Elizabeth Mansfield (26 page)
Read Elizabeth Mansfield Online
Authors: Mother's Choice
"If there's even the slightest chance that it will, then I want nothing more than to interfere. My vow be hanged!"
"Oh, Lady Sarah," Cassie exclaimed, a freshet of hope welling up inside her, "do you mean it?"
"Of course I do. Now that I think it over, I'm not sure my vow was wise. After all, what are mothers for but to interfere?" She leaned toward Cassie, her face alight with eager curiosity. "Tell me quickly, before Beecks comes along with the tea tray and interrupts us, just what you wish me to do."
Cassie took a deep breath. "Very well, ma'am. It's a simple request really. I'd like you to convince Jeremy to come and call on me. He won't want to do it, for he's furious with me... quite rightly so, I'm afraid, for I said some dreadful—"
She was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming. This was immediately followed by low voices and footsteps hurrying back and forth out in the corridor. Cassie looked at her hostess in alarm. "Good heavens," she gasped, "that can't be—!"
"No, no, don't worry," Lady Sarah assured her. "It must be Beecks, having a problem with the tea tray."
But the words were no sooner out of her mouth than the door of the room swung open and Jeremy stepped over the threshold. "Mama," he said impatiently, looking directly over to a cupboard just to the right of the doorway, "have you seen my
chapeau bras?
"
He began hastily to rummage through the drawers. "Hickham says he can't find it anywhere, and I promised to bring it to Charl—"
He looked round at that moment, saw Cassie, and was struck dumb.
"Tell Hickham that I saw some headgear in the large wardrobe in the blue bedroom," his mother said calmly.
As he looked from Cassie's face to his mother's, Jeremy's expression of shock changed to tight-lipped fury. "Hang it, Mama, what are you up to? I thought you'd given up this sort of high-handed meddling."
"I don't know what you're blustering about, dear boy," Lady Sarah said innocently, "but don't you see we have a guest?"
"Oh, yes. I see."
"She will think you obnoxiously rude, I fear." She turned to Cassie with an apologetic smile that did not hide the twinkle in her eye. "I do apologize to you, my dear. I cannot imagine what has gotten into my son. I can only surmise that he's taken too much wine with his luncheon. But let me introduce you. Lady Beringer, this rudesby is my son, the Viscount Inglesby. I believe you've met him before. Do you remember him?"
Cassie, feeling trapped and desperate (for this was not at all how she'd planned her meeting with Jeremy to proceed), had a sudden inspiration. "I'm not sure," she said with a tentative smile. "I have a problem with memory. A dysfunction, I think it's called. I can't remember anything since a certain night when I stood with a gentleman—one who looked quite like your son—in a room in a turret."
"How very interesting," her ladyship observed, looking from one to the other with eyes brimming with amusement.
But her son was far from amused. If Cassie, who was obviously trying to make amends, believed she could so easily cozen him into forgetting how badly she'd maligned him, she had much to learn. "Lady Beringer's memory lapse is not 'interesting' at all," he snapped. "I'd call it
convenient.
"
"Convenient?" Cassie eyed him worriedly. She'd never seen him so angry, not even that night when she'd made all those insulting accusations. Perhaps she shouldn't have come. Had she made a dreadful mistake? "I don't know what you mean," she said fearfully, her heart pounding. "In what way convenient?"
"I mean, ma'am, that if you've so conveniently lost the memory of the sins you committed during that time, you are then able so conveniently to avoid having to atone for them."
"Oh," Cassie said lamely.
Lady Sarah, finding delicious enjoyment in witnessing this exchange, would have liked to remain in the room to hear how matters developed, but she knew her presence would only exacerbate the tension between her son and this woman whose mere presence in the room had so overset his equilibrium. "Well, enthralling as this conversation is," she said, starting toward the door, "I must excuse myself to see what's become of the tea."
"You needn't bother, Mama," her son said, flashing her a look that brooked no opposition.
"I'm
the one who's leaving."
But his mother would not be cowed. "No, you are
not,"
she said, drawing herself up and returning his glare with a dagger look quite equal to his. "No son of mine will desert a guest in that unmannerly fashion. You will behave like a civilized creature, no matter how unfamiliar you apparently are with civilized conduct. You will sit down, behave like the gentleman you were reared to be, and converse with Lady Beringer until I return." And with head high and skirts swishing, she stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
Jeremy stared at the door for a moment, his teeth and fists clenched. Then he whirled around. "Damnation, Cassie," he raged, "what the devil do you mean by this? What are you doing here?"
