She lifted her arm to take it and when she did, the cup rattled on the saucer. The duchess swiftly took it back and drew her into her arms. “Shh, my dear. We’ll muddle through this.”
Her embrace was firm and comforting and for a moment Beth needed that. “I do not see how. He threatened to take George whether I like it or not. I did not imagine that, did I?”
She dropped her face to her hands to hide her distress, but Lady Venables settled on her other side and rubbed her back. “I’m sure it will not come to that,” the lady murmured soothingly.
“It may,” Oliver interjected abruptly.
Beth jumped. She thought he’d returned to his studies, but she could see his boots at the edge of her vision. She wished he would go away. He was not one to hold back an opinion to spare her feelings. When she lifted her head to look at him, he’d taken a chair opposite. His expression was full of speculation, but he kept any further thoughts to himself.
She sat up straight again, determined not to appear weak and emotional. “Thank you for your assistance in this, Your Grace, but I should return below.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort. You’ve too much on your mind now to bother with your duties. Why don’t you spend what is left of the day with George? I’m sure he’d enjoy that very much.”
“I’d much rather be gainfully employed, given the circumstances. I don’t want to leave you in the lurch with the wedding so close at hand. I’d like to do what I can before I leave.”
“Leave?” several voices said at once, Oliver’s the loudest.
Beth nodded but wondered why he cared enough to comment. It wasn’t as if he would be here to miss her or George. It wasn’t as if he missed anyone. She wiped away the tears pooling in her eyes. “I’ll not let Henry take George away without a fight, and if he will not relent then I will accompany my son. I haven’t any choice.”
Oliver stood abruptly. He took a pace away and then turned back. “Excuse me.” His footsteps were loud and hurried as he departed.
“Now he remembers his manners. Usually he just leaves the room without a word,” the duchess grumbled under her breath. “The wedding preparations can be managed by others. In light of your decision, I’m afraid I must insist that you give up the position now. I was never easy about you taking on so much.”
Beth gulped and clenched her hands together to still the tremble. If she did not have the position at Romsey then she did not have a r
eason to remain and couldn’t claim to even have a roof over their heads. She’d have no choice but to comply with Henry’s demands and leave England. “As you wish. I’ll leave immediately.”
The duchess patted her hand. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m not letting you or George out of our sight for another moment.”
She stared at the duchess, puzzled by her remark. “What? Why?”
She squeezed Beth’s hand again. “Did you really believe I would give in to such a bully? I consider you a friend and you have far better bargaining power as a guest in my home than as a mere servant in my employ. You were far too good for that position anyway. Desperation is my only excuse for allowing it.”
Beth held her hands to her face. “Are you still not in such dire straits, Your Grace?”
“My name is Mercy and I will not answer to anything else from you from this moment forward.”
Beth swallowed the lump in her throat and tears sprang to her eyes at the kindness she was being offered. It might not be for long, but she would take any help she could get in this matter and later revert to formality. The duchess nudged her. “Go and see George. Spend the day with him and do not think about your brother-in-law again. Despicable suggestion. I’m certain there is a way around the problem and we will find it together.”
“Thank you,” Beth said and then remembered, “Mercy.”
The duchess released her with a delighted smile and Beth tottered from the room on unsteady feet. The move to Romsey and giving up her independence had been a painful choice. Leaving her home, a failure in her mind. Although life had not always been easy she had never considered striking out to find a better situation. That she could one day be on first-name terms with the Duchess of Romsey had never occurred to her.
At the first landing on the staircase, she passed Oliver. She did not meet his gaze and he offered no greeting. But he fell in step beside her as she continued upstairs. When she turned in the direction of her bedchamber, where she hoped to find George, he called her back. “George is this way.”
Startled by the softness of his voice, she blinked and then turned around. He gestured toward the deserted east wing.
Beth hurried forward, eager to know why George was in this part of the abbey again. To her knowledge it was deserted, with only dust and possibly mice as occupants. The door at the end of the hall was ajar and she hurried to it, conscious of the man following close on her heels.
She stepped through and blinked in the bright light. When she looked around, the space took her breath away.
“My thoughts exactly,” Oliver murmured as he moved farther into the chamber and left her standing alone.
At some time in the past, the whole end of this wing had clearly been a beautiful apartment but the state of it was terrible disrepair. What a waste. It would have looked so much prettier years ago. Any guest coming for the duchess’s wedding would be happy to stay here once it was made livable.
Oliver stopped at a distant doorway, spoke a few mumbled words, and then the next moment George’s head popped out of that same door. “Can’t I stay?”
Beth rubbed her arms. George did not know his uncle wanted to take him away to America yet and his question caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms. She had a little time to work out how to break the news. “For a little while. But only if you are not disturbing Mr. Randall.”