POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER TWELVE (Part Three)

              CHAPTER TWELVE (Part Three)

Cynthia Trevellian stood still while her daughters clamoured, trying to embrace and hug her, but she appeared unmoved by the warmth of their welcome.

Rosalind stared at the newcomer with something like dismay.

Cedric’s wife had returned to him.

A tide of intense feeling rose in her chest. Her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. There was bitter anger there too, and with a shock Rosalind realised it was jealousy that she felt.

Shame engulfed her at the truth of it. She had no right to feel jealous of Cynthia Trevellian but she could not help herself. Would Cedric welcome home his wife with open arms?

‘I can’t believe you’re really here,’ Pricilla said, tears running down her cheeks. ‘I’m so happy.’

‘You can thank your Uncle Richard for that,’ Cynthia said.

Her tone seemed caustic to Rosalind’s ears, but she realised she would be critical of anything Cynthia said or did.

Cynthia eased herself away from the girls’ welcome and stood a little apart from them. ‘Be happy while you can,’ she said derisively. ‘There’s precious little happiness in this life.’ Then she turned her back.

Melissa and Pricilla looked uncertain and taken aback at the lack of warmth in their mother’s voice or glance. Rosalind looked on as Pricilla’s hand clutched at Melissa’s. She wanted to rush forward herself to comfort them both and chide their mother for her coldness but she held her peace. 

‘Oh for goodness sake, Cynthia,’ Lady Daphne exclaimed chidingly. ‘Respectability can be yours once more with a little effort now that you are returned to the bosom of your family.’

Turning to her Cynthia uttered a harsh laugh. ‘You mean buried alive again.’

‘Cynthia, you must make the best of things,’ Richard Whillowby said sternly to his sister. ‘Daphne and I will tolerate your outrageous behaviour no longer.’

There was a moment of silence when no one spoke. Mrs Gilbert stepped forward giving a little ingratiating cough.

‘Please enter the drawing room, Lady Daphne,’ she said trying a curtsy again. ‘I’ll arrange refreshments. And you must all be tired after your journey. I’ll arrange rooms for you as soon as possible. If only I’d been warned...’

Gathering her skirts Lady Daphne followed the housekeeper to the drawing room. ‘An atrocious journey,’ she complained. ‘Miles upon miles of rough tracks. Hardly room for the coach to pass sometimes. Cliff House is indeed the back of beyond as Cynthia says.’

Everyone followed. The girls sat on a sofa opposite their mother, gazing at her as though they would devour her with their eyes. Cynthia sat languidly, her expression set, eyes averted as though indifferent to their yearnings.

Having taken a seat near the door well apart from the group, Rosalind watched with growing concern and renewed anger. How could Cynthia Trevellian treat her children so cold-heartedly? But then, what kind of mother deserts her children in the first place? She seemed selfish and self-centred. Could Cedric really love this woman? Rosalind felt pain around her heart at the thought that he did.

Tea and refreshments were brought. Lady Daphne and Richard Whillowby took what they wanted but Cynthia refrained from partaking as though determined remained at a distance.

When Mrs Gilbert announced that rooms were now ready, Cynthia was the first to move, almost hurrying to separate herself. Melissa and Pricilla went after her eager to accompany her, but Cynthia stopped at the foot of the stairs.

‘I wish to be alone,’ she told them grimly. ‘And what could we possibly have to say to each other?’

‘Mama!’ Pricilla said tearfully trying to grasp her mother’s skirts. ‘I’ve missed you so much and longed for your return. Are you angry with me?’

Cynthia pulled her skirts free. ‘I’m here under protest. I don’t wish to be disturbed.’

With that she continued up the staircase after Mrs Gilbert. Pricilla burst into tears and Melissa’s eyes glistened too.

‘I don’t understand,’ she murmured wretchedly.

‘Your mother is tired from her journey,’ Lady Daphne said. ‘There’ll be ample time to talk later. Now I must rest too. Come along Phoebe.’

 Rosalind came forward to put her arms around Pricilla. ‘Don’t cry, Pricilla, dear,’ she said. ‘Your mother is here now. Be glad of that.’ She felt a hypocrite for saying those words.

She could never be glad that Cedric’s wife had returned to him. While she never dared have hopes that Cedric would ever look upon her as anything other than a poor relation to which his family had given shelter, her feelings for him grew more fervent with every passing day, and now, with Cynthia’s return, Rosalind doubted she had the strength of mind to remain at Cliff House. Her pain would be too unbearable.

She must go as soon as possible. It would be a bitter wrench to leave all she loved behind, but it would be better than destroying herself with jealousy and the pain of unreciprocated love.