Page 38 of Expectations (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #7)
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
REGRETS AND REMINISCENCES
I t was everything Elizabeth had feared—that the earl would think her some kind of vine climber, trading on this new connexion for her own purposes.
She opened her mouth to apologise for disrupting his day and to take their leave, but again Cassandra piped up.
“Mama says that you are very sad because your son died, and we know how sad you are feeling because Papa and Mama Bingley died too, so Mama says we can comfort each other.”
Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes, chagrined.
“We do not mean to intrude upon your privacy. It is only that after I lost my sister and her husband, I do not know how I would have managed, except that I had the children and my youngest sister as a constant presence in my life, mourning with me. I suppose you must have others whose company you cherish, but we are your family, sir. We wish to be a part of your life—to the extent we are welcome, of course.”
He stared at them both with a renewed intensity; she felt herself being weighed and measured. Weigh and measure away , she thought. I am here for you, not for any pleasure of mine. Long moments passed.
“I do not think I was a cruel papa,” he said at last, addressing Cassandra.
“Strict, yes. One assumes that being born to wealth and title is easy. It is not easy, nor should it be. To assume one’s fortune is for the benefit of oneself alone, rather than one’s tenants and one’s fellow citizens, is to ask God to strip you of all of it. Or so I have always believed.”
“A very noble opinion, truly,” Elizabeth murmured, thinking of her brother-in-law’s squandered fortune, squandered life.
He snorted in contempt. “Ridley did not believe it. He resented it.”
There was something dry and hard in his delivery; not even Cassandra dared interrupt him.
“Your eldest son?” Elizabeth asked gently.
Lord Matlock glanced up at her. “Devilish difficult now to call Richard by his brother’s name.
Yes, my eldest. Exceeded his allowance for the dozenth time, and we had a row about it.
I would not pay; I said his creditors could wait until quarter-day.
He called me a nipcheese and said he would never speak to me again.
He never did. Caught some malady while staying with his wastrel friends.
Instead of sending for me, or even our family physician, he depended upon the advice of fools and was gone in a fortnight.
I never even knew he was ill until it was too late.
I have always regretted that our final words were harsh ones. ”
“How long has it been?” Elizabeth asked sympathetically.
“Two years and one month,” he answered. She thought he probably could have named the weeks, days and hours as well.
“What is a nipcheese?” Cassandra asked.
Elizabeth started to hush her, but the earl answered before she could. “A miser—someone who still has his first penny. Someone selfish and uncaring.”
“ Are you selfish? Do you have your first penny?”
“He does not,” Elizabeth said firmly, “and neither do we ask our elders such questions.”
“Well, if he is not, then chances are his son did not think so either,” Cassandra contended, refusing to be quelled.
“This morning I told Tommy he was a greedy pig for having Papa all to himself today, even though I knew he was only taking his turn like I did on Monday. I didn’t mean it.
I was just angry. Perhaps his son did not want to see the doctor for fear of having to swallow something tasting like mouldy carpets.
They do give out the nastiest tonics.” She wrinkled her nose in remembered disgust.
Lord Matlock’s expression gentled. “Perhaps you are correct, young miss. Our physician persists in dosing me with medicines that taste of…of dirty stockings and flea bites.”
Cassandra giggled.
“I have heard tales of your younger son’s friendship with my husband,” Elizabeth said, before Cassandra tried to outdo him for nasty tonic descriptions. “He, too, sounds like a fine man. I shall be happy to meet him and his family soon.”
But at this, the earl’s brows beetled and he frowned. “Holes up in the country now, he does. Seldom comes to town.”
“I understand his wife recently bore a son. It is not so easy, travelling with children.”
“’Tis not that,” Matlock said bluntly. “He is angry at me. Angry and stubborn about it.”
“Why?” Cassandra asked.
“Cassandra,” Elizabeth chided, but the earl waved this off.
“I told him he need not marry the Bentley girl, now that he had inherited his brother’s title.
He had taken up with her shortly before Ridley’s death.
Her father is Lord Hampton’s heir, but she is a different sort—peculiar ideas of acceptable conversation, you know.
She did not take with the ton . Perfectly eligible, and all the Hamptons are rich as Croesus, but distinctly odd and a spinster to boot.
Thought he was courting her for her fortune and connexions—nothing the matter with that, of course.
But then Ridley died and he no longer had to, and so I told him.
How was I to know he was in love with the chit? ”
“Oh, dear,” Elizabeth burst out before she could stop herself.
“Did you say sorry?” Cassandra asked.
Elizabeth expected a reprimand, but the earl only shrugged. “We had words. I was not…not in a good frame, not at the time. We have not spoken since. His wife wrote to me, though, when their child was born. I sent a gift. It made no difference.”
Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes; plainly, the viscountess had made a peace offering and Lord Matlock had not responded with a sincerity they could recognise.
It was not her place to make suggestions, but she thought it exceedingly stupid.
Before she could think how to respond, however, her niece did.
“When we get home, I shall tell Tommy that of course he is not a pig and I was very wrong to say he was. And he will say he knows I did not mean it, and we will make it up right then and there. It is easy as could be.”
“Is it now?” he answered wryly, and Elizabeth sought to change the subject.
“Cassandra, his lordship does not require our advice. What was he like, Lord Ridley?” she asked. “Was he of a reserved disposition, like Mr Darcy? Or more sociable?”
This proved to be a most productive line of enquiry, for the earl launched into stories of his eldest son—a mischievous youth, friendly, cheerful, well-liked by all, and the apple of his mother’s eye.
Cassandra laughed at some of the anecdotes—probably embellished a bit for her amusement—and Elizabeth heard the vigour rising in Matlock’s voice as he recalled an earlier day and happier times.
Tea was served, with delicate fruit tarts and biscuits; she was pleased when he partook quite heartily, for he was much too thin for his large frame.
In a complete about-face from his original strictures, he encouraged Cassandra to do her favourite thing in the whole world—express her opinions, of which she had many: upon London, her nursery, and especially about Darcy.
Obviously, the earl enjoyed hearing of all the ways in which Darcy had already succeeded in becoming an excellent father.
But finally, Elizabeth saw the signs of fatigue in the older man’s face.
“We must let the earl rest now, Cassandra. Sir, we have enjoyed your company very much,” she said, rising. “I hope you will forgive any unsolicited candour, and that we may return often before we leave for Pemberley.”
He drew himself up to a standing position, his man immediately coming to his side, but to her surprise, he waved aside any assistance.
“I am not in my grave yet, Travers,” he snapped.
“You need not treat me like an old woman.” The earl held his hand out to Elizabeth and she took it; his grip was surprisingly strong.
To her utter astonishment, he pulled her closer, turning the gesture into an embrace.
“Please do return, please do,” he said in a voice that quavered only a little. “No one ever speaks of Ridley any longer. It is good to remember.”
She could not resist. “Say sorry,” she whispered back. “You still have a fine son left. Show him how it is done.”
He held on a little longer before he released her. Elizabeth reached for Cassandra’s hand, but the child stepped to Lord Matlock and flung her arms about him. He started, surprised.
“I hope you are not so sad now,” she exclaimed. “And will you not open the curtains and let the sunlight in? It is so dark in here, anyone would be gloomy. We shall come again and bring Tommy, so he can hear stories too.”
The earl chuckled, patting her shoulder. “I shall take it under advisement, our future Miss Darcy. I do hope you will return soon, and bring your brother with you. Ridley would have liked you. He would have liked you both, Mrs Darcy.”