Estelle patted Maria’s hand again while the words echoed inside her head.And he took them. Then he showed not a glimmering of remorse.She remembered his cold unconcern when his dog had frightened her half to death by the riverbank. And his stiff, reticent manner when she and Bertrand had called at Prospect Hall soon after his arrival there. She thought of his strange, abrupt, passionless proposal of marriage earlier this morning. And his brief, hard kiss. Was it all of a piece?Then he showed not a glimmering of remorse... It was not so much their monetary worth that grieved her as their emotional value.
No. No, somehow it did not ring quite true. She had no ideawhynot. It was not as though she felt kindly disposed toward the man. She would gladly believe the worst of him if only the worst were credible. Somehow it was not.
“Your brother seems to be trying to make amends, Maria,” she said. “He has brought you home and invited Bertrand and me to come too so that you will have familiar people with you for a while. He has arranged this house party to give you and your relatives a chance to get to know one another, to turn a page in your family history, perhaps, so that they may be a part of your life in the future.”
“Do you believe, then, that I owehiman apology too?” Maria asked.
“Oh, I will not tell you what you ought to do,” Estelle said.
Maria sighed. “Melanie would not hold back,” she said. “She would instruct me to remember that a lady always thinks first before she speaks, especially when she has a potential audience of more than one person. I condemned him very publicly. Melanie would say it is no excuse that I was severely provoked.”
Estelle smiled at her.
“But perhaps it is a good thing everyone now knows him for the thief he is,” Maria said. “I can never forgive him. Not only was he not sorry he had taken Mama’s precious treasures, as she always called her lost jewels. He also banishedheras soon as he was able. He did it while she was still almost prostrate with grief over the loss of Papa. Even whileIwas. For a time after Papa died, I wanted to die too.”
She ran her hands over her face before clasping them in her lap.
“You have never spoken much about your papa, Maria,” Estelle said. “I would like to know more sometime. One’s father is very precious. One’s mother too. I always regret that I was too young when my mother died to have any memory of her. But I love my father dearly. Losing him would seem unbearable.”
“I am so sorry for having behaved badly in the drawing room,” Maria said, looking up after a while. “For making you listen to all my bad temper now. For being so self-absorbed. I am going to have to face everyone soon. At luncheon. I am going to have to think of something to say, since it will be impossible to behave as though nothing has happened, despite what Uncle Leonard said. Thank you for being my friend. For listening and not lecturing me. How did you enjoy your morning? What did you think of the summerhouse?”
“I love it,” Estelle said. “I can quite understand why Lord Brandon spends so much time there. It is... peaceful.”
“He used to take me there when I was a child,” Maria said. “But never just to sit downstairs. He used to take me upstairs, where all his things were—pictures and books and his private hoard of sweetmeats and biscuits the cook used to slip to him. He used to cuddle me next to him on an old armchair if it was a chilly day, a blanket from the bed around me like a cocoon, and tell me stories. His own stories, not anything from any of his books. They were always thrilling adventures, and he always used to leave them off abruptly at an exciting point and make me wait until next time before he continued. All my wheedling and pleading would not shift him. Those weresuchgood days.” Her face had lit up at the memories.
And now he wrote a continuing story of the adventures of a young man turned out upon the world without a penny or a friend or an ounce of life experience. An accidental hero who vanquished all the demons that threatened destruction.
But had the author also been turned loose upon the worldwithout a penny? Or had he had a considerable fortune, amassed from the sale of a treasure trove of precious jewels belonging to his stepmother?
Maria was frowning with her eyes closed. “How can I possibly go down for luncheon?” she said. “Or join in the tour of the state apartments this afternoon? Or leave my room until after everyone has left Everleigh?”
“When something that needs to be done is impossible to do,” Estelle said, “I have always found that the only possible course of action is to do it anyway.”
Maria looked at her and pulled a face.
“Boldly and without delay,” Estelle added.
“I called Lady Mapleevilandwicked,” Maria said. “I called Brandon a thief in front of all his family and mine. In front of you and Viscount Watley.”
“You did indeed,” Estelle said, and smiled.
“All of which was true,” Maria added. “I think I am going to be sick.”
“If that is so,” Estelle said, “you had better hurry over to your dressing room, Maria. If it is not literally true, you had better go there anyway. It is almost time for luncheon and your hair needs combing.”
Estelle let herself into her own room after Maria had rung for her maid. What an unbelievably eventful morning it had been. And there was no knowing what lay ahead. This gathering of family to welcome Maria home had seemed very successful until an hour or so ago. But now?
Perhaps, she thought, this upset was very necessary if there was to be any lasting reconciliation. Yet all the trouble, she suspected, had been caused by a dead woman, a woman who had been too beautiful, too conceited, and too immature and morally bankrupt for her own good. She could be wrong, but she did not believe she was.
Yet Maria had had a deep attachment to her mother and still did.
But really it was not her concern how it would all play out, was it? She was not a member of the family.
She might have been.
A couple of hours ago the Earl of Brandon had asked her to marry him.
And kissed her.
