Peter knew that his tone was rather reproachful. While he did not normally speak in such a way to his little sister, he could not keep the rebuke from his voice because he wholeheartedly believed she deserved a round scolding.
“I imagine you were terrified,” Madeline replied defiantly. “As you should have been.”
Peter inhaled sharply. He was appalled by his sister’s brazen attitude.
Did she not see the worry on my face yesterday? Could she not tell that I dropped everything to rush to Mama’s bedside?
“You do not have the power to dictate my feelings, Madeline,” he said in a weary tone. “Your actions were calculating and manipulative.” He looked away from her and stared out the window for a long moment before whispering, “When you were a child, you never would’ve dreamed of filling my heart with such dread.”
“I am not a child,” Madeline retorted. “I have changed, Brother, and grown up long ago. I no longer wish to cower before anyone—man or woman.”
Peter opened his mouth to admonish her once more, but she barreled ahead, cutting him off.
“You would have known the myriad ways I have changed if you had come to visit more often or spent time reading my letters,” she cried, crossing her arms over her chest.
She leaned towards the opposite window, putting as much space between them as possible in the confines of the carriage.
Peter thought of the stack of untouched letters that lay on his nightstand. He had meant to read them. Really, he had. But every time he picked up one of Madeline’s missives, he would drop it back on the table unopened.
He had only torn the wax seal on the letter yesterday because the back had been markedUrgent, and when his butler delivered the post and pointed out the directive, Peter had felt compelled to check what the matter was.
Not wishing to dwell on it, he changed the topic.
“How can I find you a husband if you insist on being deceitful?” Peter uttered in defeat.
Madeline turned away from the window and met his criticism head-on. Her brow creased, her nostrils flared, and her cheeks flushed.
“I do not want a husband. I already have everything I need in our cottage. Arlington is a delightful village. We have splendid neighbors. Mother and I could be happy here forever.”
Peter sighed. He could well secure his sister’s future if she genuinely wanted to eschew marriage. However, he understood that young ladies could be fickle. What his sister thought she wanted today might seem dull tomorrow.
“You only say that now, Maddie. In time, you will change your mind,” he pointed out.
While he waited for his sister to form an acerbic response to his prudence, he cast a glance at their quiet but amused mother. He watched her lips slowly curl into a timid smile.
A soft pang of pain struck his almost numb heart. He had never seen his mother smile, especially when his father was still alive. He never knew that her smile, even the tiniest one, could be this beautiful.
“I already told you not to misplace your disappointment, Peter. It wasmy ideafor Maddie to write you a letter about me being sick,” she confessed once more.
“But Maddie could decide for herself and not do as she was told if she knew it wasn’t right,” Peter argued, avoiding her eyes.
Suddenly, his mother took his hand, and he jolted at the softness of her touch.
“But was it not right for me to want to see you?” she asked, catching his stare.
Finally, Peter met her eyes. “We should visit each other… and we do… occasionally.”
Madeline scoffed. “I have not seen you in two years, Peter.”
“Has it been that long?” Peter searched his memory, trying to recall the last time he’d made the trip to Arlington, but came up with no answer.
“And my letters must have gotten lost because you have not written to me in more than six months,” Madeline added, listing his failings without answering his question.
“I am sorry for neglecting my correspondence,” Peter conceded. He squeezed their mother’s delicate hand. “And I do see now that I should have made it a priority to visit more often. But I am here now. Would it not be best to return to the cottage and spend a few days together?”
Madeline let out an aggravated snort that was most unladylike. “We accepted Lord and Lady Crawford’s invitation, andweshan’t let them down.”
“But this whole thing is preposterous,” Peter protested. “I heard others say that they were going to Crawford Hall this week for Lord and Lady Crawford’s wedding anniversary soiree, and I thought they were jesting.” He paused and looked at his mother, then turned to his sister. “Who celebrates their wedding day?”
