She dropped her arm, suddenly exhausted, her eyes so heavy they burned. The ache in her head had eased somewhat, and she could feel herself drifting into unconsciousness. She took a deep breath, and it was as if her whole body relaxed for the first time that night.
When she awoke she was alone.
***
“You’ve been crying, Amanda.”
Huey, bless his heart, was not the subtle sort. Thus, as Amanda entered the morning room to break her fast, his observation brought her the combined scrutiny of all those at the dining table. That meant Aunt Henry and the twins—and Huey, of course.
James was nowhere to be seen.
Amanda moved to the sideboard, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “Actually, I had a horrid headache last evening,” she said to the eggs she spooned on her plate. That at least was no lie. “I feared my eyes were a bit puffy this morning. You have confirmed it, Uncle Huey.”
Silence greeted her statement, and she suspected she had fooled no one. However, they were too polite to say so. At that point the conversation picked up where it had apparently left off, the brothers relentlessly teasing their sister until all were laughing gaily. But Amanda was aware of the occasional curious glance in her direction. She pasted a pleasant smile on her face, puffy eyes trained on her meal, and pretended not to notice.
“Did Henry tell you about the invitation?” Ham asked.
Amanda looked at Ham and then in question at Henrietta.
“No…”
Aunt Henry sent Uncle Ham a severe glance as if he had spoken out of turn. She turned to Amanda. “Muriel is serving tea today. We are to attend.”
“All of us?”
“Oh my, no.” Aunt Henry’s mouth twisted wryly. “Only we ladies are invited.”
“I see,” she said, although she didn’t see at all.
“Yes, we’re to have tea and cakes,” Henry continued.
“Rum cakes, if you ask me,” muttered Uncle Harry.
As always, when Harry chose to speak it caused a stir. Sniggers and chuckles gave way to hilarity, and Amanda found herself smiling in genuine amusement for the first time since yesterday.
“By Jove, you could be right, Harry,” Uncle Ham said. “Watch your cup, Amanda. I’d be willing to wager our Muriel is not above spiking the tea.”
“Spiking?” Huey interjected into the laughter. “What does that mean?”
Amanda expected Huey to receive a condescending answer appropriate to his understanding level, but Ham clapped him on the back, a huge grin still creasing his features.
“Good question, old chap. Spiking is putting brandy or the like in a beverage that is supposed to be served without spirits.”
“Brandy in tea?” Huey shuddered. “That’s disgusting.” He turned a sudden worried gaze on Amanda. “Watch your cup.”
His concern touched her. “I will,” she said.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
***
Aunt Henrietta met Amanda in the drawing room twenty minutes before they were expected at Muriel’s tea party. Henry had not bothered to change from her morning garb, which on the surface would indicate a lack of concern regarding their visit. However, there was a hunted look to her eyes that exposed her real feelings on the matter. Muriel, though treated cordially by James’s paternal relatives, was given a wide berth due to her temperament. No one wanted to tangle with the dowager countess.
Amanda had changed her gown, more from nervous doubt than necessity. She was as uncertain around her mother-in-law as the rest of the family, fairly convinced the woman had little use for her. What was most distressing of all, though, was Muriel’s seeming dislike for her own son. Perhaps indifference was a more accurate term, but that was hardly any better.
The two women left the house and began their trek across the yard toward the dowager’s residence. They were in no hurry, their walk best characterized as an amble, reluctance dogging their steps. Amanda broke the pensive silence.
“I’ve not seen James today.” She hoped she wasn’t revealing how upset she was by that fact.
Henry appeared blithely unaware of Amanda’s distress. “I should think not, my dear, unless you awoke with the dawn.”
No, that’s when she had gone to sleep—finally.
“My nephew had a meeting with his man of business, and he left before the morning meal was served.”
“Where did he go?”
“He met Mr. Smythe in Huxley.”
“Rather than here at Lonsdale?”
Henrietta looked thoughtful. “Strange, isn’t it?”
“I thought a nobleman like my husband was waited on by the business class. My father always goes to his clients. James must be very open-minded in his outlook.”
“He is.”
Amanda searched the older woman’s features, looking for duplicity, for Aunt Henry sounded sincerely proud of her nephew’s liberal views.
Henry glanced at her, seeming to understand Amanda’s doubt. “Huey has made all of us reassess,” she said simply. “He has been treated with much cruelty by people who should know better, people who take their privilege for granted. My brother cannot help how he was born. No one can.”
Which attitude probably explained why the Lonsdales had been so welcoming to her. Feeling a warm wave of gratitude, Amanda smiled.
“So James met Mr. Smythe in Huxley because it was more convenient for Mr. Smythe?”
Aunt Henry returned the smile, her own rather sheepish. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. Going to Huxley probably wasn’t any more convenient for Mr. Smythe than coming to Lonsdale. Huxley is quite close, you see. I think it’s something else, although I don’t know for certain…”
“Go on.”
“I think James can’t bring himself to use his father’s study, his desk, anything that signified ownership by my brother. I think he feels disloyal taking over as though he’s somehow benefitted from Herbert’s passing.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Ah, yes, it is. But how do you make your heart understand what your head already knows? James loved his father dearly. Taking on the earldom has been an obligation rather than a gift. Being an earl is not nearly as fine as being the son of an earl. At least, for James it isn’t.”
