by Joan Wolf
Philip had to have heard Frank’s unfortunate comment about his notorious career in Europe.
It was a shame, I thought, but Frank was going to have to accustom himself to the idea that I was indeed married and find himself another girl.
After another few excruciatingly uncomfortable minutes, while I babbled on like an idiot and the men said nothing, Philip abruptly excused himself and once more left me alone with Frank.
“Will you go for a ride with me this afternoon, Georgie?” Frank asked as soon as the door had closed behind my husband. “I have the use of a rather nice hack that belongs to my friend Thomas.”
I didn’t want to go out with Frank and I felt horribly guilty about my reluctance. He was one of my oldest friends, after all, and the hurt look in his eyes made me feel so wretched.
“I should love to go for a ride with you,” I said. “The fashionable hour is five, in case you did not know.”
He gave me the travesty of a smile. “I shall pick you up at five, then.”
“Wonderful,” I said, more warmly than I felt.
After Frank had gone, Catherine and I set off together for the circulating library. The shop was quite crowded and among the people we encountered there were Lady Anstly and Mrs. Henley, two of society’s biggest gossips. The sharp, knowing glances they bestowed upon me rather set my back up. I held my temper, however, and was as sweet and charming as I could manage under the circumstances. I knew there was scandal attached to my marriage, and I did not want Philip’s reputation to suffer.
The two women were distantly cool, but they did not cut me, a sign that our marriage was going to be accepted, albeit reluctantly.
I sent a silent thank-you to Lady Jersey and Lady Castlereagh, whose presence at the marriage ceremony was quite probably the reason that Philip and I were not going to find ourselves ostracized.
Catherine and I collected our new books and walked home, shadowed by one of the Winterdale footmen. I had checked out a novel that Catherine recommended, a book called Pride and Prejudice, as well as two collections of poems, and I brought the three books up to my bedroom before I returned back downstairs for luncheon.
It was when I was depositing the books on the small writing table in my bedroom that I noticed the edge of a piece of paper sticking out of the novel. I pulled it out and there, in bold black script, were the words:
You may have blackmailed Winterdale into marriage, but your career will end there. Hand over the evidence or die.
I stopped breathing. Then, as the full significance of what was in front of me sunk into my brain, my heart began to pound.
I had thought it was all finished with. I had thought that my marriage to Philip would reassure all of my father’s victims that I was no longer in need of money. But it seemed that this was not the case. It seemed instead that the marriage had actually exacerbated someone’s fears that I was indeed holding powerful information.
I pressed my trembling hands to my cheeks.
Where is Philip? I thought frantically. I’ve got to show him this paper.
CHAPTER
eighteen
PHILIP DIDN’T COME HOME FOR THE ENTIRE afternoon, and so I was forced to go for my ride with Frank without having a chance to talk to my husband. I was riding Cato, as usual. Philip had had my beloved mare, Corina, brought to Winterdale Park from Weldon Hall, but we had left her in the country since I still didn’t want her in the confinement of a city stable.
At this hour, the park was crowded as usual. I was preoccupied with the threatening note I had received and consequently was paying little attention either to Frank or to the people who nodded greetings to me as we rode along the path beside the Serpentine when, out of nowhere, Cato let out a high-pitched whinny and exploded into a series of high, arching, stiff-legged bucks. I maintained my seat for the first few bucks, but when he planted his front feet, ducked his head and kicked out high behind, I sailed over his head. The last thing I saw just before I hit the ground was the oncoming carriage into whose path I had been thrown. Then I struck the ground hard and everything went black.
When I opened my eyes, Frank’s face was peering down into mine. Even though I could not see him very clearly, I could tell that he was deathly white.
“Are you all right, Georgie?” he asked hoarsely.
My head hurt dreadfully. Cautiously, I moved my arms and my legs. “I think so,” I said. “My head hurts.”
“How about your back?” Frank asked.
I moved a little. “It’s all right, too.” I stared up at Frank in bewilderment and fear. I realized I must have come off Cato, but I couldn’t remember the sequence of events. “What happened? Did I fall?”
“Your horse began to buck and he threw you.”
“Cato?” I asked incredulously.
Frank said, “Georgie, I need to get you home. You hit your head rather hard when you landed, and I’m afraid you might have a concussion.”
I thought I might have one, too. My head hurt abominably, and I was very dizzy.
A female voice said, “My husband and I will take Lady Winterdale, sir. We have our barouche in the park today and there is easily room for a third person.”
“Thank you,” Frank said in a relieved voice. I was certain he had been wondering how the devil he was going to get me back up on a horse again. It wasn’t until he had lifted me in his arms, and was carrying me toward the barouche, that I realized who my rescuers were: Sir Henry Farringdon, one of Papa’s victims, and his wife, the homely heiress.
I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. Even in my befuddled state, I recognized that no matter what Sir Henry’s intentions toward me might be, I was certainly safe in the presence of his wife.
