Unable to take the forlorn expression on my wife’s face a moment longer, I interjected, “Yes, definitely Easter.”
Katherine’s gaze finally abandoned her plate, meeting mine, eyes wide with something akin to hope. For a long moment, no one moved. I, at least, was waiting for Mother to present an issue to that arrangement. Even she must have felt displeasure in Tom’s expression and tone because, while she made no agreement, she also did not argue the issue.
Finally, at long last, the pudding was brought out. Pudding cured all ills, particularly this Christmas pudding—Anna’s Tom indicated? I thought she was a maid now, not a cook. Regardless of who was responsible, it was every bit as delicious as I remembered. Even Katherine seemed to brighten at the taste.
* * *
“Care to explainwhy your wife thinks one additional guest will overtax the servants beyond reason?” Tom accused—not even waiting for me to pour the drinks.
“Mother may have suggested it would be too much.”
“And you did not step in and assure Kate that it would not?”
“What do I know of the capacity of servants?”
“Enough to know that one additional person could not possibly cause much difficulty. Particularly since the person would not even require a room for the night. Mrs. Hudson would never hear of leaving someone out on a holiday, and you know it. She would rap your knuckles with a spoon right now if she knew you had let that girl’s brother be left to find some other home for Christmas.” He took a thick swallow of the port I poured while he ranted.
“I’ll thank you not to refer to my wife as ‘that girl.’”
“Really Hugh? That is the part you take issue with? Tonight was badly done. Kate has left her home, her family, everything she knows to join this family, and you won’t allow her the comfort of her brother at supper on the holiday?”
“Mother said—”
“Oh, Mother said, did she? Well, I suppose since Kate married Mother, she should have final say. And oh, I forgot Mother is viscount as well, so of course you could not consult the servants yourself to confirm her flimsy excuse.”
“Tom—”
“No, Hugh. You’ve married Kate—your allegiance should be to her.”
“But—”
“Damn it, Hugh. What, what excuse could you possibly have?”
“I did not intend to marry Katherine. She was compromised. I had no choice.”
“What has that to do with anything? She is your wife, your viscountess. Treat her as such!”
“This is none of your concern, Tom. You should not be involved.”
“I became involved when I watched your wife on the verge of tears at supper.”
“She was hardly on the verge of tears. And I am finished discussing the matter.”
“Fine, but you owe your wife an apology.”
“Tom!”
“I’m finished. This is good port.”
The vintage was of fine quality, but it tasted like vinegar in my mouth.
Eighteen
THORNTON HALL, KENT — DECEMBER 27, 1813
KATE
My honeymoon…How strange it sounded.
