Death of a Dowager

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  Lucy had been correct: Hyde Park was a veritable beehive of activity. Carriages of all shapes, colors, and sizes paraded around up and down Rotten Row, showing off for one another. There were phaetons, broughams, tilburies, and britzkas. Because the weather was mild, many paraded with their tops neatly folded down, and eventually Lucy acceded to Adèle’s request to lower our roof as well.

  There had been a shower overnight, and for the most part, the air was clear. Of course, other park-goers stared at us, and we stared at them, but that was the sport of it. Adèle kept up a running commentary, judging the apparel of all the ladies we passed. Her fashion sense was undeveloped, so Lucy happily offered guidance.

  Along the way, we encountered several persons whom Lucy knew and one gentleman who was a member of the same club as Mr. Douglas. We climbed out, found a quiet spot under a tree near the Serpentine, and waited as Williams spread a blanket for us to sit on. Lucy and I handed out ham and Stilton cheese sandwiches on sliced bread slathered with butter. Cook had wrapped these in oil paper and thoughtfully included pickled cucumbers and eggs. Mr. Douglas uncorked a bottle of wine for us.

  “I shall miss all this.” Lucy spoke in a dreamy voice.

  “Whatever do you mean?” I asked.

  “If Blanche succeeds in blackening my reputation, I shall be driven out of London. No decent person will speak to me.” With a brave smile, she added, “Here I’d thought I’d be able to offer so much to Evans, but instead he and I will have to run away. Isn’t that ironic? Worse luck, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Lucy,” said her brother sharply. “You don’t know that. You are borrowing trouble. Perhaps Blanche will think better of it. Or she’ll launch her war of accusations and no one will believe her. Besides, so what if the ton no longer invites you to tea? You’re worth ten thousand of them.”

  Lucy laughed. “That’s easy for you to say. Bad behavior may be overlooked in men, but it is deadly for women.”

  “So come back with us to Ferndean. Edward will build a wing for you onto Thornfield Hall,” I said. “Won’t you?”

  “Of course I shall,” he said. “Lucy, you are giving in too easily.”

  She sighed. “No, I am not. I am merely planning ahead. I had also thought that we might go live with Augie in India. That way Evans could grow up with his father.”

  That idea, of course, did have merit. But before I could give it more thought, a woman came running over the hill. “Hallo! Lucy Brayton? Is that you?”

  The newcomer was nearly as tall as Edward, and her build was as robust as a man’s, but as she came closer, I saw one of the sweetest countenances I’d ever encountered, framed in tight curls.

  “Maria? Is that you?” Lucy stood to greet her friend. The two embraced.

  Over the same hill came a second woman, a younger version of the first. As her skirts flew up, it was impossible to ignore her finely shaped calves.

  “Minney? How you’ve grown!” Lucy let go of the older woman and embraced the younger one. “Come! I have to introduce you to my friends.”

  Turning to us, my friend said, “Allow me to present you Maria Fitzherbert and her daughter, Mary Georgiana Emma Seymour.”

  “Call me Minney,” said the young woman.

  So this was the King’s true wife and his much-loved daughter, I thought.

  Introductions were made all around, and for some time there was nothing but the most banal of conversations about the weather, the park, and, of course, Adèle’s talents, since she insisted on singing a hymn—“Onward, Christian Soldiers”—that Edward had recently taught her. Both women admired Ned and asked for turns holding him. Maria asked Lucy about Evans, and Minney claimed that her mother had crocheted an adorable blanket for the child.

  By the time we said our good-byes, I was thoroughly charmed. Both Maria and Minney proved themselves to be wholly original women, without artifice, and delightful companions. I could see why George IV had fallen in love with Mrs. Fitzherbert, and why he would care enough about both women to want to protect them.

  Moreover, I could also better understand why Lucy refused my offer to give the letter to Lady Conyngham. These two charming women would bear the brunt of any repercussion that followed—and they deserved better. As I watched Mrs. Fitzherbert smile at her daughter, I made a vow that neither would come to harm by my actions.

  It was a vow that would prove hard to keep.

