“I’ve only just returned and I did not write her first that I was coming today as one cannot control the ships or the storms along that route. How did she possibly have time to write out…” Matthew looked down at the paper with some measure of disgust. “…a list of rules for me?”
“I’m sorry, My Lord, but I do not know,” the butler stammered, looking awkwardly at the paper. “I only know she picked it up from her writing table and bade me give it to you.”
“And did she say if she’s coming out to meet me?” Matthew asked. “It would be expected, you know, not only because I’m the son she hasn’t seen in nearly a decade but also because I am the Earl of Paxton, am I not?”
“No, you’re not,” a woman’s voice droned from atop the staircase. Matthew and Williams both turned to see who had called down to them, and were taken aback by the appearance of the Dowager Countess.
Chapter 4
“Mother,” Matthew said firmly as Williams bowed slightly. “I wasn’t sure you were coming out to greet me.”
“If I had known you would look as you do, I would have stayed in my room,” she replied before slowly descending the stairs one at a time.
“Speaking of looks,” Matthew replied haughtily as he ignored her jab, “you seem to have misplaced your mourning gown. What is this that you’re wearing with my father dead not even a year?”
“It’s called moving on with life, as it is for the living. After all, someone in this city had to look after our family’s connections, and I cannot very well do that from my room while crying into my handkerchief. But speaking of attire, when did you decide to dress as though you were a stowaway aboard a prison vessel from Australia?” the older woman asked, sneering down at Matthew’s long hair and work clothes.
“This? This is called working clothes. It’s what I had to do on board my ship for the many months we were at sea. Perhaps I began to dress thus around the same time that my family made no provision for my return to England from the Far East… after I made them spectacularly wealthy, that is,” he said, never wavering.
“Nonsense, we’ve always been spectacularly wealthy. You only added another layer on the top,” she replied. She looked down at the paper in Matthew’s hand and said, “I see you have received my requirements for your return.”
“That I have, and I must say, I am rather impressed with the great lengths you’ve gone to in order to continue keeping an iron-fisted grip over my life.” Matthew held up the paper and read some of the lines. “Proper dress at all times of the day and night… daily outings in the city… weekly horse rides in the countryside… all very common stuff, at least until we get to items such as accompany the Dowager Countess—I can only assume that means you since you did not refer to yourself as ‘Mother’—on social calls and seek a wife within a suitable time frame of no more than three months.”
Matthew folded the paper several times and shoved it down in the pocket of his sailing trousers. “What is the meaning of all this?”
“Only that if you are to become the Earl of Paxton—”
“Correction,” Matthew interrupted, “Iamthe Earl of Paxton.”
Lady Paxton continued as though her son had not spoken. “—and as such, you must comport yourself properly at all times. This includes marriage to an eligible, appropriate young lady, as unmarried gentlemen are vulgar. Left without a wife, they are soon equated with vicious rumors of their rakish ways and I will not have it.”
“Their rakish ways?” Matthew asked, a skeptical tone in his voice. “Pray, what behavior could possibly be more ‘rakish’ than for me to have lived amongst the opium dens of the Asian harbors for all these years? For all the ton knows, I have returned with an exotic bride and three children who look only vaguely like me.”
“Do not speak to me in that manner,” Lady Paxton barked, waving Matthew’s words off dismissively as though they were a physical presence in the air before her. “That is wholly untrue and no one would think so, at least not if you carry yourself in the proper way. Now you must bathe and permit your valet to make you look presentable. We have a function to attend and being fashionably late is a social climber’s tactic, not ours.”
“Mother, I have spent the last five months or so on a massive boat filled with lice and rats, as well as the vermin I employ to sail the thing. I have been standing on solid ground for less than two hours. As such, I will not be attending a social function this evening.” Matthew looked up at her with a weary look, as if to demonstrate what toll the lengthy voyage had taken on him.
“Of course you will. Hurry and clean up, and permit Williams to find you something appropriate to wear. I assume that nothing in your trunks will be sufficient… or even clean,” she said, ignoring Matthew’s statement as she brushed past him on the stairs. She turned to look back up from the first floor and said, “And your little childhood friend will be there. What was her name? Lila? Lillian?”
“Lydia?” Matthew asked, his voice reverent for reasons that even he did not understand.
“That’s the one. You are permitted only two dances with her and no more. Remember, then you must make the rounds of the rooms to meet ladies you might actually consider for marriage. After the dancing, you are to retire with the gentlemen for brandy and cards where there will be no gambling and no sordid tales of your travels.”
“You don’t consider Lydia suitable for marriage? I rather thought she was one of your favorites,” Matthew said sarcastically, knowing his mother had frequently intervened with contrived excuses when they would play as children.
“Do be serious. The girl has no mother. What sort of training could she possibly have received?” The Countess shuddered as though repulsed by the notion of a girl in her Season without a mother’s watchful eye. “The wretched thing might as well be an orphaned street urchin for all that her manners have surely been neglected.”
“Might I remind you that I am now a child with a dead parent?” Matthew shot back.Would that my father had not died, if God had mercy on me, he thought but did not intone.
“Yes, and thankfully the one who died was not the one charged with ensuring you do not humiliate this family,” his mother replied coldly. “Now go prepare.”
Matthew walked further down the stairs until he came face to face with his mother. He stood up to his full height so that he towered over her now, a fact that he took great pleasure in. With a smile that was part gleeful, part grimace, he said, “Mother, I have decided that I will attend this evening, but only so that I might spend as much time as possible with Lady Lydia.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, sniffing disdainfully. “You shall do no such thing.”
“Oh, but I shall. And I shall also do as I please now. I don’t know what game you are playing at, but I am a man now,” Matthew reminded her. “I think you will soon realize that things are about to be very, very different now. Iamthe Earl of Paxton, and I am home.”
* * *
