To Catch a Countess

by Patricia Grasso

  “Venetia despises me,” she answered, “and I despise her.”

  “Please continue.”

  “Venetia and Diana had supposedly come to browse in the library,” Victoria went on. “They’d only been there a few minutes when Mister Bundles brought me a note that had been delivered.”

  “One moment, my lady.” Percy Howell walked back to the table, lifted the parchment, and held it up. “My lords, this is the note Lady Emerson received. With your permission, I’ll read it.”

  The chief justice nodded.

  Percy Howell read aloud, “Tory, Meet me at the Philbin brothers’ house at five o’clock. Alex.” The barrister handed it to the judges.

  “If you cannot read,” Howell said, “then you had no idea this wasn’t your husband’s handwriting?”

  “Correct.”

  “How did you know the contents of the note?”

  “Diana Drummond asked why I didn’t read the note,” Victoria answered. “I told her I’d lost my spectacles and would wait for the earl to return. Diana suggested the note could be urgent and offered to read it for me, which she did.”

  Victoria watched Alexander turn around to look at Diana Drummond. The widow shook her head in denial.

  “What did you do next?” Percy Howell asked.

  “I made my excuses and left the house. Bundles, our majordomo, wasn’t in the foyer when I came downstairs, so I walked to the Philbins.”

  “Which way did ya turn?” someone yelled from the gallery. Laughter followed.

  Victoria covered her face with her hands and began to weep. This was how the remainder of her life would be. Soon people would be calling her the “stupid adulteress.” She heard the judge banging his gavel, and then all grew quiet.

  “Lady Emerson, can you continue?” Percy Howell asked. When she nodded, he said, “Tell the court what happened at the Philbins.”

  “Phineas wasn’t there. Barnaby made me tea, which I drank while writing my husband a note that I intended to give him for Christmas,” Victoria answered. “When the tea made me drowsy, Barnaby suggested I rest on the daybed in the next room until the earl arrived. I fell asleep and have no other memory until the earl awakened me the next morning.”

  Percy Howell walked to the table and lifted a parchment. “My lord, this is the note Lady Emerson wrote her husband that night.” He crossed the courtroom and handed the note to the chief justice.

  The three judges read the note. Their expressions registered surprise, and Victoria knew her stupidity astonished them.

  “Lady Emerson, I believe you should read this out loud,” the chief justice said, passing her the note.

  Using her finger to point to each word, Victoria read in a halting voice and pronounced each syllable as if it was a separate word:

  “Mi Beer-est Lorb, the Erl of Winb-chess-tear, Mi bar-ling hus-danb. A-lix. I love U va-re moch. Wit hole hart anb sol. A-lot. Ma-re Kriz-mas. Yor bee-vo-teb wif wit chil, Vic-to-ri-a, Cun-tess of Winb-chess-tear”.

  “Child, that is a beautiful note,” the chief justice praised her, “but the next time you write your title, add an O to countess.”

  Boisterous laughter echoed within the courtroom. Victoria had no idea what was so funny. She glanced in her husband’s direction and saw him watching her, a smile playing across his handsome features.

  When the laughter ceased, Victoria turned to the chief justice. “My lord, where shall I put the O?”

  Again, the courtroom erupted into laughter.

  “Put the O after the C,” the chief justice said.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “You are very welcome,” the chief justice said, passing the note to the bailiff. “I am certain the earl will wish to read this.”

  Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, Victoria watched the bailiff cross the courtroom and hand her husband the note. He took several, excruciatingly long moments to peruse the note and then looked up at her.

  Her husband did not look happy. Did he fear his son would be born with the same affliction? She worried about that, too.

  “What do you think caused the events of that evening?” Percy Howell asked her.

  “I know what caused the events of that night,” Victoria told the court. “The Philbin brothers wrote my uncle a letter that explained everything. An anonymous woman bribed Barnaby, a gambler in debt, into putting sleeping herbs into my tea. Then Barnaby undressed me and left me there for my husband to find.”

