“Well, it is all well and good for you, my dear, to dismiss the ruling class of England, but what of Richard, madam? What of your husband? These are the very people from whom he comes. Can you dismiss his heritage so completely? And whether or not you approve, not only is your son a baronet and therefore a member of that class, but you now carry the next generation within you as we speak.”

By the time Lady Catherine had finished her speech, morning sickness was again turning Amanda’s face pale, and she swallowed back the bile that had flooded her mouth. His aunt was right. Whether or not Amanda approved of this culture or their mores, her husband and son, and now her unborn babe, were lifelong charter members.

“Are you ill, madam?” Jesu, the little watering pot was looking bad enough to stick her spoon in the wall! The last thing Catherine needed now was for Fitzwilliam to return to a dead wife.

“The morning sickness…” Amanda emitted a soft belch. “Macaroons seem to help.”

“Ah.” Catherine nodded and tried desperately not to enjoy the young woman’s sudden discomfort. Somewhere far upstairs in the Darcy house, the baby began to cry, and they looked at each other, involuntarily smiling. Instinctively, Amanda rubbed her hand across her stomach.

The quiet truce between them continued for several moments until the child’s cries could no longer be heard.

“Forgive me, Lady Catherine, if I have spoken rudely to you. Oftentimes I speak before I think. You are right that I owe it to Richard to be more understanding of your culture and ways. I have tried, but as you say, my heritage always locks me out. It has been a bitter experience for me at times.”

Catherine studied her carefully. “Do you love my nephew, madam? I am afraid on this score I will have to take your word for it, since there is no Bow Street Runner who could possibly confirm it for me.” Catherine’s question was so unexpected that Amanda hiccoughed and then sneezed, her tears forgotten.

Amanda smiled briefly. “Yes, madam. I love him more than my life.”

Catherine watched her for a while and then nodded her head. “Bold words for some, but I believe you. You certainly love your son a great deal. Anyone with that much devotion for one person usually exhibits the capacity for the same amount of devotion to others whom she loves.”

“I only wish Richard could understand my situation better.” Amanda spoke so softly that Catherine had to strain to hear her. The girl was staring blindly out the window, again drying her tears with the back of her hand.

“I don’t think a man could ever understand what a mother would do for her child, though I was pleased to see that Richard feels paternal attachment already. But men could never feel the bond that a mother feels, could they? To have life grow beneath your heart for so long. I may regret admitting this, but I do empathize with you, Amanda. Perhaps he will also, in time.”

“I hope so, Lady Catherine.” Amanda felt the tears welling again in her eyes and rested her head back on the settee.

“When did you lose custody of your child?”

Amanda inhaled deeply before she answered. “It was while I was in America, two years ago. I had gone home to nurse my father, who had developed consumption. Regardless of what my late husband later said, he did know I was going and why, and that I planned to return. My father subsequently died.”

“My Anne was also felled by a weakness in her lungs. But this was from birth, a premature birth. She has been fighting for her health all her days, as have I for her.” Lady Catherine’s voice was calm and quiet.

“Have you visited any of the lung clinics?”

“Of course I have, young woman,” Lady Catherine snapped. “What a ridiculous question! We have tried everything. Initially, my husband resisted treatment for her, preferring to deny any imperfection in his child. By the time we investigated, it was too late, wasn’t it? Men always believe they know best.” They both shared a womanly nod and an understanding eye roll at the follies of husbands before they looked away from each other.

“I was unaware that I had lost custody until we returned and my mother-in-law took Harry from me. Apparently, Augustus was on his way to America to claim his son when his ship went down.” She lowered her head. “He, too, betrayed my trust.”

Catherine was very quiet. “It seems we have both had some unfortunate experiences with husbands. Well, Amanda, we have never had a marriage fail in this family, and I certainly could not allow one to do so on my watch.”

“Richard can be rather bullheaded, Lady Catherine.” Amanda hiccoughed.

Even as she contemplated what her new niece said, Catherine’s mind had begun to wander. She smoothed out her dress and patted down her flyaway hair. I must have my seamstress let out this gown. It has grown considerably smaller with cleaning. I imagine she is using much cheaper material. Thankfully, I haven’t paid her in quite a while. “Tell me, madam, were your parents long in the colonies? Did they reside in England before they emigrated?”

