Nor does the Earl of Heathmoor. He is not
my
father.”
Though he did own the home in which she was living.
She stayed outside in the garden for longer than an hour, to Tramp’s great delight. She was feeling very close to the end of her tether. The past five years had been difficult ones, but though Matthew had been a demanding, often querulous patient, she had made allowances for his pain and discomfort. Besides, he was her husband. She had not been happy during those years, but she had been too busy and usually too exhausted to feel any great unhappiness.
The four months of her bereavement had been difficult ones too in a different way. They might have been less difficult if she had been able to respond to the very touching outpouring of sympathy and good wishes ofneighbors with whom she had had no chance to become well acquainted before Matthew’s death.
She might have made some friends, or at least a few friendly acquaintances, during these months. She had not been allowed to accept the overtures of her neighbors, however, and she had meekly given in to Matilda’s directions on what was correct. She could do it no longer. She was beginning to feel quite mutinous.
I must categorically forbid you to go riding tomorrow … I stand as Father’s representative here
.
Oh, it was intolerable.
Finally even Tramp was tired of playing. He came and lay at her feet as she threw his stick once more, and then rested his chin on his paws.
“Ingrate!” she said. “You might at least have fetched it one more time before making your wishes known. It was a perfectly decent stick. Now I will have to search for another the next time you insist upon this game.”
He heaved a sigh of unrepentant boredom.
“We had better go back inside, then,” she said. “I have been avoiding the inevitable. Why did I have to marry into such a horrid family, Tramp? No, don’t answer. I know why. It was because of the fatal combination of scarlet regimentals and a handsome face. He was
very
handsome, you know, and very dashing. You were not acquainted with him in those days. And it was not his fault his family is so horrid.”
She thought of avoiding the sitting room when they went back inside and taking her outdoor things up to her room, where she would find something to keep her busy. But there was no avoiding Matilda forever, and she was not going to start hiding inside her own home. She left her outdoor things in the hall and opened the sitting room door, prepared somehow to make peace.
The room was empty.
She breathed a sigh of relief and crossed the room to pull the bell rope.
“Bring a tray of tea, will you, please, Rose?” she said when a maid answered her summons. “Do you know if Lady Matilda was feeling unwell again? Did she go back up to her room?”
Rose flushed and looked uncomfortable.
“I think she is up there, ma’am,” she said, “but not to rest. She sent Randall down to the cellar to fetch her trunk and her big valise, and she sent for her maid to pack them.”
Samantha stared at her. “Right. Thank you, Rose,” she said. “Never mind about the tray for a while. I shall call for it later.”
The maid scurried from the room.
All was bustle and activity in Matilda’s room. Her trunk, two valises, and three hat boxes were open on the floor, and it seemed that every garment she possessed was piled either on her bed or on chairs—except the chair on which Matilda herself sat, her back ramrod straight, her lips set in a thin, straight line.
“What is this, Matilda?” Samantha asked. It was a rather foolish question, of course. It was perfectly obvious what
this
was.
“I shall be leaving for Leyland tomorrow morning,” Matilda said without looking at her. “I shall take the traveling carriage and some servants.”
Samantha walked farther into the room. “I am sorry it has come to this,” she said. “Are you sure you are well enough to travel?”
“I will not remain here,” Matilda said. “I
my
father.”
Though he did own the home in which she was living.
She stayed outside in the garden for longer than an hour, to Tramp’s great delight. She was feeling very close to the end of her tether. The past five years had been difficult ones, but though Matthew had been a demanding, often querulous patient, she had made allowances for his pain and discomfort. Besides, he was her husband. She had not been happy during those years, but she had been too busy and usually too exhausted to feel any great unhappiness.
The four months of her bereavement had been difficult ones too in a different way. They might have been less difficult if she had been able to respond to the very touching outpouring of sympathy and good wishes ofneighbors with whom she had had no chance to become well acquainted before Matthew’s death.
She might have made some friends, or at least a few friendly acquaintances, during these months. She had not been allowed to accept the overtures of her neighbors, however, and she had meekly given in to Matilda’s directions on what was correct. She could do it no longer. She was beginning to feel quite mutinous.
I must categorically forbid you to go riding tomorrow … I stand as Father’s representative here
.
Oh, it was intolerable.
Finally even Tramp was tired of playing. He came and lay at her feet as she threw his stick once more, and then rested his chin on his paws.
“Ingrate!” she said. “You might at least have fetched it one more time before making your wishes known. It was a perfectly decent stick. Now I will have to search for another the next time you insist upon this game.”
He heaved a sigh of unrepentant boredom.
“We had better go back inside, then,” she said. “I have been avoiding the inevitable. Why did I have to marry into such a horrid family, Tramp? No, don’t answer. I know why. It was because of the fatal combination of scarlet regimentals and a handsome face. He was
very
handsome, you know, and very dashing. You were not acquainted with him in those days. And it was not his fault his family is so horrid.”
She thought of avoiding the sitting room when they went back inside and taking her outdoor things up to her room, where she would find something to keep her busy. But there was no avoiding Matilda forever, and she was not going to start hiding inside her own home. She left her outdoor things in the hall and opened the sitting room door, prepared somehow to make peace.
The room was empty.
She breathed a sigh of relief and crossed the room to pull the bell rope.
“Bring a tray of tea, will you, please, Rose?” she said when a maid answered her summons. “Do you know if Lady Matilda was feeling unwell again? Did she go back up to her room?”
Rose flushed and looked uncomfortable.
“I think she is up there, ma’am,” she said, “but not to rest. She sent Randall down to the cellar to fetch her trunk and her big valise, and she sent for her maid to pack them.”
Samantha stared at her. “Right. Thank you, Rose,” she said. “Never mind about the tray for a while. I shall call for it later.”
The maid scurried from the room.
All was bustle and activity in Matilda’s room. Her trunk, two valises, and three hat boxes were open on the floor, and it seemed that every garment she possessed was piled either on her bed or on chairs—except the chair on which Matilda herself sat, her back ramrod straight, her lips set in a thin, straight line.
“What is this, Matilda?” Samantha asked. It was a rather foolish question, of course. It was perfectly obvious what
this
was.
“I shall be leaving for Leyland tomorrow morning,” Matilda said without looking at her. “I shall take the traveling carriage and some servants.”
Samantha walked farther into the room. “I am sorry it has come to this,” she said. “Are you sure you are well enough to travel?”
“I will not remain here,” Matilda said. “I
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