  “My lords, where is this letter?” Burrows called. “Why aren’t the Philbins here?”

  “The Philbins are in hiding because they fear for their lives,” Percy Howell answered. “If there is a divorce trial, they will testify. The letter is in a safe place in the event of a trial.”

  “How convenient,” Burrows drawled.

  “Lady Emerson, why didn’t you tell the earl all of this?” Howell asked.

  “My husband would not listen to me.”

  “Did you ever try to speak to the earl between last November and today?”

  “I tried twice.” Victoria gave her husband a long look. “The first time the earl slammed the door in my face, and the second time—last week—I found the earl in his bedchamber with Diana Drummond.”

  Chaos erupted in the courtroom. Everyone was talking at the same time while the chief justice hammered the bench with his gavel like a shoemaker at work.

  Victoria glanced toward her husband and then beyond. Diana Drummond’s face was bright red. Now the widow would also know how a tattered reputation felt. She hoped someone at the opera would give her the cut.

  “Lady Emerson, were you ever unfaithful to the earl?” Percy Howell asked when the courtroom quieted.

  “No, I was not.”

  “You knew appearing at today’s hearing would be a public humiliation, but you chose to come and tell your story,” Percy Howell said. “Why?”

  “I never committed adultery,” Victoria answered. “My husband will not divorce me for something I did not do. If he desires the widow, he will need to find another way to get to her.”

  Howell looked at the chief justice. “No further questions, my lords.”

  Victoria rose unsteadily from the chair. She turned to step out of the witness box, but Mr. Burrows’s voice stopped her.

  “You’re not going anywhere, my lady,” Burrows said, placing sarcastic emphasis on the word lady.

  Victoria looked at him in confusion. “I don’t go home now?”

  “Gawd, she is stupid,” yelled a spectator from the gallery, making everyone laugh.

  “Lady Emerson, the earl’s barrister gets a chance to ask you questions,” the chief justice said in a kind voice.

  “Oh.” Victoria sat down again.

  “Lady Emerson, were you a virgin on your wedding night?” Burrows asked.

  A lawyer’s trick. Technically, she hadn’t been a virgin because she had already given herself to her husband.

  “My wife was a virgin when she came to my bed,” Alexander called out. “Ask her another question.”

  Everyone in the courtroom, including Victoria, looked at the earl. Her estranged husband was defending her against his own barrister?

  “Why did you marry the earl?” Burrows asked.

  “My aunt arranged the marriage,” Victoria answered.

  “Did you want to marry him or merely agree to the arrangement?”

  “I wanted to marry the earl,” Victoria said. “At first, I thought he was a tad elderly and quite boring.”

  “Then why did your aunt arrange a marriage with him?” Burrows asked.

  Victoria smiled at the barrister. “I suppose my aunt wanted me to marry an old, boring gentleman.”

  The spectators in the gallery laughed. Even the judges smiled.

  “When did you change your opinion of the earl?”

  Victoria smiled at the remembrance. “I changed my opinion of the earl the first time he kissed me.”

  “Why?”

  “The earl did not kiss
like an old, boring gentleman,” Victoria answered.

  “How does an old, boring gentleman kiss?”

  “Not like my husband.”

  The spectators in the gallery shouted with laughter. Even her husband was smiling.

  “How do you know that?” Burrows countered. “How many men have you kissed?”

  “Only my husband.”

  Burrows tossed his next question at her. “And with how many men have you engaged in intercourse?”

  “Damn him.” Alexander banged his fist on the table, drawing her attention.

  Victoria had no idea what was happening. She only knew that her husband was angry and the gallery had grown quiet.

  “Well, Lady Emerson?”

  “I can’t answer that,” Victoria said. “I don’t know what intercourse means.”

  Howls of laughter echoed off the walls. Reporters scribbled furiously on their parchments.

  “With how many men have you engaged in sexual relations?” the barrister asked. “You do understand sexual relations? “

  “My husband is the only man with whom I have been intimate.”

