by Rose Pearson
“Your husband died from a fall from his horse, I believe.”
Taking another sip of her tea, Emily cleared her throat and then held Lady Blakely’s gaze. “Indeed,” she replied, calmly.
“I did hear,” Lady Blakely continued, leaning forward in a conspiratorial fashion, “that your marriage was not a happy one.”
There was no answer that Emily was willing to give to such a declaration. Her marriage to Lord Smithton had been greatly unhappy, but there was no need for anyone to be aware of such a thing, and certainly not someone like Lady Blakely. She did not reply, therefore, allowing Lady Blakely’s statement to hang in the air and fall to the ground thereafter.
“I can see that I am not going to be successful in any attempt at conversation from you,” Lady Blakely said suddenly, putting her teacup down and hurriedly rising to her feet, her skirts billowing out around her. “Goodness, Lady Smithton, you have changed vastly since I last was introduced to you.”
Emily could not help but smile. “I am glad to hear it,” she told Lady Blakely, seeing the lady start in surprise. “I was a mouse when I first came to London, Lady Blakely. A mouse who was told what to do, how to act, what to say and who to marry.” Her confidence filled her chest as she rose to her feet, one eyebrow arching gently. “I am no longer that mouse, Lady Blakely, and therefore even less inclined to allow anyone to try and persuade me to speak about what I do not wish to. Particularly when I am certain that they seek to discover such things from me so that they might then pass it on to others.” She saw Lady Blakely’s color heighten but did not hold herself back from continuing to speak honestly. “I am aware that there will be some question over my return to London and believe me, I know full well the extent of my father’s whispers, but I will not permit such things to pull me down into a pit of despair. A pit from which I have only just escaped, Lady Blakely.”
Lady Blakely sniffed and hoisted her chin in the air. “I do not think that you will do particularly well in London, Lady Smithton,” she told her, judgmentally. “You have become abrasive in your manner and are now suggesting such things about my own character – that I am here only to seek gossip and such like – when the truth is that I came merely to offer my sympathies to a young lady who now finds herself without her husband.”
Emily did not move, nor did she let Lady Blakely’s words sting her. She had the measure of Lady Blakely and would not allow her ill manner to affect how she behaved in any way. She was beyond that now.
Seeing that she was to get no reaction from Emily, Lady Blakely huffed loudly, then turned on her heel and walked towards the door. “I bid you good day, Lady Smithton,” she said, her voice high pitched and her face turned away from Emily. “I do not think I shall seek out your company again.”
And nor shall I, thought Emily, gratefully, as the lady marched from the room. I shall choose my own acquaintances amongst society, since I am finally permitted to do so, and gossipmongers shall not be amongst them.
Feeling fairly satisfied with how the visit had gone, Emily rose to her feet and wandered to the window, looking down upon London and thinking back to when she had first arrived as a debutante. Things were vastly different now, particularly as regarded her own character. She had grown in confidence and in strength of mind, able to see that she could, in fact, choose her own path in spite of what others might think. That was precisely what she was here to do now. Having no intention of seeking out a new husband, Emily wanted to experience all that London had to offer for what would be the first time in her life. Free from expectations, from demands and from society’s urgings, she would go where she pleased and speak to whomever she wished. She would care nothing for what society thought of her, for her reputation meant nothing to them now. She was a widow and had her own means by which to live, which meant that she could do precisely as she pleased.
Emily intended to enjoy every minute of it.
Chapter Four
Walking through St James Park alone was a welcome relief from the crush of last evening. Emily allowed herself to breathe deeply, wanting to spread her arms wide in order to take in the fresh air, the clouds, the sky and the beautiful sunshine. She had attended her first ball of the Season only last night, having been invited by Lord Churston, whom she remembered from her first Season. It had taken Emily some time to consider whether or not she would accept, but in the end, she had done so. The ball had been filled with guests and she had, for the most part, had an enjoyable evening. She had not danced with anyone, however, even though one or two gentlemen had asked. She had seen the look on their faces. They had wanted her to dance simply for the notoriety of dancing with Lady Smithton. It would simply be another way to feed the gossip that was swirling all around London about her.
