Chapter Twenty-Four

“I suppose he might as well keep the cat.”

From where she stood by the window, Marcelin looked over her shoulder to glance at Climence who’d paused by the indentation on the carpet where the cage had been.

“If I had known it would prove so troublesome, I’d have insisted Garlon take it.” Continuing to stroll around the dining room, she said, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” said Marcelin, a small smile on her lips. “Simply admiring the day.” In truth, she’d been watching her children as they’d disappeared past the wrought-iron gates into the garden with the cat and a newly-arrived Renard.

“I must say, Marcelin, I’m disappointed with your behaviour.”

Wishing herself anywhere but with her mother, Marcelin’s smile disappeared; she didn’t respond.

“Instead of disinterest, I was hoping you’d be encouraging Garlon by now.”

“Why would I do that?” Marcelin remained staring out the window, partly so her mother wouldn’t see her pinched expression.

“Because. Because I think he’ll be good for you.”

She turned. “Good for me? I’m not some delicate flower who doesn’t know her way in the world.”

Snapping her fan open, Climence waved it vigorously back and forth. “You, you need a man–”

“I need no such thing. And if I did, Garlon would not be my choice. I’ve told you that before. More than once.”

“What is wrong with you? Do you know how many women vie for his attention? You should consider yourself–”

“They can have him.”

“He wants you.”

Exhaling loudly as she made a dismissive gesture, Marcelin turned back to the window.

“We have arrangements.” Climence’s voice pitched higher, thick with emotion. “He and I have, agreements have been made. You must marry him.”

Marcelin’s eyes stretched wide as she slowly faced her mother. “What do you mean, I must marry him?”

Suddenly, Climence seemed to have difficulty meeting her daughter’s stare. Half-turning her body away, she stuttered.

“Mother. What agreements?”

“That is between him and–”

“Mother.”

“You should be flattered he’s chosen you. He’s strong, forceful, he knows what he wants and he, he always gets it. You haven’t seen him at gatherings, women want him, men want to be like him. Garlon is a real man. Unlike Dacey.” She wrinkled her nose, her mouth turned down.

“Dacey was a kind man, a good man.” Marcelin’s voice shook. “A good friend. He loved Eliot like his own son. Don’t you compare him to that man. I don’t care how others see Garlon. I know him for what he is. He’s cruel. I’ve seen how he is with his men, how he treats his horse.”

“Oh, Marcelin. You don’t know what you’re saying. If I’d had my way, I wouldn’t have allowed you to marry Dacey. Him and his family, feckless people. I don’t know why my parents encouraged–”

“Stop it. Stop speaking ill of him, I won’t have it. Answer me. What agreements do you and Garlon have that I must marry him?”

Climence’s gaze darted away, her confident posture slackening. She walked away, her back to Marcelin. “He-he’s done favours for me as I have for him. But. I want a way back into the more influential circles at court, Garlon agreed to help, he has good connections. All he wants in return is, is the right to court you.” Her words came out in a rush.

“And you agreed? Without talking to me?”

Climence didn’t respond.

“How dare you treat me as if I’m a pawn to be bargained with?”

Turning sharply, Climence marched up to her. “Don’t you turn this against me and paint me as selfish. After all the sacrifices I’ve made for you.”

Marcelin held her arms tight against her body. “I know, you always bring them up, always. But what about the times I’ve gone against my better judgement and sacrificed for you? No more, Mother. This is one sacrifice I will not make for you. I will not be with a man who despises my son.”

Eyes wide, Climence drew her hand back, but Marcelin grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her.

“Do not think to strike me, I’m not a child anymore,” said Marcelin, breathing hard. “Neither am I one of the servants.” Still holding her mother’s wrist in a tight grip, she forced her to lower it. “Whatever arrangement you have with Garlon, you can tell him I am no part of it.”

Climence stepped back, rubbing her wrist, staring at Marcelin as if she no longer recognised her daughter.

“If you force me to be his wife, you will lose me. That I promise you, Mother.”