Chapter 17

Despite his reputation as something of a hard-nosed miser, it turned out that Mr. Maddox was a surprisingly soft touch. Of course, it helped that Lady Veronica was a consummate professional at bestowing little compliments that were not so blatant as to be patronising.

Lady Veronica also had no quibbles about reminding him that she was a widow, freshly out of mourning; she would occasionally touch the black ribbon about her neck, upon which was hung a locket. It would appear to anyone observing that she was fondly remembering a miniature of her late husband, tucked away inside, but Kitty suspected it was empty.

Moreover, it was early December, with the holiday season just around the corner. It was considered bad form at the very least to call in debts at this time, gauche to the highest degree. This was doubly so when one was dealing with a widow, who had a tendency to go misty-eyed at the mere mention of the impending feast days, being the first without her husband, and her son still across the sea.

So it was of little surprise that Mr. Maddox was persuaded to drop his debt claim for the time being. As she watched all of this transpire, Kitty could not help but feel as if she were receiving the strangest, but most practical, education at a kind of finishing school.

Once, when they were alone in the carriage, Lady Veronica caught Kitty watching her. She arched one of her dark brows and inquired if Kitty required attention of some sort.

"I don't mean to stare," Kitty said hastily, "it's simply that I hadn't realised that there was such an art to navigating the ton when you are a woman alone. Or that it was even possible to do so," she added.

Lady Veronica's mouth quirked as if she were considering smiling, but then she sighed and looked out of the carriage window as London slowly rolled past. "It is less about ‘possible' and more about ‘necessary,'" she said. "The late Viscount was rarely at home, and it fell to me to maintain our family's standing. It is difficult when there is only one child; you must do everything for them then, to ensure not only their future, but for generations onward."

An unexpected pang of guilt jabbed at Kitty. She, too, turned to look sharply out the window, swallowing hard. She knew that her parents had done everything to prepare her brother to take over the holdings and her father's trading firm. When he had died, on a far-away shore, they had simply been unable to cope. A kind of denial had settled on the entire household then.

"You are looking very thoughtful, Catherine," Lady Veronica said. "Is something troubling you?"

It was unexpected and a little unprecedented for Lady Veronica to take a personal interest in Kitty, at least vocally. In the interest of maintaining parity, she dropped her gaze to her hands and decided on honesty.

"I don't think I have been very fair to my parents," she admitted quietly.

"I've yet to meet any child who is," Lady Veronica said wryly. "Even the most dutiful of them are a trial at one point or another."

"Thank you, that's helped greatly," Kitty retorted before she would stop herself.

To her relief and surprise, Lady Veronica merely tilted her head a little in her Kitty's direction. "Very well, if you wish to treat this brief carriage ride—our only respite between appointments today, mind—as something of a confessional, be my guest. Unburden yourself as you see fit."

Kitty eyed Lady Veronica for a moment, unsure if she was speaking in jest or not. She decided to chance it. "After my brother died, I don't think…I don't believe that any of us really considered what that meant for all of us."

Lady Veronica did not object, so Kitty hurried on, the words just tumbling out as she thought them. "It was always assumed that—that Steven would simply see to everything, since there was an heir presumptive. Steven was the future, and I was… Well, I honestly don't know what I was. Something like a very good painting," she said, stumbling a little over her brother's name, which she hadn't said aloud for years. "I was the landscape in the hall, something to show to guests when they came calling, and everyone would stand around and nod, saying, ‘Ah yes, what a lovely picture, really brightens the place up.' Steven was real, and I was…not."

Lady Veronica gave a mirthless chuckle. "Yes, that is ever the plight of our sex, particularly when one is a pretty girl."

"And I was so angry at my parents, my father for losing our fortune, my mother for not preparing me for the possibility that I would have to be—to be sold off into the marriage market to keep all of us afloat. I did not really exist for years, and then suddenly it was all down to me to keep us from the streets," Kitty continued, her words coming faster and faster. "All I saw was that they wanted me to marry…well, you saw the Baron."

" You saw him twice; I've known him for nearly half my life," Lady Veronica muttered. "Never knew a party that he could not dampen. You're well clear of him."

