“This was your home. Hugh is your brother. Sometimes I… feel as though you simply tolerate me. You are a difficult person to get close to.”
At these words, Margaret frowned and halted again. “But it is your home, and I like you very much!”
“You are always trying to walk away from me or shoo me from your room. I know you love the children, but they are your niece and nephew. I am… Hugh’s wife.”
“Oh, but… I don’t mean to be difficult. You know more about me than anyone else.”
Penelope grimaced. “I often don’t give you a choice.”
Margaret stared at her sister-in-law. She’d known that she hadn’t always been the easiest person to know but… “I have never had close women friends. There was always my mother, and then Lawrence took ill. I am not used to…” She blinked. She was not used to sharing her thoughts with other people. Had she inadvertently kept Penelope at arm’s length?
“You are my dearest of friends, Penelope.”
Penelope tilted her head. “I am?”
“You are.”
“And you are not angry with me for your birthday celebration? I did not want to do it, but Hugh insisted.”
This was not like Penelope at all. “Are you certain you are not ill?” She reached out to touch Penelope’s forehead and then her hands, causing her most steadfast and dispassionate sister-in-law to promptly burst into tears.
“I am so tired, Margaret. I never should have hosted this party.” And then Margaret could not help but lower her gaze to where Penelope’s hand rested. “And I don’t want you to go away. Hugh is here but it isn’t the same, and I’m afraid you’re going to resent me again.”
Ah, yes.
“I’m carrying again.”
When Penelope had carried the twins, Margaret had made a quick departure from Land’s End. She’d believed that she couldn’t bear to watch another lady become a mother.
Margaret reached out and squeezed Penelope’s hand. She’d been a horrid sister-in-law! “I am so very sorry.” It had been selfish of her. “Your children give me more joy than I ever could have imagined. And I am so happy you married Hugh. Without my mother, I’ve felt so alone. Will you forgive me, Penelope? Of course, I don’t resent you. I am jealous, but I am also happy for you!”
And now both of them were crying.
“I’m being such a ninny.”
“You are not!” Margaret remembered how she’d felt in those first few wonderful months that she’d carried her and Lawrence’s child. “How far along?”
“Not quite two months. I only just realized last week. I’ve been bilious every morning for a fortnight.” A cry sounded from behind the nursery door. “God help me, Margaret, if it is the twins again, I...”
“Go back to bed,” Margaret urged her. “I’ll send for you if Creighton doesn’t quiet for me, but of course, he will quiet for his aunt Margaret. I’m his favorite aunt, after all.”
Penelope gave her a weak smile. “You are his only aunt.”
“See? Now don’t argue with me and go get some sleep.” She pushed Penelope toward the stairwell but then realized what she was doing and stopped. “I’m not sending you away because I don’t want to be with you! Oh, Penelope. I am so sorry. I never meant—”
Penelope put her hand up. “I am more than happy to be shooed away on this occasion. You will send for me if he seems overly warm?”
“Of course,” Margaret reassured her. “And, Penelope?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.” It was about time Margaret acted like a proper sister-in-law.
“You are quite forgiven but as I am your dearest of friends, tomorrow I will be feeling quite myself again, and I’ll likely demand that you tell me exactly what you were doing in Rockingham’s chamber.”
And with that, Penelope disappeared into the stairwell.
* * *
