“In truth, it is not information one ordinarily expects to have to impart,” Lady Pembolt said with a hint of disdain in her voice.
“But we must warn Lydia at once!” Penelope cried. “She clearly does not know about this, and her future security may be in real peril.”
“First, do nothing in haste,” Lady Pembolt said. “It is not seemly to barge into a Countess’ home and insist that she bear children, especially not for her husband. Those conversations are best had in quiet and after much reflection.”
Penelope openly gaped at her mother’s insistence on adhering to rules of decorum, but then she stopped to consider. Perhaps this time her mother was correct. Haste would do nothing but cause insult and offense. She had to find a way to let Lydia know the truth without alarming her. But how?
Chapter 26
Peering out into the hall cautiously, Lydia listened for the sounds of shouts or cajoling moans. Instead, there was an ominous silence, one that was both frightening and oddly satisfying. She tiptoed out and down the stairs, looking in each direction to see if anyone was near.
The strange feeling that she was spying—and in her own house, no less—made Lydia feel somewhat queasy. A prickling sensation snaked its way up her neck until her shoulders pulled together protectively.
“Mother, I am serious about this,” Matthew was saying when Lydia peered around the corner from the landing and saw him standing beside the open front door. “The servants have packed your things. If anything has been overlooked, then it will be sent to you in London. You are to depart at once.”
“You are a vicious, cruel, ungrateful brat,” the Dowager Countess hissed at him, an animalistic mask of wild rage on her face.
“Yes, you’ve already stated as much,” Matthew said calmly, nodding to the footmen to finish placing her trunks atop the hired coach that was waiting outside.
“How can you do this to me? To cast me out of my own house?” she demanded an a terrifyingly quiet voice.
“It’s rather simple, really,” Matthew replied, unmoved by her anger. “I open the door thus so, you walk or are carried through it, and then I slam and lock it behind you.” He crossed his arms casually and waited with his shoulder leaned against the door frame. “Besides, it’s not as though you are being thrown to the gutter with the dogs. My townhouse in London is beautiful and very well located. You will be very comfortable there.”
“You will never lock me out of this house!” the old woman shouted, her fury echoing off the ceiling overhead.
“Ah, thank you for the warning.” Matthew turned to the butler, who’d been placidly standing nearby in case he was needed and said, “Do not permit this woman to return to this house or property. Should she attempt to do so, call for the constable at once.”
“Very good, My Lord,” Williams replied, nodding serenely.
“This will not stand! I will return here, wait and see if I don’t,” his mother screeched. As she shouted, her eye chanced to fall on Lydia where she waited at the staircase. “You. This is your doing.”
“Hardly, Mother,” Matthew said, intervening before Lydia could summon the courage to reply. “You set these events in motion years ago. It is only now that I am returned from abroad and have a wife that you are required to leave. And no one is forcing you from your home… I am requiring you to leavemyhome.”
The Dowager Countess stared at Matthew coldly, her eyes burning like fiery coal lamps in the windy darkness. “You will be sorry for this,” she whispered before straightening her posture and walking out the door with her held high.
Matthew watched the carriage go, and only after he stepped back and shut the front door firmly did Lydia venture the rest of the way down the stairs. She approached him hesitantly, attempting to judge his demeanor before interrupting his melancholy.
“Matthew?” she finally called out, hoping her presence didn’t startle him. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, looking down at his feet and resting his fists at his waist. “I think I am. In fact, I think this might be the best that I have felt in nearly fifteen years. Does that make me a monster?”
“No,” Lydia answered.
“I feel like a monster,” Matthew countered, “though it is a monster that has finally been released after a lifetime spent chained. I did not expect to feel as such.”
“Are you happy?” she asked, looking up at Matthew with concern.
“I think I am,” he replied, smiling for her benefit and to prove his point. “I cannot tell yet, but at least I think this is what happiness feels like. I haven’t experienced it in such a long time, and so rarely within the walls of this house.”
“Well then, my sincerest wish for you is that you discover what happiness means at home,” Lydia said sweetly. “Until recently, my own home was the source of all the happiness in the world for me, even upon the dark days of my mother’s death. Once I grieved for her and learned that she was never truly gone from me, my father and of course Elsie more than made up for what happiness had faded away.”
Matthew turned to Lydia and seemed ashamed. “I am so sorry you had to see that. I was not even thinking of what it must feel like.”
“What’s that?” Lydia asked, smiling reassuringly though she looked perplexed.
“For me to toss my mother on the street like a stray cat when you would undoubtedly give anything for even another moment with either of your parents,” Matthew said, looking down. “I’m sorry. I know I must seem like the worst sort of person to not only do so, but then to be relieved enough to feel happy about it.”
“I do not fault you in the least,” Lydia said, taking Matthew’s hand. “True enough, I miss my parents terribly. But they were not the same sort of figure in my life that your mother must have been in yours. It is unfair to you to compare them.”
