“In what way?” Susannah felt as though she were a minor actress in a play, only she didn’t know her lines. Nor did she know the ending of the play. Perhaps all the actors would suddenly stop speaking their lines and burst into insane laughter.
“I suppose you’ve only just met your mother-in-law,” Mrs. Goodgame said. “Charlotte, very simply, isn’t like any other lady in the land. She is herself. She is so beautiful she is entitled to do anything she wishes, with anyone she wishes. It is a paradox. Her dear husband—the baron’s dear father—adored her. Fortunately, he shared the same inclinations. All worked out well until our dear boy here slipped and took a mighty fall. You’re only twenty-five, Rohan, and you have a child. Not a mere little babe, but a child. You have a wife. It flabbergasts the mind. It renders one speechless.”
Nothing had ever rendered any of these ladies speechless, Rohan thought.
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Hackles said, leaning toward Susannah and lightly thumping her fan on Susannah’s knuckles, “you are a milksop. That will do just as well. There is no possible way that you could ever be like Charlotte even if you tried. You’re not pretty enough. You haven’t a word to say for yourself. You are doubtless lacking in wits. You are perhaps boring. Further, you don’t have her sweetness, her divine sense of the wicked and the clever. Yes, you must be a milksop. It is the only thing you can be to make all of this work out properly.”
Susannah jerked out of her chair, her head pounding and her stomach roiling and vomited short of the basin in the corner behind the screen.
“Yes,” she heard Lady Dauntry say with some satisfaction, “she is a milksop, so you are saved, my dear boy. Surely a woman like Charlotte—indeed, a woman with any spirit at all—would not have been content to live in the middle of nowhere with little or nothing were she married to you. Had she any spirit at all, she would have arrived on your doorstep, her child in her arms, and demanded to take her place in your home. But she didn’t do any of this. No, she stayed where you put her. You will do well with a milksop. You will continue to be true to your nature—as you have, even though you married her. Just look at all you’ve accomplished in the past four years. You are growing into your dear parents’ beliefs and habits and endearing ways. Perhaps we shan’t despair.”
Rohan heard the sound of dry heaves. He prayed Susannah would continue vomiting. It would keep her mouth shut, so to speak. He prayed that Toby would remain in the corridor, his own mouth firmly seamed together.
He clasped Lady Dauntry’s hands in his. “Your consideration and devotion touch me, ladies.” He gave each of them a tender smile. A man of his reputation could produce a tender smile for the sourest of old biddies. “Now, perhaps you would consent to see my dear mother tomorrow. You will all convince her that Susannah is a fit wife for me—in short, a milksop wife. You will ensure that she is well on her way to accepting my marriage. I thank you.”
He actually bowed, Susannah saw, poking her head around the screen. He was incredible. The ladies then walked out, and she heard scattered words about who would speak about what to dear Charlotte.
She rose to her feet, hanging on to the screen, which wobbled, and said, “I am not pathetic. I could launch a raft. I am going to kill you now.”
Not a moment later, Toby came into the room. His eyes looked glazed. He said, “Don’t kill him until he can tell me why he told those ladies that you and he were married.”
Both of them were staring hard at him. Rohan saw that Susannah’s hands were two quite efficient-looking fists. She was still pale; the powder was off and he could see the green and yellow of the bruises on her cheek. Her beautiful gown was askew.
He said gently, “Would you like to clean out your mouth, Susannah?”
“No, not yet. Tell us now, Rohan. I don’t want to have cramps in my fists.”
He looked at the pitiful girl in front of him, then at Toby, who looked as shocked as a vicar in a brothel, and smiled. “I haven’t the foggiest idea why I did it.”
14
THEY SAT OPPOSITE EACH OTHER, DRINKING TEA LIKE A companionable married couple after a long evening.
“You asked me why I did something so incredibly unexpected,” Rohan said at last, wishing she had said something first, but she hadn’t. “I have told you I don’t know why I did i
t, but dammit, Susannah, it is done. It cannot now be undone. Another thing: I don’t think it was stupid. I believe this will solve every problem. I’m not sorry I did it.” And to his own astonishment, it was true. He didn’t regret it at all. The truth was, he wanted to marry her. No wonder he was so comfortable with his lie. However, having told it, he didn’t think marrying Susannah would be any easier to execute for having claimed her as his wife.
Susannah was striving for patience. “Rohan, in olden times, you would have been the perfect gentle knight. But what you told those three old witches was a lie, a bold-faced lie. A quite silly lie, really, since anyone can so easily find out that it is a lie. I was married to George. You have just added to my problems. If you and I were married, we would be breaking the law.”
“No, we wouldn’t.”
She just shook her head at him, clearly distracted, thinking, speaking again. “Just send me away. I will never bother you again. I am not your responsibility. I did quite well until you came along.”
He saluted her with his teacup. “Now there’s a lie that doesn’t bear scrutiny.”
“Very well, but for the most part I was managing. George did send money—I told you that—up until the time he died.”
“How much did he send you?”
She looked down into her teacup. The tea leaves were spread in a strange pattern in the bottom of the cup. She was thankful there were no gypsies about. She would have dreaded to hear what they made of those leaves.
“It is really none of your business, but I will tell you anyway. George didn’t have much money, but you know that. He was at Oxford, on an allowance from you.”
“Oh? I can’t seem to remember how much I gave him per quarter.”
“You gave him twenty pounds per quarter. George sent us ten.”
He felt the rage boiling up in him. If George had been in the room, Rohan would have smashed him into the wainscoting. He would have yelled at him first, then hit him. “Ten pounds,” he repeated, “all of ten pounds per quarter. Yes, Susannah, you must have done very well indeed with all that largesse. Why don’t you want to be my wife?”