Authors: Kathryn Caskie
"Y-yes," she croaked. "Are you sur
e
—
A
rgyll?"
"Sure as I can be. The widow hasn't had a gentleman visit the house since before her husband died. She's been primping all day. Never seen her in such a condition. Why she's acting like a love-struck chit."
Jenny sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the maid's cat wind an eight around her mistress's ankles. Molly could not possibly be right. Callu
m
had no interest in the widow. Heavens, anyone could see that.
"Here's your pelisse. It's so beautiful, miss. But if I were
m
akin' it for myself, I would have lined it with fur.
Why
go to the expense of using the softest velvet, satin trim, and rea
l
onyx buttons, then go and line it with
c
o
m
moners' wool?"
"For warmth, of course. Utility is far more important than style." Jenny roughly took the pelisse into her
206
hands and spread it across the bed to view Molly's work. "And besides, I do not condone the killing of innocent creatures simply to strip them of their fashionable fur."
Molly wrung her hands before her apron. "Oh,
yes.
I hadn't thought of that."
Jenny suddenly felt almost heroic. Yes, she might have saved countless beavers' lives by her decision. "It would be like . . . killing your cat because it has such lovely fur, wouldn't it?"
"Oh, Miss Penny, don't say that. Why, I'll never be able to look at a fur collar or muff again."
A little twinge of guilt pinched at Jenny as she remembered the bear muff sitting inside her wardrobe. But as she caressed her lovely new pelisse, the feeling vanished just as quickly as it had come.
"Molly! Molly!" came a harsh female voice from the other side of the door.
Molly's eyes filled with terror. "It's the mistress. What do we do?"
Jenny jumped to her feet and scanned the chamber. There was no way to escape. No windows. Not even a wardrobe in which to hide.
"Open this door!" came the widow's screech again.
A moment passed, during which neither Molly nor Jenny dared even to expel a breath.
"Very well, then . . ." The door swung open and the widow barged inside. Her eyes swung from Molly to Jenny.
"Who are you?" she demanded, but then, as she studied Jenny for a moment longer, her gaze softened. "Wait a moment. I
know
you!"
"
I
—
I
.. ."
Goodness.
She was going to faint. Sweat
207
began
t
o burst at her temples and blood pulsed in her ears.
The widow looked at Jenny's cream-colored muslin gown with tiny embroidered sprigs of gold ringing the hem. Clearly, this was not a lady's maid's costume.
Blas
t
! Why hadn't she changed into her brown frock before coming next door, and pulled a snowy mob cap over her perfectly coiffed hair?
Run,
her mind screamed.
Just run!
There was nothing else to do, so Jenny tucked the pelisse under her arm and started for the door. She could push her way through the spindly widow if she needed to. Certainly, Lady McCarthy wouldn't be expecting such a bold move.
But as she neared, a smile broke over the widow's otherwise pinched face and she extended her hand. "Lady Genevieve," she crooned. "So lovely to see you."
Jenny stopped a mere breath away from the widow. She forced her shaking hand forward and dropped a curtsy as she became Lady Genevieve.
Then the widow's brows cinched tightly. "But what are you doing here .. . with my maid?"
"
I
—
I
—" Jenny's mind began to spin through options, finally, miraculously pulling one plausible explanation from the jumbled mix in her mind. "I needed these onyx buttons sewn onto my pelisse."
More, Jenny. Something more.
"But after hearing that you were stabbed by the Feathertons' completely
mad
lady's maid, why, I feared for my life if I were to request her assistance." She
w
aited a moment, unsure if the widow was eating the lies she fed her.
The widow's eyes widened. "Yes, yes! She is mad,
208
that one. Why I couldn't walk for days after she stabbed my ankle down to the bon
e
—
the bone,
I tell you. Can you imagine?"
What a huffing liar.
Why, Jenny saw her dancing at the Fire and Ice Ball at the Upper Assembly Rooms that very evening!
"I remembered how kind you were to me, and since I needed the pelisse this ev
e
—
f
or it is exceedingly bitter this nigh
t
—
I
stopped by to ask your girl if she might quickly stitch the new buttons for me. And she did."
Jenny turned to Molly and pressed the guinea into her hand, taking care to fold the girl's fingers over the gold coin so her mistress would not see its high denomination. "This
shilling
is for you, Molly, for doing me the favor so quickly."
"A whole shilling for stitching buttons?" The widow appeared appalled. "I think not. Molly, give it back."
Jenny raised her hand. "Madam, I do insist. And I must commend you on the training of your staff. For though I pressed, they insisted I not disturb you for you were about to receive an esteemed guest."
The widow flushed with color. "Err ... yes. A .. . just a gentleman friend."
Jenny smiled at her. "Really? Well, he must be quite handsome for you look positively radiant this eve."
The older woman gave a nervous half laugh, and surveyed her f
l
ame-hued gown with a matronly green turban. She looked like a huge orange.
"Oh, he is somewhat tolerable, I suppose."
Jenny fought the impulse to sneer.
Tolerable, indeed.
If 'twas Lord Argyll paying her a call, tolerable was not a word she would ever use to describe such a devastating
l
y handsome man.