  Chapter 45

  Later that evening at Lucy’s house, Edward dictated to me two letters, one to Mrs. Fairfax at Ferndean inquiring again about John’s recovery and one to Augie telling him about Blanche’s threat.

  “I am not sure it will do more than make him feel helpless,” Edward said about the latter as I guided his hand to the spot where he could put his signature. “But if I were he, I’d want to know what my wife was facing.”

  I agreed. “Do you really think she’d go to India? Would that be so bad for her?”

  Edward considered my question carefully. “I don’t know. I can’t answer that. I haven’t visited the country.”

  We climbed into bed and I took solace in my husband’s arms. The thought of a forced separation seemed inhumane to me, and I told him so.

  “That is the prerogative of the King, to move us all around like chess pieces on a board.”

  “But we are not his possessions! We have our own wills, our own dreams and desires!”

  “As long as men have minds, they will want to determine their own destinies,” Edward said as he kissed me. “They will also want the freedom to marry whom they choose. That, dear heart, is a right our sovereign does not enjoy. Nor do most of his citizens.”

  After Edward fell to sleep, I clambered out of bed and sat looking out the window at the twinkling lights of candles and torchères all over the city of London. I imagined that each light represented one soul. How could it be that an accident of birth gave one man the power to make such important decisions for all of us?

  The next morning, while Ned was still sleeping and Adèle was eating porridge with Amelia, Edward and I were at breakfast when Higgins announced that Mr. Waverly had arrived.

  Edward raised an eyebrow to me by way of wondering why the man had again joined us, and I murmured, “I don’t know.”

  “If you are looking for Mrs. Brayton, she isn’t up yet. You are making quite the habit of visiting us,” I said. “We’ve become a regular stop on your daily rounds. Tell us, what have we done now to warrant such interest?”

  “Could I trouble you first for a cup of tea?” One side of his waistcoat hung lower than the other, as the result of being wrongly buttoned. The lapels of his jacket were dusty, and he needed a fresh shave. The past few days had taken their toll on Mr. Waverly.

  “Of course.” I poured for him. “Please help yourself to the rashers and eggs. I’m sure Mrs. Brayton won’t mind.”

  “I will at that.”

  We ate in expectant silence. When Mr. Waverly finished most of his food, he said, “I am not a fool.”

  Of course, we had no idea how to respond. Neither of us thought of him that way. In fact, we’d come to appreciate the man and his unending desire to uncover the truth.

  “Mr. Waverly,” Edward said, “rest assured that my wife and I have only the highest opinion of your talents. Furthermore, Mr. Douglas told us early on that you were the best of your lot. And we all know the Bow Street Runners to be courageous as well as intelligent. If you think we have overlooked the fact that you have a good head on your shoulders, you are sadly mistaken.”

  Mr. Waverly sagged in his chair. “I resent being ordered to carry out ridiculous orders simply because a young woman has convinced my superior that she is right and I am wrong.”

  “Mary Ingram again?” I asked with exasperation. “Will she not put this fantasy of hers to rest? Why does she refuse to leave Mr. Lerner alone? Did Mr. Carter�
�s intervention mean nothing to her?”

  “Not Miss Mary,” said Mr. Waverly. “Her sister, Miss Blanche Ingram. She has now changed her story and determined that it was Mr. Rochester who poisoned her mother.”

  “Ho!” Edward coughed. “It’s a bit early in the day for such joking around.” My husband peered at Mr. Waverly, straining to discern the other man’s expression. “Come now, Waverly. Such antics are beyond the bounds of good taste.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, sir, but there it is. She swears up one side and down the other that you poisoned Lady Ingram.”

  “This grows entirely too tedious,” I said through gritted teeth. “Pray tell me, how could my husband have accomplished such a dastardly deed? What access did he have to poison? How could he have killed her when they weren’t even in the same room?”

  Waverly shook his head. “I have no idea, but the Honorable Blanche Ingram has convinced the magistrate that all of this is not only possible but likely. She says that she was drinking coffee when Mr. Rochester arrived earlier that morning to beg her forgiveness. She wrote in a statement that she was briefly alone with him because her mother and sister tarried. According to Miss Ingram, Mr. Rochester must have added the poison to the tin of coffee sitting on the tray when she got up to see her sister.”

