Chapter 24

There was a decided pall that had fallen over the Stanton house. It was purely nonsensical, as far as Lady Veronica was concerned—there was simply nothing to be so morose about. Her son had returned, their financial security had been insured, and though the ton might still view the family with hauteur , it wasn't as if they had fallen from grace entirely. It was more of a wobble , if it was anything at all. Lady Veronica intended to simply ignore the whole episode; if it did not exist for her, then the ton would surely follow suit.

And yet, for some unfathomable reason, her house was decorated with more sighs than she knew what to do with. She might have been induced to think that it was simply a product of Seth being home rather than allowed to run wild like some sort of heathen in the wilderness. He had never been allowed such a degree of freedom before, and she was inclined to believe that allowing it had been something of a mistake.

Of course, she was induced into thinking that it had been a choice, rather than a matter of necessity; so great were her powers of persuasion that Lady Veronica was not even immune to them. It was quickly becoming one of those flights of fancy that young men take sometimes, a youthful escapade and nothing more. This was the story she was quickly recounting around tea tables and in fashionable parlours, always with an indulgent smile and an inconsequential wave of her hand.

Catherine, too, was not immune to these odd humours. The girl had always been a little odd, prone to pert little asides and a propensity for socialising with the servants that did not bode well. Lady Veronica knew that she should not expect too much of the girl, for though her birth was relatively respectable, there was a great danger her father's foolhardiness was a family trait. Besides, it was not as if she were the daughter of a nobleman, simply the daughter of a jumped-up merchant who had gambled with the exotic trade and lost. The girl was diligent in her attentiveness, but she, too, seemed distracted, pensive somehow.

It's all down to her situation being precarious , Lady Veronica thought to herself, adjusting her new lace-trimmed cap on her head. Catherine must be uneasy now that Seth is home and her services will not be required.

Well, that was one matter that was easily settled. Lady Veronica might be a woman of decided opinions, but she was not unjust—not consciously, anyway. Perhaps she might do a little kindness to the girl, settle some money on her for a dowry, maybe even nudge an eligible (but not too eligible) suitor her way.

"There," Lady Veronica murmured to herself, nodding sharply at her reflection. It was late at night, her room dark save for a couple candles on her dressing table and one near her bed. She tilted her head this way and that, inspecting her reflection. Lady Veronica might not ever have been described as a "great beauty," but there was a certain aristocratic strength to the bones in her face, and her brown eyes were pleasingly shaped.

She and her maid, O'Toole, took great pains to preserve her beauty as much as possible. Morning and night, Lady Veronica slathered herself in every sort of cream known to (wo)man; at night, she bound her face tightly in strips of linen to halt whatever sagging might be occurring. Once a week, O'Toole would scrape her face with a smooth stone as she laid on her back, attempting to force her face back into youthful obedience.

Lady Veronica's face was not yet bound, still glistening from the cream that had just been worked in. O'Toole was convinced that heat was the key, and was busy hot-pressing the linen strips downstairs. She would then run up the stairs, the strips bundled into thick cloths to keep them warm.

This has gone on long enough , Lady Veronica thought, and immediately stood from her little padded stool. Once she had decided on a course of action, she never saw a point in dilly-dallying; she would forge right on ahead, marching relentlessly to her goal. It was unlikely that anything could distract or sway her once she had established the Correct Thing to Be Done.

Therefore, she was unconcerned that she was in her nightrail, with only a quilted dressing gown overtop. She quickly placed her feet into her fur-lined slippers, lifted a candlestick, and was off. Stepping into the hall, she did not even hesitate, having decided that she would address Catherine first; that was likely to be the easier task, at any rate. It was not as if the girl could have any objections, and it was not as if a young lady could have any more complicated concerns than her lack of husband.

The hallway was dark and cold, and Lady Veronica found herself stumbling into a table, nearly upsetting it. Her eyes closed in frustration, which she tamped down. A few paces further down the hall, a door opened, spilling weak light into the hallway. Catherine poked her head out of the doorway, the dark rope of her braided hair swinging from her shoulder as she leaned out.

"Lady Veronica?" she asked. Even in the dark of the hallway, it was easy to see the surprise on her face. "Is everything alright? Is something the matter?"

"Why should something be the matter?" Lady Veronica sniffed, adjusting her thick dressing gown and tossing her head a little.

"I just thought I heard… Do you wish me to fetch O'Toole? Is she taking too long?" Catherine asked, her eyes looking past Lady Veronica and down the hall.

"No, I wished to speak to you, Catherine," Lady Veronica said.

"Me?" Catherine asked, her dark brows shooting up, as if Lady Veronica could possibly be hoping to speak to someone else at this hour, in the hall directly in front of Catherine's room.

"Yes, Catherine, you ," Lady Veronica sighed, pushing past her and into her room. It was bold and more than a little ill-mannered, but if Lady Veronica waited for Catherine to take the hint and invite her in, they would have grown old and withered to dust by then.