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"Well, I do thank you for the use of your girl. I must away. Good eve, Lady McCarthy." Jenny dropped a deep curtsy, then with a parting glance at a totally confused Molly, she exited the chamber.
At a mad dash, she shot through the service door and headed back to the Featherton household.
******************
After placing her new pelisse in her wardrobe, Jenny crept up the stairs and slipped into the drawing room. By luck, the room was unoccupied, though candles glowed in the two sconces above the hearth where a low fire burned.
She was relieved, for now she could step behind the thick curtains and watch for Callu
m
through the great windows facing the crescent. For nearly an hour, she stood with her forehead and her hands, spread like two fleshy stars, pressed against the cold glass.
Though Molly and the widow had all but confirmed his visit, Jenny could not make herself believe it. And so
s
he stood, waiting, until, just as the ta
l
l case clock
s
truck eight in the eve, a familiar town carriage drew up before the widow's home.
Holding her breath until her lungs burned, Jenny watched as the footman let down the stairs, and Callum,
so
ruggedly handsome in his f
i
ne dress kilt, stepped out
i
nto the night. He was holding a gathering of hothouse roses in his gloved hand.
Roses.
How she loved roses. In fact, they were her
a
bsolute favorite flower.
Her brows drew together and she felt a sudden tightness in her chest. He'd never brought her roses. Heat
210
washed across her eyes. Why was he bringing them to the widow? Had he dismissed her, er .. . Lady Genevieve, already?
Callu
m
stopped before continuing up the walk and turned to stare up at the Feathertons' house, at the same window where Jenny stood. For some moments, he did not move, but looked up, waiting.
Jenny's body jerked involuntarily, though she was sure he could not see her.
"Who is in there?" came Lady Viola's voice from the direction of the high-backed wing chair.
Jenny froze. She hadn't noticed her when she came into the drawing room. The lady must have entered only belatedly. And so, for a moment, Jenny thought not to answer, in hopes that the old woman might think she had imagined the movement she evidently saw behind the curtains.
"Hello. Is that you hiding in the draperies, Meredith?"
Reaching out her left hand, Jenny pushed the curtain aside and stepped out from behind d
i
em. "No, 'tis Jenny," she answered guiltily.
"Whatever are you doing behind there? It must be dreadfully cold standing so close to the glass. Come away from there, child, before you catch your death." Lady Viola coaxed Jenny forward with a crook of her finger.
Jenny came to stand before her lady, her eyes scraping the floor. "
I
—
I
saw Lord Argyll just now."
Lady Viola sat up straight. "Argyll,
here?
"
"No, my lady. I believe he meant to have an interview with the widow."
Lady Viola brought her fingers to her lips, and her
211
eyes began to shuttle back and forth in her head. "This is not good, child. Something is afoot."
Something about the frail woman's tone unnerved Jenny. "What do you mean, my lady?"
"Letitia suspected something after all of the widow's odd questions yesterday, but I told Sister she was just chasing a feather in the air. But she was right all along." A walking stick shot up from beside the chair and plunged into the carpet. "Some assistance, please, Jenny. Help me stand."
Jenny looped her forearms under the old woman's armpits and hauled her from the wing-backed chair. "Is something amiss, my lady? Please, you'd let me know if there were."
A pale, withered hand sluiced through the air, dismissing her question outright.
"Letitia!" Lady Viola cried, startling Jenny so much that she nearly fell backward into the fire.
"My lady,
please.
What is wrong?"
But Lady Viola was already halfway into the passage, screaming for her sister every second step. "Letitia!
Letitia,
come quickly, Sister! We've got trouble. Immense trouble!"
Chapter
Thirteen
Within minutes, both Featherton ladies were bundled in their wraps and charging, in their own way, out the front door.
Jenny and Meredith rushed down the passage to catch the two old women. Instead, they snared only a scattering of words trailing behind the ladies in the frigid night air on silver scarves of vapor.
"Never you fear, Viola, she'll not turn us out into the cold. So we'll just remain until Argyll takes his leave," came Lady Letitia's booming voice as the two made their way to the widow's front walk.
"What do you suppose is wrong?" Jenny asked Meredith, hoping that she, with her tendency to accidentally overhear private conversations, might have gleaned some enlightening bits and pieces.
Meredith's blue eyes glowed like cut sapphires in the candlelight and Jenny knew at once she had not been wrong. Meredith knew something.
"The widow came by yesterday and most urgently wished to see my aunts. When I sat down to join them for tea, she made it quite clear that she had a private
213
matter to discuss with the ladies and that matter
did not
include me." Meredith gave Jenny a charged look.
So Jenny reacted as she guessed Meredith wanted her to. "How incredibly rude! Casting you out of your aunts' own drawing room."
Meredith smiled puckishly. "I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of treating me like a child, so I left the drawing room, walked down the passage and straight into the dining room, where I listened to everything that was said through the open door."
Jenny took Meredith's hand and led her to the chairs, where they settled themselves, on either side of the drawing room hearth. "What did you hear?" she asked.
Meredith hesitated, which was very uncharacteristic of her nature. "I do not know what it all means. Her words were naught but a pile of puzzle pieces to m
e
— but to you, Jenny ..."
"I do not know the widow at all, so I am sure her words will mean little to me as well." Jenny grinned
c
onspiratorially. "Still, I do love a good secret."