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Chapter Twelve
Matthew poured a whiskyand swallowed the tot, before a second one followed.Mother had led him to the green room, a withdrawing room where she kept a small desk and two shelves of her favorite books.Meaning, they had beautiful gold leaf lettering and colorful bindings, not that she had actually read them.
His mother was a shining example of motherhood, especially to a young boy without a father, but she had her own set of morals and etiquette, which could raise eyebrows in the best of circumstances.
“Why didn’t you pour me a drink, too?”she asked.
“What would you like?”
“A very strong vodka.There.In the back behind the absinthe.”
“Mother, while I am here, you will not call me Dukey, or you will never see your grandchildren again.”He was smiling when he turned and presented her with the drink in a crystal glass.Irish crystal, he was sure.
“Ah, if only I had been more clever, I would have gotten Welliver to whisk me off to Gretna Green and married before his father interfered.”She lifted her glass and toasted.“To my Dukey.At least I got you from the ill bargain.”
“When are you and Albourne going to move to London, Mother?It would be much easier to care for you there.”
“Oh, Albourne knows what you could do for us, but he has his pride.I don’t need to tell you about men and their pride, do I?”
“No, Jezzy.I see it every day.You do have property in London, you know.”
“It means nothing to me.Only an income source.I don’t want to live there,” she said.
He sipped, then sat beside her on the short settee.“I found another one recently.”
“Who?”
“Did you know Mary Trimble?”
She shook her head.“The name isn’t familiar, but Welliver had a raft of servants.”
“She had a son named Levi Trimble.He’s passed on, though he’s left behind two daughters.I have nieces.Welliver has a lot to answer for.”
“If only he weren’t dead.Are you still searching for justice?This will come to no good end,” she said.
“You don’t know my resolve.”