Emily sighed to herself and tried to push such thoughts from her mind. How different it was now that she was free to behave and to act as she pleased! She was able to speak to those she wished to speak to, to refrain from those she disliked. She could choose whether she wanted to dance or if she should stay away from the dance floor. No-one could tell her what to do.
Of course, there had been a good many questions from those about her as to her current standing in society. It had come as something of a surprise to discover that the new Lord Smithton – a gentle, older man that was a distant relation of her late husband – was willing to not only give her back the sum of her dowry but also to bequeath her a small townhouse in London. She had been permitted to spend her mourning year at the estate and her marital home, before moving to London, and it was this that had surprised many people. Apparently, many had thought that she would now be seeking a new situation with a new husband, so that her current position in life, along with all the good things that came with having substantial wealth, could be continued. Emily had quashed that idea repeatedly, although she had never gone into detail about why she was now able to live with such independence. The ton did not need to know such a thing. All that was required for their understanding was to know that she was a lady of independent means who had no intention of giving up her freedom in order to remarry, no matter who it was that proposed.
“My goodness, is that…?”
Tugged from her thoughts by the sound, Emily arched one eyebrow and looked directly at the two young ladies who were whispering much too loudly if they did not want to be overheard. A sigh escaped from her as she did so, finding herself rather wearied by the young ladies’ interest and lack of decorum. It was not as though she were not becoming quite used to this sort of thing, given that practically everywhere she went, her presence was noticed. Lady Blakely had done precisely as Emily had expected and had spread the gossip all through London. Emily had overheard some snatches of what had been said, hearing that she had been a hard and cold lady, who had spoken cruelly to Lady Blakely and showed no sadness over the death of her husband. That only gave credence to the other rumor, which still lingered over Emily’s head. The rumor that her manner and behavior had been what had driven her husband to take his life.
Not that she was about to allow any such whisperings to go past unnoticed, however! Emily had decided that, instead of simply overhearing gentlemen and ladies commenting about her, she would turn to them and address them directly. It took a good deal of courage and assertiveness, but the first time she had done so, the gentleman who had been speaking had been so ashamed that he had backed away stammering apologies. It gave her the thought that she should continue to do so, in order to prove to the beau monde that she was not about to be trifled with.
“I do not think it is,” the second young lady said to the first. “Besides which, I –”
“Yes,” Emily interrupted, firmly, turning to face the two young ladies. “It is I, Lady Emily Smithton. That is, I am certain, to whom you are referring?” She arched one eyebrow and gave them both a stern glance, which immediately brought about the effect she had hoped.
The first young lady colored at once, her cheeks going a deep scarlet as she turned her head away. It
was clear that she was struggling to find something to say, having not expected Emily to turn her head and speak to them about what they had been whispering. The second young lady, however, showed no such strong reaction. Her cheeks colored, yes, but she continued to regard Emily with rather obvious interest. Emily looked back at her directly taking her in. The young lady appeared to be a little older than the first, with a rather dull bonnet and certainly an obvious lack of manners!
“Is there something you wish to say to me?” Emily asked, growing a little irritated with the continued stare of the young lady, who should have been embarrassed enough to have, at the very least, made an apology! “I know that there is a rumor going around London about the passing of my husband but I can assure you that such rumors do not influence me in the slightest. I am also aware that Lady Blakely has decided that I am rude and cold in my manner and so has been speaking of such things to anyone who will listen. Nothing has affected me as yet. Therefore, you are welcome to tell whomever you wish that you have seen me and even spoken to me, if you wish it but pray, desist your gawping!” She arched a brow. “Not only it is unspeakably rude, it is entirely unladylike for two young ladies such as yourselves.”
This speech seemed to have affected the second young lady, for she did drop her gaze but, much to Emily’s surprise, stepped forward, bobbing into an awkward curtsy right in the middle of St. James’ Park. The first young lady did no such thing, hissing urgently at the second who took no notice of her. Emily, surprised, remained where she was, wondering what this young lady thought she was doing.
