Page 60 of Lady Fiona's Tall, Dark Folly
"Fee, you could not leave her here! Nor would I...or would you?"
She put her hands to her face. "No. I cannot. Once the heir to the earldom is found and comes to England, this house like the others in the entail will go to him. I knew she and I would have to leave and find other accommodations once that happened. Weeks ago, I had found a small house outside Bath for us to rent. But now...to marry you, you must see that knowing what we do about our parents' past, for her to come live with us would add salt to a very raw wound. How could you and I live in harmony and love, no matter your mother's decision to accept me? Rory, my love, my mother is not simply ill. Not bed-ridden. Not crippled. She's...demented."
His mother had said as much, but this from Fifi sounded infinitely worse. He’d come this far, he would have the future he envisioned with her! "I've heard of cases of older men and women who forget names and—"
"Rory, this is more. This is often…intolerable!”
"I cannot accept that we can find no solution. Not after all you and I have been through."
"Come with me. Meet her. See what I mean. But first, I must ring for a footman." At his questioning look, she added, "We may need him."
The servant who arrived was a huge, burly fellow with hands big as hams.
"This is Porter," Fifi said by way of introduction. "He often assists me and my mother's nurse, Pritchard."
Porter led the way up the stairs.
Fifi took the steps slowly, her ankle still bothering her.
Rory followed her, apprehension tightening his chest. He and Fifi would have to think of a solution to the their mothers meeting. Nothing could be worse, he now understood fully. Prior to these revelations, he had thought he might refurbish the small cottage at the edge of the copse near the stables at home for Fifi's mama. That didn't seem useful. Not for one who might wander or...whatever Lady Marlton did in her state.
Porter rapped twice on the hall door and an elderly maid opened it. This he deduced must be Pritchard, the nurse.
"Mama!" Fifi stood on the threshold and he just in back. "I've come to see you."
Rory saw no one inside the sitting room.
Porter stepped inside first, Fifi next, Rory last.
A tall woman—white hair untamed about her head—dashed toward Fifi.
Porter blocked her passage.
She elbowed him, her scowl as ugly as her growl. "Out of my way, fool."
Fifi took two more steps inside. "Do not hurt Porter, Mama. He seeks only to protect you."
She snarled. "He's a bear."
"Mama! No insults. Please."
Fifi's reprimand calmed her mother. "Very well," she said, in sing-song, her voice a coquette's. "A guest. How delightful! This time, you've brought me a handsome rogue."
Rory's stomach turned.
The woman danced around him, arms waving, clucking at his good looks. "I like this one. But oh, did your father meet him? He won't want him near me."
Fifi cleared her throat. "You may say hello."
Lady Marlton approached him and tweaked his cravat. She wore a loose fitting gown of natural muslin, her feet bare. She gazed at him with curious brown eyes and leaned close to sniff at him. "Cologne. I like him. What is your name, my good fellow?"
Rory had seen enough. He was in utter despair. What could they do? He would never suggest Bedlam, but most would put Lady Marlton there without hesitation.
Fifi glanced at him, a warning glint in her eyes. "This is the man I'm to marry, Mama."
"Marry!" Her mother drew back, insulted. "I thought you brought him for me."
"No, Mama. This is Rory Fletcher."
