Married By Twelfth Night (Regency Christmas Brides)

27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Richard could not remember the last family council the Grahams had had, but there was no better description for this particular meeting. He and Bridget had pulled chairs beside the slate-colored chaise Mother had not moved from after she had requested a maid fetch them.

She was sitting straight and her pallor had significantly improved from when they had helped her to rest not a half hour previously.

“I’m sorry you had to return to bad news,” he said, bracing his hands together.

Her lips quivered. “If anyone should apologize it is me. I should never have let my grief carry away all my good sense while you two were left to mourn without my comfort. Now you look at me as if a disappointment—albeit a large one—will be the death of me.”

“Oh, Mother,” Bridget said, reaching for her hand. “You have suffered so much. Of course, we worry.”

Mother accepted the hand, but shook her head. “Richard might be the patriarch of this family now, but he still needs a mother, just as you do, Bridget. No burden as great as this should be born alone.”

He agreed, but he was a capable adult, and while he was alive, his mother should not be made to bear any more than she already had. “It is good to have you home again. That is comfort enough. Please, do not worry overmuch about the house. I will find a way to save it. ”

“We will find a way together,” Mother corrected, reaching to take his hand too. “I am stronger now. Indeed, I feel strong enough to climb back into a carriage to meet with your solicitor.”

“What?” Bridget drew back while Richard leaned forward in his seat.

“Why would you need to meet with my solicitor?” he asked.

She shrugged. “We have a great deal to discuss.”

His brow rose. “Discuss what, exactly?” He wasn’t certain his mother was thinking straight. Surely, she was overtired.

“Discuss your wedding to Grace. Bridget, fetch your writing things and a paper. I have a letter to write before we depart.”

Bridget gave him a wild look of hope, excitement, and fear all wrapped together before catapulting to her feet and rushing out the door in a very unladylike fashion.

It appeared Richard would have to be the one to speak reason to Mother. “I am not certain you understand the situation, Mother.”

“I understand perfectly. Grace convinced me to leave my bed, and she has kept Bridget from succumbing to her sorrows, and it seems she has mended your heart as well. As far as I am concerned, Grace has saved this family. She belongs to us now. I am content to retrench and say goodbye to Belside.” She took in the room, her eyes tracing the walls and furniture, and her lip quivered again. “It holds memories but not our happiness. That is something we find anywhere so long as we are together.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He climbed from his chair and kneeled down beside her. “Are you certain?”

She gave a firm nod. “I cannot encourage an investment scheme that might put us worse off than we already are. This makes the most sense. Ruth is a good girl, a very good girl, but she is not your other half. None of us would be happy here if you weren’t. But with Grace, we all have a fighting chance.”

He bent his head so his forehead rested on the edge of his mother’s lap, relief filling every inch of him. That she and his sister would sacrifice so much for him trapped his words in his throat.

Mother ran her hand through his hair. “We can go over the details on our way. I want to find a cottage that will comfortably fit us all, and these matters take time to get right.”

He lifted his head and stared at his mother. Moisture glazed her eyes. “Can we really do this?”

She captured his hands in her much smaller ones. “We can and we will. While I was in Bath, I spent an afternoon walking along the park outside of the Royal Crescent. I stood back to admire the beauty when I felt your father say in my mind, ‘The world holds far more beautiful sights, but none is greater than witnessing the joy of your children.’ Regret filled me with all the precious time I had lost during my mourning. A few changes are in order, so I won’t succumb to sorrows again. For starters, I won’t be returning to my room again, Richard. I want a guest room prepared for me. I cannot promise I won’t cry occasionally, but I am determined to live in the present.”

He squeezed her hands. “If that is what you wish.”

“It is.” She set her hand on his shoulders and pulled him to her. Her hug was the balm he needed. Her renewed strength was tangible hope he could grasp onto.

Bridget returned with her writing things, and Mother quickly penned a letter to his aunt. “I want her to know exactly what I think about this confounded situation. I’ll address it to your cousin so she receives it before she leaves York.”

His mother’s boldness made them laugh.

“She will not like you interfering,” he cautioned .

“She interfered first, did she not?”

Richard and Bridget shared an amused look. Grace had been very wise to encourage Mother to leave. She had returned with her old spirit back.

“Just remember, she is a very sick woman, and please be kind,” he begged.

“We all love Aunt Edith,” Mother said. “But sick or not, I cannot be easy until I share with her my feelings.”

He had on his greatcoat and the women their cloaks, and they were nearly to the front door when someone knocked on the other side.

“Who could that be?” Bridget asked.

Not bothering to wait for a footman or his butler to answer it, he opened it himself. “Grace?”

She stared wide-eyed at him from beneath her bonnet. “I . . . uh . . . Bridget forgot her glove.”

She extended her hand to him with the glove inside it.

He grinned, so incredibly happy to see her, even if she hadn’t come for him. Maybe it was her canary-yellow pelisse, but she was as radiant as the sun. “Why do you not give it to her yourself?” He clasped his hand around her extended one and pulled her toward him.

She stumbled forward, which gave him the excuse to put his arm around her back too. She went as rigid as a fence post. A cold fence post in need of warming, and he was all too happy to volunteer.

Once she was through the door, she gasped. “Mrs. Graham, you’re home!”

Mrs. Graham grinned like Richard hadn’t seen her grin since before Father’s death.

“Dearest Grace. My dear, dear, girl. How happy I am to see you.”

Richard reluctantly released Grace long enough for his mother to take a turn embracing her .

“Your cheeks are rosy again,” Grace said, her own smile appearing. “You returned to us with the spritely look that would put the young debutantes to shame.”

Mother cupped her hand around Grace’s chin. “Your flattery is full of shameful lies, but I won’t make you take them back.”

They all laughed—Richard’s more of wonder than humor.

“What is it you said about a glove?” Bridget asked.

“Oh, yes. You forgot yours last night.” Grace held out the glove to Bridget.

Bridget accepted it and held it up. “But this is not mine.”

“Is it not?” Grace frowned. “My mother was certain it was yours.”

“Odd,” Bridget fingered the lace on the end. “Does not your mother have a pair like this?”

Grace snatched it back and examined it closer. “That deceitful woman! I was distracted and did not look at it properly.”

Mother laughed. “You mean, wise woman. Bridget and I will wait in the carriage. I think you two have a few things to say to each other.”

Grace’s gaze flew to his, and her eyes welled with panic.

“You are absolutely right, Mother. We do have a few things to speak about.”

Mother and Bridget shared a conspiratorial look and linked arms, waltzing from the house.

“Take all the time you need,” Bridget giggled, blowing them both a kiss. She never was one for subtlety.

They shut the door behind them. There was not a better time for Mother to forget all those lessons on propriety. His grin hadn’t left him, and he sauntered toward Grace. Finally, he could speak his heart.