A few hours later, Lawrence glanced at Esther as the carriage slowed to a stop outside his house, worry for her continuing to harangue him.
The Coronation procession had been a glittering, wonderful sight, the crowds four-deep along the pavements either side of Milsom Street. Colourful banners and Union Jack flags had been clutched in the hands of excited children as they waved and flapped, their parents and guardians joining in with equal aplomb. A lengthy line of street performers with men on stilts, some blowing bubbles from a huge hoop, had marched by Pennington’s, headed up by a brass band dressed in smart red and black military uniforms, their gold epaulettes and buttons glinting beneath the hazy sunshine.
Yet, throughout the entire spectacle, the sadness had not once dissolved from Esther’s eyes. Although she smiled and lifted the children onto her hip in turn, so they had a better view, the tension in her shoulders never dissipated. After the procession, she’d asked him if they might walk her aunt home, her voice cold and detached. Lawrence had presumed Esther would stay at home, too, but once Aunt Mary was safely inside her house, Esther had asked Lawrence if she could come back to the house with him for a while. He had, of course, agreed.
So, Esther had made an excuse to her aunt and he and Esther returned to Pennington’s to catch a cab with Cornelia and the boys, all the while Esther insisting she was fine and she’d not allow her father’s visit with her stepmother to spoil the day. The truth was, it had. The line between her brows had remained clear, the colour in her face not returning.
Now they were outside his home and as Charles opened the carriage door, Lawrence forced a smile. He stepped from the carriage, helped Esther onto the pavement along with Rose, who seemed reluctant to let go of Esther’s hand for a moment. Esther barely looked at him as they walked past him towards the house.
‘Daddy, down please.’
Turning, Lawrence lifted Nathanial into his arms and swung him around in a circle before setting him on his feet on the pavement. ‘Have you had a good day?’
Nathanial grinned. ‘Yes. I loved everything.’
‘Everything? Even when we had to watch Aunt Cornelia look at one hat after another? One pair of shoes after another?’
‘Everything.’ Nathanial giggled. ‘You liked it, too.’
Lawrence winked. ‘I did, but don’t tell Aunt Cornelia or she’ll take me shopping every day.’
Turning, he paid the driver for their carriage as well as the second one that had come to a stop behind it. As Cornelia and his nephews alighted, Lawrence slowly walked to the house. Esther turned and finally met his eyes. He took a single look at her smile and genuine delight in her eyes as she smoothed her hand over Rose’s curls and fell a little deeper in love.
It was as though now she was away from the spectre of her father and stepmother’s visit, away from her aunt and just with his family, she could relax. He prayed his hopes were true.
She sighed as he reached her. ‘Hasn’t today been wonderful?’
He touched her hand. ‘You’ve no idea the pleasure it gives me to hear you say that. You looked so distracted throughout the procession.’
‘I was. But now I’m here, my father and Viola seem a million miles away.’ She slipped her hand into his elbow. ‘I was mad with Aunt Mary for telling father and Viola about us so soon, but I was foolish to think she would keep our courtship to herself for any amount of time.’
Before he could respond, Alfred and Francis tore towards the house, barrelling straight past Esther and Lawrence towards the front door just as it opened. Helen stood on the threshold, her worried gaze fastening on Lawrence as the children rushed inside.
Frowning, he slowly eased his arm from Esther’s. ‘Helen? What is it?’
‘It’s Miss Harriet, sir. She’s been waiting inside since eleven o’clock this morning.’ She glanced over his shoulder towards Esther and Cornelia as they chatted a few steps behind him. ‘She’s here about your mother.’
Dread whispered through him and Lawrence briefly closed his eyes before facing Esther and Cornelia and the laughter immediately vanished from his sister’s eyes. ‘Lawrence?’
He took a long breath. ‘Harriet’s inside. She’s been waiting for us.’
