by Cheryl Holt
“Like his father. I’ve always thought the boy took after him exactly.”
“Any female would have been fascinated, and with Theo being Theo, there was no chance of her ignoring his allure.”
“Which is why you should have been more cautious.”
“I know, Harold. I know. I’ve beaten myself up over it for months.”
“Is she completely ruined? Is her virginity squandered?”
“I expect so. I didn’t ask her, but she spent the night with him, and I don’t suppose they were chatting.”
“It doesn’t appear they created a babe though. Did you discuss the possibility with her?”
“No. She was so despondent during the voyage to England that I was afraid to mention Mr. Grey. For a bit of time there, I feared for her sanity.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Theo is a Postlewaite. We are tough as nails. We don’t succumb to melancholia.”
Harold hadn’t been on the ship with them. He hadn’t seen Theo wasting away, hadn’t seen her walking the deck, looking like a ghost of her former self. Edna had often spied on her from the shadows, being frantic that she might do something drastic like leap over the rail. She’d been that forlorn.
“I’ll have Mrs. Mountbank question her about a pregnancy,” Harold said. “Girls are such silly creatures. She might be increasing and not recognize the signs.”
“I wouldn’t have Mrs. Mountbank speak to her.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, Harold, let’s not get into it.”
“It’s too late for that. What are you implying?”
“Just…please…don’t have her talk to Theo about any topic.” Edna suspected Theo would have the same opinion as Edna about Mrs. Mountbank who—by butting her nose in—would only make matters worse. “Perhaps her maid could provide the information we seek.”
“Yes, that would probably work.”
Edna flushed, uncomfortable at reviewing bodily conditions with her brother. She was simply eager to head to London. She’d confessed her crimes, her lack of supervision, and her lack of influence over Theo. There wasn’t much left to say.
She was settling in in London, opening up her house, sending out cards so people would know she was back. Susan was still feeling poorly, and while Edna had brought Fenton with her to the country, Susan had been too ill to accompany them. Edna needed to return to her. She had her own daughter who needed parenting, and it was definitely time for Harold to assume responsibility for Theo. Edna would no longer bother.
She’d only come to Oakwood because she’d been so irked by Theo traveling alone on the mail coach. Edna had told her they’d go together, that they’d face her father together, but Theo hadn’t wanted Edna’s support in dealing with Harold.
The child was such a nuisance!
“What’s to become of her, Harold?” she inquired.
“She shouldn’t be single.”
“No, she shouldn’t be. It’s courting trouble.”
“Isobel thinks we should marry her off immediately.”
Isobel was Mrs. Mountbank.
“After this disaster, who would have her?”
“Isobel’s brother-in-law, Bernard, might be willing. He’s older, and it’s clear Theo could use the steadying hand of a mature husband.”
“Have you asked Theo about it?”
“Ask Theo?” He chuckled meanly. “Pray tell, why would I ask Theo?”
“She was in love with that bounder, Mr. Grey. I don’t believe she’ll consent.”
“If I decide it’s the best path for her, she’ll wed Bernard Mountbank, and I’ll hear no grumbling about it. And if she presumes she can defy me, I’ll tie her up and drag her to the altar.”
“That will certainly make for a happy union.”
“What’s the better option?” His tone was very snide. “Shall I permit her to roam about the neighborhood until she lands herself in another jam?”
“No.”
“Maybe I should lock her away in an asylum. Would that satisfy you?”
“Harold!” she scolded. “You wouldn’t. This is Theo were talking about.”
“Yes, this is Theo—who’s always been a pain in my ass. The past year, she’s been acting like a lunatic. Why not put her away with her own kind?”
Edna huffed with offense.
There was nothing wrong with Theo, and Edna wondered about Bernard Mountbank. Why would Mrs. Mountbank push the match on Harold? Theo’s dowry was long gone, Harold having gambled it away decades earlier. Since there was no dowry in the picture, what could possibly entice Mr. Mountbank to have Theo?
