And then…after she was gone, his mother had suggested moving back in, to help him – but he had politely refused. He was used to living alone. Well, without his mother, at any rate. And he did not want to go back to her commenting on everything he did. Even if she meant well.
Of course, he had not counted on the fact that she would still come round most days. After all, the dower house was not that far, and she did like a walk.
"What can I do for you, Mother?" he asked, taking a seat as she did. "Soames is bringing some more coffee."
"You really must do something about the outside of the house, Ezra. The rosebushes, the ivy, all those brambles and thorns – it’s starting to look rather nightmarish."
"Did you really come round before breakfast has even ended to comment on the gardening?" Ezra asked, irritation colouring his tone.
"No, I did not. And you needn't take that tone with me, young man. You can be as cold and rude to the rest of the world as you like, but I am your mother, and I do not deserve that."
"My apologies, Mother. Please go on," Ezra said wearily. It was certainly not the first time he had been rebuked for his tone, and he doubted it would be the last.
"I had an invitation to Lady Portbury’s ball, and it included you."
"I'm not sure why they think that sending an invitation to you is more likely to be successful than sending one to me."
"You really should get out of the house, Ezra. Shave that ridiculous beard, see a little of society. It doesn’t do you any good to stay cooped up here alone all the time."
"I'm not exactly alone. I have an army of staff, Soames takes good care of me, and of course I see you regularly."
"That’s not the same as mixing with society of your own class and your own age, and you know it." She reached for the coffee which Soames had just poured. "It’s been five years, my dear, since Laura left us. I understand the pain…but you cannot shut yourself away forever. You must rejoin the land of the living sometime."
"I will think about it, Mother," he said, as he did every time she brought up the topic of him socialising more. But the truth was, he had got rather used to being alone, to spending his days in his castle, to letting his hair grow, his beard grow, and not caring what anyone thought.
At the beginning, it had been about grief. He and Laura had been promised to one another since not long out of the cradle, and while it was not some great love match, they were fond of one another.
And then there was the fact that he felt responsible for her death. He had been so focused on the need for an heir, that he had never even considered that it could be trying to bring thatvery child into the world which might take Laura’s life. And with her, the child too.
And so grief and guilt had made him lock himself away, and now he supposed it was habit. He spent his days reading, managing the estate through his staff, and, when he felt like it, painting landscapes that he could see from the walls of the castle.
It wasn’t that he never left the castle, for he did on occasion, but he simply didn’t socialise. He didn’t feel any great urge to – although he supposed one day his mother would wear him down and persuade him to re-enter society. But that moment was not now, and he did not think it would start with Lady Portbury’s ball.
Chapter Two
"It’s so kind of you to come," Grandmamma said when Constance entered the parlour of her Northumberland home. It was called a cottage, but it was certainly far grander than most cottages. After all, Grandmamma was a dowager countess, and although she had chosen to live rurally, she was not short of money.
"But I really didn’t mean for you to miss the entire Season," she added.
"I’m happy to do it," Constance said, sitting down and removing her hat. "I hate thinking of you lonely, Grandmamma – and especially in a part of the country I love so much. I assure you, it will be no hardship to spend the Season here."
"Well, I’m very glad to have you here, but you shouldn’t shun all society, not at your age."
"I’d be very happy to live in Northumberland and not have to spend the Season in London, I can assure you."
Her grandmother tutted and rang a little bell to call for the butler. "You are young, my dear. You may not love society, but you want to find a husband. And that’s not likely, hidden away up here. Ah, James – could we have some tea, please, and could you see that Lady Constance is made aware of where her room is, so that she might unpack?"
"Of course, my lady," the butler said with a bow of his head.
"I am an old lady," her grandmother said, as though she had not been interrupted. "I’ve been married, had children, and grandchildren – and so a little solitude is not going to cause me any problems. But you mustn’t hide away all your life, my dear."
"Yes, Grandmamma," Constance said, not wanting an argument. "But for now, I’m here – and I’m keen to do whatever it is that you wish for us to do."
"It will be a joy to have you sitting across from me at the dinner table, my dear. And there are one or two social calls it might be nice to pay. Of course, I know you love your castles – you’ll have plenty of time to go exploring, too."
Constance beamed. "Thank you, Grandmamma. When we last came up here, I was lucky enough to see a few – but there are some I didn’t get to visit, and I have always regretted it."
"Blackthorne is supposed to be beautiful," Grandmamma said. "But you went there, didn’t you?"