Cornelia glanced towards the door and back again. Her mouth dropped open as if to speak, before she promptly closed it and hurried past him into the house. Lawrence turned to Esther.
Concern darkened her eyes. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘If Harriet’s here, it means my mother has taken a turn for the worse.’ Unwelcome guilt whispered through him that he’d suspected her illness a ruse.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She gently touched her fingers to his cheek. ‘I’ll go and leave you to be with your family.’
‘Would you stay? I want you to be a part of whatever happens in my life from now on. I hope you want that, too.’
She tilted her head, her gaze sympathetic. ‘Lawrence, it’s lovely you want me here, but if your mother is ill I’m not sure your sisters will want me—’
‘They will.’ He grasped her hand, aware of how selfish and domineering he behaved but unable to bear the thought of hearing whatever it was Harriet had to tell him without Esther beside him. He looked into her eyes. ‘Please. Will you come inside with me?’
She studied his face, her gaze unreadable until she closed her eyes and nodded.
Shame twisted inside him that he thought more of his own feelings than Esther’s. Whatever ailed his mother, it wasn’t Esther’s responsibility. He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t make you come inside if you don’t want to. I apologise. Why don’t I ask Charles to drive you—’
She pressed her finger to his lips, her gaze soft. ‘I’m here now and if you want me with you, I want to be here, too.’
Relief lowered his shoulders. When and how had it come to be that he wanted Esther beside him in good times and bad? Would there be other moments, countless moments, in his life when he wouldn’t have the courage to face the inevitable without her? The possibility was terrifying, yet thinking of her away from him even more so.
Touching his hand to her back, he guided her into the house.
As they walked upstairs, his sisters’ murmurs drifted from the open drawing room door, mixing with the childish shouts of Rose, Nathanial and his nephews as they played in the nursery upstairs.
Lawrence glanced at Esther and she nodded her encouragement. He inhaled a long breath and entered the drawing room.
Cornelia and Harriet abruptly halted their conversation and looked at him.
Obligation, culpability and resistance burned inside Lawrence as their expectancy bore down on him. Harriet looked older than he remembered. The sparkle that was once so prevalent in her eyes had vanished, leaving behind a hard, lacklustre shade of blue rather than sapphire. Her complexion was ashen, her jaw and cheekbones far too pronounced. Yet, the stiff lift of her chin showed her stout comportment. A trait no doubt enforced under their mother’s tutelage.
She slowly rose to her feet, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She held out her arms. ‘Lawrence. You look so well.’
He stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing a firm kiss to her hair as though he might diminish the sharp angles of her body and soften her hard gaze. ‘It’s wonderful to see you.’
She pressed her head to his chest before sighing and holding him at arm’s length. ‘You seem to get broader and taller every time I see you.’ She glanced behind him and dropped her hands from his to hastily swipe her fingers beneath her eyes. ‘And you must be Esther. Cornelia has been singing your praises. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.’
Esther nodded and gave a small smile. ‘Thank you. It’s lovely to meet you, too.’
Lawrence carefully studied his youngest sister and braced, waiting to see how the following moments would unfold.
Harriet’s gaze slid slowly over Esther’s face and hair, her smile tight. ‘My sister tells me you work at Pennington’s?’
‘I do.’
‘And you enjoy your work?’
‘Very much.’
Harriet stared at Esther for another long moment before she abruptly turned to Lawrence. ‘We need to talk privately. Maybe Esther could find Helen for some tea?’
He walked to the wing-backed chair in front of the fire, annoyance simmering inside him. ‘Esther stays, Harriet. Anything you have to say, you can say in front of her.’
Her politeness vanished as she glared, her jaw tight. ‘But this is about Mother. She would not approve—’
‘Approve or not, you are in my home and Esther is very welcome here. Whatever the circumstances.’ He glanced at Esther, who stared back, her colour high and her gaze reflecting her unease. ‘Esther, please. Won’t you sit?’
