‘… I think it would be a good idea,’ Radcliffe said, after a pause. He was still not looking at her. ‘To let Amelia try a ball this Season. It is – it is your decision, of course, but that is what I think.’
Lady Radcliffe gave him a tremulous smile.
‘Thank you, James,’ she said simply.
He bade her goodnight, walking into the hall – but instead of letting himself out of the door and heading home, he walked up the stairs. Without quite knowing how he got there, he pushed his way into the third door on the second floor – into his father’s study. It had not been touched since the man’s death, though it looked well-tended – someone had clearly been in to dust. Radcliffe traced his fingers over the wood of the great desk, remembering a thousand arguments they had had in this room together. Words of anger thrown at each other like blows, a competition of who could hurt the other the most that both of them had lost. He sat in the chair behind the desk, looking around the room.
‘My lord?’
Radcliffe looked up to see Pattson standing in the doorway, observing him with a faint smile. He spread his arms.
‘How do I look, Pattson?’ he asked.
‘Very fine, my lord.’
‘I suppose if I am to sit on this side of the desk, and you that,’ Radcliffe said, ‘I should probably start letting you know how much you’ve disappointed me.’
Pattson’s lip quirked an infinitesimal amount. ‘It would be tradition,’ he agreed.
‘Worst hours of my life,’ Radcliffe reminisced. ‘But you know the damnedest thing? As soon as the old man died, I would have given anything to hear one of those blasted lectures again. He did put so much thought into them, you know. Say what you want about the man, he crafted a very impressive telling-off. I should have liked to hear the one he had written for my return from Waterloo. I’m sure it would have been quite powerful.’
Pattson looked at him gravely. ‘If I may be so bold, my lord,’ he began, ‘I have known you all your life. And I knew your father for most of his. I fancy I have a good understanding of both your characters by now. I would ask you to trust me, then, when I say this: he was proud of you. He knew you would be a great man. But you cannot take up residence in his shadow for ever – you are Lord Radcliffe now. And that means as much, or as little, as you choose.’
Radcliffe stared at Pattson with shining eyes. He cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Pattson.’
‘You are most welcome, my lord.’
36
Kitty did not tarry long in the parlour, knowing she must go upstairs and face her sister.
Cecily did not turn to look at her, sitting on the bed facing the wall, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Recriminations lay, expectant, upon Kitty’s tongue, but she knew that she must do better now.
‘I am sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I am so sorry, Cecily.’
‘You are?’ Cecily asked, turning with surprise.
‘You were right, about everything. I should have listened to you more, and I did not, and I am sorry. I have been so dedicated to securing our family’s future, I have not given nearly enough thought to its happiness. I do want you to be happy, Cecily – but this is not the way to go about it.’
‘Have you ever thought that maybe I wanted to help?’ Cecily said tearfully. ‘I thought the whole point was to marry rich. Rupert is rich.’
‘Not like this. Scandal does not breed comfort, Mama and Papa taught us that.’ She paused. ‘Are you truly in love with him?’
‘I believe I am,’ Cecily said shyly. ‘I think of him often and wish to speak to him always. We – we talk about things. Books and art and ideas, you know. Not many people want to talk to me about those things.’
Kitty’s heart ached. ‘Yes, I suppose we don’t. I am sorry for that, too. I suppose I – I suppose I do not want to speak of such things, because I always feel a little foolish whenever you do.’
‘You?’ said Cecy, disbelieving.
‘Oh, yes. In truth, I was always most jealous that you were sent to the Seminary.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, indeed. You came back with all these grand ideas, and a love of books, and you seemed so … lofty all of a sudden. Whereas I just had to stay, to try to find a husband and look after everyone. It made me feel frightfully slow, in comparison.’
‘I never think you slow,’ Cecily said urgently. ‘You are always so certain about everything, always know what to do and say. I always seem to say the wrong thing, get us into all kinds of messes.’