Without waiting to be asked, Lady Catherine took a seat on the chair in a corner, which seemed to be used only for laying out petticoats. Catherine hesitated, unsure of where she ought to go, and settled for sitting perched on the end of her bed.

"I wished to speak to you because I have noticed a… Well, a sort of unsettled nature about you," Lady Veronica said once Catherine was seated.

"Unsettled?" Catherine repeated…again.

"You seem ill at ease since Seth has returned home, and I believe I know the reason why," Lady Veronica continued.

"You know the reason why?"

"Catherine, honestly, this conversation will take twice as long as it ought to if you insist on repeating everything I say," Lady Veronica sighed, exasperated. "It is late enough, and I don't want to look unrested for tea with Sir Wright tomorrow."

Catherine pulled a face at that, but Lady Veronica ignored it. If she took the time to correct every single one of Catherine's quirks and misbehaviours, she could scarcely do anything else.

"I believe you are concerned with the matter of what is to be done with you now that my son has returned," Lady Veronica continued. Catherine's mouth pressed into a grim line, and Lady Veronica took this as confirmation of her suspicions. "I should like you to know that your efforts over the past year have not been unnoticed; I know that you sometimes think me cold and callous, but I assure you that I see and appreciate your hard work."

Catherine did not open her mouth to object to any of this, which was surely a tacit agreement. This was a positive sign, one that showed that the girl could be trained for a husband.

"As we are now restored to our rightful place and means," Lady Veronica said, lifting her chin a little, "it seems only right that we use some of this recovered standing to help you find a proper husband."

"A husband?" Catherine blurted again. Lady Veronica gave her a baleful look, and the girl hurried on, "If I wished to be married off, why did you encourage me to reject the Baron's attentions all those months ago?"

"He was certainly not the proper husband for you," Lady Veronica sniffed. "You require someone else entirely. Even I can see that you ought not be spending your life wasting away in some ancient castle on the moors. Besides, you are young, and not without your good qualities; surely we can do better for you."

"I—Lady Veronica, this is of course very flattering, but I am not sure I can ask you to pursue such an undertaking for me," Catherine began, her green eyes going a little wide.

"Why ever not?" Lady Veronica demanded. Here she was, extending a great generosity to the fool girl, and Catherine was objecting as if she had suggested becoming a nun.

"To be perfectly honest, I am not entirely sure that I wish to marry at all," she admitted quietly.

Lady Veronica stared for a moment, not sure if she could be hearing properly. "Oh, you silly thing," she said at last, leaning forward and swatting Catherine gently on the knee. "You nearly had me there; I thought you spoke in earnest."

"Why shouldn't I be speaking earnestly?" Catherine retorted, her jaw tightening a little.

"Because, dear girl, it is the aim of every woman to obtain a husband," Lady Veronica replied without hesitation. "I know that you are fond of a jape here and there, but you must prepare yourself to curb that impulse: Your husband may not appreciate your humour as much as I do."

Catherine looked away sharply at that, and Lady Veronica took it as her cue to exit. She had another call to pay before she retired for bed, after all. She rose, and as she was leaving, stopped to pat Catherine's head much in the same manner that she did Quincey.

* * *

The hour was getting decidedly late when Lady Veronica rapped three times on Seth's door. She did not bother waiting for an answer, simply pushing the door open. Confusion quickly settled in, as she scanned his room, finding the bed not only empty, but perfectly made as if it had not been laid in at all. A dozen thoughts ran roughshod through her head, from kidnappers to wondering if Seth had simply run away.

"What the devil is—Mother?" a deep voice said, and then Seth's red head was popping up from the far side of his bed, looking about like an owl.

"I might ask you the same thing," Lady Veronica hissed, stepping further into Seth's sleeping chamber. Once she rounded the bed, she found Seth on the floor, a folded blanket beneath him, a pillow awaiting his head, and his large frame swaddled in a second blanket. She simply stared, blinking for a moment. "Are you…are you sleeping on the floor ?" she demanded in a whisper, as if she feared that someone might overhear.

Seth pulled his legs up a little beneath the blanket, resting his arms on them as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Why shouldn't I be? More comfortable than the bed."

Lady Veronica simply goggled at him for a moment, unsure of which point to address first. "Because you are a viscount now, and viscounts do not sleep on the floor !" she said, her voice somewhere between a whisper and a shout. "That bed has no less than three mattresses, all of them feather! I doubt there are princes in Europe who sleep so finely, and—"

Seth interrupted this tangent with one of his infuriatingly casual shrugs. "Feel like I'm sinking into it; like sleeping in a bog," he said. "Besides, my feet stick off the end now."

Lady Veronica paused, pursing her lips, the hand not holding the candlestick drilled into her hip. She glanced to the bed again, giving it a critical eye. It was a heavy, dark wooden affair, intricately carved, with posts jutting up and supporting an upholstered ceiling. It had been carved sometime during the reign of Charles II, and was perhaps not the most fashionable thing in the house. Seth was a tall boy—man—and it did seem entirely possible that his legs were too long for a bed made over a century ago.

"Then we shall have that addressed, but you cannot be seen sleeping on the floor," Lady Veronica said at last.