The whole arrangement stunk, but she wouldn’t fret over it.
“I won’t continue this discussion when you’re being so horrid,” she told him.
“Fine. You needn’t tarry. It’s not as if I invited you to come.”
“I thought I should explain what happened with Theo.”
“I’d already learned most of it from your letters. There’s no predicting how much effort I’ll have to exert to fix this mess.”
“Yes, Harold, Heaven forbid that you exert any effort on Theo.” She stood, weary of the entire affair. “If you need anything further, you know how to contact me.”
“Anything further? You’re hilarious, Edna.”
“And with all the…ah…changes being implemented here, if you’d like to send Theo to town to stay with me, she’ll be welcome.”
“Send her to stay with you? Egad, woman! If you think I’d let her spend one more second in your company, you’re as mad as she is.”
“You don’t have to be rude, Harold.”
“It seems called for, Edna.”
They might have devolved into a full-on quarrel, but they were interrupted by a knock on the library door. The butler poked his nose in.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Lord Wood,” the man said, “but we just received a note for Mrs. Wallace from her housekeeper. The messenger claims it’s urgent.”
“For me?” Was it Susan? Had she taken a turn for the worse?
Edna hurried over, grabbed it, then shut the door in his face. She eased herself down into a chair and flicked open the seal. A quick perusal of the words nearly had her collapsing onto the floor.
“I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “I simply cannot believe it!”
“Is it bad news?” Harold asked.
“After I departed this morning, Neville Pinkerton stopped by to speak with Susan.”
“Who is Neville Pinkerton?”
“He’s the artist with whom she’d been flirting before we sailed for Egypt.”
“Oh, no. Why do I suspect this won’t end well?”
“He and Susan have eloped.”
“They must be headed to Gretna Green. Will you go after them?”
Edna stared out the window, seeing Theo out in the park, strolling through the grass. She recollected how her niece had suffered, how she’d mourned the loss of her dear Mr. Grey. Had it been wrong to sever their connection? Should Edna have given her some money and left her in Egypt? What if the pair had worked out their differences? What if they’d wound up happy and content?
Wouldn’t that have been better than bringing her back to a life with Penelope and Mrs. Mountbank and an unpalatable marriage to Mrs. Mountbank’s brother-in-law?
Susan had always insisted she wasn’t enamored of Mr. Pinkerton, but Edna had assumed she was lying. Then, when Susan had seemed to fancy Mr. Price in Egypt, Edna had changed her mind and figured there had been no heightened affection. When they’d arrived in England, she hadn’t worried about Pinkerton at all.
They’d eloped? In the short week Edna had been home, they communicated, covertly planned, then run off and wed? What was Edna to think?
On returning from India the prior year, she’d been excited to bond with Susan, to do her duty as she’d never been able when they were apart. But clearly, Susan didn’t want a mother—or a mother’s advice.
Well, good riddance! S
usan could live on love as she’d chastised Theo about. For of a certainty, Edna would never approve of Susan’s choice and would never release her dowry to Mr. Pinkerton.
“No, Harold,” she said, “I’m not going after her. She’s made her bed, and she can lie in it.”
“That’s a bit drastic, isn’t it? Would you like me to go after her?”
“Let it be, Harold. May she rue the consequences.”
“This Pinkerton, is he a decent fellow? Will he be kind to her? Perhaps it won’t be as awful as you’re imagining.”
“He’s an artist, Harold. Remember? She can stew in her own juice.”
Edna had been away from England for decades, and during their lengthy separations, she’d pretended she didn’t have any children. It had been easier that way. Well, now it could become her reality. She’d never had a daughter in the past, and she wouldn’t have one in the future.
She’d have only one child. She’d have a son. She’d have Fenton to mother, Fenton to raise, Fenton to care for her in her dotage. A son was what a mother truly needed. What good was a daughter?
Theo was approaching the manor when she saw Edna leaving. Fenton was with her, and he was climbing into the coach. She didn’t have any desire to converse with them.