“I must apologize profusely for my rudeness, Lady Smithton,” said the creature before her, now stammering awkwardly. “I- I should not have been staring, nor whispering in such an improper manner, but it is only that I find myself rather in awe of you.”
Blinking in surprise, Emily regarded the young lady carefully, taking in her rather sharp features and realizing that she was, in fact, quite tall. The other girl had taken her leave of the first and was now sitting on a bench some yards away from Emily, her face turned away from them both. Emily shrugged inwardly, turning her attention back to the lady in front of her.
“Might I enquire as to your name?” she asked, seeing the color begin to fade from the young lady’s cheeks. “We have not exactly been introduced, although you appear to be well acquainted with me.”
“Forgive me,” the young lady said, quickly, lifting a hand and running it over her eyes. “You are correct to state that I have not been introduced to you.” A sharp laugh escaped her. “I am again proving my impropriety and my failings, am I not?” A quick glance was shot towards Emily, who merely stood waiting patiently for her to continue.
The lady cleared her throat. “You attended Lord Churston’s ball last evening and I was told then who you were. I will admit that I have heard the gossip and the whispers about you, Lady Smithton, but I have given them no consideration, I assure you.” Her eyes darted to Emily’s and, even though she was a little frustrated with the persistence of the young lady, Emily found herself a little concerned at the worry that was etched in the light blue eyes that looked back at her. She was also somewhat intrigued by what this lady meant by speaking to her in such a manner. Was she merely trying to begin an acquaintance? If so, she was going about in the most improper fashion.
“Your name, if you please,” she said again, although not unkindly.
“Oh, of course.” The young lady scraped into a curtsy again, clearly trying to make up for her previous exhibition of poor manners. “Do excuse me, Lady Smithton. I am Miss Emma Bavidge, daughter to Viscount Hawkridge.”
“I see,” Emily replied, looking at the young lady but finding no particular nudge in her mind as to who she might be. “I confess that I do not know your name nor that of your father’s, Miss Bavidge. Ought I to do so? I was only in London some two years ago but still that name does not come to me.”
Miss Bavidge dropped her head, a slow flush creeping up her cheeks. “You have not heard, I suppose,” she stated, her fingers twisting together in front of her. “I am a little surprised, for it has been on the lips of almost everyone I know.”
Emily frowned, her surprise and her interest growing. “I have only been in London for a fortnight or so, Miss Bavidge. I have not heard a good deal other than my own name being mentioned!” She gave Miss Bavidge a wry smile, feeling as though this young lady was, in fact, speaking the truth about how she had paid little regard to the gossip about Emily. “Pray, do tell me.”
Miss Bavidge looked about her helplessly. “Might we walk for a few minutes, Lady Smithton?” she asked, sounding a trifle uneasy. “It can be a heavy burden and walking does aid me somewhat.”
A little taken aback by the young woman’s quick and apparent distress, Emily nodded and turned to walk along the path again. “You need not fear that I will turn from you, Miss Bavidge,” she said, kindly. “Whatever it is that concerns you, it will not bring about my immediate judgement.”
The young lady flushed crimson, dropping her golden head. “You are very kind, my lady,” she murmured, falling into step beside Emily. “Not everyone is as kind as you, I fear. My father’s disgrace has become my own.”
Frowning at this, Emily shook her head with a quick understanding and sympathy for what Miss Bavidge spoke of. “If this is what has been troubling you, Miss Bavidge, then be assured that you may speak openly in the knowledge that I will not berate you nor think you shameful in any way. If your father’s disgrace is entirely his own doing, then I shall give you none of the blame nor consider your reputation stained beyond hope. Please.” She smiled at Miss Bavidge, who had lifted her head a little, seemingly encouraged. “Tell me all that has occurred.”
Miss Bavidge let out a long breath, set her shoulders and began to explain and Emily found herself listening intently, feeling as though she had come across someone who might one day, become a friend.
