Chapter 18

Georgianna entered the private drawing room of Mrs. Whitlow and immediately recognized that things had gone very, very wrong. Arliss was there, his head hanging into his hands as he moaned miserably. Their hostess, Mrs. Whitlow, was seated on a brocade upholstered settee next to the impeccably turned out Regina Cavender.

“Mrs. Cranford,” Mrs. Whitlow said, rising from her seat, “Mrs. Cavender would like a word with you. In the meantime, I shall go and make certain that everything is in order for your departure.”

The house party was scheduled to carry on for two more days. They were being thrown out.

“Mrs. Cavender,” Mrs. Whitlow continued, “I’ll have two footmen right outside the door should you require any assistance.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m certain I will be fine. I think the Cranfords understand where things sit now. Don’t you, Mrs. Cranford?”

Georgianna tried bravado, throwing her shoulders back and lifting her chin. “Not yet, but I’m certain you shall be only too happy to explain.”

Mrs. Whitlow nodded and exited the room, leaving the three of them there. “I presume we’re being ousted from the party… and Ambleside’s society, meager as it is?” Georgianna demanded.

“Oh, one could say that,” Mrs. Cavender said. “And you should count yourselves lucky, after Mr. Cranford’s atrocious behavior last night, that worse is not happening.”

Georgianna’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Arliss. The pallor of his face was a dead giveaway. He’d thrown himself into a bottle of brandy the night before. She hadn’t known because he’d never returned to their chambers. Now she feared what he might have been doing instead. “What atrocious behavior is that? I cannot imagine he’s the only gentleman to over imbibe! It is a party, after all.”

“Indeed, he is not… but most gentlemen who over imbibe, as you so generously put it, do not force themselves into the chambers of female guests and accost them to the point that they require rescue. I daresay Mr. Cranford is quite lucky that Miss Mulberry—pardon, the Marchioness Aimsbury— interceded on his behalf. Had she not, I have little doubt you would be a widow at this very moment.”

“Pity that she did,” Georgianna said with a hint of defiance in her voice. “Widowhood seems much preferable to marriage at this point. But then you’d know, wouldn’t you? How is it again that your husband died? An unfortunate accident while cleaning a brace of pistols, I believe.” The barb did not have the desired effect. Mrs. Cavender appeared impervious to it, in fact.

“Yes. That is precisely what happened to my husband. An unfortunate accident… Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to have such fate befall your own husband. Of course, given his penchant for forcing his way into the wrong room, as he did last night, someone might well shoot him for you. Suffice to say, Ethan rescued his bride and the two of them are even now on their way home.”

Seeing a way to needle the other woman, Georgianna offered, “The house you’ve overseen and managed for so long is just to be handed over to another? That seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Cavender smiled. “No. It seems like a relief that I will no longer have to take on those responsibilities. Instead, I will be able to travel or visit or simply enjoy a languid respite in the countryside. I might even leave Ambleside and make my way back to London. I suggest, Mrs. Cranford, that you leave Ambleside, as well. I think a return to Birmingham for both you and your husband is in order. I think you will find that small communities tend to be to be quite close knit and unwelcoming to outsiders.”

Bitterness welled up inside Georgianna. She’d always failed to achieve the status she wanted in Birmingham. Pretty, but not beautiful. Wealthy enough, but hardly the richest. Of a good family, but not well connected. The litany of ways she was viewed as mediocre was nearly endless. And Regina Cavender, in all her dark beauty, sat there looking at Georgianna as if she was beneath her. “She’s not so perfect… the new marchioness. And neither are you. The people of Ambleside will know that one day. When the truth comes out about how you became a widow, you’ll be as ruined as I am.”

Regina Cavender’s smile was cold enough to chill even a corpse. “The primary difference between us, Mrs. Cranford, is that I do not care. I’m as happy to be seen as a poor, grieving widow as I am to be seen as a murderous wife. Unlike you, I do not need the approval of others… only of myself. And your husband… well, he needs a cure for a bottle-weary head and some sort of purpose in his life to keep him out of trouble. You should look into that. After all, marriage is forever.”