Well, well, another aspect to her husband’s character she must examine but when she was alone and could hopefully sort through the contradictions. There was something good in a man who loved his father that much. That love probably spoke volumes for the character of the father as well.
“…and of course there is the guilt,” Henry was saying. “He was not here when Herbert died. Like most young people, I suspect James thought his father would live forever. Nothing matures one more quickly than losing someone dear.”
How true, Amanda mused sadly, her thoughts turning to her mother.
They finished the remainder of the walk in silence, arriving at Muriel’s door moments later.
An ancient butler answered the chime, and his face lit with recognition when he saw Aunt Henry. “My lady,” he said, an affection developed over many years of association tingeing his greeting.
Henrietta reached over and touched his sleeve with gloved fingers, the sentiment clearly returned. “I believe we are expected, Harris.”
His smile settled into grim lines and he nodded, leading the way to the parlor.
The dowager countess sat on a plush sofa, a large silver tea service on the table in front of her, looking much like the queen preparing for court. A spot of color dotted each of her cheeks, color Amanda suspected was artificial—or perhaps induced by her choice of beverage. She wore a high-necked gown in deep purple, and her hands were laced primly across her lap. The look in her gaze was remote and anything but warm.
For goodness sake, why then had she invited them? Amanda wondered. Only accepting that flight was not an option kept her from leaving immediately. She wasn’t particularly happy with her husband right now, but she owed it to him to make an effort.
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She glanced at Henrietta to see how James’s aunt was responding to the dowager’s “welcome.” Nervousness almost made Amanda giggle out loud. Never had she seen a blander, more colorless expression as though Henry smelled something bad and must under no circumstances let on.
Muriel lifted one hand, negligently fluttering her fingers in the direction of the two parlor chairs that faced the sofa. “Do take a seat, my dears.”
Her mother-in-law’s voice was cooler than her attitude and, intimidated until now, Amanda felt her temper rise. To be asked to call and then act as though it were an imposition was insulting.
Her irritation must have slipped to the surface because Aunt Henry took her wrist and gently but with determination guided her to one of the chairs. Amanda understood the gesture. Despite the provocation, they were going to placate the dowager and pretend they were happy to have come.
“We were very pleasantly surprised to have received your invitation this morning, Muriel,” Henry said as she settled in her seat and straightened her skirts.
“Were you?” Muriel returned, her lip taking on a cynical twist.
Amanda shot the woman a surprised look. Whatever one had to say about her mother-in-law’s less endearing qualities, obtuseness could not be considered one of them.
“Yes, indeed,” Aunt Henry continued as though the tension in the room were not a palpable thing. “It does us ladies good to have the occasional party without the gentlemen. They do dominate the conversation, don’t you agree? And I’ve yet to discover the man who truly enjoys the art of taking tea.”
“Yes, quite,” Muriel drawled. Henry opened her mouth to respond, and the dowager held up her hand. “Oh, please, Henrietta, don’t say anything more. You’ll start babbling nonsense, and we’ll waste the next ten minutes talking about men and their proclivities. A subject, I can tell you, I care little about.”
The hush that followed made Amanda’s eye twitch. She was unused to such blatant disregard of good manners, and she watched the by-play between the two older women with equal parts fascination and horror. She wanted to breach the silent void and say something, anything, to get past the uncomfortable moment, but her mind was numb with embarrassment.
Fortunately, it proved unnecessary. Aunt Henry’s facile personality took a sudden and unexpected turn.
“As you wish, Muriel.” Her expression hardened. “As usual, you choose directness over courtesy. I thought you might want to expose Amanda to your better side, perhaps even make your son proud for a change. But if you would rather be blunt, so be it.”
So much for placating the woman.
“Oh my, hoping to shame me, Sister-in-law? Can’t be done. You should know that by now.”
Henry merely gave a crisp nod, acknowledging the obvious. “Then why did you invite us?”
Another silence as Muriel began the motions of serving the tea. “Sugar? Cream?” she asked as though the glacial exchange with Henry had never happened. Not until she had served the small tea cakes and settled back against the sofa cushions did she deign to answer.
“James wants me to make an effort.”
“Does he also want you to be rude?” Aunt Henry asked.
“Oh, balderdash! He asked me to be hospitable to his new wife. He did not—nor would it have done him any good if he had—ask me to make a false impression. I am who I am. Best Amanda knows that from the start.”
Raising her cup, she saluted Amanda before taking a rather loud sip. Then she nested the cup back in its saucer with a decided click of china on china.
Amanda found herself nodding back without comment as well, despite the irony the dowager’s gesture implied. There was one thing of which she was certain. She was not sitting in that chair opposite her mother-in-law to please James. In fact, she began to wonder if it was nothing more than simple curiosity that inspired the woman.
“How do you like your new home, my dear?” Muriel asked.
How condescending she sounded. Amanda had never realized that “my dear” could be a disparaging term as well as an endearment.