"Perhaps so," Kitty agreed. "But I never stopped to consider that my parents might be just as lost and floundering as I was. They had a perfect vision of the future, and then that future simply was not. I think…I think I've been very unfair to them."

"Most likely," Lady Veronica agreed.

"Helpful," Kitty muttered darkly.

"But that does not mean that you were unjust in your feelings. As far as I can tell, your father laid no provision for you, which is very poorly done," Lady Veronica said. "You were given the opportunity to marry for practical means, which you declined. There's no point in coming over all watery about decisions that are done and cannot be undone. If I'd known you were given to bouts of sentimentality, I'd never have taken you in."

Kitty turned her gaze back out the window. It was beginning to snow, the flakes dancing around in the wake of the carriages as they passed through the streets. She knew that Lady Veronica did not mean what she said, for the truth was, they complemented each other well, in a way. She suspected that the viscountess was prickly as a means to conceal her own predilection for sentiment.

"I suppose that it is a luxury to have the principle that I should like to marry for love," Kitty said at last, her breath fogging the window a little as she spoke.

"Of course it is," Lady Veronica agreed. "You must decide if it is a luxury you can afford in your reduced circumstances." She paused, then touched Kitty's arm with her gloved hand. "You must decide if this is a price you are willing to pay; no one else can make that decision for you."

"What about you?" Kitty asked, returning Lady Veronica's gaze. "Did you marry for love?"

Lady Veronica reared back a little, bristly, her face closing off. "That is entirely too pert of you," she admonished without any real heat.

Kitty said nothing, merely looked expectantly at Lady Veronica, who was doing her best not to meet Kitty's eye. She reached up with one hand and touched the locket on the black velvet ribbon about her neck again, and Kitty followed the motion.

"I made my choices long ago. That is enough for you to know," the viscountess said at last.

A lull in the conversation followed, with Kitty turning her attention back to the streets and sidewalks as they passed. They were on their way out to the building site, where work had halted. Lady Veronica had carefully put out the story that it was in deference to the freezing ground, and not because she could not afford to pay the builders.

The buildings began to thin, gradually giving way to empty fields. The roads, too, became rougher, the carriage jostling occasionally as the wheels found ruts frozen into the mud. The ladies were forced to put their hands to the ceiling and sides of the carriage on occasion to prevent themselves from tumbling off the benches.

By the time they had reached the site in question, they were quite relieved to step out of the carriage, even if it was into the cold December air. They had little time to recover their equanimity, however, for the man they were to be meeting, one Mr. Forsythe, was already awaiting their arrival.

Lady Veronica had it on good authority that he was not as soft of a touch as Mr. Maddox had been; he would require figures and facts, to be persuaded to their course. It was unlikely that he would fall prey to the sentimentality of a widow in winter.

They had dressed not only in deference to the cold weather, but also for the purpose at hand. Lady Veronica had settled on a riding habit, a little out of date with the waist low and fullness around the hips, but the red colour and row of buttons down the front gave the impression of a field marshal striding about. She set this off with black gloves and boots, carrying a riding stick which she used as both a cane and a means of pointing to various landmarks to illustrate her points.

Kitty, meanwhile, had been assigned the role of bookish assistant. It was her job to tote about a leather folio, packed with architect's sketches, cost estimates, and endless lists of facts and figures, as well as projections for future profits. Her dark hair was pulled back severely, coiled into a braid at the back of her head that was pinned tightly. She, too, wore an outfit that passed as something of a riding habit, with a closely cut bodice and long, straight skirt. A white collar and cravat peeked from the top, giving the illusion of a man's riding suit. A plain black riding hat completed the ensemble.

In an effort to further the charade that Kitty was a woman of letters and numbers, a pair of tiny spectacles perched on her little nose, which were prone to sliding down and she was obliged to keep nudging back upward. She stood silently to one side, wordlessly passing over the required sheets from the folio as required.

It was altogether strange to see the way in which Lady Veronica wages a war of sense and persuasion on Mr. Forsythe, a man with a red beak of a nose and hollow cheeks. It was also altogether inspiring, for Kitty had never seen a woman speak as Lady Veronica did, with such a clear understanding of what was required.

The site manager appeared, a round man with a round belly and an equally red nose as Mr. Forsythe. He was dressed in the brown worsted wools of a working man, his waistcoat pulling tightly across her belly. He pulled his forelock in deference to Lady Veronica.

