by Leah Conolly
It was a longer carriage ride, but James didn’t mind the solitude. It gave him time to think. He was looking forward to the meeting with his friend, but he also knew that he hadn’t been finding enjoyment in the things he usually loved to do. It could very well be that this visit would only make his melancholy spirits even worse.
When he arrived, Daniel greeted him warmly. “My friend!” he said, with a wide smile. “I am so glad you have accepted my invitation.”
“Indeed,” James agreed, noting the ornate decorations in the foyer. A beautiful landscape painting caught his eye. “Is this one of yours?”
Daniel bowed his head humbly. “I painted it during my visit to the Peak District two years ago.”
James had forgotten just how talented his friend was. The colors were deep and rich, making him feel as if he were actually there. “Exquisite.” He turned to face Daniel. “It has been a long time since I have seen your work. Do you have any more on display?”
Daniel led him to his private gallery filled with his work, as well as other art he admired. It had been many years since James had been so immersed in art, and he found himself transfixed by the beauty all around him. Daniel explained some of the artwork and how he had acquired it, but his voice seemed to fade away as James gazed at a painting of a ball. The dancing couples only made him think of the ball where he had danced with Elizabeth and proposed to her.
James felt Daniel’s presence at his side. “I heard about what happened between you and Lady Elizabeth.”
James laughed bitterly and scoffed. “Is nothing private anymore? And is that the only reason why you invited me here, to see if it was true?”
“Of course not,” Daniel replied, his voice gentle. “You know me better than that, James.”
James realized that he was once again making rash judgments due to frustration and sadness. “My apologies. Of course not. I confess I have not been myself recently.” He swept his hand over his face.
“When I saw you and Lady Elizabeth together, you were happier than I have seen you in many years. You looked so carefree and unburdened. What happened?”
James pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to talk about it, but it would be a relief to confide in someone who would understand. “No doubt you heard the rumors surrounding Lady Elizabeth’s past?”
Daniel paused, then nodded slowly. “Yes, I confess I did hear them. What a terrible thing gossip is.”
“Yes,” sighed James, “and unfortunately, I was taken in by it. I must confess that I started to believe the rumors as everyone around me seemed to. Elizabeth rightly accused me and broke off our engagement. I was such a fool.”
Daniel looked at him earnestly. “And you have been unable to earn her forgiveness?”
“She is stubborn, Daniel. Her ability to make confident decisions is an admirable quality. Even now I think of it with awe. I had hoped, however, that her anger toward me would fade, and I would be able to apologize. But before that could happen, her father sent her a letter. He is forcing her to marry a brute of an old man, and she is to leave in only a few days.” He met Daniel’s eyes. “So now I am left without knowing whether or not she is still angry. The last time I called, she was too distressed to see me.”
Daniel hummed in thought. “You fear there is no hope?”
“I know there is none. She will be married in less than a fortnight. What else can I do? Even if she has forgiven me, it would be too painful for us to speak.”
“Did you love her?” Daniel turned his gaze away, staring at the painting instead.
James paused. He had never said it out loud, only admitted it to himself and in the letter that he still kept tucked away in his desk. “I do. I still love her. She is unlike anyone I have ever met.”
Daniel nodded and offered him a small smile. “Then do not give up all hope. There may yet still be a way.”
James shook his head, knowing that it was not to be. Isabelle had even said that there was nothing else to be done.
“You doubt me,” said Daniel, “but I simply cannot believe that you, one of the best men I know, can be met with yet another misfortune after the death of your wife. You deserve so much better.”
“It is not about what I deserve,” James sighed. “But perhaps you have such fanciful notions due to your interactions with Lady Darwin.” He offered his friend the ghost of a smile.
“Ah, James,” he said with a grin, leading him to another part of the gallery. “She is such a beautiful person, and so intelligent and kind. She is rather unlike the other ladies you find in London. Her conversation is interesting and refreshingly different.”
“I am glad for you,” James said sincerely. If he could not find contentment with his own love, at least he could rejoice at the success of others.
“James,” laughed Daniel. “You have always been the solemn, downhearted one. You must try to see things more optimistically. There is always a way, my friend, no matter what. It all depends on what you decide to do. You are simply lying down and accepting fate, rather than chasing after it yourself. Are you really going to let this woman you claim to love slip from your grasp because of some beastly engagement her father has forced upon her? You must take action, James.” He passed his gaze over an intricately crafted sculpture of a horse. “The future is not set in stone.”
Chapter 29
Elizabeth was sick of the refined ways of London. All around her in the crowded tea- room were fine ladies and gentlemen dressed in their very best, not a hair out of place, no doubt talking of the newest scandal, whatever it was. While Elizabeth’s scandal had caused quite a stir, she was sure the gossip had moved on to some other poor soul now.
