Then, she turned to Selina. Her youngest sister was wrestling with a stubborn piece of ham, her brows furrowed in concentration. Her knife did not seem strong enough to neatlyslice it into pieces.
“Patience, Selina, one long press and slice at a time. Do not look like you are sawing a large tree in the middle of a forest.”
Her sister obeyed and was soon content. Tristan watched the exchange, his mind spinning. He had spent his life treating the word “family” as a mere legal term. It was nothing more than a way to pass on titles and wealth. Meanwhile, dinners were cold affairs. Seeing Cathy like this evoked feelings he never knew he had. He grew up with a lot of luxury, while she barely had anything to hold on to. The Marlows donated most of their money to charity. So, even her grandparents could not provide the sisters with the money they needed for a good Season.
However, just when calm seemed to have descended upon the dinner table, Lady Marlow admonished her husband loudly.Her voice cracked like a whip, but Tristan suspected that it was necessary for managing the baron.
“Are you finally going to eat those peas, Norman? We have already moved on to the dessert!”
Lord Marlow seemed focused on a single pea in the midst of much smaller ones. However, his wife’s voice shook him out of his reverie.
“W-what? Of course, I am keeping the peace. I am no longer at war.”
Cathy groaned, as if she were waking from a spell.
“I am glad that you are no longer at war, Lord Marlow,” Tristan offered, making sure his voice was loud enough for the old baron to hear. “My apologies for not being good enough a cook to take over a marvelous dinner. My skills are quite limited, but I amenjoying the current meal.”
The baroness watched the exchange like a hawk, her sharp eyes following the interaction between Tristan and Cathy. When the laughter died down, she ushered her eldest granddaughter out of her chair. Tristan curiously followed the two with his gaze.
What happened?
“Yes, Grandmama?” Cathy asked, although she had little idea what her grandmother wanted. It was in the way the older woman peered at her, her eyes narrowed.
“Well, Cathy,” the baroness whispered, her voice sounding like a loud rasp. “Have you fulfilled your duty? Have you stopped playing the uptight martyr and secured your position in your husband’s bed?”
Cathy felt the blood drain from her face. It was not the topic she would have liked to discuss, only a few feet away from Tristan.
“I am sorry, Grandmama, but no. Not yet.”
“Well? What are you waiting for? Certainly not the time when your husband has moved on to someone else!”
“I understand, Grandmama,” Cathy whispered, feeling hollow.“I... I will make sure I do it tonight.”
Suddenly, all the familial happiness she felt earlier was gone.
The departure almost felt like a heavy weight on her chest. She hugged her sisters as hard as she could. There was a desperate intensity in those hugs, she was well aware. She inhaled deeplywhen the carriage door shut, and they began to leisurely roll back home to Baxter Hall.
Cathy sat as far from Tristan as the opposite velvet bench allowed, finding being alone with him again strangely awkward.
“Was it dreadful?” she asked, her voice ending with a squeak. She did not like sounding fragile in front of him.
“It was not dreadful at all, Cathy,” he said, his voice sounding sincere.
Cathy could not help but feel disbelief. “You do not have to lie to me. My sisters are loud, and one of them was trying to find out if you have any scandalous novels. One cares more for her book than the rest of us. The last one believes in fairy tales and love. Grandpapa is deaf and also fancies himself to be in another world at times. But truth be told, I know he is not senile. And Grandmama…”
She sighed.
“It is clear you all are comfortable with each other, and I can see that you are willing to lay down your lives for one another. You have something enviable, Cathy.”
Cathy looked into his eyes, searching for the lie. However, what she saw was a willingness to listen.
“They are loving,” she admitted.
“Yes, and this is something to be proud of, not ashamed of. How many families do you know that can really be themselves around each other?” he asked.
“I do not know. I suppose I assumed that all families are the same behind closed doors?”
“You could not be farther from the truth on that, Cathy. My parents, for one, always conducted themselves formally. Even when alone or in front of me. Dinners were awkwardly quiet to say the least.”