“What happened between Claire and your mother today?”
At that Harry opened his eyes wide. There was genuine puzzlement on his face. “Nothing unusual. Claire said she wanted to meet Mother and she did. They had tea together.”
Trevelyan looked at his brother for a long while. Trevelyan was always amazed when people didn’t see what was going on around them. No doubt Harry thought that his mother and his fiancée had had a lovely tea together. Harry had probably not even realized Claire had left the room, as MacTarvit said, in a state of terror.
“What has Claire been telling you?” Harry asked.
“I haven’t seen her.”
Harry smiled at that. He was glad his little American heiress wasn’t spending her time with his older brother. “Then how do you know she has complaints?”
“I have heard things.”
Harry yawned. Trevelyan’s constant air of mystery might interest the rest of the world but it merely bored him. “If that’s all you have to say, then I’d like to go back to sleep.”
“After you marry Claire are you going to send…her”—he said the word with contempt—“to the dower house?”
“I don’t know why you persist in believing that our mother is a dragon. She is a simple, sweet woman and always has been. If you’d just make some effort to get to know her, you’d find that out. As for your question, no, Mother is not going to move to the dower house. I think it’s better that she stay here where I can be near her. She is crippled, as you well know.”
“She means to stay here where she can rule the house and Leatrice.”
In spite of himself, Harry was beginning to wake up. His brother could infuriate the devil. “Mother is not a monster. She loves her daughter and wants to spend time with her. Is that so wrong? Lee is perfectly happy.”
“Is that your opinion or Lee’s? How long has it been since you spoke to your sister?”
“A great deal less time than it’s been since you spoke to her,” Harry shot back. “I’d like to know
who you think you are to come in here and try to change everything. You leave when you’re a child, then run off from Grandfather and no one sees you for years, and now you come back here and expect to give everyone orders. If you want to do that then you’re going to have to step forward and declare yourself.”
Trevelyan sat on a tall chair by the bed and didn’t say a word.
“I thought so,” Harry said. “You want to skulk about and run things but you don’t want to step to the forefront.”
“Your little American wants to marry Lee to James Kincaid.”
Harry laughed. “Well, let her try,” he said, moving down into the bed. “Claire’s perfectly free to make all the love matches she wants. Women like to do that sort of thing.”
“You don’t mean to help her?”
“Help her? All she has to do is reintroduce them. I don’t think they’ve seen each other for years.”
“And what about your mother?”
Harry turned toward his brother, his face furious. “She’s your mother too. Why do you persist in acting as though you were hatched from an egg and have no mother? If Leatrice wants to marry someone she may do so. She’s not a prisoner.” Harry refused to think of the argument his mother and Lee had had over Kincaid years ago. Of course it was years ago, and at that time Lee had a suitor who their mother approved of. Now, Harry believed, the situation was different.
When Trevelyan spoke, his voice was soft. “Lee is a prisoner and you don’t see it, and if something isn’t done soon your little bride is going to be a prisoner too.”
“You’ve spent too much time in the sun,” Harry said tiredly. “I’ll marry Claire and everything will be fine. Mother said she rather liked Claire and thought she’d make a fine wife for me. I think the two of them are going to be friends. I hope they become as close as Mother and Lee are. Now would you mind leaving my room? I’d like to get some sleep.” He snuggled down into the covers and closed his eyes.
Trevelyan sat where he was for a while, trying to think what he could say to his brother to make him understand, but he knew there was nothing that he could say. Harry had never been able to see there was anything wrong with his mother.
Trevelyan had hoped to talk some sense into his younger brother. If he could show Harry that Claire needed his help, then Trevelyan would be free. He could go back to work with his mind clear, knowing he’d repaid Claire for having helped him. It had been such a good idea. Such a good idea that had no hope of success because Harry didn’t think anything needed to be done. Harry was content to allow what was going to happen to happen.
Trevelyan thought of Claire. He remembered her dancing and laughing. If she married Harry and came to live in this hellhole of hatred, would she become like Leatrice? A shadow of herself? Would she give in to the duchess and do whatever the old woman wanted whenever she wanted it done? Trevelyan thought of how Claire had told MacTarvit that he could go on stealing cows, but Trevelyan knew that within six months after the marriage MacTarvit would be gone from the Montgomery lands.
Trevelyan leaned back against the chair. He didn’t want to become involved in this. He wanted to go back to his room and write. He had so much work to do on the Peshan language. He didn’t care about these people who were related to him. He didn’t want to get involved in the family or the house or with anything to do with them. He liked the idea of their thinking he was dead. It gave him a great deal of freedom.
But another part of him thought of his sister. He hadn’t seen her since he’d returned, not in the house or out of it. According to what Claire had told MacTarvit, Leatrice was about the unhappiest person Claire had ever seen.