An Earnest Favour

XXV

"Men are what their mothers made them." Ralph Waldo Emerson

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XXV.

Claire felt three inches tall and all sorts of ashamed as she sat frozen on the settee opposite the duchess. Why else would she pull them aside if not to reveal that she knew their secret.

But how? How could she have learned the truth? And what was she going to do? Was there a clause in a marriage certificate that meant unions could be nullified if a wife bears another's child? Would Cecily throw her out?

Oh, dear God, her mother would learn of her shame. Her mama would never look at her in the same way again.

And Jack, dear Jack, who had only tried to help her ... well, she hoped that she would bear the brunt of the trouble here. How Cecily could find fault with Jack's honour, Claire didn't know.

Claire prepared herself, braced herself, more like, and attempted to condition herself not to cry. She couldn't cry in front of Cecily.

"A serious matter?" repeated Jack. "What, pray, have I done now?" he muttered angrily.

Claire wished she could shout at him not to taunt her. Maybe, maybe if Claire begged her, Cecily might keep it a secret.

Cecily rested her hands in her lap and took a breath. "Do you know, I do not appreciate your tone, young man. I am your mother," she said firmly. "And what you have done is precisely why I wanted to speak to you both. Though, I suppose, Claire needn't be here, but I was never privy to these conversations with your father, and I resented it. I thought you might appreciate being in the know, Claire."

Cecily had just directly addressed Claire, but she had no air in her lungs to formulate a coherent response. Claire had no idea what the duchess was meaning, but she nodded, and prayed it was the right response.

Cecily arched an eyebrow as she looked upon Claire. "Good Lord, dear," she said distastefully. "You look as though I have just strangled your cat."

Claire sucked in a shaky breath in an attempt to regain some of her composure. Jack took her hand in his.

Cecily shook her head and focussed her attention back onto Jack. "Jack," she began, "I know you and I have never really seen eye to eye. You are very different to how I imagined you would grow up, and you are living a life far from the one I meant for you."

Cecily paused, and Jack blinked expectantly.

"Indeed, Mother, I might drown in your warmth. Please, don't trouble yourself," he murmured facetiously.

"Hush," snapped Cecily angrily. "I am well aware that the time for a warm relationship between us is passed, and believe you me, I have mourned."

"You have mourned me?" Jack scoffed in disbelief. "Mother, if I wanted to witness absolute rubbish, I'd go down and look at the slop bucket in the kitchen."

Claire could see that Jack was furiously angry, and his anger was not solely fuelled by this one conversation. He had years of pent up pain and suffering inside of himself, which was bubbling to the surface, threatening to erupt.

"Charming," hissed Cecily. "Honestly, why can't you be more like your brother? At least he listens long enough for me to make my point!"

Jack's head snapped, as did something inside of him. Claire winced as she knew exactly what Jack was thinking in that moment. He hated comparisons to his brother. He hated being considered the spare, second best, and not good enough.