She hated London, she had decided over the past few days. It was crowded, and everyone hid behind a mask even more so than people did back home in the country. It was as if everyone expected everyone else to be absolutely perfect, and, if you made a single mistake, your reputation was ruined forever. The wealthy were like packs of wolves that devoured the innocent. Elizabeth had done nothing wrong, and yet she was being penalized just for wanting to marry a duke.
“Are you quite well, Elizabeth?” Lady Kinsley asked.
“I am thinking of how glad I am to be leaving London,” Elizabeth said. “I do not like it at all.”
Lady Kinsley looked down at the table. Ever since Elizabeth had finally come out of her room only a day ago, she often struggled to know what to say.
Elizabeth looked up, as she sensed someone walking towards their table. The Countess of Chester had arrived, and she was smiling as if she were in a joyous mood.
Most likely it is because she knows I am leaving, thought Elizabeth. It sent a pang of sadness through her heart as she realized that the countess would have James all to herself now. But would James have her? Even after all they had been through, she didn’t truly believe that he would.
“Victoria!” Lady Kinsley said with a smile, relieved that there was someone else to have a conversation with. “Thank you so much for joining us. Elizabeth’s last day in London would not be complete without you!”
Victoria sat in a vacant chair, and the tea was served. “Such a sad occasion,” she said, but her words were empty, as her eyes betrayed her satisfaction. “I am so sorry to see you go, Elizabeth. I have very much enjoyed our time together over these past months.” There was a nefarious gleam in her eye as she met Elizabeth’s gaze.
“I was just telling Lady Kinsley that I am glad to be leaving. There is some good company in London, to be sure, but on the whole, the people who live here are cruel gossipers who care only for themselves.”
“Elizabeth,” chided Lady Kinsley, looking shocked. She breathed a nervous laugh. “You only say that because of what has happened, as is natural, I suppose.”
“I do not. I say it because it is true.” She looked directly at the countess. And as she did, she noticed some women over the countess’ shoulder looking directly at the woman. Elizabeth thought perhaps that they were commentin
g on the countess’ clothes or hair, but their distressed countenances gave the lie to that assumption.
Gossip about the countess? Elizabeth wondered. She thought of Felicia’s letter and how she’d said that Hannah and Clarice had used unorthodox methods to try to clear Elizabeth’s name. Had they started spreading rumors about the countess instead? If so, how true were they?
Elizabeth kept an eye on the gossiping ladies without obviously staring at them. As they continued speaking, one of the ladies became so excited and exclaimed so loudly that Elizabeth could hear her say, “Murder?”
Her companion shushed her immediately, and they looked away from the countess. Elizabeth met the countess’ stare. Her eyes narrowed, and a hard frown formed on her features. At that moment, Elizabeth thought she saw the truth in her eyes. And it terrified her.
She looked away from Victoria, her heart beating wildly. She had thought that the countess could be dangerous, but she had refused to think of her as a murderer because it was too terrible. But that look in her eyes had been confirmation enough. Elizabeth knew now that the countess had killed her husbands, and perhaps even other men. She did not doubt that her illness before the ball weeks ago had been the work of one of the countess’ schemes.
Did she try to kill me? she wondered. Fear gathered in the pit of her stomach. She remembered the flask that had aroused her suspicions. Even then, she wouldn’t have dared to think that murder was in the countess’s heart.
“Elizabeth? You look rather pale. Are you well?”
Lady Kinsley’s voice broke through her revelation. Elizabeth put a hand to her head and tried to smile. “I am well, only thinking of what has passed. I am afraid I am still quite troubled.”
Lady Kinsley frowned and put her hand over Elizabeth’s in sympathy. “I know, dear. Try, if you can, to enjoy this time we have together now. This is the best tea- room in London. I do not know why I have not brought you here before!”
But Elizabeth couldn’t focus on the food or the conversation, and, though she blamed her distraction on her own misery, her mind was really spinning about Victoria. The thought of sitting right next to a woman so dangerous made her feel sick, and she watched both her and Lady Kinsley’s tea carefully throughout the whole meal.
Finally, it was time to leave. They all stood, and Victoria curtseyed. “It was wonderful to know you, Lady Elizabeth. I know you will find happiness back home in the country with Lord Huxley.” There was a sarcastic gleam in her eyes as she said it.
“I wish you every happiness as well,” said Elizabeth, not wanting to give away to the countess just how worried she was or how much she knew. The countess left, seeming delighted with the world. As Elizabeth rode back in the carriage with Lady Kinsley, she wondered what to do about her discovery.
“Wasn’t that pleasant, Elizabeth?” Mrs. Kinsley asked. “You cannot say that you didn’t enjoy it.”
“Have you heard anything about the countess?” Elizabeth asked, entirely ignoring Lady Kinsley’s comment. The splendor of the tea-room couldn’t have been further from Elizabeth’s thoughts.
Mrs. Kinsley seemed to be taken off guard at the question. “Heard anything? Do you mean gossip?” She gasped. “Is there a new rumor I need to warn Victoria of?”
