Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps her restlessness did denote a waywardness, a lack of respect for the man who had been her husband for seven years and for his grieving family.Werethey grieving, though? Beneath the outer trappings of mourning, that was. None of them had come to Bramble Hall even once during the five years Matthew had been here, except Matilda at the end. None of them had come for the funeral. It was a long way, of course, from Kent to County Durham and would have caused an uncomfortable delay in the proceedings. Nevertheless, she had personally sent word to the earl and countess by special messenger, and they could have got word back to her just as quickly to delay the service. They had not done so.
Matthew had been the black sheep.
Oh, no, she decided, tugging firmly on the bell pull again, she wasnotgoing to feel guilty. And she was not going to try to persuade Matilda to change her mind. Good riddance to her. She was not going to send word to Robland Park to cancel tomorrow’s ride either.
She wasnotgoing to feel guilty.
But of course she did.
“Bring the tea tray in, please, Rose,” she said when the maid answered her summons.
She was not hungry either, though. Or thirsty.
7
“It is going to rain,” Beatrice observed at breakfast the next morning. She had looked up briefly from the letter she was reading.
Ben glanced toward the window and agreed that rain was a distinct possibility. It had been a pretty miserable spring so far, at least in this part of the country. It looked as if they were not going to be able to ride with Mrs. McKay after all. Perhaps it was just as well. He did not doubt the battle-ax would disapprove since she did not believe even a sedate visit to a neighbor was seemly. Though he did think it was high time Mrs. McKay thumbed her nose at the heavy restrictions that were being imposed upon her.
Perhaps the rain would hold off.
“How can boys spend such a vast deal of money when they are supposedly at school becoming the scholars of the future?” Beatrice asked, her eyes back on her letter. “And why do they apply for extra funds to their mothers rather than their fathers, who would demand an accounting of what had already been spent?”
“Precisely for that reason,” he said. “I daresay the price of sweetmeats has risen since I was at school.”
“Hmm,” she said. “But having rotten teeth pulled is just as painful.”
It started to rain in the late morning, a light drizzle at first, which might or might not turn into something more serious. By the time he had finished his luncheon, however, Ben was forced to admit that the rain had taken the first option. It was going to be too wet to ride.
He was disappointed. He went upstairs to do his daily exercises. He would not neglect those, even though he had accepted the reality that he would never recover more than very minimal use of his legs. He would not risk losing what little he had accomplished, however. At least he could get about on his own legs. Besides, there were other parts of his body that needed to be kept in good working condition.
The vigorous activity did not rid him of his restlessness. He was in a crisis period of his life, he realized.
He found his sister at the escritoire in the drawing room, writing to both of her sons and her husband.
“I feel bad about not sending word over to Bramble Hall,” he told her.
“But Mrs. McKay will hardly expect us in this weather,” she said without looking up.
“No,” he agreed. “But I thought I would go over there anyway and make our excuses in person. Would you care to come with me?”
She brushed the feather of her quill pen over her chin and looked toward the window. “You must know how you tempt me, Ben,” she said. “Letter writing was never one of my favorite activities. I daresay that proves I am not a proper lady. I must finish these now that I have started them, however, or I will put off doing so indefinitely. You do not need my company, do you? The McKay ladies will be each other’s chaperon.”
“You make me sound like a big bad wolf,” he said.
“I daresay you appear that way to at least one of the ladies,” she said. “Oh, dear, I do not usually take virtual strangers in such dislike. Convey my respects to them, if you please, Ben.”
“I shall.” He bent over her to kiss her cheek. “Give my love to my nephews and tell them not to get up to any more mischief than I did in my day.”
She snorted rather inelegantly. “I shall tell themfrom their Uncle Benedict,” she said, “to be good. And frugal.”
He laughed and made his slow way out of the room.
Samantha had lain awake half the night. She rose early in order to have breakfast with Matilda and try to send her on her way with some civility. But her sister-in-law neither came down to eat nor had a tray sent up to her room. And when she did come downstairs, she was dressed for travel and the carriage was awaiting her outside the front doors, already laden with her baggage.
“It is going to rain,” Samantha said. “I wish you would reconsider, Matilda, and postpone your departure at least for a few days.”
Matilda was looking pale and unwell.
