She dared not mention as much lest Lady Beckham take it upon herself to add that name to the list.
She was informed that she would reside in this house with ‘dear Arthur’, notified as to which rooms had been assigned to be her own, and guided upstairs to view them after their tea was consumed. It was a cluster of three rooms on the southeast corner of the house, with a view over the square from the main bedchamber. The room’s proportions were majestic, though Patience guessed it had not been used in a while. The pillared bed was enormous, the armoire and dressing table opposite were old-fashioned but very pretty. The fireplace was of such size to ensure a cozy room in any weather, though Patience did not let her gaze linger upon the door beside it, which had to lead to Mr. Beckham’s chambers.
There were no paintings hung and Lady Beckham explained that the draperies and wallcoverings had been installed when her husband had bought the house. Though the room was attractive, she had preferred the one to the west as she favored a view of the traffic entering the square and this chamber had never been used.
It was evident to Patience that she was to be more of a guest, at least initially, than lady of the house herself. She wondered about that, though truly, she would not have wanted to dislodge Lady Beckham from her customary responsibilities—or to incur the resentment of her betrothed’s mother so early in their association.
Would she and Arthur ever establish a household of their own? She supposed such independence was too much to ask when his mother was so determined to oversee all details, as that lady must be the source of his finances as well.
There were two smaller rooms to the north, one on the exterior wall with a small window and a desk, as well as its own smaller fireplace. It was a room of a size more familiar to her—though in her father’s house, she and Prudence shared a bedchamber of such dimensions. The north wall was entirely bare and she ran a hand over it, envisioning a bookcase there, filled with her favorites.
The third room might have been a nursery or a maid’s room, and was quite empty.
“Will you be bringing your lady’s maid?” Lady Beckham asked, as if already aware Patience would not.
“My sister and I rely upon the same maid. I thought Price should stay for Prudence.”
Lady Beckham looked her up and down. “I will see the matter resolved, if you prefer.”
“I would be delighted to defer to your experience in such matters,” Patience said, sensing that Lady Beckham would like nothing better than to do as much.
As they returned to the drawing room, she reminded herself that her future would be assured by this arrangement, with or without Mr. Beckham by her side, and that it did offer the best chance of seeing Catherine’s book brought to publication.
How could she contrive to read it before her own wedding?
* * *
Arthur atethree sandwiches waiting for the ladies to return from their tour of the rooms allocated to Patience. It was true that he had been dismissed, but he was not feeling particularly biddable.
He wanted to ensure that nothing damning was said to Miss Carruthers. He would not have put it past Lady Beckham to interfere however she could. Contriving that Miss Carruthers changed her mind about him might be the simplest way of putting a stop to the match.
Would Patience care if his inheritance was removed? Arthur did not know. He feared she would take a dim view of such circumstance, given their plan of publishing that book. She had already expressed concern about his finances.
He thought of his considerable earnings at the tables this week, and had a notion where they might be safely hidden.
“Arthur!” that lady declared upon her return. She feigned indignation as if making a jest over it, but he recognized that she was displeased to find him present. “I made it plain that I wished to speak with your young lady alone.”
He refilled the teacup that had to belong to Miss Carruthers and offered it to her, fairly daring Lady Beckham to cast him out. “And you have had the opportunity to do as much,” he said smoothly. Miss Carruthers took the cup, glancing between them, doubtless aware of much that was unsaid. “Do you like the room?” he asked her with a smile.
“It is absolutely lovely,” she replied politely.
“But…” he invited in a murmur.
Her eyes sparkled, the sight sending triumph through him. “You will not provoke me to criticism, sir.”
“There is no bookcase,” he guessed with a sad shake of his head
Patience laughed and he grinned, noting how his mother watched them. “You are too perceptive.”
“Give me credit for noting a detail of such import,” he teased and she took her seat, smiling up at him. “Undoubtedly you have a small collection of books already and intend to bring them.”
“It is the closest to a dowry I possess,” Patience admitted freely. She was watching him so keenly that she must have missed Lady Beckham’s quick intake of breath.
He knew he did not imagine Patience’s relief that he had joined them, and the conversation was light afterwards. He had felt protective in the past toward Amelia, but his desire to defend Patience was of another magnitude altogether. He appreciated how she blossomed when he put her at ease, and could only hope that Lady Beckham would be mollified.
Instead, she sat quietly and watched them, sipping her tea at intervals, her eyes dark. A storm brewed, for Arthur knew the signs, though it took him much longer than it should have done to realize that his adopted mother was jealous.
She feared losing command of him. It made perfect sense once he had the realization, for Lady Beckham was fond of organizing all details and commanding all of the players. His loyalty might be divided now, between mother and wife, indeed it should be—and perhaps should skew more favorably to his bride.