She’d spent much of the previous year crammed in small quarters with them, on ships, on riverboats, in camping tents. Proximity should have fostered fond acquaintance, but unfortunately Theo had no pleasant memories of the trip and didn’t miss them.
On her stumbling across them without warning, her sole regret was that she hadn’t walked in the woods a few minutes longer so she could have avoided an encounter altogether.
Edna glanced over, so they couldn’t ignore each other.
“Hello, Theo,” Edna said, as Theo neared. She looked dour as ever.
“Aunt Edna.” Theo curtly nodded. “Why are you here? Let me guess. You were determined to titter with Lord Wood over my transgressions. Have you enraged him more than he already was?”
“Don’t be smart, Theodosia. I simply informed him of what transpired, and I apologized for my failing to watch over you as I ought to have.”
“You didn’t have to watch over me, Edna. I’m an adult, and you weren’t my nanny. I made a mistake, and I take full responsibility for it. My sins aren’t your fault.”
“It’s a charitable thought, Theo, but I remain very sorry.”
“Don’t be. I truly assumed I was about to marry the man of my dreams. It was all a fantasy, but for a time, I was deliriously happy, and I’m glad of it.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
Theo sighed. “Must we quarrel, Edna? Can’t we move on?”
“Susan has eloped,” Edna announced out of the blue.
Theo shook her head, not certain she’d heard correctly. “What?”
“She eloped.”
“With Preston Price? He followed us to England?”
“Don’t be silly. She’s with Neville Pinkerton.”
“Neville! She told me she didn’t fancy him at all.”
“Apparently, she fooled us both.”
“When did this happen?”
“The news just arrived from my housekeeper. She reports that they arranged it in advance.”
“Well, lovers usually plan those things.”
“As soon as I left for Oakwood this morning, Mr. Pinkerton showed up and they sneaked away.”
“Neville Pinkerton,” Theo murmured, not able to believe it. What could have caused Susan to proceed? “Will you chase after them?”
“No. She’s on her own.” Edna gestured to the manor. “What’s your opinion of the shenanigans in this asylum of lunatics?”
“My father is deranged.”
“I agree. Be careful around all of them, especially that Mrs. Mountbank. I don’t like the looks of her.”
“Neither do I.”
Theo had briefly met Penelope’s mother, but they’d only chatted in passing. Mrs. Mountbank had been too busy entertaining their guests and running the household, which her incompetent daughter couldn’t manage if her life depended on it.
Theo had always been the hostess at Oakwood. From the time she’d been old enough to greet guests, she’d been in charge. It was galling to have a stranger replace her, and Theo couldn’t decide if she still had even minimal authority.
“We’ve had our differences in the past,” Edna said, “but if matters grow untenable, you’re welcome to stay with me in town. With Susan gone, I have an extra bedroom.” She climbed into the coach and slammed the door, then she peered out the window. “Don’t let that despicable crew talk you into anything you don’t wish to do.”
“They couldn’t possibly.”
Edna banged on the roof to signal the driver. He called to the team, and as the horses began to pull, Fenton popped up in the other window.
“Goodbye, Theo.” His grin was mischievous and a tad cruel.
“Goodbye, you little fiend.”
On hearing her insult, his gaze narrowed. “Would you like to explore with me again someday? Maybe in a cave or a coal mine? They’re very dark and scary.”
Edna yanked on his coat, and he vanished.
Theo stood, watching until the coach reached the end of the lane and made the turn onto the road that would take them to London. Her thoughts weren’t with Edna though, but with Susan. Theo couldn’t figure out the correct perspective on the elopement.
Was it bad news? Was it good news? Where did Mr. Price fit into the peculiar scenario? All of it was so odd. What about Mr. Price? Why had he parted with Susan so abruptly?
Whatever the situation, he was clearly out of the picture, which was a huge benefit, and she hoped Mr. Pinkerton was kind and that Susan would be happy.
