Page 23 of What a Widow Wants

“You have lived upon Theale’s generosity almost since you married his brother and completely since Stephen’s death. If you have the means to release us from this obligation, out of common decency you should take it.” Lavinia sat back on her forbidding chair, the sour look on her face like a monarch about to order the beheading of someone.

Sliding the cup back into its saucer, afraid she would smash it otherwise, Fanny rose. “I had no idea Ella and I were such a burden to you. As you must know, the clause in my settlements was none of my doing. Because of Stephen’s commission in the army, my father feared the possibility of his death and wished to provide as best he could for me. If Theale had not wanted the expense of my upkeep in the event of my widowhood, he should not have agreed to that stipulation in the contracts.”

Looking down her long nose, Lavinia glared at her with a long-suffering eye. “As per those arrangements, Theale will, of course, provide for you for as long as you live, Frances, or until you marry again. Ella as well, until she marries. However, in fairness to the marquess, if you have a decent offer you should take it. I should think you would want a home of your own at last.”

“I should like nothing better, my lady.” These were new heights of insolence, even for her sister-in-law. The woman had ever been frosty toward Fanny, refusing to call her by any name other than Frances and making her feel most unwelcome at any of Theale’s properties. “I daresay I would have repaired to another relative’s home by now had I one who could take me. My cousin’s circumstances forbid it, however.”

“So sad for you that you and she are the only family you have left, save Theale.” The archness in the woman’s deep voice made Fanny bite back the sharp retort she longed to make.

“I am sure that if I could have prevented my family’s deaths, Lavinia, I would have done so.” Her father, mother, sister, and brother had all been caught up in the measles epidemic in 1809. Over the course of two months, her entire family had been lost. She had wanted to go to them, help nurse them, but Stephen and Theale both had forbidden it. That had turned out to be a lucky circumstance, for soon after she’d discovered she was with child. In the end, all she could do was mourn her family’s loss. “I do have Ella as well, you remember.”

“Such a delightful child. So very like Stephen.” Lavinia’s features softened, as they always did when speaking of Ella. “Save in her coloring, of course. That she gets from you.”

“I daresay so. All the Tarkingtons are blond.”

“Yes, all of my children were blond, thank goodness.” Lavinia sighed proudly. “I’ve always thought pale hair against a pale face is a lovely combination. So unfortunate Ella did not take after her papa in that respect.” She glanced up at Fanny, her mouth pursing again. “The family could have been all blonds.”

“Save for me.” Fanny turned the screw as best she could. She’d always known the fact Ella took after her irked her sister-in-law to no end.

“Indeed. I see you stayed out in the sun far too much in Brighton. Your face is as brown as a pair of York tan gloves.”

The hairs on the back of Fanny’s neck bristled. Turning on her heel, she swept toward the door just as it opened on Ella and Nurse.

“Mama!” Ella ran to her and jumped into her mother’s arms. “I missed you. I truly did.”

Burying her face in Ella’s hair, Fanny hugged her child as a wave of guilt washed over her. She hadn’t seen her daughter for over three weeks. “I missed you too, my love. Every day.” She glanced up at Nurse. “Thank you for bringing her down.” She hugged Ella once more, then set her on the floor. “But how did you know I was here?”

The nurse gave her a startled look, then turned her head sharply toward Lady Theale.

“I told Clayborn to bring her.” Lavinia rose from her throne and extended a hand toward the girl. “Ella and I have tea every day at this time. Come, Ella.”

The child clung to Fanny’s hand, then grasped her about the waist.

“Ella.”

The imperious voice made Fanny shudder. She took Ella’s hand and kissed it. “Let’s go have tea with Aunt Theale, shall we?”

“You will come with me?” The hopeful blue eyes turned up to her smote Fanny’s heart anew. If she were six years old, she wouldn’t want to be left alone with Lavinia either. “Yes, darling. Of course, I will. I haven’t seen you in ever so long. I’m sure Aunt won’t mind me joining you, will you, Lavinia?”

“Not at all.” The icy look behind her sister-in-law’s eyes belied her words as she resumed her regal seat.

“You see, Ella? I shall be part of the party today.” Fanny smiled down at her as she steered them toward the sofa beside Lavinia’s chair. Although the most comfortable seat in the room, that still didn’t say much. The bright vermillion upholstery was stiff, the seat cushion thin, and the bizarre arms curled inward in such an odd fashion Fanny never wanted to touch them. The whole family drawing room gave off a cold and uncomfortable aura no fireplace blaze could counteract.

“How long have you been having these little teas, Lavinia?” And why hadn’t she told her of them? Fanny settled them on the sofa. Ella’s feet, encased in white slippers embroidered with pink flowers, now touched the floor. When had the child gotten so tall?

“You have been gone so much since you came out of mourning, I thought Ella might like the treat. Clayborn, ring for more tea and cakes, please, then you may leave.”

“Yes, my lady.” The nurse jerked the bellpull by the door, curtsied, and scurried out the door.

Fanny bit back a sharp retort. Perhaps Lavinia was truly fond of the child. “It was thoughtful of you to have arranged such a treat for Ella.”

“I used to do the same with my children. We would have tea every afternoon, right here. They are grown now, all married save the last one, and she had her come-out this Season past. Never any time for tea with her mother.”

The plaintive sound in Lavinia’s voice brought a pang of guilt to Fanny’s heart. Perhaps she had misjudged her sister-in-law. She sounded so lonely, although the woman seemed to have the busiest social life Fanny had ever heard of. Always countless calls to make every Tuesday and Thursday, committee meetings for the various charities to which she gave her patronage, ton entertainments by the dozens to attend, in addition to her other responsibilities as Marchioness of Theale. Still she had found time to give Fanny’s daughter what should be an extraordinary treat.

“Have you told your aunt ‘thank you,’ Ella?”

The child bent her head, then shook it.