A Little Knowledge (The Split Worlds #4) - Emma Newman Page 0,130
at the description, then blinked at the scroll thrust beneath her nose. “I haven’t even had a cup of tea yet.”
“Well, call for breakfast, we have a lot to do.”
Cathy pushed the scroll away. “This is really not the best time.”
“Elizabeth is to be married tomorrow, Catherine. It is the only time. I need you to put your rank to good use and help me to make all the arrangements today.”
“Wait, what? Tomorrow? That’s insane.”
“No, it isn’t. They met yesterday, the contract was signed last night, and this is going to happen the way I say it is or the entirety of this family will come to know the true extent of my wrath and believe me, Catherine, you have only seen a sliver of it before now.”
“Is this what Elizabeth wants?”
“Yes. She’s overjoyed. She’s with the dressmaker now, having a fabulous time making the most unreasonable demands and making as many of the servants cry as she can. Now, are you going to call for breakfast or must I do absolutely everything today?”
“I’ve got other plans for today.”
“They’re cancelled. I’ve already told William. You’ll have to deal with his sulking tomorrow, he isn’t best pleased that you’ll be with me tonight. It’s the only way we are going to have a chance of getting everything ready.”
“Who did you bully before my wedding?”
“I had more time to arrange that one, despite the Irises changing the date.”
“Time enough to keep me drugged and locked up and—”
Her mother took off her hat and for a moment Cathy wondered if she was going to beat her with it. “Catherine. I have no regrets about that whatsoever. Look at all you have now. You’re Duchess, you have more power and wealth than, frankly, you deserve, and all because I had the good sense to make sure you made it to the Oak without any more silliness. Please sign this and give it your seal!”
“Go find someone else to do your dirty work,” Cathy said, batting the scroll away when it was thrust towards her again.
Her mother looked like she was going to cry, just for the briefest moment, but then schooled her face to hide it swiftly enough. She looked up at the ceiling, down at the flagstones, across to the window, as if the solution were a thimble to be found somewhere nearby.
“Is this room private?”
“What?”
“Could we be overheard here?”
Cathy shrugged. “I’ve never been in this room before now. The best place to talk is in the gardens, if you’re worried about that.”
“I want to talk to you there.”
“Can’t I at least have a cup of—”
“No. It has to be now. If I wait I may lose the courage to tell you what I must and that would never do.”
Cathy stood, tried her best to ignore her aching ribs, and led her mother out of the Tower, eliciting many curious glances along the way. As they passed the door to the kitchens she spotted a man carrying a tray of pastries and called him over so she could take a couple of them. She ate one on the way into the garden and was glad when her mother declined the other one.
Once they were among the greenery, her mother led Cathy to the point farthest away from the Tower and most shaded by ornamental trees. Cathy didn’t mind too much, seeing as it gave her the chance to eat the second pastry, but she could have murdered a coffee to go with it.
Her mother clutched her hat, a dramatic wide-brimmed affair in black and red to match her dress, over her stomach. She bit her lip and fiddled with the edge of the straw brim, looking more nervous than Cathy had ever seen her.
Cathy folded her arms, trying to be patient, even though she felt like crap and had more important things to do than—
“I’m leaving your father.”
Cathy blinked.
“Once Elizabeth is married. I’m leaving him then, when I know all my children are in good places and what I do can’t harm them.”
“There’s more.” Mother looked up again, down again, her fingers pulling a strand of straw from its place. “I’m leaving him to be with my lover. My former lover. The one I loved before I had to marry that man.”
Cathy felt as if she’d slipped into another Nether whilst she’d slept. A lover? What was more surprising, that her mother had one or that she was even capable of love? “Oh. Okay. Who’s he?”