"I'm not certain. I didn't expect..." Her throat tightened and she could not go on. Nervously, she dropped her eyes from his burning glare. She had to find the right words to get through the fury that was making a wall between them. But what were the right words?
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her eyes bravely and threw him a tremulous smile. "Perhaps I came to atone... for those sins you spoke of."
"Then take yourself to church," he retorted cruelly. "You'll not get absolution from me."
"But, dash it, you're the only one who can give it." She rose from her chair and took a step toward him. "Please, Jemmy, don't glower like that. You're terrifying me."
"And what do you imagine you're doing to me?"
"I don't know. Tell me."
"Never mind. I have no wish to tell you anything." He wheeled about and strode toward the door.
"Jeremy, please, can we not even speak?" she asked in a desperate attempt to stop him.
He put his hand on the doorknob but did not turn it "No, we cannot. Conversation with you—even your presence in the room—brings me too much inner turmoil."
She took a bit of hope from those words. "Perhaps, if my presence is so upsetting to you," she suggested softly, "it means that you are not indifferent—"
"Indifferent?"
He threw her an ironic glance over his shoulder. "What a joke!" And he slammed out of the room.
"Jemmy!" It was a cry of despair but too choked to be heard outside the room. Cassie stood staring at the closed door, heartbrokenly wondering what had been wrong with what she'd said, and what, if anything, she should do next. She shouldn't have come, she realized. She'd probably ruined everything.
But she couldn't just stand there trembling. She still had a vestige of pride; she would keep her head high and take her departure. If Lady Sarah took offense at her failure to say good-bye, well, it couldn't be helped.
She started toward the door but had only gone a step when it opened again. Jeremy stepped over the threshold, shut the door and leaned against it. He stared at her with an expression of angry defeat but said not a word.
Her heart began to pound so loudly she thought he surely must hear it. "You've... come back," she whispered.
"Yes," he said stiffly. "I find I'm quite unable to turn my back on you."
"You are not indifferent, then?" she asked timidly.
"Anything but." He threw her a glowering look before crossing to the nearest chair and throwing himself down upon it. "Even after you call me a liar and a cheat," he said, dropping his head in his hands, his voice hoarse with self-disgust, "my pulse still runs amok whenever you come into my line of vision."
Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp. "Oh, Jeremy! How
lovelyl"
He opened his fingers just enough to reveal one glaring eye. "Oh, yes," he grunted. "Lovely."
Her heart opened in her chest like a flower. She knew that she could win him now. "You aren't a liar or a cheat, of course," she murmured, joyful at being given this opportunity to apologize.
"Oh?" He looked up, one eyebrow raised in icy sarcasm. "When did you discover that?"
"When Cicely told me that you offered for her."
He sneered. "So she told you at last, did she? Did you think I would be pleased by that news? The only thing that might have pleased me would have been your taking
my
word for it."
"I know." She came across the room and stood before his chair. "I've behaved dreadfully to you ever since my memory returned. I've been a fool. I know that now. Will it be somewhat of an atonement if I promise never to doubt your word again?"
"Somewhat, I suppose." His tone was grudging, but his expression had softened. His eyes gleamed with a questioning hopefulness. "What else are you offering?"
"My heart." She knelt down beside the chair and took his hand. "My whole heart."
"Confound you, Cassie," he groaned, pulling her to him, "I love you so. Don't do this to me unless . .."
"Unless—?"
"Unless you intend to marry me."
She slipped into his lap and nestled in his shoulder. "I want to, my love, I truly want to. But are you sure it's what
you
want? Cicely told me that you said I'm too old for you."
"So I did," he acknowledged, tightening his hold on her and gazing down at tier with a look that told her all she needed to know. "But the agony you put me through has aged me sufficiently to make the discrepancy acceptable."
She giggled like a girl. "Coxcomb!" she murmured, lifting her face to his. "Cicely would not believe that those are the words of a lover."
"I am no longer concerned with what Cicely believes," he said as he slowly closed the distance between his mouth and hers. "I hope, ma'am, that you'll refrain from mentioning her name to me for at least an hour. If there's anyone I do not want in my embrace at this moment, it's Cicely's mother."
"I'll just be Cassie," she murmured against his lips. "Only your Cassie. No one else, I promise."
They sat together, kissing and murmuring endearments for a long, long time. And they would undoubtedly have remained in that blissful state much longer had not Lady Sarah come barging in. "Now,
that
is the sort of civilized behavior I like to see," she said, chortling at the sight of them entwined in each other's arms. "And all because I was wise enough to renounce my sworn pledge. I hope, Jemmy, that you finally appreciate the delightful benefits of my maternal interference."
"Good God," her son muttered, shaking his head in disgusted resignation, "mothers!"