“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She cleared her throat and attempted to act more aloof. “No, not at all.”
Elizabeth realized then that she couldn’t tell her godmother who Victoria truly was. She trusted her friend too much. There was only one other person Elizabeth could confide in.
She had to write to James. No one else would understand. They would simply brush off the accusations and say they were ridiculous or be too afraid to cross the dangerous countess. But James knew the countess and was already wary of her. He would believe Elizabeth; at least, she hoped he would. He hadn’t trusted her last time, but this was different. This was life or death. If Elizabeth didn’t tell someone, the countess would go on poisoning people to her heart’s content. Perhaps even James.
Elizabeth shuddered at the thought.
As soon as they arrived back at the house, Elizabeth went straight up to her room. She gathered the materials she needed for her letter but paused before she began. Should she apologize to James? Should she tell him how she really felt?
James,
I’m sorry that I have not spoken to you until now. I am sorry for everything that has happened. My feelings were overshadowed by my father’s letter and—
Elizabeth sighed with frustration and crumpled up the paper. She shook her head. She had to plainly convey the danger at hand without clouding it with sentiment. Besides, she had had her chance to forgive James already.
Putting her feelings aside, Elizabeth focused her thoughts and began writing.
Chapter 30
True to his word, James tried to appear in better spirits, if only for his son. Daniel’s words had encouraged him, although he thought them rather idealistic. James thought that possibly, just possibly, there was still a chance. What that chance was, he didn’t know.
However, there came a day when hope failed him. Elizabeth was leaving London tomorrow. The thought plagued him all day, making him break his promise to try to be more cheerful. Despite what Daniel had said, James could no longer see any hope once Elizabeth was back home. Isabelle herself had said that Edward Gladstone would not be forgiving.
These were the thoughts that went through his mind as he walked with Oscar in the garden again, educating him and commenting on the beauty of nature. If anything good had come of this, it was this time he was able to spend with his son.
As they made their way back inside, the butler was waiting for them. “Letter for you, my lord,” he said, offering him a thin, folded paper.
James took it. His heart almost stopped when he saw Elizabeth’s name and recognized her handwriting.
“Oscar,” he said, barely able to produce breath, “go to Miss Ludwig. I must attend to something urgent.”
Oscar nodded silently and ran off. James went to the library and shut the door. He paced for a minute, trying to calm himself before he opened the letter. What could she gain from writing to him? Was she apologizing? If so, it was too late. She was leaving tomorrow. Did she want to see him again before she left? Though it would pain him immensely, James knew he would go if she wanted to see him.
Finally, unable to bear it anymore, he tore open the letter.
Dear James,
Please read this letter with a clear and open mind. The ideas I am about to present to you may be shocking, but I believe you are the only person who will believe me.
James paused, his heart softening. She trusted him to believe her. At the same time, he wondered what on earth she could be talking about.
I must admit to you first that I have had some reservations about the Countess of Chester from the beginning of our acquaintance. I do not wish to gossip, but I know we have spoken of our mutual distaste for her character. However, I have been wondering for quite some time if there may be something more dangerous about her. A conversation I overheard today makes me think that there is.
While at the tearoom today, I overheard some ladies talking about the Countess behind her back. The only word that I heard was “murder.” The countess heard it too, and when our eyes met, I fear it was made clear to me.
I believe that the countess is very dangerous. I think it very possible that she killed her husbands and tried to poison me before the ball, when I became very ill. Only now do I remember that I saw her trying to pour me brandy from her own flask one day. I know this may sound too fantastic but believe me when I say that I think she is capable of killing.
James once again stopped, staring open-mouthed at the letter in his hands. “My God,” he breathed. After he collected his thoughts, he continued reading.
I am writing this letter as a warning to you. I do not know what can be done, but if left unchecked, I fear she will do far worse. After I am gone to Deuney Keep, I even fear that she will tr
y to harm you, and I could not bear to leave without letting you know of my suspicions. Please believe me, and if nothing else, be on your guard when you are with her. Do not tell anyone else, especially Lady Kinsley. I do not want the countess to know of my suspicions for fear that she will do something dangerous.
I am sorry to have to bring this problem to you, but I did not know who else to turn to. Thank you, James.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Gladstone
James read through the letter twice. Three times. He tried to wrap his mind around the words, but that wasn’t really the problem. The problem was that he had also sensed that Victoria was dangerous but had never acted upon it. He believed Elizabeth with all his heart. Even aside from his own suspicions, he knew that though Elizabeth might be rebellious and often speak her mind, she was still sensible and intelligent.
His heart also softened at the letter. She hadn’t said a word about forgiveness or devotion, but it was evident in every word. If she were still angry with him, if she didn’t believe in him, she wouldn’t have written. There was no accusation in the letter, no repetition of what had already been said. She’d shown that she still trusted him.