“My welcome has been most gratifying. I cannot imagine finding a more engaging family than the Tremonts. I feel as if I’ve known them all my life.”
“How pleasant for you. Would that we could all take such pleasure in our relatives—new or otherwise.”
Amanda went back to sipping her tea, as any worthwhile response eluded her. Beside her she could feel Henry’s simmering anger. Clearly James’s aunt had decided that adding to this conversation served little purpose and, whatever her good intentions had been, they were now put to rest.
No one spoke again, Amanda now slugging her tea, until Henry placed her cup on the table with an emphasis that indicated another intention. She was leaving.
“Muriel, it’s been…interesting. However—”
“Have you spoken to Derrick, Henrietta?” There was a sly quality to the dowager’s voice that bespoke mischief.
Aunt Henry, in the act of rising, paused before straightening. “Not recently, no.”
Her attitude was so hostile Amanda had to wonder. There was something here she did not understand, and for the moment she was pleased to remain ignorant. She came to her feet, following quickly after Aunt Henry, who had already turned and was leaving the room.
“Ta ta, ladies.” Muriel’s voice reached them in the hall, smug and self-satisfied, as though their visit had been a rousing success.
Coming toward them from the opposite end of the hall was the butler, carrying a tray with a full brandy decanter and a crystal goblet.
“In the afternoon, Harris?” Henry asked.
“Indeed, my lady,” he said wearily, coming abreast of them. “In the morning and the night and all the hours in between.”
“You poor man.”
He nodded, moving to set down the tray.
“No, no, carry on. We’ll see ourselves out.”
Never had the outdoors seemed so bright, so fresh…so free of insinuation. Amanda had to hurry to keep up with Henry’s infuriated steps.
“Aunt Henry, have I missed something? What happened in there?”
“That woman, I-I’ve never been so angry—” she spluttered to a stop.
“I know it must be painful to have had her mention your son in, ah, in that way…” Amanda was grasping at straws, for what her mother-in-law had said had not seemed that terrible.
Aunt Henry halted mid-stride to look at her.
“Oh my, I’m sorry, perhaps I’m being insensitive, too,” Amanda said.
“This is not your fault, dear. A life of dissatisfaction has made Muriel Tremont a spiteful and cruel inebriate. I’ve known that for a long while. I should never have allowed her baiting to bother me.”
Amanda murmured agreement, still uncertain what the baiting had been, but relieved that Henry appeared to have found her equilibrium. They continued their walk, exchanging only small talk, Amanda no more enlightened over that strange altercation than she was before. She decided, however, it was best to wonder rather than reintroduce the painful subject.
Aunt Henry excused herself as soon as they reached the main house. She trudged up the stairs, a sad little figure, and Amanda felt her heart well with pity. Derrick made her life miserable. Why would the dowager poke her finger in that wound?
One thing was for certain. Action defined character. And that being so, the dowager countess was beginning to look like a most unpleasant person.
***
CHAPTER 14
It was the hour before dusk, and James was returning home, his horse’s tired gait a reflection of his own fatigue.
He had spent a long morning and the better part of an afternoon in Huxley with his man of business Mr. Smythe. Mr. Smythe had been his father’s man of business before being employed by James, and he was a capable and trustworthy fellow with whom to work. James had not, however, enjoyed his day. Following in his father’s steps felt cumbersome and unnatural. And unworthy. Life had taken on a seriousness he det
ested.
It didn’t help that, as the hours had passed, his thoughts had turned repeatedly—and anxiously—to his wife.
He had awakened not long after dawn, wrapped around Amanda, more reluctant than he thought possible to leave the bed. But he had a day planned that could not be ignored. He found his feet with a groan, the heat of her skin still warming his.
For a moment he paused, transfixed by Amanda’s innocence as she slept, the covers pulled to her chin, clutching them as though she feared losing her grip. Her features in slumber were heartbreakingly lovely, however, dark circles under her eyes underscored an overburdened spirit. He had cringed to think what his part was in her pain.
He still did not understand how he had failed her. Lovemaking that had brought him emotionally to his knees had made her cry—and not tears of joy. How could that be? How could he have so misjudged the situation? How could the same moment have affected them each so differently? He was baffled and upset and desperate to discover how to mend the breach.
Now, as he rode toward Lonsdale, the last thing he wanted was to return home to a chilly wife. After their night together they should be desiring each other’s company as they never had before, not just the anticipation of things physical, but an acknowledgment of the spiritual bond that had been forged between them through the simple act of making love.
He might as well face the truth, James thought, disgusted with himself. He’d made another mistake. But this mistake was less clear to him than his lie had been because the lie could be defined as absolutely wrong. Last night he had wandered into murkier territory where the right and the wrong of it was less clear.
Thus he had gotten himself into trouble. He had made assumptions and forced an issue that he now must assume had hindered rather than helped his cause. But somehow he had been unable to stop himself.
James was a man of action, forceful, and allowing a situation to languish made him feel impotent and out of control. His relationship with Amanda had come to mean everything to him. To let the distrust and hurt continue without doing something—anything—seemed foolish, the perfect recipe for a failed marriage.
In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) Page 15