Slowly, Edwina lifted her chin. “That aside, you cannot stop me from welcoming Mr. Devane into my home.”
Janelle’s eyes narrowed. “I always considered it ill conceived to house the society in your residence. Now I know why.”
Ignoring the woman, Edwina turned to Prescott and quickly grasped his arm. “If you would please join me upstairs, Mr. Devane?”
For a moment, Prescott wondered how to proceed. The sable-haired doe named Lucy bit her lip and unhappiness filled her gaze. Ginny was wringing her hands before her as anxiety lined her brow. The poor lady seemed to be on the brink of tears.
Janelle looked ready to spit sixpence and Edwina was wound tighter than whipcord. Yet, somehow, despite the acrimony, or perhaps because of it and the great familiarity it evidenced, Prescott had no doubt that these ladies cared deeply for each other.
Still, he didn’t know them and this was not his problem.
Accepting Edwina’s hand on his arm, he nodded.
“I will have you removed as the society’s president!” Janelle shrieked. “I will see the society itself moved from this residence! Your little scheme will bring ruin down upon us.” Squaring her shoulders, the matron blocked their way. “And I will die before letting that happen!”
Chapter 9
Never in her life had Edwina felt the urge to strike someone, yet at that moment she hated Janelle with a force that made her fisted hand quiver with urgency.
The very notion shook her to the core. She wasn’t like the dowager. Just thinking of how she’d felt when her mother-in-law had slapped her caused a wave of shame to wash over Edwina and a nasty tang to coat her tongue.
Inhaling an unsteady breath, Edwina unfurled her fingers. She felt as if she were hurling from one terrible encounter to the next but unable to stop it. Well, someone had to. Edwina was resolved and yet saddened; this parting was long overdue.
Turning toward Ginny, Edwina shook her head. “I know it pains you to see us at odds, but I will not suffer her barbed tongue any longer, even for you.” Facing Janelle once more, Edwina was glad her voice was steady as she declared, “I hereby invoke my right, as president of The Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females, to eject Lady Janelle Blankett from our membership.”
Janelle reared back, her face aghast. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“You leave me little choice.” Glancing at Ginny and Lucy, Edwina asked, “Do you second the motion?”
Awkward silence encased the small vestibule.
Prescott moved to stand before Edwina, leaned down, and whispered, “Actions taken in anger often make for later regrets. Trust me, I know.”
She looked away. “You don’t understand.”
“All I’m saying is that this is obviously a significant decision and one that should be made after clear reflection, not after you’ve been attacked by that pretentious hag outside.”
“This isn’t the only incident…” Unable to explain, she shook her head.
Turning to face the other women, Prescott declared, “I hate to see Edwina’s mother-in-law’s most ardent wish come true.”
“What wish?” Ginny asked, stepping forward.
Edwina looked up.
Prescott exhaled noisily. “You should have heard the atrocious things she said about your society. She said that you were ‘bombastic, bluestocking, dowdy women whose mediocrity compelled them to create a club from which to foment vulgar behavior.’”
“She didn’t!” Ginny gasped.
Edwina raised her hands over her ears. “Please don’t repeat those horrible things!”
“‘Fools,’ the dowager said,” Prescott went on, “‘with misplaced notions of charity that have them socializing with the lowest dregs of society.’”
Janelle’s face reddened. “She slandered my prison reform program? Has she any idea how many women we’ve helped train for productive positions after they’ve served their time?”
Edwina looked up, whispering, “It was poison aimed at me. Not at any of you…”
“She also said that the founders of the society, and she used that designation in the plural sense, were ‘uncultured, underbred, presumptuous.’”
“Uncultured! Underbred!” Setting her hands to hips, Janelle glowered. “Why, that bacon-faced, hog-buttocked frump!”
Shaking his head, Prescott remarked, “No doubt, Lady Ross would relish any damage to your society. Celebrate any injury she’d be able to inflict to the fundamental principles you ladies have embraced.” He sighed. “Nothing would please her more than to see you at odds. It’s a shame to let her win.”