"Who would possibly see me?" Seth asked, infuriatingly calm and logical.

"A servant, your valet, anyone! Word gets about," Lady Veronica said, growing exasperated.

"Don't have a valet, and like to make up my own fire. Not enough scullery maids or footmen, besides," Seth added, nodding toward a small pile of wood sitting near the hearth.

"You— what ?" Lady Veronica demanded, not knowing which thing to address first. "Where did you even get the wood? I thought we had converted to coal grates," she said at last.

"Chopped it myself," Seth said with another of his nonchalant shrugs. "Had a tree in the garden tilting, so down it came."

"I—you—a tree ?" was all Lady Veronica managed. "Seth, you are no longer in the wilds of the New World, you are in London ! What would happen if one of the neighbours saw you out there chopping wood like some sort of rustic peasant?"

"Lady Anstruther next door did not seem to mind," he replied with a little smile curling one side of his mouth. "She waved her handkerchief at me from her window."

"Lady Anstruther is a shameless—" Lady Veronica bit off her words sharply. "That is neither here nor there," she continued, working hard to control her voice. "I had some idea that things were out of control in this house, but I had no inclination they were this bad. It is obvious that you must be taken tightly in hand; you've had too much freedom, and it's gone to your head like strong drink."

Seth simply stared back at her, his face impassive. He voiced no objections, but his quiet confidence and self-assurance nearly made Lady Veronica waver. It was a dangerous predicament: She was used to firmly controlling her entire household, including her son, but now he had reached his majority, there was little she could really hold over. A fundamental dynamic had shifted between them, and it frightened Lady Veronica.

As always, this caused her to lash out. "Do not sit there and stare at me like a vacant fool," she snapped. "You have been allowed far too much liberty, and must be reminded of your proper place. I will not have you make a fool of me and our good name all over London."

Seth glanced down, and for a moment, Lady Veronica caught a glimpse of him as he had been when he was a boy, all shy smiles and affection. Still, she did not allow herself to be swayed. There simply was too much at stake to allow sentimentality to overcome her good sense

"What you are in need of is a wife, nothing more," Lady Veronica said, firmly but gentler. "Then you will be settled, and not so prone to these wild escapades and…notions."

Seth was quiet for a moment, and then softly, so softly Lady Veronica almost did not hear him, he said, "Did marriage help settle Father?" He stared up at Lady Veronica unflinchingly, as if he were perfectly sincere.

"That is different," Lady Veronica said, biting off each word sharply, her tone crisp. "Your father was—this is not about him, it is about you , and I shan't be distracted by your hypothetical queries. All that is wrong with you is that you need to marry."

He looked away for a moment, his eyes distant. It seemed as if he were seeing something that Lady Veronica could not. When he spoke, it was hesitantly, like he was dipping his toes into a cold pool of water. "Perhaps I do not wish to be married."

Lady Veronica stared, nearly dropping her candlestick with the shock of it all. She wondered for a moment if she was living in some sort of asylum, the inmates running wild and declaring that they had no use for societal norms.

"What is this?" Lady Veronica demanded, finally breaking loose of her astonishment. "Is this some strange new fad among young people, where you all declare that you have no need for marriage?"

"‘You all?' Who else has told you this?" Seth interrupted.

"That fool girl!" Lady Veronica said, gesturing with an impatient wave in the direction of Catherine's room. She began to pace, unable to hold still from all the frustration and absurdity of this evening.

"Catherine said that she did not wish to marry?" Seth repeated slowly.

"What does that matter?" Lady Veronica cried.

There was a knock on the partially open door, and Lady Veronica whirled about. "Who comes now?" she snapped.

"'Tis me, my Lady," O'Toole said nervously from without. "It's simply that your wrappings will begin to cool, and—"

"Oh, who cares a hang about that!" Lady Veronica said, reaching the limits of her patience.

There was a muffled sound as O'Toole scrambled away, knowing full well when her mistress had more than enough. Lady Veronica took a deep breath in the ensuing silence, willing herself to be composed. It was exceedingly rare that she was driven to an actual outburst, and she found herself equally irritated that she had given into the impulse as she was by the vexing circumstance she found herself in.

"This is what will happen," she said finally, her voice trembling from the effort of her control, "we will begin the work of finding you a proper wife. You will conduct yourself accordingly, and we shall be all the happier for it."

Seth voiced no objection, which Lady Veronica took as agreement or, at the least, submission. Satisfied, she jerked her head in a nod once, nearly dislodging her cap. It listed like a drunken sailor over one ear, the ribbon having come loose. She did not deign to fix it, refusing to acknowledge this little annoyance.

With all the dignity of a ship in full sail, she swept from Seth's room, closing the door firmly behind her. The latch clicked loudly into the darkness, but her hand lingered on the handle. It was as if she thought that if she could close the door hard enough, to pull on it long enough, that it would contain all of the errant thoughts and behaviours that lurked behind it.

She was close enough, therefore, to hear Seth murmur just loud enough to be heard, "She doesn't want to be married."