It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(95)

The countess desired a private talk with Lillian…and it was not a good sign that she wished to meet at such a distance from the manor. Since the countess often had difficulty walking, and either used a cane or chose on occasion to be pushed about in a wheeled chair, going to the hidden garden was an arduous undertaking. It would have been far simpler and more sensible if she had wanted to meet in the upstairs Marsden parlor. But perhaps what the countess wished to say was so private—or so loud—that she did not want to risk the possibility of being overheard. Lillian knew exactly why the countess had requested that she tell no one about their meeting. If Marcus found out, he would insist on delving thoroughly into the matter afterward—something that neither woman wanted. Besides, Lillian had no intention of hiding behind Marcus. She could face the countess on her own.

She fully expected a tirade, of course. Her acquaintance with the woman had taught her that the countess had a sharp tongue and did not seem to set any limit as to how wounding her words might be. But that didn’t matter. Every syllable the countess uttered would roll off Lillian like raindrops down a window, because she was secure in the knowledge that nothing could stop her marriage to Marcus. And the countess would have to realize that it was in her own best interest to have a cordial relationship with her daughter-in-law. Otherwise, they were capable of making life equally unpleasant for each other.

Lillian smiled grimly as she descended the long flight of steps that led to the gardens, and walked out into the cool morning air. “I’m coming, you old witch,” she muttered. “Do your worst.”

The door to Butterfly Court was ajar when she reached it. Squaring her shoulders, Lillian composed her features into cool unconcern, and strode inside. The countess was alone in the hidden garden, with no servant nearby to attend her. She sat on the circular garden bench as if it were a throne, her jeweled walking stick resting beside her. As expected, her expression was stony, and for a brief moment Lillian was almost tempted to laugh at the reflection that the woman resembled a tiny warrior, prepared to accept nothing less than uncontested victory.

“Good morning,” Lillian said pleasantly, approaching her. “What a lovely place you’ve chosen for us to meet, my lady. I do hope the walk from the house was not too strenuous for you.”

“That is my own concern,” the countess replied, “and none of yours.”

Although there was no discernible expression in her fish-flat black eyes, Lillian was aware of a sudden slithery chill. It wasn’t quite fear, but an instinctive trepidation that she had never felt in their previous encounters. “I was merely expressing an interest in your comfort,” Lillian said, holding up her hands in a mocking gesture of self-defense. “I won’t provoke you with any further attempts at friendliness, my lady. Go right ahead and speak your piece. I am here to listen.”

“For your own sake, and for my son’s, I hope that you do.” An icy brittleness layered the countess’s words, and yet at the same time she sounded vaguely perplexed, as if disbelieving that there was a necessity of saying these things at all. No doubt of all the controversies she had experienced in her lifetime, this was one she had never expected. “Had I imagined that a girl of your commonness would be capable of attracting the earl, I would have put a stop to this far earlier. The earl is not in full possession of his faculties, or it would never have come to this madness.”

As the silver-haired woman paused to draw breath, Lillian heard herself asking quietly, “Why do you call it madness? A few weeks ago you allowed that I might be able to catch a British peer. Why not the earl himself? Are you objecting mostly because of your personal dislike, or—”

“Stupid girl!” the countess exclaimed. “My objections stem from the fact that no one in the past fifteen generations of Marsden heirs has married outside the aristocracy. And my son will not be the first earl to do so! You understand nothing about the importance of blood—you, who come from a country that has no traditions, no culture, and no vestige of nobility. If the earl marries you, it will be not only his failure, but mine, and the downfall of every man and woman related to the Marsden escutcheon.”

The pomposity of the statement nearly drew a jeering laugh from Lillian…except that she began to understand, for the first time, that Lady Westcliff’s belief in the inviolability of the Marsdens’ noble lineage was nearly religious in its fervor. As the countess worked to restore her tattered composure, Lillian wondered how, if at all, she might bring the issue down to a personal level, and appeal to the countess’s deeply buried feelings for her son.

Emotional candor was seldom easy for Lillian. She preferred to make clever comments, or cynical ones, as it had always seemed far too risky to speak from the heart. This was important, however. And perhaps she owed an attempt at sincerity to the woman whose son she would soon wed.

Lillian spoke with awkward slowness. “My lady, I know that deep down you must desire your son’s happiness. I wish you could understand how much I want the same thing for him. It is true that I am not noble, nor am I accomplished in the ways that you would prefer…” She paused with a self-derisive smile as she added, “Nor am I precisely certain of what an escutcheon is. But I think …I think I could make Westcliff happy. At least I could ease his cares a little…and I will not be a complete madcap, I swear it. If you believe nothing else, please know that I would never want to embarrass him, or to offend you—”