  “The woman talks nonsense,” I said. “At this rate, they shall next blame me.”

  Edward put his hand over mine. “Except that they know that by blaming Lucy and me, they are causing you to suffer greatly. My dear wife, it is abundantly clear that you fear nothing—except harm that comes to those you love.”

  In truth, though, Edward was right—and I was frightened. This continuing persecution by the Ingram sisters had begun to wear me down. I had been concerned when they blamed Lucy, but I knew their accusation was impossible. I had been there, I had watched the proceedings, and, if necessary, I could proclaim my friend’s innocence. Besides, it had been early days back then. I thought that the Ingrams would retreat as time went on and their malicious ideas gained no traction. Instead, they kept launching salvo after salvo. This new claim shocked me to my core. I fought the urge to retch as I imagined Edward, crippled and almost blind, being arrested and taken to Newgate. How would he survive among thugs and killers?

  He would not have a chance.

  “If that was how it was done, why didn’t the coffee have a deleterious effect on Miss Ingram?” Edward seemed outwardly calm, but I knew him well enough to know he was livid.

  “That’s the point. She says it did. She states—and others can confirm—that she was taken ill after Mr. Rochester’s visit. That had she not purged herself of the poison, she, too, would have died.”

  “When Lucy and I visited, shortly after Edward and Mr. Douglas left, Lady Grainger told us that Miss Ingram had been under the weather. It certainly did not sound like a recent bout. It sounded as though she had been unwell for some time. In fact, when we saw her at the opera, her color was unusually pale,” I said.

  “Look,” Mr. Waverly began in a peevish tone, “I am here, presenting this to you, because I hope one of us can answer this charge. I know it to be unfounded. All of this nonsense keeps me from finding Lady Ingram’s real killer.”

  I understood the selfish purpose behind Blanche Ingram’s bold falsehood. The Honorable Blanche Ingram thought that by accusing Edward of this crime, she could put pressure on Lucy to force Lady Grainger to readjust her will.

  “The answer is simple. Go fetch Mr. Parmenter. He’ll inform your supervisor that Edward’s eyesight is so impaired that such a move, an action requiring a great deal of finesse, would have been impossible,” I said.

  “Better yet,” suggested Edward, “I shall accompany you to speak to the magistrate. When I stumble into his office, trip over his furniture, and plant my face in his carpet, he will see the light!”

  Chapter 46

  Luckily for us, Mr. Douglas sauntered into the dining room. “What ho! Look at all these gloomy faces. And here I came to brag about my winnings at the card table last night.”

  I poured his tea while Edward and Mr. Waverly filled the man in on Miss Ingram’s latest antics.

  “Silly chit. People had already begun to talk about her becoming a spinster. If word gets out of these scurrilous remarks, she’ll be a laughingstock,” Mr. Douglas said as he helped himself to the last of the bacon, folding it inside a piece of toast and taking a bite.

  “We should all hope word doesn’t get out. Your sister will suffer, as will your new nephew, just because she has opened her home to us,” I said.

  Sadie brought in another plate full of sliced ham, a fresh selection of cheeses, and a hot loaf of bread. Mr. Waverly proceeded to eat like a starving man. Mr. Douglas was only a little more moderate in his consumption.

  “Look,” said Mr. Douglas, “I’m happy to go with you two down to Bow Street. I don’t have much influence, but I do have a little.”

  “Gads, that’s right. You helped the Bow Street office during the Cato Street riots, didn’t you?” Mr. Waverly now looked much livelier. “Magistrate Birnie is bound to recognize you.”

  “Yes, indeed, and I can talk to him on Mr. Rochester’s behalf. On the way back, I’d like to stop by Hatchards. There’s a book by William Blake that I want.”

  “You sound confident that my husband won’t be charged. Are you really so sure?” I tried not to let my worry show. “Perhaps I should come, too, in case I am needed.”

