“Mama.” Aurelia sank down on the bench beside her mother, not about to argue the point. She had never felt as though her father cared for her one way or another. “Are you . . . sad? You’re worrying me.” Her mother was usually so cheerful. Aurelia could never recall a time where she had waxed nostalgic like this.
Mama took her hand in both of hers. “Those were good years. Your father . . . Will and you. Declan. He was like another son to me. His mother would have been happy to know he became a part of our family when his father denounced him. She can be at peace, knowing he’s happy after how abysmally that man treated him.”
Aurelia nodded.
“That’s important for a mother. To see her children content . . . happy and settled.”
For some reason these words made Aurelia uneasy. She was not discontent. She had her drawings. Not that she felt free to explain that to Mama, but they gave her purpose. And yet she could still not truthfully profess to be happily settled. There was something missing. She had become more aware of that since her brother’s and Dec’s marriages. Love was missing. The kind they shared with their wives.
“Even that scamp, Maxim. He’s been like another son.”
Aurelia’s smile turned brittle at that remark, but she held it in place.
Mama focused her attention on her. “I’m satisfied that the boys will be fine . . . but I worry for you, Aurelia. I’ve done my best to lead you. To help you find a good husband.” She sighed and looked tired then. Every bit of her years. “It has been for naught. My efforts have produced no results—”
“Mama—”
She hushed Aurelia with fingers to her lips. “So, now I shall cease my efforts. I’m finished. I’m not telling you this out of anger or to make you feel badly, my dear.” With a final pat, she released her hands. “It’s your turn to decide what you want in life. And whatever you decide, it’s up to you to make it happen.”
Aurelia stared, not even recognizing the woman before her as her mother . . . or the words that were coming from her mouth as anything her mother would ever say.
Mama squared her shoulders. “I’m leaving at the end of the Season.”
“L-Leaving?” Aurelia stammered.
“For Scotland.” She took a deep breath, as though the action somehow fortified her. “I’m going to live with Aunt Daphne. I will not force you to join me, but the alternative . . .”
The alternative was as plain as the nose on her face. If she did not accompany her mother, she would remain here, a yoke about Will’s neck. No, Mama would not force her, but she knew Aurelia would accompany her rather than be a burden.
Aurelia could say nothing for long moments. Mama’s words rolled through her, penetrating gradually like rocks settling into silt. She suddenly felt . . . alone. More alone than she had ever felt before. Mama had made this decision without her.
Her mouth worked, searching for speech. They had always jested about living with Aunt Daphne some day, but she had never thought Mama serious. Her mother loved London too much. Her friends, Society and all its amusements. Even when they retired to Merlton Hall during the winter months, there was much Society in the country—a good deal more than they would find in the small corner of Scotland where Aunt Daphne resided. Surely Mama realized that?
Aurelia shook her head slowly, determined that Mama did understand it. “Aunt Daphne lives in the middle of nowhere . . .”
“There is Society there . . . in a manner. Thurso will be a quieter pace, to be certain, but enough for me. It’s time. I can’t stay here. It’s not right. I need to let Will and Violet have their turn. It’s only right that they start their family without me underfoot.”