She slowly walked to an armchair opposite him, as Harriet, although clearly unhappy, resumed her seat on the settee beside Cornelia.
Lawrence leaned back. ‘So, what is this all about, Harriet? I’m delighted to have you and Cornelia in the same room with me for the first time in what feels like forever, but you would not come here unannounced unless something serious had happened. Helen said it’s Mother. Is that right?’
Harriet’s blue eyes were dark with annoyance, her posture stiff. She’d been groomed by their mother to be forever ladylike. Or at least, what the great Ophelia Culford considered ladylike. Controlled, yet subservient to her spouse and elders. Polite, yet unbending and intolerant of company she considered of a lesser class than her own. In other words, a contradiction that changed and altered at will.
Harriet flicked her gaze to Esther, her lips pinched. Her disapproval of discussing family business in front of Esther was palpable.
Lawrence pushed out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Well? You’re wasting time staring at my guest when clearly something important brought you all this way.’
She snapped her attention to him, her gaze venomous. ‘Fine. Mama is ill, Lawrence. Gravely so.’
Still reluctant to trust Harriet’s visit wasn’t a trick orchestrated by their mother, Lawrence leaned back, his posture purposefully relaxed. ‘So Cornelia has told me.’
‘Yet neither of you appear to be in hurry to come home to see her. Do you have any intention at all to adhere to her wishes?’
‘Our relationship with Mother in no way replicates yours with her. You know that.’
‘And that means even in her gravest hour, you’ll not leave Bath to give her some moments of contentment? To try to absolve your differences towards an amicable reunion?’
‘Reunion?’ He huffed a laugh. ‘You’ve had a wasted journey if you thought there might be some sort of reconciliation between myself and that woman.’ He shook his head, annoyance burning hot inside him that his mother could be using Harriet as a pawn in another of her spiteful games. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You know how things were between Mother and I when Father was alive. You know how they’ve been ever since. If she wishes to see me, there will be a reason far beyond reconciliation.’
‘She’s dying, Lawrence.’ Harriet’s voice cracked, and she pressed her hand to her chest. ‘How can you be so unfeeling?’
Weakening as Harriet’s gaze lost some of its fire and became increasingly pleading, Lawrence turned to Cornelia in the hope she might reinforce his point of view.
His eldest sister held his gaze before standing and walking to the fireplace. She stared into the grate and then abruptly turned, crossing her arms tightly. ‘Does she ask for me, too? Or just Lawrence?’
Lawrence stilled. Cornelia had an admirable talent of identifying the core of a situation exceedingly well. She always needed the truth. Once she had that, she would debate the components and then make a decision, thus confirming if the person or persons involved deserved her loyalty. If they did, they’d have her allegiance until the bitter end.
How she’d told him about David and her knowledge of the duration of his extramarital affair had shown all too clearly that Cornelia hadn’t only been aware of his infidelity but lived with it for as long as she could. It was David who wanted away from the family home, not Cornelia. The man was a fool to not understand what a precious entity he’d had in his wife’s integrity.
Harriet glanced again at Esther, whose discomfort only showed in the straightness of her spine and the sombreness of her expression. Finally, Harriet faced Cornelia and pointedly tilted her chin. ‘She just asked for Lawrence.’
Cornelia flinched, her cheeks reddening. ‘I see. Do you know why?’
‘No.’ Harriet flicked her gaze to a spot above the fireplace. ‘She just asked that I come to Bath and bring him home. I can only reassure you that as your relations with Mama aren’t as awful as hers are with Lawrence, she just wants to make peace with him before she passes.’
Lawrence uncrossed his ankles and stood, everything suddenly abundantly clear. ‘That’s complete rubbish. She wants something from me before she dies. What is it, Harriet? Is the house in disrepair? Are you having to get by on half a dozen servants rather than a dozen? What does she want? Because I guarantee her summoning me is not about seeing her son a final time or making peace. She wants something from me. So, what is it?’