I left the office feeling thoroughly downtrodden, as if my life were being taken apart a piece at a time. I walked aimlessly for a while, wanting to sit in the park but knowing that I would encounter nothing but icy stares there. I might as well return home.
Back at Berkeley Square, I found the stage set for a scene that had been played out too many times in my life: I, tense and worried, would arrive home to find my mother, irritated and ready to lecture, waiting for me. Resigned to go at least one round with her — I hadn't spoken to her since this latest debacle over Jeremy — I greeted her with a sigh and sank into a chair, surprised to find that she was in the library, not the drawing room.
"I will accept none of this, you know," she said, tapping the point of her parasol against the floor. "You have behaved badly — there is no question of that — and after all your father and I have done for you, we deserve better." I could not bring myself to respond; this, however, presented no problem. My mother always preferred soliloquies to dialogue. "Through it all, I have done whatever I can to secure you the best possible position, and I will not abide having my work destroyed by idle gossip."
"Mother, I can assure you that I never —"
"Do not interrupt me. It is intolerable to think that the daughter of an earl could be treated with such absolute contempt, that her reputation could be sullied on the basis of so little fact."
"Mother?" I was aghast.
"Why shouldn't a gentleman send you a roomful of flowers? You're quite possibly the richest girl in England. I shouldn't think you'd have to do more than slightly acknowledge an eligible bachelor to inspire him to such a gesture. The idea that he would have done it only after..." She had no intention of finishing the thought. "I despair for the jealous cow who invented this fiction."
I sat there with my mouth open, completely unable to form a coherent thought. Never did I think I would see the day when my mother, my harshest critic, would come to my defense.
"I won't stand for it, that's all there is to it. You've invited more than your share of trouble, but these stories have gone too far. Even if you were guilty, it would go against all things decent to give away one of our class, and that's what these vicious people are doing. I know of more badly managed affairs than I can count but would never have the bad taste to expose those involved."
She paused for a moment, hoping, I think, that I would press her for details of these affairs. When it became clear I was not going to, she continued.
"I've arranged for us to have tea with the queen on Tuesday next. No one can doubt your innocence after that. Her Majesty would never tolerate being in the presence of a fallen woman. I wonder if you should wear mourning?"
"I've been out of mourning for months."
"Yes, but you haven't seen the queen in all that time. You might endear yourself to her if she thinks that you honor your late husband the way she does poor Prince Albert."
"But surely someone will point out to her that I stopped wearing mourning, and she'll think I'm being insincere."
"Oh, I suppose so. Still, it wouldn't harm you to return to, not mourning, precisely, but maybe some sort of fashionable dress in subdued colors. If only you had been able to get some of the viscount's hair to make into a ring."
"If only," I said, managing not to roll my eyes.
"This would all be much easier if you would just behave like any other rational girl and marry one of your suitors. I don't care whom, though why you haven't accepted Bainbridge is a mystery to me. It's almost as if you don't want to be a duchess, but that, of course, would be absurd."
"What makes you think that he's proposed?"
"Don't toy with me, Emily. If you wanted him you could have him on a platter."
Hearing my mother speak like this made me smile, then laugh, so hard that I had difficulty breathing. She watched me, her lips pursed, not amused in the least.
"Are you quite finished?" she asked. "There is an art to catching a husband, an art to which you have an inexplicable aversion." Her eyes narrowed. "Yet, you still manage to attract gentlemen, primarily because of your pedigree and your fortune. Your...unique...character may draw them in, too, I suppose. But think hard, Emily. Do you really intend to stay alone the rest of your life? The women in our family are known for their longevity. Ninety years is a long time to live by oneself."
I thought it best not to point out that, longevity of the Bromley women aside, I was unlikely to live another ninety years from the present, and even if I did, it would be virtually impossible to find a husband who could manage the same thing.
"I will do everything I can to stop these rumors. I'm convinced that Lady Frideswide is behind them. She's furious that Lettice has been thrown over. I'm sorry for the girl, but she wouldn't make much of a duchess. Dull as dishwater. Bainbridge would be much better off with you. His family could use some fresh blood. For all your faults, Emily — and make no mistake, you have many — there has always been a sparkle about you."
"Thank you, Mother." I did not fight the tears that filled my eyes. I couldn't remember a time when she'd ever said something so kind to me.
"You will undoubtedly send me to an early grave, but I'll not let anyone destroy your chances for a good marriage. We must not forget Mr. Hargreaves, either. Another very attractive option. And what a gentleman! I've heard all about him taking you to the opera."
"It was lovely of him."
"Be warned, though. A man like that will not tolerate your games indefinitely. Oh, he finds you entrancing now, but before you know it —"
"Yes, Mother, my looks will fade. I know, I know."
She rose from her chair. "You will have to alter your behavior, Emily, or you will find yourself continually subjected to this sort of gossip. The sooner you accept that, the better off we will all be." She adjusted the collar of my dress and scowled at my waist. "Your corset is practically hanging off you. What is wrong with your maid?"
"It's not hanging off me, I just didn't want it laced tightly. I find that being able to breathe greatly enhances my daily life."
"I really hope we can find a husband who will tolerate you. It's a pity that Charles Berry —"
"There is nothing that could ever induce me to marry such a man."
"A woman could tolerate a great deal to marry into a royal family."
"Forgive me, Mother, but if I am to marry royalty, I want a prince who has an actual throne." Her eyes brightened, and I could see her beginning to silently catalog all the bachelor princes of Europe. Eventually, she would come to the conclusion that none of them would want a widow, but, in the meantime, I would not spoil her fun by pointing out that I would want none of them, either.
When she left, I walked her to the door. As Davis closed it behind her, he smiled, quite unabashedly, at me. "She asked to wait for you in the library, madam."
18
My mother's efforts on behalf of my reputation were not in vain. Somehow, she managed to broker an uneasy peace between society and me. Although I was still not being invited to many of the best parties, no one dared to openly cut me, and my situation could only improve after the following week's tea with the queen. And so I learned that there are, in fact, benefits to having an absolute dragon for a mother, and I loved her for it. I know not what my mother said to Lady Elliott, but I received from her a gracious note of apology and a belated invitation to a soirée she was hosting. I sent a gracious note of my own, determined to remain above reproach, but declined the invitation. My mother might want me to change my behavior, but she had to have realistic expectations. Although I was not about to embrace all the nonsense required by society, I was going to make a very deliberate effort to make sure that no one ever felt belittled by me for having chosen to play all its games.