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He had no excuse for his dream, for his thoughts about her. He had crossed the line, and now, he was treading on dangerous ground. There was only one thing he could do, only one thing he needed to force himself to do, and that was to stay away from her. Because being close to her would only tempt him to admit his feelings which he could not bow down to.
He had a promise to keep, even if that promise that meant he would be miserable for the rest of his life.
Chapter 15
The meeting with Lord Federline passed even more successfully than Joseph expected. They had discussed his late father’s final investments which Joseph knew very little about. Truthfully, he wished to remain out of that entire financial affair, especially taking into account that he had no plans to use that money to his own advantage. He did not care for it, nor did he wish to know of it.
Immediately upon Lord Federline’s departure, Joseph leaned back in his chair, relaxing his entire body. He had spent the entire hour listening to the man speak about railroad stocks and ship building possibilities Joseph might look into. Of course, the man would endeavor to convince Joseph to invest more. That was to be expected. What Joseph did not expect was his utter lack of focus on the matter at hand. He had to consciously remind himself not let his thoughts wander away since one single face always returning to haunt him.
He was reading through the documentation that Lord Federline left for him sign when a knock on the door interrupted the process. Not that an interruption was necessary— he had already reread this last paragraph three times and still had no clear idea what it said.
“Yes?” he called out, thinking that Pembroke must have come to remind him of another meeting. He could not remember if he had any more for the life of him. These past few days had been a haze of obligations he kept forgetting about which was highly unlike him.
But the moment the door opened, he realized it was not Pembroke. It was his mother. She looked particularly cheerful this morning although ever since both of them had been freed of the terrible reign his father’s had dictated throughout their lives, they both seemed rejuvenated. He always felt that his mother had been a prisoner in her marriage— a prisoner who decided to remain one of their own accord. He did not understand it, but he could not blame her. Now that the cell was finally unlocked, she had blossomed into the person she had been before marriage. A happy, beaming version of herself.
She walked in without waiting to be asked, smiling somehow mysteriously as if there was something on her mind, something she still pondered whether or not she would be sharing with him.
“Good morning, Mother,” he smiled back. The very sight of her pleased him, especially when she was in such a joyful mood. She was, after all, the heart of this house, and when she was unhappy, as she had been throughout her entire marriage, the house felt more like a prison than a home.
“Morning, darling,” she replied, approaching his writing table then leaning over it to plant a kiss on his cheek as she did every morning without exception. He remembered telling her once as a boy that he would eventually grow too old for kisses from his mother to what she just laughed joyously, saying that children never cease to be children in the eyes of their parents.
“Have you had your morning tea yet?” she inquired.
“No,” he shook his head, gesturing at the papers in his hand. “Lord Federline was here. We needed to sort out some of these documents Father left regarding the last of the stocks he had purchased. Apparently, they have doubled in value.”
The knowledge brought no pleasure to either of them. She knew, just as he himself did, that money alone did not bring much joy. Especially not when the source of it was a man as detestable as his late father. Speaking ill of the dead was not something he had been taught to do, but speaking his mind was, and lying about his father’s true nature was something Joseph would never willingly do.
“Well, that is nice, dear,” she said without much interest in the matter. “Would you join your mother for a morning cup of tea?” she asked tenderly. He could not refuse her.
“Of course, Mother,” he smiled.
Fifteen minutes later, they were seated in the drawing room, opposite each other. He could not escape the feeling that there was something she wanted to tell him, only she was waiting for the right moment. She kept looking at him then when he caught her gaze, she would hastily reach for the teacup and bring it to her lips as if in an effort to hide from him. To be quite honest, he was starting to get concerned, but her smile pacified him.
“That was a lovely dinner party, was it not?” she asked, eyeing him over the teacup edge.
The tea set had belonged to her own mother, one of the precious few things she had brought from her parent’s home. Joseph remembered breaking one cup as a boy. Sorrow cut through the usually tender lines on his mother’s face, but she did shout, nor did she punish him. If it were his father’s decision, there would have been no ending to either the shouting or the punishments. Then again, his father had always valued material possessions over family values. Sometimes, Joseph wondered how was it that his parents ended up marrying each other, and he suspected an arranged marriage although his mother always assured him otherwise.
“Yes, it really was,” he nodded. He immediately thought of Bridget, the way she melted in his arms. His tumultuous thoughts would not let him be, especially after the dream he had of her. No matter what happened, that dream would always remain secretly nestled inside his mind. He doubted his mother would be enough of a distraction this morning. He needed to busy himself with more work. It was an affliction that would pass. Perhaps if he told this to himself enough times, he would actually believe it.
“The Beaumont sisters are so lovely,” she suddenly expressed her opinion, musing upon something silently. “Especially Sarah.”
He wished to correct her and tell her that Bridget was far more lovely, but he managed to bite his tongue in time not to say anything that might reveal the turmoil inside of him. It was apparent that the two mothers had been arranging to bring him close to Sarah, but Oliver did not seem to be fond of that idea.
“Yes, Mother,” he merely nodded instead, realizing where this conversation would lead. The two mothers were obviously still hoping to bring together their two children, most obviously himself and Sarah. He did not like the scheming one bit. Not to mention that Oliver liked it even less.
“On that note, are you busy tomorrow afternoon?” she continued as if she just remembered something, but he knew better. Whatever was happening the following afternoon was the true reason behind this impromptu tea.
“Tomorrow?” he frowned, wondering if there was something he had forgotten, or at least if there was something that would provide him with a good reason to remain home. “Why?”
She laughed, but it was not her usual melodious laughter. This one was tinged with a backdrop of secrecy, something she was not prone to. His mother had always been a kind, honest woman who shied away from any kind of arguments. As such, it was easy to see why his father chose her to be his wife. She was easily manipulated and always backed down before someone who threatened her. Joseph had seen it with his own eyes more times than he would like to remember. He always wondered why his mother tolerated such aggressive behavior which resulted in sleepless nights from which she would emerge in the mornings with swollen, red eyes. So many times, he ran to her, wrapping her frail body in his boyish hands, broken by the fact that he was helpless.
The names that man called her, the insults, the shouting. Once, he even pushed her against the wall when she dared to oppose him about their daughter. Knowing that she too was helpless, she continued to wither, and all Joseph could do was watch as it happened.
Not any longer. As a grown up, he was responsible for his own choices, and he would be damned if he would grant that horrid man a grandchild to continue his bloodline. Never. Not in a million years.
His mother was aware of his decision never to marry which had been shaken to its very core by Bridget’s sudden appearance in his life; however, his mother still felt the conviction that she would at some point, hopefully sooner rather than later, become a mother-in-law and eventually, a grandmother as well. He almost felt sorry that he would end up destroying those wishes, but even her suffering was not enough to force him to change his mind about his father.
“I received a letter from the Marchioness of Fernside,” she announced finally. “She has informed me that Lady Bridget and Lady Sarah will be going on an outing to Hampton Court tomorrow. It will be their first visit. Since we have been there on numerous occasions, I wrote back that you might join them and be a sort of a guide for the Ladies. Wouldn’t that be a splendid idea?”