  “No,” said Mr. Waverly, tucking his truncheon under his arm and standing at attention. “I beg you to stay away, Mrs. Rochester. Once Mr. Rochester has shown my superior how ridiculous this matter is, I hope the magistrate will no longer waste my time or his listening to the imprecations of young women with bees in their bonnets. This is nothing more than a distraction, and while I am a party to it, a real killer escapes justice.”

  My hands knotted into fists as I watched the coach drive off. How I wished I had an opportunity to punch Miss Ingram in the stomach just like Lucy had! As if responding to my thoughts, my friend appeared at the top of the stairs. “I have a horrible headache,” she said, as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Let’s get you a cold cloth and a nice cup of tea. I’ll see if Polly has any remedy for your condition.”

  Once Polly and I had seen to Lucy’s comfort, I checked on the children. “Young Master is awful cranky, ma’am,” said Amelia. “Those little teeth of his are trying to break through the skin.” While she ran downstairs for brandy, I carried my son into Adèle’s room. The French girl sat in her chemise in the middle of a circle of dolls. “Adèle! You need to get dressed tout de suite,” I said, before I further instructed her to read another story of a saint.

  “Which one?” she asked.

  “You choose.” I joggled Ned and tried to distract him from the pain.

  Amelia took my son from me. “If the rain holds off, I’ll take the children to the park this afternoon. Maybe we can get Young Master to forget how badly his mouth hurts.”

  I thought this a good idea and told her so.

  A little later, with help from a tisane that Polly brewed, Lucy felt much better. Rags stretched out next to his mistress and licked her hand. “Dear, dear Rags. If the world turns its back on me, you’d still think I hung the moon, wouldn’t you?”

  “Lucy, I am loath to call you overly dramatic, but you are tipping the scale in that direction. Whatever abuses Blanche Ingram heaps upon you, there will be plenty of us who know how truly wonderful you are. Stop letting her destroy your happiness. In a few days, Evans will be here—and he won’t care one iota if you are invited to Almack’s or not. Come now. Let’s get you up and about.”

  I told her about Mr. Waverly’s visit.

  “Oh! I despise that woman more and more each day! I do not know who poisoned her mother, but I think the killer cut down the wrong Ingram!”

 
I tugged the bellpull for Polly. “Once you are dressed, we can discuss a strategy for dealing with this plague. Boils, locusts, and Ingrams!”

  In short order, Lucy came down the stairs looking like her lovely self. We repaired to the drawing room for tea and a planning session. “We could always drop by and see Minney and Maria,” said my friend as Higgins appeared with a card on a tray and once again bypassed Lucy. He held it out for me to take. “The courier is waiting for a response, Mrs. Rochester,” said Higgins.

  Although not a muscle moved in his face, he still seemed somewhat impressed.

  The note was of thick ivory stock with a red embossed crown on the flap. I peeled off the wax seal and opened an invitation to visit the King at Carlton House, right away.

  I put the card back on the tray and said to Higgins, “Please tell the courier that I have other plans.”

  Chapter 47

  Higgins looked aghast but turned to go.

  “Wait!” Lucy stopped her butler. “Jane, have you gone mad? This only looks like an invitation. It is in fact a royal summons. You may think you have a choice, but you don’t. You must go or risk the King’s displeasure.”

  I had no idea what that might mean, but the tone of her voice caused me to recognize she was deadly serious.

  “Don’t risk it,” she whispered. “You think you are safe because you are blameless, because you are a loyal citizen. But can you say the same for Edward? Can you be so confident that nothing in his past might come back to haunt him?”

  “Such as what? His marriage to a madwoman?” I scoffed, certain my husband had withheld no secrets from me.

  She sputtered and stomped her foot and finally spat out, “Such as a duel? Did you not ever wonder why his father was so eager to pack up his son and marry him off? Why it was important that Edward marry a woman of vast means and resources? Are you ignorant of the fact that the penalty for dueling is to be hanged to death?”

  I sank slowly into a chair, a little stunned by the realization that she was right. “Mrs. Fairfax had told me some of the particulars, but she edited her version quite skillfully.” A sick chill started in my fingers and quickly traveled up my arms. Was it possible my husband was at risk? Lucy had suffered from the King’s revenge, and now she hoped to spare me similar misery. Her husband might never come home, if His Majesty had his way.