“It certainly appears that you are displeased with your breakfast since you have decided to stab it repeatedly,” Matthew said, watching her. “Why don’t you declare it dead and tell Cook you prefer something else?”
His mother didn’t answer, but she threw down her roll and knife with a clatter that caused the footman to jump slightly. He started to move forward to retrieve the Countess’ plate, but Matthew stopped him with a small wave of his fingers and a shake of his head.
“I cannot help but wonder if something is the matter, Mother? You seem out of sorts today, perhaps a little unhappy about something.” Matthew smiled at her knowingly, waiting for her to adhere to the manners that were so essential to her life.
“Of course I am unhappy,” she answered. “Your little display yesterday evening has already been spread far and wide. Look at these!” The Countess grabbed up a pile of correspondence from beside her plate. “Half of these letters are from those who have already heard of it, the other half are from people who have mysteriously asked to call on me today. I wonder what could have prompted them to send word they would like to come to call. Do you have any idea?”
“I cannot imagine. Perhaps they admire you and have come to adore your loving, pleasant nature?” Matthew answered sarcastically before spearing a large piece of egg and eating it.
“Don’t be insolent! They are coming to visit in order to pepper me with questions about you,” his mother argued angrily, throwing down the letters to the table and ignoring the ones that fell to the floor. Again, the footman looked to Matthew as to whether or not he should retrieve them, and Matthew only shook his head.
“You know, you are not required to accept their requests,” Matthew said, still eating his breakfast as though the subject did not bother him in the least. “You can tell them you are busy today with the preparations for your move and cannot possibly have time for social calls.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the butler, who entered the drawing room with a small tray. He extended it to Matthew with a slight bow, offering him the letter.
“This has just arrived for you by messenger, My Lord,” Williams said politely.
“What is that?” the Countess demanded, stretching up taller and looking at the tray from her end of the table. “Who is that from?”
“It is a letter for His Lordship, My Lady,” Williams explained politely, causing Matthew to duck his head to conceal his smile.
“Well, of course it is, I heard you the first time. Who is it from?” she demanded, clearly angered that the post was no longer her concern.
“I know not, My Lady, I was not at liberty to inquire and I would never consider opening it myself to find out,” Williams replied formally.
The Countess fumed angrily, unable to reprimand the butler for simply complying with the requirements of his position. She turned her question to Matthew instead and repeated, “Who is that from?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Matthew asked, looking up from the letter as though he had not heard his mother’s request. “Oh, this? It is a private correspondence.” He folded it and put it in his pocket, then told Williams, “Thank you, there will be no reply at the moment. Now Mother, about your preparations…”
“What are you talking about, what preparations?” the Countess demanded.
“For your move, as I said. You will be taking up residence in your new home now that I am returned and you have required me to marry. It would be unthinkable for a bride to be expected to move in under her mother-in-law’s roof, else how would she ever take her place as the Countess of Paxton?”
Matthew stabbed a chunk of meat and ate it, smiling at his mother adoringly as he chewed. The Countess only stared at him, unable to think of a response for a moment.
When she did, the Countess’ voice was raspy, almost emotional. “Where do you propose that I go?”
“Well, I do have one suggestion, but I don’t think you’ll like it,” Matthew teased, cocking an eyebrow and grinning. He recovered himself and said, “Instead, you shall live in a very cozy townhouse right here in London. I will dispatch someone today to seek out the perfect location for your needs. It shall have all that you require to continue in your post as matron of the ton and a well-loved social hostess.”
The Countess blinked in hurt and surprise. “I cannot believe this. You are forcing me out of my home? The home I have shared with my family for all these years? What would cause you to be so vicious, so cruel?”
Matthew patted his waistcoat pockets comically. “I have a list somewhere here, I’ve written it all down just for such an occasion as this…” He stopped and looked at his mother seriously. “As I have said, you are the one who insists on my marrying. Therefore, your place is in your own home now, not this one.”
“But you have not yet chosen a bride, there is certainly no need to rush this,” the Countess answered, picking up the remnants of her roll again and continuing with the farce of spreading butter on it.
“I don’t understand your meaning,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “You were there at Lord Verdurn’s ball yesterday, I am certain I saw you once or twice. Iammarrying, and rather quickly I should think, considering the circumstances.”
“But I forbade it,” his mother said evenly, as though that explained everything. “You cannot possibly follow through with that awful display. These visitors who are coming to call today will learn that it was all a misunderstanding, and they in turn will help get that word out to the rest of the ton. There is no need of you throwing away your life for that girl.”
“I understand your meaning now, Mother,” Matthew replied, finishing the last of his breakfast and draining his coffee cup. “Thank you for letting me know.”
He rose and slowly walked from the room, ignoring the look of triumph on the older woman’s face. Matthew heard the distinct crunch of the roll as she finally ate it, clearly satisfied that she was once again in charge.
* * *
When she was dressed, Lydia came downstairs to a nearly empty house. Her uncle was nowhere to be seen, Madam Saunier was still in her chambers, and even little Elsie was not sitting at the table in the drawing room, swinging her feet back and forth when she thought no one was looking.
“Do you require something, Lady Lydia?” Mrs. Blankenship, the housekeeper, asked when she saw Lydia wandering outside the drawing room.
