Page 28 of The Marchioness of his Desire
“Yes, Nicholas, something is amiss. Sinclair House is your home, and yet you come here to Mayfair, where no member of the family has lived for generations and fill it with your possessions as though you intend to make it your permanent residence,” she said, and Nicholas frowned.
“But it is to be my permanent residence. I would not bring Rebecca to live at Somerset House, not whilst you are living there too,” he said, biting his tongue, lest he suggest that such a fate would be worse than death for his new bride.
“So, I am to be left alone, am I?” she replied, and Nicholas glanced at Rebecca.
“Shall we take a seat in the drawing room, mother? Mrs. Thrip, would you have some refreshments sent in? Thank you,” Nicholas said, ushering his mother toward the drawing room door and beckoning Rebecca to follow him.
His mother gave another disdainful glance around the hallway before making her way into the drawing room, where she took a seat by the window, her maidservant standing attentively at her side.
“Well?” she asked as Nicholas stood by the fireplace, and Rebecca and Laura loitered awkwardly by the door.
“Well, what, mother? You were left alone when I was abroad, I hardly see the difference now. Besides, it is only a short carriage ride from Somerset House. You may visit when you wish,” he said, cursing his last words for their invitatory nature.
“And I shall, eventually. But I have been terribly lonely of late and have decided that the only remedy is to join you here. Your new wife is ill prepared for the rigors of running a household such as this and will require instruction. I am well placed to give it, do you not think?” she said, fixing her eyes upon Nicholas, who gulped.
“I … well, perhaps,” he began, and his mother nodded.
“There, it is agreed. Waltham have my things sent over; you know what I need,” she said, turning to the maidservant, who curtsied and hurried out of the room.
“Mother, we should speak of this a little further. How long do you propose to remain? What are the arrangements to be?” Nicholas began, angered by his mother’s domineering attitude and determined to assert himself in his own home and in front of Rebecca.
“How long is a piece of string? And how long will it take for Rebecca to be taught all that she needs to know?” his mother replied, turning to Rebecca, who blushed as Laura hid behind her once again.
“You would be far better off at Somerset House. That is your home; you shall never manage here,” Nicholas replied, his initial shock at his mother’s insistence now giving way to anger.
He would not be told what to do by her, nor by anyone. Nicholas was his own man, and he had long escaped the influences of his mother, or so he believed. He had considered his marriage to Rebecca as a final act of rebellion against her, the cutting of the last ties, and, in his refusal to marry the woman she insisted upon, he had sought to demonstrate his independence and authority. Now, it seemed that his mother was determined to interfere, no doubt by attempting to mold Rebecca in her own image and pit her against him.
“I shall have Waltham, and I shall have Rebecca. I will manage quite adequately, thank you, Nicholas. I am not as helpless as you believe,” she snarled.
Nicholas had never imagined his mother to be helpless, quite the opposite, in fact. She was, as he had described her to his friend Ian Bennet, a dragon, and a fierce one at that. There was more to this than met the eye, for she was not the lonely old lady she made herself out to be but a scheming, plotting and devious woman who had never had Nicholas’ interests at heart.
“Really, mother, it is too much. I have every intention of leaving for the colonies on business soon, and you cannot expect to simply move in here and play house,” Nicholas said, but his mother was barely listening.
She had made up her mind, and that was that. Nicholas turned imploringly to Rebecca, hoping that she would object, but to his immense surprise, she smiled at him, before turning to his mother with a thankful expression.
“Do you mean it?” she asked, and Nicholas’ mother looked at her in surprise as though she were expecting a similar objection, one she would delight in ignoring.
“Do I mean what?” she asked, peering over her pince-nez at Rebecca, who blushed.
“That you will teach me to run the household and all the many things I need to know as a Marchioness,” Rebecca said, and Nicholas’ mother smiled.
“I shall, for it is my duty as your mother-in-law to do so. Ours is a grand and noble family, and there are many traditions you will be unfamiliar with. If Nicholas is to be away, then it seems pertinent that you and I should become … the best of friends,” she said, and Rebecca smiled.
“I think that would be wonderful,” she said, and Nicholas grimaced.
“Rebecca, might I have a word with you in private?” he asked, nodding toward the door. “Excuse us, mother,” and he stepped outside, Laura hurrying behind them.
As soon as the door was closed, he turned to Rebecca with an angry expression, his earlier thoughts of passion now replaced with annoyance at his authority being usurped.
“I think it is a perfectly good idea; we cannot allow your mother to be lonely,” she said, and Nicholas scowled.
“You do not know her as I do. She is not the helpless old lady she makes herself out to be, quite the opposite. You will regret this,” he said.
“I do not like her; she scares me,” Laura said, and Nicholas patted her on the shoulder.
“Now, there is a wise word if ever I heard one. Listen to your sister, Rebecca, her instincts are quite correct,” he said, and Rebecca gave Laura a look.
“Now, Laura, we do not speak in such a way about our elders,” she said, raising her finger pointedly.
