Page 57 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“Redfield has been my mother’s butler for many years. I would not be surprised if he did not know the facts himself. He is always listening at keyholes,” Ian said, shaking his head and turning back toward the house.
A terrace ran on the south side, and they made their way up a flight of steps and through a door into what appeared to be Ian’s mother’s private salon. It was lavishly furnished in the oriental style, the wallpaper a riot of peacocks and pagodas, the chairs draped over in exotic silks, and a table set for tea at its center.
“Will she welcome the intrusion, do you think?” Catherine asked, knowing it would be a shock to his mother to find Ian not only there, but married, too.
“She will welcome it, for she has always hoped for reconciliation. I am sorry to say the rejection lies with me. I am not proud of it, but I could hardly bring myself to be in her presence after what she did to my father. I really want nothing to do with her, but needs must, and I shall try to remain civil,” he replied.
“And what of me?” Catherine asked.
Despite Ian’s words, she was anxious to make a good impression on Ian’s mother, knowing that any woman always sought the highest standards when it came to the marriage of her children.
“She will delight in you, as do I. How could she not?” he asked, putting his arm around her and kissing her.
But Catherine was still nervous, and when she glanced out of the window to see a tall and imposing woman striding across the lawn, it did little to calm her nerves. “Is this her?” she asked, and Ian looked out, too.
“This is here,” he replied, “brace yourself, Catherine, she can be quite a handful.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Ian, you came home!” his mother exclaimed, entering the salon a few moments later and practically falling on her son, who kissed her cheek and stepped back with an embarrassed look on his face.
“Mother, I would like to introduce you to the Baroness Westwick, Catherine… my wife,” he said, and Catherine gave a nervous smile.
“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Westwick,” she said, curtseying to Ian’s mother, whose face now broke into a smile. She had a formidable look about her, though her features were softened by the evident joy she now felt at seeing her son returned. She looked Catherine up and down and smiled.
“My dear, I knew nothing of it. Was there a grand ceremony? Have I missed my only son’s marriage? Oh, Ian, why did you not think to tell me? I read nothing of it in the society pages,” she exclaimed.
There was hurt in her voice, and Catherine could not help but feel sorry for her, despite everything Ian had told her. “We were married in secret, mother, at Gretna Green,” he replied, and his mother raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“You eloped? How exciting,” she exclaimed, and Catherine blushed.
“My father does not approve, you see, and I was promised to another. But it is Ian I love, and it is Ian I wanted to marry,” she said, and Ian’s mother smiled.
“You do not need to explain yourself to me, dear. When a person falls in love, there is little that can be done but to accept those feelings and dare I say, delight in them,” she said.
At these words, Ian rolled his eyes, and Catherine knew it was a look borne of the bitter experience of his mother’s extensive feelings for others. “It is done now though, mother. We are happy,” Ian replied, and he slipped his hand into Catherine’s, squeezing it reassuringly.
“And you came all this way to seek my blessing. I am surprised, and delighted. You have it, Ian, and I am so glad that…” she began, but Ian interrupted her.
“I do not require your blessing, mother, and it is not for that reason I have come, but for quite a different one,” he said, and his mother looked at him curiously.
“Shall we have some tea? I shall call for Redfield to serve us. Please, sit. It is not every day one is able to entertain one’s new daughter-in-law,” she replied, offering Catherine a seat.
A small bell on the table summoned the butler, and soon a maid arrived bearing a tray of tea things. There were elegant cakes and savories, all presented on exquisite China plates, the tea poured from a large, ornate teapot painted in scenes from the orient.
“The gardens here are quite magnificent,” Catherine ventured.
A silence had descended over the room, a stinted awkwardness between mother and son, which Catherine was in the middle of. She could not dislike the Baroness, and even her formidable countenance seemed to disguise a softer, kinder interior, one which she now displayed in her behavior toward Catherine, who could not fault the welcome she had received at her mother-in-law’s hands.
“They are my pride and joy. When winter comes, I find myself in the depths of despair, but when spring arrives, it is as though I am reborn. I take such delight in seeing everything coming back to life. If you are to remain awhile, then I will show you over them. I have just planted a new lavender walk which runs down to the boating lake. The fragrance will be quite delightful when they are in full bloom,” she replied.
“We will not be staying awhile,” Ian interjected, and the Baroness looked hurt.
“Then I do not understand why you have come, Ian. Do you wish for reconciliation?” she asked, and Ian grimaced.
“I need to know something, mother, and you are the only person who can tell me the truth,” he replied.
It was clear to Catherine how much Ian’s mother desired reconciliation with her son. She could imagine the pain of their separation, and whilst there was sadly little love lost between her and her father, it was clear that for Ian’s mother the separation was painful.
