“We’re very glad you wanted to live with us,” she said. “Very glad indeed. Already I can see what a steadying influence you’re having on Flossy. She looks up to you.”
“She’s been very good to me,” I said. “You all have. It made settling in so much easier. The hotel already feels like home.” I hadn’t expected it to be this easy. Before coming to London, I’d been rather terrified of meeting my mother’s sister and her family. I’d been expecting a tyrant in my uncle and a snob in my aunt. While he’d proved to have a temper, and they’d all displayed some snobbery at times, they were far fromintolerable.
My comment about home brought a smile to my aunt’s face. “I am so glad to hear you say that, Cleo. So very glad.” She smothered a yawn with her hand. “How can I possibly be tired after resting all day?”
She might be tired, but she was also restless. Her fingers resumed their fidgeting of the blanket fringe and her legs and feet shifted constantly. Her gaze darted too, sometimes flicking over me before scanning the room, then once again settling on me.
“Forgive me for asking,” I said carefully, “but what ails you? Do the doctors know?”
She hesitated before answering. “They say it’s melancholia.”
In my experience, melancholia was a general term used to describe a lowness of spirits, the cause of which was unknown. “Is there a cure?” I asked, although I was quite sure of the answer.
“No. The new tonic the doctor gave me helps revive my spirits for occasions such as last night, but I mustn’t take it all the time. It makes the headaches so much worse when the tonic wears off. Unfortunately, it’s not as effective as it used to be. It used to lift my spirits all night, but now it lasts only a few hours.”
“What would happen if you stopped taking it altogether? Would the headaches disappear?”
“I don’t know, but I must take it. I’d be terribly dull otherwise, and no one wants a dull hostess or party guest.” She laughed, but it didn’t ring true. She believed what she said.
“I’m sure no one would think you dull, Aunt. I don’t.”
“That’s kind of you to say, but my conversation is limited. Your mother inherited all the wit and intelligence, not to mention beauty.” Tears welled in her eyes, and my own eyes filled in response. “She wasn’t too keen on large parties, but other than a reservation around strangers, she had every natural advantage. Everyone liked her when they got to know her. That’s why it was so strange when she chose your father.”
I emitted a small gasp of air and stared at her.
“Oh!” She covered her mouth with her hand then lowered it to her throat. “I am sorry, Cleo. I didn’t mean to imply therewas something wrong with him. There wasn’t. He was handsome and witty too, and very intelligent, of course. But he came from nothing. That’s all I meant. Your mother could have married a nobleman, either English or foreign, but she chose love.”
“And your parents couldn’t abide it.” I didn’t want my bitterness to come through in my tone, but it did.
“No, they couldn’t.” It was spoken so softly I could barely hear it.
This was new ground we were venturing into. So far, I’d avoided the sensitive topic of the estrangement. I’d not wanted to get into an argument with my aunt and uncle, who would naturally defend her parents. It had happened so long ago, and my parents and grandparents were gone, that it seemed unnecessary.
“This is what I mean when I say I need my tonic.” Aunt Lilian’s pained gaze fell on the closed doors to her bedroom. “If I don’t take it, I say silly things like that. I’m a dreadful person, Cleo.”
My annoyance dissolved. I reached forward and touched her hand. Her busy fingers stilled. “I know you had no choice in the estrangement.”
She nodded, blinking tear-filled eyes.
“Your parents would have scolded you if you fought against their wishes, or worse, and Uncle Ronald wouldn’t have liked it either.” Perhaps I was overstepping, but I wanted her to know that I didn’t blame her. I could see now that she didn’t have the strength to stand up to a man with a temper as fierce as her husband’s.
She blinked at me. “You have it a little muddled, Cleo. While my parents cut out your mother from their lives, Ronald and I tried to keep the line of communication open. But my sister—your mother—wanted nothing to do with any of us. We tried again, after my parents died, and still she refused to see us. Then, after your parents’ accident, we asked your grandparents if we could take you in. They refused, saying your parents wouldn’t wish it. Ronald offered them money for your education and upkeep, but they only allowed him to give you a small amount each month. We asked if we could at least visit, so you would know us,but if they answered our letters at all, it was just to reply with a brief no. When you came of age, we wrote to you, but you never answered.”
I sat there, stunned. I couldn’t even form a coherent thought let alone a response.
“I thought you knew,” she murmured.
After a long while, I sucked in a shuddery breath. “I didn’t.”
“Ronald suggested as much, but… I wasn’t sure until you came here. Once I realized how lovely you are, I knew it must have been your grandparents’ doing.”
My grandmother had always collected the mail before me. Always. And when I asked about my London family, neither she nor my grandfather wanted to talk about them. All they would tell me was that the Bainbridges were snobs and wouldn’t like me because they felt my father was beneath them, and my maternal grandparents had been cruel in cutting us out of their lives. While the latter might be true, the former wasn’t.
How could my beloved grandparents have lied to me?
“I have their letters somewhere.” My aunt rubbed her forehead. “Where have I put them?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said weakly. “I believe you.”