“No, Lady Catherine, they were both at least third-generation Americans.”

A clearly disappointed Catherine shrugged. “Ah, well. Pity, that.” Catherine’s gaze drifted up and down Amanda’s face and figure. She certainly was a beautiful young woman with graceful manners, straight white teeth, nice skin. Quite surprising, really, considering her disgusting origins. With proper training and decent clothing, she could be almost presentable.

If only she wouldn’t speak.

“Your parents were both of English descent, however, were they not?” Have pity on me, please, dear merciful Savior in heaven.

Amanda eyed the old dragon, barely suppressing her grin. “Well, actually, Lady Catherine, my father was half Scottish as well as half English; however, he was a staunch Royalist until his death.”

“As well he should be, and even beyond.” Catherine was beginning to warm to this family. “Well, that is very commendable and, may I say, surprisingly welcome news. Now what of your mother, madam? I trust that she was fully English.”

Amanda forced herself to look away and not to laugh outright. “My mother was lamentably only partly English, your ladyship.”

Catherine frowned. She truly hated flies in her family ointment. “I see, I see. Might one enquire what her other ‘part,’ as it were, was?”

Amanda locked her gaze onto Catherine’s. She felt, rather than heard, Catherine’s breathing stop with anticipation.

“My mother was half Abenaki.”

Catherine blinked for a few moments.

“I beg your pardon?” she questioned her politely. “Is that somewhere in Wales?”

Amanda steeled herself. “No, your ladyship. Actually, that is not a city. It is an Indian nation. American Indian. The Abenaki people are located mostly in Maine—northern Maine to be precise. My grandmother was of the Passamaquoddi tribe.”

The countess paled, emitting a small moan. In fact, Amanda noted the exact time when her ladyship retreated to her own little happy place, shutting the door tightly to her conscious mind. Her eyes glazed over, and she began to hum tunelessly.

“Lady Catherine?” Amanda prompted. “Excuse me… Lady Catherine?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right?”

“Good heavens.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you still here?” She looked absolutely bleak. “Well, well, well. I would suppose there is nothing we can do about that now.” Catherine sighed and bravely smiled. “I am sure there is no need to be quite so detailed in our explanations.” She narrowed her eyes and took a better look at her new niece, determined that whatever could be salvaged from this wreckage would be found and utilized. “Yes, well, I can present you most favorably when the time comes, with ample instruction and a good hair stylist. Perhaps a good diction coach can be applied for.” Catherine nodded to herself, in full agreement with her own assessment.

“As long as you’re not a papist!” Catherine burst out with laughter. She snorted. La, what a disaster that would be. “Good Lord in heaven, I can deal with anything but that!” She chuckled delightedly and licked her lips at her own witticism. She chuckled until she caught Amanda’s eyes shift guiltily away, taking with them a look of absolute horror and total remorse.

Catherine’s chuckle degenerated into a pathetic whimper.

“Oh, merde,” she finally groaned.

Amanda, who would normally have taken offense at these remarks, suddenly began to laugh. To her surprise, she found she was beginning to like this insane old woman who was daffy and vain and outrageous. Lady Catherine actually reminded Amanda of her own mother, though she would never dare to tell her. Gracie Sayles had been a beautiful, outspoken, and passionately funny woman who had adored life, her husband, and her beautiful little daughter, and had died much too soon.

“Richard was angrier than I have ever seen him. What if he truly sues for a formal separation?”

Catherine shook her head, her eyes softening as the woman before her struggled on so bravely to neither cry nor vomit. She handed Amanda a clean handkerchief and a glass of water. “I have seen you both together, and I am positive he loves you at least as much as you love him. I believe he just needs time to cool that horrible Scots temper that goes off periodically—a gift from his mother’s heritage, by the way, not in any way to be confused with the Fitzwilliam side’s more elegant manner of dealing with crisis.” Catherine mused for a long moment.

“Amanda, we have at least twenty-four hours to bring the child to Penwood. I want to speak with you further, but I want you and the boy to leave here before Richard returns. It would be best if you two had some space between you at the moment. I suggest you and the boy come home with me and rest.”