“We can’t allow it,” Ginny declared. “It would be a tragedy.”
Lucy shook her fist, indicating the need to fight this affront.
Pursing her lips, Janelle murmured, “It would certainly be a betrayal of all we’ve worked for…”
“You know,” Prescott addressed Janelle, “you remind me of one of the women that I admire most in this world.”
Turning to peer over his shoulder at Edwina, Prescott calmly motioned to Janelle. “Doesn’t she remind you of Mrs. Nagel? I know you only met Mrs. Nagel for a moment this morning, but can’t you see the similarities?”
Edwina’s eyes widened. She appreciated his efforts to bring the ladies together and cool the confrontation. But the last thing in the world that would help was to compare Janelle to a school matron. It wouldn’t matter to Janelle that Mrs. Nagel was a woman who cared so much about her former charge that she insisted upon meeting Prescott’s fiancée posthaste, Janelle would still be insulted beyond salvage.
Prescott turned to Janelle once more. “Mrs. Nagel always told me that she felt as if she was the voice of reason crying out in the darkness. But that all of her words of wisdom fell upon deaf ears.”
Janelle’s eyes narrowed. “What are you about, Mr. Devane?”
Certain that Janelle was about to haul poor Prescott over the coals, Edwina placed her hand on his arm. “Uh, Prescott—” But he shot her a look to wait. The confidence shimmering in those emerald eyes stopped her short.
“I know that she found it terribly frustrating that her advice was so easily discarded,” he continued. “When she knew what was best for those she was simply trying to help.”
“Sounds like a creditable woman, this Mrs. Nagel,” Janelle muttered.
Edwina started. Was Janelle actually listening to Prescott instead of ripping him to shreds?
Janelle was looking down at the floor, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I can certainly understand how the woman might feel.”
“I know she suffered great aggravation with us wretched unfortunates.” Prescott shook his head. “We never truly appreciated her or her attempts to aid us.”
Janelle nodded. “I often feel that my own attempts are similarly unacknowledged.” Her tone lacked its usual potency and instead was interlaced with a hint of grief.
Shocked, Edwina held her breath.
“My children, in particular…” Janelle’s voice trailed off. She shook her head. “I try to speak with them, I write to my daughter, but it’s as if my every word is”—she swallowed—“abhorrent to them. All I want…all I want to do is to be a help to them. To be a part of their lives…”
Immediately the memory came into Edwina’s mind of the first time she’d been introduced to the dowager. Edwina had been so hopeful of embracing her new family, but the stout, sour-faced matron had glowered at Edwina and coolly informed her that she was a source of income, of enhanced connections, nothing more. At first, Edwina had been shocked speechless, unable to comprehend. But she soon learned that the dowager had meant every word. Edwina had tried convincing herself that it was better to know the lay of the land than be under illusions, but the rejection had always hurt. Always.
Edwina’s heart pinched and her anger dissolved faster than vapor from a boiling kettle. Prescott could see what she’d been blind to: Janelle didn’t feel included or needed. Her children had rejected her efforts. Her husband was fa
irly lost to his horses. And at the Society, her one haven, Edwina had always taken the tack of ignoring her. Janelle was always claiming that Edwina hungered for attention, but maybe she had really been speaking of herself.
Prescott nodded. “Like the other orphaned children at Andersen Hall, I never truly valued Mrs. Nagel until she was lost to me.”
Janelle looked up. “She’s gone?”
“No, thank the heavens. I was speaking of the time when Mrs. Nagel took sick one winter. She had a cough that was so terrible it hurt your chest just to hear it. She took to bed and suddenly we were free from the woman we’d all considered the bane of our existence.”
He shook his head and Edwina could see the cloud of memory in his gaze. “We certainly couldn’t celebrate her illness, but a few of us fools thought that life might improve without Mrs. Nagel to dress us down for our mischief. What we realized, to our surprise, was that Mrs. Nagel was the binding that kept our pitiful lives together. We’d never grasped all that she’d done in a day to keep us safe, fed, clothed, and reasonably upstanding.”