She spun and went inside. Her feet were heavy, her steps slow. It appeared that Lord Wood was finally home. When she’d arrived two days earlier, he hadn’t been, so she hadn’t had to face the music. No doubt he was waiting for her, and with Edna having greased the wheel, he’d be particularly grouchy.
She entered the foyer, and the butler was hovering. She asked after Lord Wood and was escorted to his library. Even though she insisted she could get there on her own, he insisted on leading the way.
The door was open, and he marched in and gave a formal bow. “Lady Theodosia to see you, milord.”
“Where have you been?” Lord Wood grumbled to her.
“Hello, Father.”
He glared at the butler. “We are not to be disturbed for any reason.”
“As you wish, milord.”
The butler closed the door with a determined click, and Theo dawdled, listening, until she was certain he’d walked away and wasn’t eavesdropping. Then she joined her father.
He was seated behind the desk, and she sat in the chair across.
“What have you to say for yourself?” he demanded without preamble.
“Nothing.”
“I send you on an expensive trip—the trip of a lifetime, I might add—and you come home in even worse condition than when you left.”
“No one knows what occurred.”
“Not yet! Are you imagining that bounder, Soloman Grey, will keep his mouth shut about you?”
“I have no idea.”
She didn’t think he’d brag or tell tales. She didn’t think he’d gossip with acquaintances to make her more of a pariah than she already was. She didn’t think he would, but what did she really know about him?
“That’s your answer?” Lord Wood fumed. “You have no idea if he’ll spread stories? You’re awfully blasé about it.”
“I was never blasé, Father. I was happy.”
“Happy, bah!” He spat the word, as if happiness was a curse. “I’ll hear no more such ridiculous talk from you.”
“Fine. I’ll be silent, so you can rail and shout and get it all off your chest. I haven’t the energy necessary to fight with you.”
“You…fight with me?” He scoffed with derision. “Not bloody like
ly, young lady.”
He’d always been vain and unlikable. He’d inherited his title as a boy, so there had been no responsible adults who might have reined in his wicked tendencies. He drank to excess, gambled, consorted with loose women, and spent money he didn’t have. As a girl, she’d been in awe of him. He’d seemed like a sort of vengeful god who’d swoop down on the estate once in awhile, wreak havoc, then leave.
Now his years of dissipation were evident. He was short and fat and bald as a ball, and he’d grown muttonchops to make up for the lack of hair on his head. But all that facial hair couldn’t hide the age lines around his mouth. It couldn’t hide the steely look in his rheumy gray eyes, eyes that glowered at her with such intense loathing.
Had he ever looked at her any other way? If so, she didn’t remember the occasion.
“What should be done with you?” he asked. “I’m curious as to your thoughts.”
“Why must anything be done? I’m home, and I can simply resume my old habits. I’ll live quietly and discreetly. Who will even know I’m here?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I have a wife.”
“Yes, I’ve met her.”
“I don’t believe she wishes you to stay on,” he said.
“I don’t believe she’s smart enough to have formed an opinion about it.”
Theo hadn’t meant to be snide, but the remark slithered out before she could stop it.
“Insult her again, Theo,” he warned, “and see what happens.”
She backed down immediately. “I apologize, Father. That was dreadful of me.”
“You still haven’t given me any suggestions as to your punishment. What discipline should I mete out?”
“What discipline? Gad, you act as if I’m ten, and I stole cookies from the cookie jar. Will you send me to bed without supper? Will you whip me?”
“With the trouble you’ve caused, you deserve a whipping.”
“I’ve never caused you any trouble. Not once,” she dared to reply.
His temper flared, and he pushed himself to his feet, appearing lethal and dangerous. He might have stomped over and administered the beating he’d threatened, but the door opened, and Mrs. Mountbank entered.
Theo waited for Lord Wood to order her out, but the horrid woman pranced over and stood next to him. She took his arm, her body pressed to his in an inappropriate manner that had Theo stunned and uneasy.