Frank deposited me in the seat of the barouche as carefully as if I had been made of glass and told me that he would follow me to Mansfield House leading Cato. Someone had caught the gelding and was holding him. Even with my blurred vision I could see that the poor animal was soaked with sweat and trembling all over.
Something bad had happened to make Cato throw me. I was sure of it, but my head hurt too much to concentrate. I nodded weakly at Frank, leaned my head gratefully against the barouche cushions, and closed my eyes.
Lady Farringdon talked the entire way home. Her voice was shrill, and every single word drilled like a bullet into my brain. She wondered in great detail what could have set my horse off in such a fashion. She commented in extensive detail upon the excellence of the Earl of Lowry’s driving. Apparently it was he who had been driving the oncoming vehicle into whose path I had been thrown, and it was only his quick reflexes and strength that had saved me from being trampled to death.
She wondered what my new husband would say when he learned how close to death his bride had come.
If I had had a knife I would have stabbed her to death by the time we arrived at the Mansfield House door.
Frank turned both his horse and Cato over to a groom and lifted me down from the barouche. I shut my eyes as I listened to him make his calm thank-yous to Sir Henry and Lady Farringdon. By this time, my head was a storm of pain.
As Frank walked with me in the front door of Mansfield House I could hold only one thought in my pain-wracked head.
I want Philip.
And then he was there.
“What happened?” I heard him ask Frank sharply.
Frank started to answer but I just held out my arms to my husband. “My head hurts, Philip,” I said. “I want to go to bed.”
He took me away from Frank and thankfully I laid my cheek against his shoulder. I heard him say sharply to someone, “Send for a doctor.” And then we were going up the stairs and along the hallway toward our bedroom.
“It will be all right shortly, sweetheart,” he said as he laid me on the bed. “The doctor is coming.”
I whispered, “This is what happened to Anna.”
“No, it’s not.” He sat on the side of the bed and took my hand into his. “Anna was unconscious for d
ays. I know it hurts, Georgie, but you are going to be all right.”
I looked up at him.
“There are two of you,” I said unsteadily.
He smiled, and said, “Lucky you.”
Some of the fear that had been building inside me relaxed. It couldn’t be so bad if he could make a joke about it.
I told him what I knew about what had happened in the park, and then I said, “Someone sent me a note, Philip. It’s in the book over there.”
He got off the bed and went over to the table. I heard the sound of paper crinkling.
“I see,” he said quietly.
There came a knock at the door and Catherine said, “Is there anything I can do, Philip?”
Philip went to open the door. “Yes. Get Georgie out of that dress and make her more comfortable before the doctor gets here. I want to take a look at Cato.”
“Of course,” Catherine said. She came over to my bedside, and the door closed behind Philip.
* * *
When the doctor arrived and examined me he found bruises on my shoulders and back and he confirmed the diagnosis of concussion.
“You’ll be all right in a few days, Lady Winterdale,” he said, “but you cannot get out of bed until the double vision is gone. And even then I want you to take it easy for a few more days. Your brain has had a shock. You must give it time to recover.”
I did not argue with him. For one thing, I truly was feeling wretched, and for another, as Anna’s sister, I was scarcely the person to take a head injury lightly.
When Philip came in to see me after the doctor had left, I asked him to tell me precisely what had happened.
“With no warning, Cato went completely berserk,” he said. “According to Stanton, he was bucking like a maniac. He threw you right in front of Lowry’s oncoming phaeton. Thank God Lowry was able to avoid you. Stanton says he doesn’t know how he did it without at least running over you with a wheel.”
I plucked nervously at the counterpane. “There was that note I found in my library book,” I said. “Philip, do you think someone might have done something to Cato?”
He was silent for just a fraction too long. Then he said, “I don’t see how it would have been possible, Georgie. He was tacked up by Fiske himself.”
I squinted at my husband, trying to see him clearly through my blurred vision. “What did you find when you went to the stable to look at him?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. Just get some rest, sweetheart. You will feel better in the morning.”
I said fretfully, “I won’t get any rest if I am wondering about what you found. I want to know, Philip.”
There was a pause, as if he was deliberating about what was the best thing to do. Then he said, “All right. There was a small open wound on Cato’s right flank. It looked to me as if he might have been struck with a sharpened stone.”
My breath caught in my throat. “But the park was crowded, Philip! How could someone throw a stone and not be seen?”
“Stanton tells me you were going past that area of trees where there are no walking paths. Someone could have been hiding in there and used a slingshot to hit Cato.”
I said incredulously, “I simply cannot imagine any of the men on Papa’s list lurking in the bushes to shoot a slingshot at me.”
“They wouldn’t have had to do it themselves,” Philip said in a very grim voice. “God knows, there are villains enough for hire in the back alleys of London.”
He was right. If Cato had indeed erupted into a bucking frenzy, then the scenario Philip had just described to me was an all-too-likely explanation.
I expelled my breath in a huff and said, “I’m glad you told me. I would have fretted myself to death wondering.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” He came over to pick up my hand and give it a brief squeeze. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll find out who is at the bottom of these attacks.”
