Chapter 30

But with unstinted power

Makes every day his own.

 

Margaret couldn’t remember playing a more boring match of Whisk in all her life. Lady Thornton nearly won each trick while Priscilla fumbled with her cards, asking a great deal of bothersome questions and distracting Margaret considerably. She’d have walked away from the table were there anyone else to speak with but given that their party was so small she couldn’t very well do so without causing offence.

“I’m not talking your ear off, am I?” Priscilla finally asked.

“Of course not,” Margaret lied.

A moment later the men returned, filing into the room and disrupting their card game. When Margaret looked up she saw Nathaniel heading straight for them at the table.

“Enjoyed your time with the men, have you?” Margaret asked, taking in the unmistakable scent of cigar from Nathaniel’s collar as he knelt between her and Priscilla.

“Yes, of course,” Nathaniel said, somewhat taken aback. “Your father is a very interesting man,” he said directing his attentions at Priscilla.

“Did he bore you with tales from the Crimea?” Priscilla asked. “Daddy is always doing that.”

“No, it wasn’t a bore at all,” Nathaniel clarified.

Margaret felt someone come up behind her. “A word, Miss Margaret, if I may?” The stench of alcohol on Blair’s breath was overpowering, so much so Margaret was forced to turn her nose away, hiding her discomfort behind a bashful smile. She excused herself from Nathaniel and Priscilla’s company and followed Blair to a corner of the room.

She couldn’t help but notice Blair’s agitation. He seemed so much more in control of himself the other day it hardly seemed like him at all. He avoided her gaze while he composed himself. Margaret waited, twisting her fingers nervously, wondering what he could possibly have to say to her. A confession, perhaps? Admission to Ainsley’s charge?

“Who is Dr. Davies to you?” he asked bluntly, running his hand over his mouth.

“I beg your pardon?” Margaret was so taken aback by his line of questioning she wasn’t quite sure she had heard him correctly.

“I noticed how you looked at him across the dinner table,” Blair said, leaning his arm on the mantel. “We’ve known each other long enough there should be no need to act coy. The other day—”

“The other day you were sober,” Margaret said, angered by his forthright questioning. A true gentleman would never put a lady on the spot in such a way. “I liked you far better then.” She moved as if to walk away but Blair pulled her back, tugging on her elbow. Margaret could have slapped him, and certainly wouldn’t have felt sorry for it, but decorum demanded that she be discreet.

“He’s a tradesman, you know,” Blair said, slurring slightly. “He’ll be unable to provide for you the way you deserve.”

Margaret snatched her arm away but kept her gaze on him. “He’s a hundred times the man you pretend to be,” she said. She took a breath to relax her shoulders before returning to the card table where only Priscilla and Nathaniel remained in conversation. She felt Blair’s gaze on her as she went and found it difficult to calm her thundering heart even after she took a seat.

She hadn’t expected such behaviour from so dear a friend. Perhaps her brother had been right. People grow up. They change, sometimes never again resembling the people they were as children. She wanted so much to believe that Blair and Brandon were good people, that they were incapable of what Ainsley accused them of. So many times before had she believed someone innocent only to be proven wrong. The fact that they were childhood friends should not have affected her skepticism and yet she allowed their history to cloud her judgement. Perhaps they were involved in Mr. Owen’s death. Could Blair be the father of Ivy’s baby?

“Cousin Margaret?”

Margaret was snapped from her thoughts to find she was alone at the table with Nathaniel.

“Are you well?”

Nodding feebly, she glanced over her shoulder to find Blair had gone. “Where is Miss Priscilla?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“Her mother called her away,” Nathaniel explained. “Do you think it may have had something to do with me?”

Margaret shook her head and reached over the table to touch Nathaniel’s arm. “If you expect to fit in with society, you need to develop a thicker skin.” Nathaniel nodded but she knew it would be a while before he’d be able to shed his insecurities. Margaret herself could relate and knew it was only through the passing of time that she had grown used to the scrutiny and judgements.

“You do realize Priscilla is promised to Brandon Thornton?” Margaret asked, taking care to keep her voice low.

“Yes, indeed, but she seems so forlorn with no one to speak with. The nerve of that man, leaving her here all by her lonesome.” Nathaniel appeared particularly agitated that Brandon still had not arrived. “If I had someone as sweet as that waiting on me…well, she wouldn’t be waiting on me. That’s for sure.”

Margaret smiled at her cousin’s remarks. “I doubt you would be speaking so if your mother was here.”

At the mention of his mother, Nathaniel’s expression fell. “Probably not.”

“I do not understand why she declined such a lovely invitation,” Margaret said. “Even I can handle a simple dinner party.”

Nathaniel squared his shoulders as Margaret spoke and she could see his relaxed hand on the table curl into a slight fist. He averted his gaze and licked his lips.

“What did I say?” Margaret leaned in closer. “Tell me, Nathaniel.”

Reluctantly, Nathaniel spoke, scanning the room to make sure no one else was in earshot. “I’m afraid Mother won’t be up to these gatherings for some time, not after what Father did to her.”

“What do you mean?”

Nathaniel took a breath before he began. “Father was never kind to Mother. I used to hear them fighting almost every night from my room. The walls in those houses are so paper thin, you see. They’d disagree about money or discipline for the boys but mostly it was about Mother’s homesickness. She never did feel at home in India.” He looked to his hands. “They never fought about his mistresses, though.”

“Mistresses?” Margaret felt her voice rise but caught herself in time before she drew attention from the room. “He entertained more than one?”

Nathaniel nodded. Margaret could see his eyes welling up before he blinked it away. “Mother told me she didn’t care. She said as long as he came home to her each night and provided us with a home, it didn’t matter. I could see it hurt her though, inside.” He pointed to his chest. “Everyone’s husband took a mistress there but no one ever spoke about it openly. But then Father made a mess of things.”

Margaret swallowed. She was unsure she wanted to hear anymore. What was relayed to her already seemed more than a woman could bear.

“There was a dinner party. Mother and Father were both invited as were nearly every other aristocratic family of English origin. It was quite special, you see. On the day of the event Mother fell ill with a headache. The humidity always seemed to cause her suffering. She couldn’t go and Father decided to go without her. He decided to bring his mistress instead.”

Margaret raised a hand to her mouth and bowed her head. “Oh, Aunt Louisa.”

“That is not the worst of it,” Nathaniel said. “An hour later Mother said she felt better and decided to go. I wasn’t there,” he said, suffering genuine regret at not being present to support his mother. “But to hear tell of it things did not go well. Mother was embarrassed, in front of all English-Indian society, no less. I don’t believe she is over the shock, really. All those people you believed were your friends. It’s unimaginable.” Nathaniel shifted in his seat and sniffled. “She confessed to me on the ship heading back to England that she was glad of it. That she could consider herself free to do as she pleased now. But I’m not so sure.”

“Does she plan to seek a divorce?” Margaret was careful to whisper though she needn’t have worried. Everyone else in the room was enjoying their drink and laughing at each other’s jokes without a care in the world.

“I don’t know,” Nathaniel answered truthfully. “I do know that she is grateful to you and Peter for allowing us a place to stay. Mother has been in much higher spirits since we arrived at your doorstep. I don’t know how we would have survived these last few weeks without you.” Nathaniel reached over the table and squeezed Margaret’s hand, blinking back tears as she looked at him.

Margaret placed her other hand on top of his and returned his squeeze. “All of you may stay as long as you like.”