Emmeline looked down, shamefully.
‘She compared Hannah to Lady Lucinda – insinuating Hannah was little more than an oaf when she danced and that she could not sing nor engage musically…’
Caleb experienced this as if somebody was insulting him, personally. This was a new exposure for him – to feel as defensive and angered on the behalf of another person as he would be for himself.
‘She told Hannah that she was not fit to be Duchess and that father would never have chosen her as a suitable match for you, had he met her…’ Emmeline continued.
Caleb stood abruptly, unable to hear this sitting down. He began to pace the room; his pent-up frustrations finding no outlet.
‘Did you just stand and listen to her spit these offensive remarks, sister?’ Even as he asked, he knew it was unfair to place any blame on loyal Emmeline.
‘No, Caleb. You must not think that I did! I was outside in the corridor…. I had heard shouting begin as I passed through the hallway and was intrigued to hear what had sent Mother into such fury. I had to listen a moment before entering, in order to deduce the best way for me to intervene. I was utterly shocked to hear what was being said and interrupted the moment I knew the most effective method of intervention.’
Caleb’s shoulders sank.
‘Forgive me, Emmeline. I should not have accused you. I am simply so angry at Mother. Tell me, how did you reconcile?’
‘I confronted Mother; asking why she was yelling at Hannah. She had foolishly assumed I would side with her and when I did not, she walked out.’
‘This is why she was silent and morose at dinner this evening?’ Caleb checked.
‘It is. She should be entirely ashamed of herself but only sees her own pain. She cannot fathom that she is causing such agony to sweet Hannah.’
‘You don’t think she is aware how much disruption her manner causes?’ Caleb was perplexed by this summation.
‘I believe Mother is a selfish being who is blind to how her actions and words can injure others. I would like to believe that she is not purposely callous.’
Caleb shrugged, indicating that he did not know either way.
‘The consequence is sadly the same. I should check on Hannah…’ Caleb made to move toward the door.
‘If I may be so bold, brother-’ Emmeline interrupted his stride. ‘I would suggest you let her be. Allow her to cry and grieve this evening. Tomorrow, I know, she is due to attend an art gallery which is her most cherished pastime. Permit her a replenishing sleep and some freedom from this household tomorrow will revive her spirits.’
Caleb considered this a moment and then nodded.
‘Thank you for your support, Emmeline,’ he crossed to his sister and kissed her upon the crown of her head.
‘Always,’ Emmeline whispered and smiled sadly at him.
The Duke left the room and headed for his office, locking the door so that he would not have to see or speak to his reprehensible mother.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hannah squeezed Sophia’s hand in excitement as they walked through the doors to the gallery, with Lucy and Sophia’s lady’s maid, Bethany, in their wake.
‘I can literallysmellthe paint!’ Hannah beamed. It had been such an acute relief to have stepped out of the Montwood household that morning. Sitting with the Dowager Duchess at breakfast had been increasingly awkward as the woman would not even look at her and it felt clear to Hannah that Caleb had been made aware of his mother’s behaviour since he did not engage her in conversation and made a noticeable effort with Hannah.
She wondered if he would confront his mother about her unacceptable behaviour, or if he would simply prescribe her silent treatment as punishment. The ultimate fear was if he agreed with her that an art studio was a frivolous and inappropriate use of space – this provoked heart palpitations in Hannah that her beautiful new gift might be stolen away from her.
She pushed thoughts of Montwood to one side – this was to be her day for indulging in something that made her happy and no cantankerous old Duchess was going to stand in her way.
As they entered the main hall, Hannah noted the familiar hushed voices of interested intonation and respectable comments. The only other sound was the gentle shushing of expensive fabrics upon the skirts of grand ladies touring the gallery. Hannah soaked it all up. When visiting a gallery, she loved all aspects – mostly the Art, itself, but additionally, the quiet and respectable manner with which the people moved through the room. The calm and tranquillity serving to placate any stresses that may have been brought in from the outside. The freedom to stand and observe for as long as she liked – there was no rush here; no pressure.
‘There is my cousin!’ Sophia grabbed at Hannah’s arm ‘Let us go and greet him!’
Hannah was reluctant to leave the painting she had paused at but reasoned that she could return and in fact spend as long as she liked admiring it later on. She looked over to where Sophia indicated, to see Nathaniel standing across the room, intently describing something to an old couple who seemed enthralled by him.
Sophia took Hannah’s hand and whisked her across the room. As Nathaniel’s eyes landed on Hannah, a spark appeared in his expression and a genuine smile graced his face.
