Page 71 of When She Was a Governess
“First of all, Sophia is the daughter of a duke.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” Constance said.
“Secondly, I love her.” The words came fierce and sure. “She is a gentle, sweet soul who loves Amelia and for whatever reason, me. In fact, she was willing to give up a noblewoman’s life to stay with Amelia. She would have stayed as her governess over having a husband and home of her own. You will not say anything against her, or you will leave this house immediately and never be welcome back.”
“She’s a duke’s daughter playing at being a mother. A girl from a disgraced family who saw an opportunity and took it.”
“She’s my wife. And this is her home. You are a guest here, Mother. And not a particularly welcome one.” Henry moved tostand directly in front of her. “Let me be absolutely clear. If you say one more cruel word to Sophia, if you try to undermine her in any way, if you so much as look at her wrong—you will leave this house and you will not be welcome back. Ever.”
“How dare you speak to your mother that way—” his father began, but Constance held up a hand.
“Let him finish, dearest. I’m curious to hear what other threats our son has for us.”
“You will not interfere with my marriage,” Henry said through gritted teeth. “You will not question Sophia’s fitness as a wife or mother. You will not make comments about her past or her family.” He cocked his head to the right, narrowing his eyes.
“I would never do any such thing,” his mother said piously. “I’m insulted you would think so.”
“What do you want, Mother? For once, just tell me the truth.”
His mother’s eyes flashed. “Amelia is my granddaughter. And she has been taken from me.”
“Amelia is my ward. And as of three days ago, Sophia is her legal mother. Rebecca’s will was very clear about who she didnotwant raising her daughter. You must respect Rebecca’s wishes. And even if you refuse, you have no power to change what is done. Amelia belongs to me and Sophia, just as Rebecca wanted.”
“Rebecca was confused. Overwhelmed by new motherhood. She didn’t understand what a terrible choice you were. You were always a cold, calculating one. That is who you have always been.”
“Rebecca had never been confused about anything in her life. Of the three of us, she was the one who knew exactly what kind of woman you are.” Henry’s voice was cold. “That’s why she chose to exclude you. And I will honor that choice.”
Constance’s mask slipped for just a moment, and Henry saw raw fury beneath. “You ungrateful, insolent, spoiled man.How dare you speak of Rebecca as if you knew her better than I. She was spiteful and vindictive. For no reason, mind you. She wanted to hurt me more than anything in the world. That was her purpose in life. And certainly in death. What kind of daughter keeps her child from her own mother and father?”
“Do not say anything about my sister, do you hear me? She was perfect. Despite having you for a mother. Her last and final act was to save Amelia the same fate she endured, which was to be raised by you. You made her miserable. You know it’s true. I don’t claim to understand your motivations for anything, but I know what you did to us. I know how you undermined our self-confidence, manipulated us into doing what you wished. But here is what I now know, Mother. Loving us is not the same as controlling us. And that’s all you’ve ever wanted.” He turned to his father. “And you—you’ve stood by and let her destroy your own children. What kind of man does that?”
Arthur looked away, unable to meet his son’s eyes.
“You’ll stay for dinner tonight,” Henry said, his tone brooking no argument. “But tomorrow morning, you will return to London. And you will not come back unless you’re invited. Which you won’t be.”
“This is my house,” Constance hissed. “I grew up here. This is my home more than it’s yours.”
“It was your brother’s house. Now it’s mine. And you have no rights here. None.” Henry moved toward the door. “Dinner is at seven. I expect you to be civil to my wife. If you cannot manage that, you can eat in your rooms and leave at dawn.”
He opened the door and stood waiting.
His father rose reluctantly. His mother remained seated a moment longer, her dark eyes boring into Henry with such venom that a younger version of himself would have flinched.
But he wasn’t that boy anymore.
Finally, she stood. “This isn’t over, Henry.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “It is.”
They left, his father first, his mother pausing at the door to deliver one final barb: “Poor Sophia. She has no idea what she’s married into, does she? This broken family. This sad, haunted house. You.”
“She married me,” Henry said. “And she did it knowing everything. My past. My family. All of it. And she loves me anyway. That’s something you’ll never understand, Mother. Being loved despite your flaws. Loving unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. Because you’ve never loved anyone that way in your life.”
Constance’s face hardened. Then she swept from the room without another word, with Arthur following behind like an injured dog relying on his master for crumbs.
Henry closed the door and leaned against it, his hands shaking with suppressed rage. He’d done it. He’d confronted her. Defended Sophia. Set boundaries he should have set years ago. But he knew his mother. She wouldn’t simply accept defeat.
And God help him, what would she do next?