"It is imperative that work resumes so that at least this road here," Lady Veronica said, pointing to a blank lane on the map that Kitty balanced on the open folio, "is completed by the spring thaw. All else depends on it."

"Begging your pardon, missus—that is, my Lady," the foreman said, reaching up to touch his forehead again, "but this is easier said than done. The ground is freezing fast, and it's no time to be laying cobbles."

"It needn't be cobbled," Lady Veronica replied coolly, "merely cleared and flattened, with the kerbs laid."

The foreman glanced to Mr. Forsythe, a gesture so tiny that it would be easily missed by anyone, but Kitty saw Lady Veronica immediately seize onto it. It was like a falcon seeing a twitch of grass in a field that gave away the position of a mouse.

"I'm not sure that is wise either, my Lady," the foreman said, hesitating. "The frost is on us, and mortar won't stick."

"Hm," Lady Veronica said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose that you would know more about these things, Mister…?"

"Ah, Bullworth, my Lady," the foreman supplied, shooting another wary glance to Mr. Forsythe.

"Mr. Bullworth," Lady Veronica continued, "you clearly are a man of experience—obviously that is why my husband hired you."

"I'd like to think so, your Ladyship," Mr. Bullworth said. "Been a carpenter and mason for most of m'life."

"Of course," Lady Veronica said, smiling at him without it reaching her eyes. "And I am sure that someone with so much experience would know that you might lay sheepskins or peat upon the masonry to keep the mortar warm enough while it sets."

"How did—that is, yes, that is possible, my Lady," Mr. Bullworth stammered, his eyes darting to Mr. Forsythe again. Kitty, mindful that she could not break character at this moment, lowered her head lest she grin and give the game away.

"It's more than possible," Lady Veronica said, rounding on the hapless Mr. Bullworth. "It is precisely what you shall do. This road must be done by March, no later."

"I am not sure how we shall convince the workmen to return to their posts," Mr. Bullworth said weakly. "Being as the accounts are somewhat in arrears."

"That is for Mr. Forsythe to see to," Lady Veronica said coolly, levelling her hawkish gaze onto the man in the improbably tall black top hat.

"Now, what's this? I shouldn't take such liberties, if I were—" he began, but Lady Veronica cut him off with a coy sidelong glance.

"Do not mistake me, Mr. Forsythe," Lady Veronica said, her tone low and disconcertingly gentle. "I know precisely how you managed to evangel Mr. Bullworth here into my husband's business affairs. I know full well that you are both constant drinking companions—yes, you may look surprised all you like, but I can see it on you even now. You might wish to pass off your red noses as the result of a December breeze, but I know all-too-well that their true origins are in a pub less than a mile back. You might think you have a full measure of me, but I can assure you that I have more eyes in places than you shall ever know."

Mr. Forsythe and Mr. Bullworth both stood staring at Lady Veronica. Kitty, too, her guise momentarily forgot, simply stared at her, feeling more than a little in awe, and a good dose of foolishness as well. Gentlemen made no bones about women and gossip, that it was their favourite sport after husband-hunting; Kitty had never realised that it could be used as a means of procuring such pointed information.

Satisfied, Lady Veronica made to leave, and then turned back abruptly. "And how is Mrs. Forsythe, if I might ask? It's been some years since I've seen her."

"She's well," Mr. Forsythe answered warily.

"Oh good," Lady Veronica said, all warm smiles again. "I am pleased to know that there is someone to hold you accountable to. Tell me, do you still pretend it is your niece that you are visiting in the lower end of Covent Garden?"

Now Kitty really did let her guise slip. Her mouth fell open, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. Everyone knew why a gentleman would call upon a young lady in that particular corner of Covent Garden. To brazenly mention it outloud, in such company, was unheard of.

Mr. Forsythe's reaction was to go pale, then red all over, his lips pressing so tightly together that they were nearly white. Nothing more was said, but Kitty did not doubt that the workers would have their wages restored in quick order.

Lady Veronica was already on her way back to the carriage, and Kitty had to hustle to catch up. She suspected that she had a great deal of "catching up" to do in order to keep up with Lady Veronica.