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Chapter Eight
Beatrice pressed a proud kiss to her daughter’s head. “Very well done, indeed!”
Miriam beamed, then hesitated for a moment before stepping over to her grandmother and extending her first ever embroidery sampler for inspection.
Lady Sabrina glanced at the elementary handiwork, then made a shooing gesture. “Fine stitches. Go upstairs now.”
Bea embraced her daughter before the girl met the nursemaid at the door. It was soon time for Bea to go upstairs and dress for dinner.I believe I’ll go up early, she thought, eying her mother-in-law in the chair across from her. She took in a breath to excuse herself.
“You have taught her well,” the woman said without looking up from her own needlework.
“Thank you,” she replied, bracing herself. “If you’ll excu—”
“She takes after you in so many ways.” The Dowager Marchioness draped the silk handkerchief she was adorning on the arm of the chair and met her eyes. “That dark hair. That face of yours. When it comes to her embroidery skill, she can be grateful she inheritedthatfrom you rather than me. I never did excel in that art. No, my talents lie elsewhere.”
“Thank you for the compliments. I must retire now before supper.”
“I look forward to our evening together! The menu you selected for this evening is delightful. Why, yes, I had a word with the housekeeper to see what was in store. No, don’t fret. I approve wholeheartedly.”
“Very good. Until supper, then.”
“And our game of cards! Oh, how I look forward to that diversion.”
Bea paused at the door and squared her shoulders. As much as she didn’t relish this moment of correcting her mother-in-law, she didn’t wish to do battle over the issue later if she didn’t address her now. “Tomorrow, my lady. Tomorrow we shall play as many hands as you like. Tonight, the Marquess and I will ask for your forbearance. After the meal, we plan to have a quiet evening as husband and wife.”
“We shall see about that!” spat the Dowager, all pretense of politeness gone.
On her way up the stairs to her chamber, Bea took comfort in several things. Most of her day had been joyous—and away from the woman. The visit was more than half over. Best of all, she had a lovely evening ahead of her, complete with some privacy with William, where they could relax together away from the childrenandhis mother.
During dinner, William was more distant than usual, but she understood. Between his time with the Earl of Anterleigh and his mother’s presence, the day had been onerous. She herself retreated mostly into silence.
The Dowager Marchioness seemed to take no offense.In fact, she’s preening, Bea noted to herself with suspicion.
“That roast lamb was ever so succulent!” The woman looked from Bea to her son. “Your wife sets the highest of standards in her domestic duties, from selecting menus to raising your children. You would have been most proud to see her with Miriam earlier, whose stitching is progressing admirably. Beatrice’s character is most patient and maternal toward her.”
What is happening?Bea smiled at the praise, all the while wondering what she had in store. Had the woman become so brazen that she would volley her insults next, right in front of William?
“Do you not agree, my son?” his mother asked sweetly. “Beatrice is, above all, the epitome of everything a mother should be.”
Clearing his throat, he looked up at Bea. She stared at him almost questioningly, not doubting his opinion, but confused by the pain in his eyes.
“You are,” he spoke to her directly.
“To you, Beatrice!” His mother said, lifting her glass. “To motherhood and children!”
Bea choked down a sip of wine.
“Are we playingvingt-et-untonight? Orvieux garçon?” Lady Sabrina asked brightly.
Beatrice pinched her own leg under the table to prevent herself from either speaking or even looking up. It would be rather unkind and unladylike to show her delight when William informed his mother that they would be playing neither game together tonight.
“As you wish, Mother.”
Bea’s heart pounded so strongly in her chest as horror filled her, she wondered if it was audible to the others.
“I think we should let Beatrice decide,” Sabrina said. “What do you say, my girl?”
Enough!“I’m afraid, my lady, that William may have forgotten we had other arrangements in mind for this evening.” She stared at him until he looked up. Confusion gathered force as silence elongated. “William?” she prompted eventually.