  “Your husband?” the barrister echoed, his tone implying disbelief.

  “How else could I be eight months pregnant?” Victoria countered, her tone exasperated.

  Shrieks and howls of laughter erupted from every man inside the courtroom. Except Mr. Burrows. The chief justice was laughing so hard, he couldn’t bang his gavel. Five minutes later, the only sounds in the courtroom were men gasping to catch their breath.

  “You were found in another man’s bed,” Burrows said. “Do you expect the court to believe this fiction?”

  “I don’t give a fig what this court believes.” Victoria rose from her chair and stepped out of the witness box, moving awkwardly toward her barrister’s table.

  Burrows stepped in front of her. “I am not finished with you, my lady.”

  “I am finished with you.”

  “If you don’t return to the witness box,” Burrows warned, “this court will grant the earl’s petition for a trial.”

  “My husband will get his trial and his divorce whether I stay or go,” Victoria said, all the bitterness of the previous months evident in her voice. “Except for my relations and my barrister, there isn’t a man in this courtroom who believes me.”

  “I believe you.”

  Victoria whirled around to face her husband. Alexander stared her straight in the eye and said, “I believe every word, Tory.” He shifted his gaze to the judges. “My lords, I wish to withdraw my petition for a divorce trial and apologize for wasting your time.”

  “Young man, you have the unenviable task of opening doors that you slammed shut and locked,” the chief justice said. “Next time save your anger until after you’ve given your wife the courtesy of an explanation.”

  “Thank you for the advice, my lord.”

  Victoria could not comprehend the abrupt end to the situation that had consumed her for months. She felt dizzy, months of stress having taken its toll. A powerful surge of relief sent her crashing to her knees. Victoria bent her head, covered her face, and began to weep.

  She had won. And lost. Never again could she love her husband as unconditionally as she had. The pain he had caused was too great to set aside.

  Then Alexander was kneeling beside her and drawing her into his embrace. “Tory, I’m sorry for doubting you.”

  “I begged you on my knees to listen to me,” Victoria sobbed. “I begged you, Alex, and you turned your back on me.”

  What have I done? Alexander thought, holding her close as she wept. He had taken a lively young woman, broken her spirit, and held her up to public ridicule. His wife was nineteen years old, eight months pregnant, and hurt almost beyond repair. He prayed he could make amends. Somehow.

  “I’ll do whatever I must to repair the damage,” Alexander promised, his heart aching at what he had lost.

  “I’m having your baby,” Victoria said, “and you never even inquired about my health.”

  “Tell me what to do,” Alexander said. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

  Victoria looked at him through tear-blurred eyes. “Go away and leave me in peace.”

  “Do as she says.” Prince Rudolf stood beside them. The prince helped her rise, put his arm around her, and escorted her out of the courtroom.

  Alexander felt as if a dagger had pierced his heart. A self-inflicted wound.

  “Give her time to rest,” Duke Magnus said, standing beside him. “Victoria will feel differently after she has rested. Come to Park Lane tomorrow.” The duke tipped his head in the direction of Alexander’s relations. “That will give you time to tie up loose ends.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” Alexander headed in the direction of his loose ends.

  “I’m sorry, Alex,” Harry Gibbs said. “I had no idea what was happening beneath my nose.”

  “This is a terrible misunderstanding,” Venetia defended herself. “Diana and I—”

  “Robert Campbell is correct,” Alexander interrupted. “You are Satan’s handmaiden.” He looked at the widow. “If I were you, Mrs. Drummond, I would return post-haste to Australia. After today, your reputation is as shredded as my wife’s.”

  Without another word, Alexander walked out of the courtroom. He started down the corridor to the front door when someone called his name. Turning around, he saw the society reporter from the Times.

  “My lord, will you give me a statement?”

  Alexander started to turn away without speaking and then changed his mind. “Lady Emerson has proved herself completely innocent. Courageous describes her as does loyal and loving.”

