And to my husband, “why is your brother’s presence more important than mine?” “Was your original answer only a yes because your mother hadn’t responded yet?”
Then I remembered Juliet’s comments from earlier. It would be a difficult holiday for my mother-in-law, her first without the title of mistress of the house. I could survive one Christmas without Kit. He would come next year when I would be more sure of my place.
I swallowed back the tears filling my throat. I was still unequal to the task of meeting my husband’s gaze. “Of course, the staff should be with their families on the holiday. I would not wish to overtax anyone.”
The rest of the dinner was endless. I ached to hide away in my room—as much as it was my room—needing to be free from the confines of this table.
It took nearly five minutes to wrest my gaze from the unfortunate partridge on my plate. Eyes first landing on my husband, whose own study of his plate put mine to shame. Then to the dowager.Shemet me with a haughty expression, one brow lifted, and she raised her fork, a bite of unpalatable partridge on it, taking the bite, and chewing with pursed lips. She, alone, enjoyed the dinner. She even gave her shoulders a subtle back and forth of superiority before glancing back down at her plate with a smirk, returning with another fork-full.
I grabbed my nearby wine and took a thick swallow, stuffing my irritation and hurt further down. Nothing in the world could have induced me to sit in the drawing room with the two of them that night. Fortunately, I was able to plead a headache without lying. More fortunately still, for the first time since our marriage vows, my husband saw fit to leave me alone that night.
Seventeen
GRAYSON HOUSE, LONDON — DECEMBER 25, 1813
HUGH
Christmas arrived too quickly.Katherine seemed to settle into her role as mistress of the house well enough. Though there was the occasional struggle with Mother. Her friend visited nearly twice weekly, always in the library, and always leaving with at least one book, usually three or four. I never had the good fortune to be able to listen at the door again.
Now that I understood my wife’s gown selection a bit better, I was less put-off by the ribbons and lace. She visited the modiste one day nearly a week ago with Ladies Celine and Davina. I had high hopes for a new wardrobe from that trip in the near future.
At night, she was warm and soft and sweet smelling, and every moment was lovely.
Today though, after church she visited with her brother instead of returning home. I did not begrudge the effort, particularly after my faux pas with Mother the other night.
When she returned, she was quiet, withdrawn—nearly sullen. I tried to remind myself of her conversation the other day. She missed her family. This was a great deal of change. Throughout the day, she rallied, and by the time Tom arrived she was in her usual subdued good humor.
Mrs. Hudson made a truly excellent roast, and I was particularly looking forward to the Christmas pudding.
Tom, having learned quickly that his role was to fill conversation, asked Katherine, “so, Kate, did Kit return to Lincolnshire for the holidays? It’s quite a long trip, is it not?”
“No, he remains in town.”
“He had somewhere else to be for Christmas dinner then?”
“I believe he found a friend who could accommodate him.”
“Why did you not have him here? I know you have not had Anna’s Christmas pudding, but that alone should have been enough incentive to attend. I dream of it all year long.”
I could take no more. “Tom…”
At my warning tone he looked to me, confusion plain on his furrowed brow. He stared at me, a beat too long, before turning back to Katherine. Then his gaze shifted to Mother, who gave her roast far more attention that even such an excellent cut was due. Finally, he turned back to me, something accusatory in his expression. Or perhaps that was my own guilt.
“Apologies, Kate,” he said. “I hope you will be sure to include him next year. I enjoyed speaking with him at your wedding breakfast. He seems an interesting fellow.”
My wife offered nothing more than a half-hearted nod in response. Clearly recognizing Mother’s previous explanation for the reed thin excuse that it was. Suddenly the roast was somewhat less delectable.
At length she answered. “Perhaps, but I believe he will finish his studies before next Christmas. Currently, he plans to practice closer to home to be near our parents.”
“You should invite your entire family. It would be nice to have a big group some time. It has been just the three of us for years. And before that we only had the occasional addition of Michael.”
“That is a nice idea, but I wouldn’t want to overtax anyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“The servants, it would be too much to have such a large group visit.”
“I see.” There was confirmed suspicion in Tom’s tone. “Easter then.”
