“I can’t. I haven’t a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” Katherine shot back. “You’re a grown woman, a clever one. You have family, friends, support. Of course you want to please your mother, and of course you love her, even when she’s being… being difficult. But this is your life. The wrong husband will make you miserable, and I think you know that already.”
There was a brief silence after that. A gentle breeze rushed around the gazebo, rustling greenery against the wooden roof.
“What sort of man is Lord Barwick?” Pippa heard herself say, voice low. “Is he very bad?”
Katherine let out a long sigh.
“He’s a well-known rake, Pip. He made a rather half-hearted attempt to convince people that he was reformed at the beginning of the Season, but nobody believes that. He’s in his cups far too often, gambles heavily, treats women with great disrespect – except his mother, of course, who has rather an unsettling hold over him – and there are a great many more stories that I won’t tell you. I would not be happy to see you marry him, Pippa. I can’t stop you, nor should I influence your decision, but neither should your mother.”
Pippa leaned back, closing her eyes. She had a headache, pounding away behind her eyes. She felt sick. The joy of her music had been drained away. Or perhaps it had never been there to begin with. How could it, with all of this weighing on her mind?
“It’s as if Mama is a different person to before,” she whispered. “It was different before Papa died. He… he tempered her, somehow. Now that he’s gone, there’s no stopping her. Sometimes I feel as though I’m in a runaway carriage, careering down the road, and I can’t stop or slow down.”
Katherine reached out, taking her hand.
“I know how it feels,” she said, voice quiet. “But youarein control. And youcando something, Pip. You can, and you must.”
A twig cracked outside, and both women jumped. A figure stepped into the doorway, and Pippa found herself sinking back into the seat, her heart dropping into the stomach.
“Here you are,” Bridget said coolly. “Hidden away. Whatareyou two gossiping about, I wonder?”
***
Bridget paused outside the gazebo, holding her breath. She’d heard snippets of the conversation between her niece and her daughter, enough to know what they were talking about.
So, Katherine thinks to discourage Pippa from that match, eh?Bridget thought grimly.And no wonder. Pippa would marry a marquess, and she’d outrank Katherine herself.
Poor, foolish Pippa. She can’t possibly understand it.
Well,Iunderstand it, and I intend to put a stop to this.
With a flinch, she heard Katherine speak again, her voice level and almost angry.
“I know how it feels. But youarein control. And youcando something, Pip. You can, and you must.”
It was too much, entirely too much. Bridget closed the distance, standing in the doorway. Both women flinched to see her. Pippa shrank back a little, and Bridget stared into Katherine’s face, waiting to see guilt there, and embarrassment at being caught.
She didn’t see either emotion, to her annoyance. It was infuriating, but then Katherine had always been stubborn.
“Mama, I didn’t know… you were looking for me,” Pippa gasped, flushing and clutching her violin to her chest. “I came out here to practise.”
Bridget pursed her lips. She didn’t particularly like violin music. She had never objected to Pippa learning, so long as she comprehended that when the moment arrived to apply herself diligently to the essential endeavour of securing a suitable husband, she would set aside her industrious crafting and musical compositions to concentrate on more decorous pursuits befitting a lady.
Of course, Bridget had counted on being able to rely on her husband to help manage Pippa, but Phillip was gone.
She tightened her jaw against this thought, which brought the usual wave of misery, and concentrated on the present.
“I have been looking for you,” Bridget said crisply, turning her attention to her daughter. “You know how I feel about night air, Pippa. Besides, Lord Barwick is taking us all out to the opera tonight, as you know. He is a remarkably generous man.”
This was aimed at Katherine, of course, but the wretched girl did not even blink.
“You had better start getting ready,” Bridget added, when Pippa only stayed where she was, quiet and still. “I’ve laid out a gown for you to wear. Hurry! And for heaven’s sake, leave that violin in the music room. I told you to practise your pianoforte, just in case you were asked to play. And have you done it? Of course not.”
Pippa got to her feet with a reluctance that Bridget did not like to see. Pippa paused, glancing at Katherine.
“Thank you, Kat. You’re… you’re kind. And you’ve been helpful. Thank you.”