  “Why courageous?” the reporter asked, without looking up from his scribbling.

  “Only a woman of great courage would stand before the world to confess what she considers a serious flaw.”

  The reporter looked up from his notes. “You mean her stupidity?”

  “My wife is not stupid.” And then his fist connected with the reporter’s jaw, sending the man sprawling to the floor.

  Chapter 15

  Peace of mind eluded her.

  Victoria gazed out the window at a perfect spring morning—blue skies, bright sunshine, chirping birds. She had slept soundly for the first time in months, awakened early, and dressed in a pale pink gown. Shouldn’t she feel happier? She’d won her court case. Why did she feel as if she’d lost?

  Victoria left the bedchamber. Bundles, whom she had hired, waited in the corridor to escort her down the stairs to the dining room.

  “Good morning, Bundles.”

  “Good morning, my lady.” Bundles offered her his arm. “Are we feeling better this morning?”

  “Much better. Thank you for asking.”

  “I saw an interesting article in the newspaper yesterday,” Bundles told her, speaking as they walked down the third-floor corridor to the stairs. “An Irishman and a Scotsman went into a tavern to share a pint. When the tavern keeper asked who would pay for it, the Scotsman said that he would. The next day, yesterday, the paper’s headline read: Irish Ventriloquist Slain.

  Victoria laughed out loud.

  “May I say, my lady,” Bundles remarked, “your laughter is more welcome than springtime birdsong.”

  When they reached the dining room, Tinker stood in his usual position at the sideboard. Victoria chose scrambled eggs, three slices of bacon, and a hot roll with butter. Carrying her plate, Bundles escorted her to the table and helped her into a chair.

  “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Victoria said. “His Lordship must be missing your services.”

  “His Lordship is an arse,” Bundles drawled.

  Victoria smiled at that. “Where are my uncle and aunt?”

  “His Grace has gone to his office,” Tinker answered.

  “Please bring me the paper,” Victoria instructed Bundles. “I prefer facing the bad news first.”

  “I’m sorry, my lady.” Bundles flicked a pointed
look at Tinker. “We don’t have it today.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “The Earl of Winchester gave an interview to the society reporter,” Tinker told her. “His Lordship called you loving, loyal, and courageous.”

  Something insulting had been written about her. These devoted retainers were trying to protect her.

  “I see the paper at the other end of the table,” Victoria said, pointing to it. “Bring it to me.”

  Victoria needed to know how badly the Times had insulted her. Steeling herself, she put the paper down on the table and read the headline. She recognized the words countess and not, but the other two words escaped her. “Read me this headline.”

  Bundles hesitated. “I-I-I forgot my spectacles in my chamber.”

  Victoria raised her brows at him. “Do not use that lie on me.”

  Bundles inclined his head. Then he read aloud, “Countess Stupid, Not Guilty.”

  Victoria stared at the headline for long moments. Her bottom lip quivered as she struggled with her emotions. The humiliating thought of her baby being told about his mother’s stupidity nearly felled her. Everyone in London, from prince to pauper, knew she was stupid. She pushed her plate away and rose from her chair.

  “You are not stupid,” Bundles said.

  “Indeed, you are very clever,” added Tinker.

  “A person incapable of learning to read is considered stupid.” Victoria placed her hand on the mound of her enormous belly. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “My lady, you must eat,” Bundles said. “The babe needs nourishment.”

  “I will eat an early lunch,” Victoria promised. “The babe will not suffer from a slight delay.”

  And then her uncle, her aunt, and her husband walked into the dining room. Victoria lifted the newspaper off the table, and there was no mistaking the battle in her eyes.

  “Darling, you aren’t leaving?” Aunt Roxie said. “We were joining you for coffee and conversation.”

  “Yesterday proved more-than-enough speaking for me.” Victoria turned to Bundles. “Will you escort me upstairs?”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  With Bundles following behind, Victoria crossed the dining room to the door. Her aunt and her uncle sat at the dining table, but her estranged husband stood his ground inside the doorway.