All of a sudden my head hurt too much even to talk. I nodded, closed my eyes, and curled up on my pillow. The ringing in my ears was so loud that I didn’t even hear when he left the room.
* * *
It was four days before I was able to get out of bed. By then, even though I still had a slight headache, my vision was clear and the ringing in my ears had stopped and I was so sick of my room that even the sight of Lady Winterdale sitting alone in the dining room when I went in didn’t dismay me.
“Georgiana,” she said with a gracious smile. “How nice it is to see you out of your bed.”
To my surprise, she actually sounded sincere.
“Thank you, Lady Winterdale,” I said. “I am feeling much better today.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I have taken it upon myself to draw up the menus for the week,” she said. “I did not wish to disturb you while you were indisposed.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” I said. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
I went to the sideboard to help myself to coffee and an egg.
“Captain Stanton has come by faithfully every day to ask about you,” Lady Winterdale said.
“Yes,” I replied. “Betty brought me his flowers.”
A bouquet of spring flowers from Frank had arrived regularly in my bedroom every morning since the accident.
I looked up from my egg and caught Lady Winterdale regarding me with a speculative gleam in her eyes. I found myself saying defensively, “I have known Captain Stanton since we were children.”
“Allow me to give you a word to the wise, Georgiana,” Lady Winterdale said. “When handsome young military men pay such close attention to a newly married woman, it can be a cause for gossip.”
My nostrils quivered in anger and I retorted, “Let me tell you, Lady Winterdale, that I am heartily tired of hearing about the ton’s propensity for gossip. If my husband doesn’t object to my friendship with Frank, it’s nobody else’s business!”
Lady Winterdale looked at me over her coffee cup, her pointy nose particularly evident in this posture. “Ah,” she said. “And who says that your husband does not object?”
“Of course he doesn’t object,” I said. “There is nothing to object to.”
Lady Winterdale said bluntly, “You came to London with nothing to recommend you but a pretty face and a winning smile, Georgiana, and you have ended up a countess. Don’t be fool enough to alienate Philip over an old flame.”
“Frank is not an old flame!” I said hotly. “Philip has no cause to be jealous of me, and he knows it!”
“Does he?” Lady Winterdale said ironically. She put down her coffee cup and rose from the table. “Think about what I have said, my dear. I realize that marriage to a man like Philip might have proved a shock to an innocent young girl like you, but if your marriage is not what you thought it would be, then it is your duty to put a good face on it. At all costs, the Winterdale name must be preserved.”
A man like Philip? This was the second time that someone had said that to me. What was she talking about? Did she think that Philip had raped me?
I sat seething over my egg as the door closed behind Lady Winterdale.
The woman was impossible, I thought. She had not a genuine feeling in her whole body. All she thought about was appearances.
And she was completely wrong about Philip.
At least she was wrong about my reaction to our marriage.
Was she wrong, though, about Philip’s reaction to Frank?
I pushed my egg away, took a sip of my coffee, and thought back on the past four days.
I had been sick and so Philip had slept on the bed in his dressing room. He had said that this was because he did not wish to disturb me. I had objected, had said that I would sleep better if he were beside me, but he hadn’t listened.
In truth, I had been a little hurt that he had left me.
He couldn’t possibly think that I cared about Frank.
Well, I was perfectly healthy today, I thought. There was no longer any excuse for him to sleep in his
dressing room. I would wait and see what he would do tonight.
I pushed my coffee aside and wished desperately that we had never had to leave Winterdale Park.
* * *
That afternoon I accompanied Catherine to the Duchess of Faircastle’s weekly musicale. The first person I saw as we came into the music room was Lord Rotheram. It was hard to miss him, as he was bearing down on us with a determination that didn’t look as if it would be swayed by a cavalry charge.
“Lady Catherine,” he said as he came up in front of us. “How wonderful to see you again.” The light in his hazel eyes was unmistakable. Seeing it, a weight was lifted from my heart.
“Lord Rotheram,” Catherine replied. I looked at her. She was radiant.
Well, well, well, I thought. It looked to me that when Lord Rotheram’s period of mourning was over, Catherine would be receiving an offer of marriage.
From a future duke!
“You remember my friend, Lady Winterdale,” Catherine was saying.
“Certainly.” The future duke bowed to me. “When last we met, however, you were still Miss Newbury. Allow me to wish you very happy, Lady Winterdale.”
“Thank you, my lord,” I said.
“My mother has invited a few extra people today to hear you play, Lady Catherine,” Lord Rotheram said. “Come and let me introduce you to them.”
I looked at the couple whom we were approaching and immediately recognized Charles Howard, the man on Papa’s list who had been forced to borrow from the moneylenders.
Lord Rotheram made the introductions. “Lady Winterdale, Lady Catherine, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Howard.” He looked at Catherine. “Mrs. Howard, in particular, is a great music lover and expressed a special desire to hear you play, Lady Catherine.”
Catherine flushed with pleasure.
Charles Howard and I looked at each other while the other three exchanged conversation about the piece that Catherine was to perform that afternoon.
