Benjamin. She had even gone so far as to accuse Cecilia of wasting the Duke’s money.
“I understand that you have acquired an entire new wardrobe, my dear,” she had said the morning before she left to return to her London house.
“Well, I did have a few new articles of clothing made, if that is what you are referring to,” Cecilia had replied. “However, if I am to be among those of the nobility, does it not seem appropriate for me to do so?”
“But of course,” the woman said with a wave of her hand. “And what of hats and slippers and jewelry? I do hope you have not gone overboard with your spending. A woman can easily squander away any great fortune without regard for the coffers from which those funds come.”
Cecilia forced a smile. “I have not purchased any jewelry, but indeed, I have a few new hats and shoes. However, I assure you that I have not spent an exorbitant amount of money. I do care about my husband’s estate despite what others might believe of someone with my background and upbringing.”
The Dowager Duchess gave Cecilia an ingratiating smile. “Well, I am happy to hear that this is the case.” Then she looked Cecilia up and down and did little to hide her disdain. “I do hope that particular dress was not one of the newer items you purchased. To be perfectly honest, from what I have seen thus far, nothing you have worn would be considered of the latest fashion. Yet, who am I to know what someone who is unaccustomed to having less would be wearing these days?” Her smile barely raised the corners of her mouth, and Cecilia wondered if she would get away with slapping what little smile off the woman’s face.
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