Georgianna spared a glance at Arliss, who immediately cast up his accounts into the bucket that had been placed before him. Forever, indeed. An unfortunate accident for him was seeming more and more likely.

Mrs. Cavender rose. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Cranford. Have a safe journey.”

With that, the other woman sailed from the room with a grace that even the Queen herself would envy. Georgianna turned to Arliss. “You’re disgusting. But I am stuck with you for the time being, so I’d advise you to pull yourself together. We will leave this house with some modicum of dignity regardless of the circumstances… I cannot believe you would attempt to force yourself on that woman when, for seven years, you ignored her entirely.”

“I didn’t,” he said miserably. “I only asked her to take me back… it was a misunderstanding, Georgie, nothing more.”

“Why? Because she had the audacity not to spend her life pining for you? I did not wrong her by ‘stealing’ you. I did her a service… and the thanks I get is banishment. Sit up, for God’s sake, and act like a man for once in your miserable life,” she snapped. “When we get back to Birmingham, you’re going to work for my father and you cannot do that if you’re swimming at the bottom of a bottle.”

“Your father hates me!” Arliss protested.

Georgianna sniffed. He wasn’t the only one.

“You’ve made an enemy of her,” Mrs. Whitlow warned. “Her ire, previously, had been directed at Charlotte. It will now be turned toward you.”

One of Regina’s winged eyebrows lifted, her expression revealing that she relished the challenge. “I’m well equipped to deal with the likes of her. Charlotte is entirely too kindhearted for that. I am not. I think, Mrs. Whitlow, it might be better to say that she has made an enemy of me.”

Mrs. Whitlow let out a laugh that was more conspiratorial cackle than simple amusement. “Oh, I do like you, Mrs. Cavender. And I hope, God willing, I live long enough to see the final battle between you and Mrs. Georgianna Cranford. Assuming she remains Mrs. Cranford, of course. Divorce isn’t exactly easy.”

“She will not divorce him. But he should pay extra attention to his food and drink. I would not put it past her to poison him.”

Mrs. Whitlow nodded her agreement. “She would not be the first woman to resort to murder to free herself from an untenable situation. Arliss Cranford is the worst thing a man can be… weak.”

Regina considered telling the other women that a man could be things much worse than simply weak, but then she would have to tell her what that was. And Regina did not talk about her marriage. Not to anyone. Not even to her brother who had saved her from it.

“Will you return to Aimswood Hall?” Mrs. Whitlow continued.

“I think so… eventually. I will look for a smaller house nearby. My brother is my only family and I would not want to be too far away. My hope is that I might be presented with a niece or nephew to spoil. One cannot do that from a distance.”

Mrs. Whitlow nodded her understanding. “Indeed. I was not blessed in my marriage with children. Perhaps that is why I was always so close to Charlotte. I think of her almost as a daughter… And I could not be more pleased with how this has all worked itself out. She and the Marquess belong together. I knew that from the moment I saw him see her. I’d never seen a man with hearts and stars in his eyes before, but he certainly had them.”

Regina laughed, recalling the moment very clearly. “Indeed. If Ethan is moved to express emotion, it is typically one of great extremes. And he did fall in love with Charlotte at first sight. I would not have believed such a thing possible had I not seen it myself.”

The older woman leveled an assessing gaze on Regina. “It is not too late for you to find love, Mrs. Cavender. I do not know the circumstances of your marriage, but it is no great secret that it was not a happy one. You are young yet. Children of your own are still a possibility.”

Regina shook her head. “No. I am content in widowhood. I value my independence more than I could ever value a man.”

Mrs. Whitlow made a tisking sound. “Be careful not to speak in such absolutes, my dear. Time and life have a way of making fools of us when we do.”