Augusta and Caroline erupted into protests, their argument increasing in volume. With a resigned sigh, Maria ascended the stairs.
“I shall be in my bedchamber, Mama,” she said as she reached the top. An evening of writing was just the thing.
“I’m afraid not, my dear,” Mrs. Roberts returned. “Your father and I wish to speak with you in his study.”
Maria’s heart squeezed as she turned around and slowly bypassed her sisters’ conflict. Whatever the reason for the discussion, being summoned boded ill. Had her parents discovered that she didnot, in fact, volunteer for various charitable causes every day, and instead became Duncan to fulfil her dreams and support the brother whose existence they denied?
Despite her stiffening spine, her stomach wobbled.
The scent of parchment and brandy filled her senses as she entered; her father kept his diminutive study organized to the point of obsession and completely devoid of literature. The room was used only for writing letters, managing properties, communicating with his steward, and arranging his children’s futures.
“At last you’ve returned home, daughter.” Her father lowered the letter he’d been reading to his desk and leaned back in his seat.
The door closed with a portentousclick, and her mother strode past Maria to sit near her father opposite the desk.
“I have,” Maria confirmed, stiffening her spine under her parents’ scrutiny.
“I’ve no wish to endure your company any longer than strictly necessary, so I shall get right to it,” her father said with a superior glint in his grey eyes. “If you do not find a match and agree to marry the man within a fortnight, you will first become a chaperone to your cousin Gertrude in her come-out year, and then you shall either take a position as a governess for your cousin Frederick’s two children or you shall be a companion and nurse to your great-aunt Sylvie. I daresay you have enough experience by now to do an adequate job with Sylvie.”
Alarm spread through Maria’s chest and tingled distressingly behind her ears. “Afortnight!”
She was a wallflower at the age of six-and-twenty who deterred men with her “masculine” bone structure and the “madness” in her family, and she had no dowry to induce a potential suitor to see past their prejudice. She’d thought her parents knew this already and had come to accept her spinsterhood.
“A fortnight is plenty of time in which to find a suitor, Maria,” her father intoned, his eyes narrowing with ire. “I’ve indulged your soft heart for charities long enough. But we will no longer house you here.”
“Why now?” she asked, her voice turned pleading and her pulse rushing with panic.
“Come, Maria,” her mother interjected, her voice dripping with distain. “You must know that you are a burden upon us. And Lord knows having an aging spinster of a sister is damaging Augusta’s and Caroline’s prospects.”
Maria blinked, taken aback by the sudden, sharp stab of pain in her chest. “I ask for nothing from you.”
Her mother waved a flippant hand through the air. “And yet you cost us more every year. Have you no notion of the cost of your attire? Of yourfood, for pity’s sake? And what of the servants that must clean your rooms?” She scoffed. “A daughter’s position in life is to wed someone wealthy and bear him his heir and spare, not to docharitywork.” She spat the word as though it tasted ill.
Maria’s chest constricted, and a wave of dejection spread like frost through her veins.
“But Ienjoy?—”
“I do not care what youenjoy,” her mother hissed. “You are our eldest child; your actions impact the family. Youwilldo as you’re told.”
Anger flushed hot in Maria’s chest, swiftly replacing her sadness. “I am not the eldest.”
Her mother’s eyes flashed. “Yes, you are.”
Maria’s voice rose with her anger. “You would dismiss Thomas so easily?—”
“Enough!” Papa boomed. “We pay very well for him to be both cared for and kept secret from those who would use his madness against you and your sisters. It is for his protectionandyours that he is locked away.”
“Everyoneknows of him, Papa, and he is discussed often. His name is spoken behind hands and fans at every mention of this family. Additionally, he is not mad and does not belong in Bedlam. If you would but speak to him, you would see that he is?—”
“I’ll not hear another word on the matter.” Her father’s tone lowered in warning, the deep baritone rumbling in Maria’s chest. “And you’ll not visit him again. Bedlam is no place for a gentleman’s daughter.”
It is no place for a gentleman, either. Maria bit the inside of her lip and nodded.
“Tomorrow night is the Weatherby ball,” her mama said coolly. “I expect that you will find yourself off the wall and dancing with some eligible men.” Her dark glare was severe and biting. The woman had the appearance of a doting mother but, in truth, she only desired the good opinion of—and a high position in—society.
Mrs. Roberts would never be satisfied with her life as the wife of a second son to an earl. She ought to have set her sights higher when she was on the marriage market, but Maria preferred to imagine that no man of dignity, wealth, and position would have her.
Maria gave her mother a tight smile and fisted her hands in her skirts. “Of course, Mama.”
