Chapter Sixteen − Humiliation
With his sister and nephew out with a cold, Derek found the atmosphere in their little kitchen a bit strained. Kara’s smiles and Collin’s cheerful questions would have certainly helped everyone feel more at ease. However, he had to admit that the marchioness did not seem to find anything out of the ordinary as though she was used to eating in the kitchen.
Although Derek had already made her acquaintance at his wedding a few weeks ago, he had not been aware that she and his wife were such close friends. Frankly, it had come as a bit of a surprise to him as he would have thought his wife to be bothered by the marchioness’s tainted beauty. Although Derek felt guilty for thinking of Madeline in such a way, he could not help but remember all the many instances when she had appeared too preoccupied with superficialities. In truth, he had thought her vainer than to surround herself with a woman like the Marchioness of Elmridge.
Apparently, he had been wrong.
And deep down, it pleased him greatly.
“I’m sorry to hear that your daughter and grandson are not feeling well,” the marchioness exclaimed, placing a gentle hand on his mother’s arm. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do.”
“Ye’re too kind, dear,” his mother said with a large smile on her face, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just addressed the marchioness much too informally.
And yet, his wife’s friend did not seem to notice, much less mind.
And neither did her husband.
Although the marquess kept to the background, his watchful eyes took in the room and the people within with great care. He was not as openly friendly as his wife, but his demeanour spoke of a kind character, subtler in his ways.
After a few kind words were exchanged, his mother ushered everyone to the table and then placed steaming bowls filled with her delicious stew in front of them. “Y’all go ahead and eat,” she instructed as she readied a small tray. “I shall see to my daughter and the boy.” And with that she shuffled out of the kitchen.
As they began to eat, a strained silence fell over the room, and Derek found himself wondering about his rather unexpected guests as well as his wife. All three stood out among the rest of his family in their impeccable clothes while he himself−like Sean−looked like the farmer’s son he was born. In this role, he felt more at ease than he did dressed up like a peacock in a ballroom. And yet, it was that thought that made him realise that for his wife it was probably the other way around. Did she feel as out of place here as he did in London? Did she dislike the familiar way they interacted as much as he disliked the pretence formality of the ton?
“This tastes wonderful,” the marchioness exclaimed, her bowl already half-empty. “I must admit I am quite famished, and after two days in a carriage this time of year, this is exactly the kind of food one needs to warm up again.”
“Ye’re right about that, dear,” his mother agreed as she came back in, an empty tray in her hand. “There’s nothin’ better than a warm stew on a cold day.” Retrieving a bowl for herself, his mother sat down at the table and scooped a spoonful of the warm stew into her mouth. “’Tis truly good. Madeline, ye’ve done well.”
Although nothing but praise shone in his mother’s eyes as she spoke, Madeline seemed to want to disappear into oblivion, her cheeks flushed as she seemed to grow smaller in her chair, her gaze fixed on the hated stew in her own bowl.
Humiliation.
That was the word for what she felt in that moment, and Derek could not help but feel for her. Despite their constant disagreements and the way she managed to make him feel bad about what he had accomplished, Derek could not deny that their worlds often seemed miles apart. In his world, his mother’s statement was a compliment. In Madeline’s, however, it was close to an insult.
“You’ve made this?” the marchioness exclaimed, surprised eyes shifting to Madeline, who seemed even more uncomfortable than before. “It tastes wonderful. I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”
Madeline swallowed, a shy smile on her face. “I don’t, but Bessy…eh…Mrs. McKnight…eh…my mother-in-law has been teaching me.” As she finished, her cheeks shone in a scarlet red, and her gaze was once more firmly attached to the bowl before her.
The marchioness sighed, “I wish I knew how to cook something so delicious. However, my mother would not permit us to learn.” A soft smile came to her face as she looked back and forth between Madeline and his mother. “Maybe while I’m here, you both can teach me a few things. That would be truly wonderful.”
With utter delight shining on her face, Derek’s mother instantly agreed. However, it was the look of astonishment and surprise in his wife’s eyes that almost stopped Derek’s heart, for it was in that small, seemingly insignificant moment that he finally understood how hard it had been for Madeline to find her way at Huntington House, constantly torn between the rules of her own upbringing and the demands of her new life.
He had not made it easy on her, and he felt bad for judging her so harshly.
“I saw you’re doing some work on the outbuildings,” the marquess addressed him rather unexpectedly. After barely uttering a word all evening, he now seemed fairly interested in conversing with Derek. “What improvements are you planning?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Derek realised that his own moment of truth had come. Would the marquess judge him for the life he lived and the decisions demanded of him? “At the moment, the only improvements I’m planning are to my tenants’ homes,” Derek replied, displeased with himself for allowing a touch of bitterness to sneak into his voice. “Most of their homes are in dire need of repairs.”
“I see,” the marquess stated, and Derek relaxed as he detected no judgement in the man’s tone. “It is not easy correcting another man’s mistakes. From what I’ve heard the late baron had very little interest in upholding his estate, much less seeing to the need of his tenants.” He nodded in approval. “They are fortunate to be under your care now.”
Holding the marquess’ honest gaze, Derek nodded. “I’m doing my best to prove myself worthy of their trust. However, while it is easily lost, it takes time to regain.”
“As your intentions are honourable,” the marquess observed, “I do believe you shall be successful in your endeavour. After all, honesty gains trust…and loyalty.”
For a moment, Derek held the man’s gaze, before he remembered that the marquess had fought in the war as well, explaining that strange sense of recognition, of understanding he felt between them. It was as though they had known each other for a long time, forever connected through this shared experience.
“If there’s anything I can do to assist you?” the marquess said. “Please do not hesitate to ask.”
Suddenly reminded of Tristan, Derek hesitated. While his friend had always offered his assistance, he had merely meant it in the way of financial support, which was the one form of assistance Derek could never accept. Had the marquess intended to make the same offer? Or…?
“I’m currently working on patching up the roof,” Derek explained, trying to determine the man’s intentions. “Unfortunately, it is leaking in many places, and since the light is far from adequate this time of year, it takes a long time.”
“I cannot say that I know anything about repairing roofs,” the marquess said, a grin on his face, “but I suppose it is never too late to learn.” Casting a glance at his wife, he smiled. “This shall be a fascinating visit and most informative as well.”
Meeting Madeline’s gaze across the table, Derek smiled, relieved to see her more at ease as the evening progressed. Maybe not every member of the ton thought themselves superior, unwilling to open their minds to a different world. Maybe here and there, people met each other simply as people, not caring about titles and positions in society.
Maybe he, too, ought to keep an open mind.