He chuckled, a low, warm sound from deep in his throat. “We almost threw a party on her first day out of bed. Lord, I can’t tell you how I welcomed the next time she smacked me over the head with her straw broom. I was so glad she was there to do it I almost wanted to kiss her.” His lips quirked. “Not quite, but almost.”
Listening to his story, Edwina could almost picture the scamp of a lad he’d been. Adorable, playful and with a mischievous gleam in his emerald eyes.
“Headmaster Dunn always taught us to endeavor to learn from our mistakes.” Prescott set his hand over his heart and bowed toward Janelle. “If you would grant me the privilege, I would very much like to hear your concerns about all that is taking place. I can only hope that it will help to avoid unnecessary complications.”
A silence so profound filled the vestibule that one could almost hear Janelle’s brain grinding through the options.
After a moment, Janelle cleared her throat. “I do believe I may have underestimated Headmaster Dunn’s influence on you, Mr. Devane.” Turning to the butler, she ordered, “We’ll take our tea in the society library.”
Edwina released the breath she’d been holding.
Stepping forward, Prescott offered his arm. “I am at your disposal…”
“Lady Blankett,” Janelle supplied, accepting his arm. Staring up at his handsome face, she added, “I had no idea you were such an astute man, Mr. Devane. Perhaps this plan of Edwina’s is not so foolhardy after all.”
Edwina felt her eyes widen and her jaw drop open.
Prescott nodded. “I try, Lady Blankett. But often I suffer under the ignorance of my upbringing.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Devane,” Janelle chided with a wave of her hand. “Good judgment is innate if the mind is sharp and the vision clear.”
Ginny and Lucy quickly stepped aside and the mismatched pair walked through the doorway leading to the society’s part of the house.
Ginny grabbed Edwina’s arm and pulled her close. “That has to be the most disarming man in the entire kingdom. I had no idea he was so perceptive.”
Edwina shook her head. “Much more so than I, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Ginny hugged her shoulders. “Janelle’s been pretty terrible to you. It takes the patience of Job to see past that tough armor she wears.”
Which was all the more reason that Edwina had to help save Ginny; the woman was a saint. Edwina couldn’t endure watching her life torn asunder by a blackmailer.
“I need to withdraw that motion to expel Janelle,” Edwina resolved.
“Don’t even bother. Let it all simply be forgotten.”
“You believe it will?”
“Janelle doesn’t wish to fight, any more than you do. You two are just like…a cat and a dog. Natural enemies who’ve yet to figure out a way to live together.” Ginny smiled. “But that doesn’t mean you both don’t mean well.”
“Do I get to be the cat or the dog?”
“Whichever you wish.” Ginny drew Edwina toward the doorway leading to the society’s rooms. “Now let us proceed upstairs. I want to hear what Janelle has to say.”
As she allowed herself to be propelled forward, strangely, Edwina found herself feeling the same way.
Chapter 10
“Oh, you’ll need much more than a few new gowns, Lady Ross,” Miss Figbottom intoned the next afternoon. Her voice reminded Edwina of a melodious songbird with a very powerful call.
She had the look of an exotic bird as well, with her shocking red hair, crimson-painted lips and powdery white skin. Her olive green ensemble and the bright green feathers in her hair comb only added to the effect.
“Certainly a new coiffure.” Miss Figbottom glided across the red carpet of the ornately furnished red-and-gold boudoir, her generous hips swaying to and fro. The woman’s olive green gown was etched with purple swirls that drew the eye in the most astonishing manner. Edwina felt as if she was in the presence of an artist, one who’s very self was the work of art. “Then there are the gloves, shoes, oh, there’s much to be done.”
Edwina bit her lip. “Ah, I’m not a great fan of shopping expeditions, Miss Figbottom.”
“My dressmaker arrives in an hour and always comes with a few gowns almost done.”
“Almost done?” Again, Edwina wondered at the wisdom of working with someone whose tastes were so divergent from her own.
“There are only so many basic sizes, I’ve learned,” Fanny continued. “And Michael, Dr. Winner, already told me about your shape. So you should have some new things straight away.”
Dr. Winner had talked about her “shape”? Edwina was appalled. But then again, he was a medical doctor, and he’d surely never looked at her with scandalous intentions. Now, if another man had looked at her with scandalous intentions…
“Are you feeling ill?” Fanny enquired. “Your face is flushed.”
“Ah, no, I’m fine.” Edwina had to stop thinking about Mr. Devane…Prescott. Just saying his Christian name sent a thrill chasing up her spine.
After their walk through the rain, he’d remarked, “I suppose if we are to be engaged, you should call me Prescott.”
“That’s not necessary, you know,” she’d blurted. “There are many couples engaged, married even, who don’t use each other’s Christian names.”
“Yes. But I wouldn’t use my wife’s family name any more than I would have her use mine. You want this engagement to be believable, don’t you?”
“Of course…Prescott.” She’d swallowed. “And you should call me Edwina.”
“Edwina. I like that.”
She shivered now as she’d done then, her name sounding so…stimulating on his lips.
“Michael also told me about your coloring,” Fanny commented, tearing Edwina from the memory. “So I’ve selected some fabrics that I think will suit you just perfectly.”
Edwina blinked. “Don’t I get to pick…?”
“This is what I do, Lady Ross, and my taste is infallible.”
Eyeing Miss Figbottom’s red-and-gold boudoir, Edwina reminded herself that she’d promised Dr. Winner that she’d maintain an open mind. Nodding, she swallowed.
“As far as the rest of the ensemble,” Miss Figbottom drove relentlessly onward, “my vendors always know what I like, and I only work with the best. So we’ll have you set up in a trice. Oh, and call me Fanny. All my clients do.”
Edwina felt as if she were inside a runaway carriage without a driver up top. Yet she didn’t quite know how to stop it without insulting Miss Figbottom. Inwardly she shrugged; at the worst, she’d wind up with a few gowns she might never wear. At the best, she might learn something useful; she’d never been particularly fashion-minded.
“Now, let us see about your hair.” With narrowed eyes and pursed red lips, Fanny studied her, giving Edwina the feeling that she was a bug under glass and Fanny the curious scientist trying to decide whether to di
ssect her.
Fanny turned to the footman standing in the corner and motioned for him to set a chair before the gilded mirror. “If you would, Kilpatrick?”
After he’d performed this function, Fanny tapped a finger to her chin. “Please send for Mojgan, Kilpatrick, and then have Cook prepare some tea for us. It looks as if it’s going to be a long afternoon.”
Edwina’s stomach sank.
After the servant had departed, Fanny waved a hand toward the seat. “Please, Edwina. If I may call you Edwina?”
At that point, Edwina felt she could hardly say no. “Yes, of course.” She sat.
Fanny moved to stand behind her and began removing the pins from Edwina’s hair. The scent of Fanny’s rose perfume wafted around them like a pungent cloud, making Edwina’s nose itch.
“You really have lovely hair,” Fanny commented.
“There’s no need for false flattery, Miss…Fanny. I know I’m no beauty.”
Fanny straightened, the pins still raised in her hands. “Who ever told you that?”
“Well, everyone. My sister got the looks in our family.”
“You speak as if all the beauty to which your family is entitled ended up with your sister.” Anger shimmered in Fanny’s hazel eyes. “The very notion is ludicrous.”
“But Adrienne is lovely. She has long, golden hair, bright blue eyes, a perky nose.” Self-consciously, Edwina raised her hand to her protruding appendage. “She’s a perfect English rose.”
“There’s no such thing. England is a land of mongrels.” Fanny waved a hand in a graceful arc. “Between all of the invasions, the wars, the uprisings, I can’t imagine there’s family that has not intermarried or otherwise intermixed with a foreigner at least ten times over.”
Edwina couldn’t help the grin from stretching her lips. “Don’t say that within earshot of my father. He lives and breathes for our pristine bloodlines.”
Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] Page 8