“My father, Viscount Hawkridge, has a penchant for gambling and the like,” Miss Bavidge began, regret in her voice. “I will not go into details but he was worried for his fortune due to his great many debts and came across something that he thought he might use to aid him with this trouble.” A dark expression flickered across her face. “In short, Lady Smithton, my father attempted to blackmail someone who held a greater position in society than he. This was discovered and revealed, and my father’s disgrace was made known.”
“And you, also, have been torn down with him,” Emily finished, seeing the wretched look on Miss Bavidge’s face. “Even though you had nothing whatsoever to do with the matter. Is that not correct?”
Miss Bavidge nodded, swallowing hard before she replied. “It is exactly as you say, Lady Smithton.”
Emily shook her head, her shoulders settling. “That is, I’m afraid, the woman’s lot. We are often thrown together with our husbands, brothers or fathers, to the point that their behavior and their rather foolish choices smear us with their own disgrace. It seems quite unfair; do you not think?”
The young lady looked up sharply. “Yes,” she said at once, nodding fervently. “Yes, indeed I do. I have a few very dear friends and they treat me very well, I am glad to say.”
“Good,” Emily said, firmly, wondering to herself if the only reason this young lady had come to speak to her was simply so that she might find herself another ally of sorts. After all, she herself had been tainted by rumors of her late husband’s affairs and then subsequent death and it had taken a good deal of inner strength for her to even consider returning to society.
Miss Bavidge cleared her throat, glancing up somewhat awkwardly at Emily, making her aware that the girl had something more to say.
“Yes, Miss Bavidge?”
“Might I…..” The young lady trailed off, her face an expression of frustration. “Forgive me. What I ought to say is, if you are so willing, Lady Smithton, might I be permitted to call upon you one day soon? There is something more that I would like to discuss with you, if you would grant
me a few minutes of your time.”
To Emily’s surprise, instead of immediately rejecting the idea, she found herself rather willing to see the young lady again. Whether it was because of the concern in the Miss Bavidge’s eyes or because she found their conversation thus far to be rather intriguing, she could not say but, despite all of this, she nodded. “You will tell me then why you think me so admirable, I hope?” she asked, a little teasingly. “After all, you are the first lady I have heard whispering about me, who then promises that they are somehow ‘in awe’ of me, although I cannot possibly imagine why!”
Miss Bavidge laughed, her face lighting up. “I shall, of course,” she replied, eagerly. “I do speak the truth, Lady Smithton, I promise you.”
“Then I think I would be very glad if you would call upon me, so that I might understand fully,” Emily replied, grinning. “Shall we say early next week?”
Miss Bavidge nodded enthusiastically. “That would be wonderful, Lady Smithton. I cannot thank you enough.”
Emily gave her a small, wry smile. “I just hope that I am able to assist you with whatever it is you wish to discuss, Miss Bavidge.”
“Oh, I am quite certain that you will be able to, Lady Smithton,” Miss Bavidge said with confidence. “I must go, I can see that my friend is waiting for me.” Again, she dropped into a curtsy, although Emily was glad to see that she was now smiling instead of appearing nervous and concerned. “Here is my card, Lady Smithton. And thank you.”
Emily accepted it with a word of thanks, letting her gaze follow the young lady as she left to return to her friend, who had risen from her seat on the bench. This had certainly been a rather curious encounter, although Emily had to admit to herself that she was certainly intrigued by whatever it was Miss Bavidge wished to discuss with her. She could not help but feel sorry for the lady also, aware that her father, Viscount Hawkridge, must be in a good deal of disgrace at this present moment. Whether or not he had been able to pay what he owed thus far despite his poor attempts at blackmail, she did not know and nor could she guess, but her heart did feel sympathy for his daughter. To be here for the Season, only to discover these horrendous truths about one’s father must be incredibly difficult for her. Of course, the beau monde might easily turn their back on her even though it was not anything she had done herself – for such was the way of the ton. Emily was glad that, at least, this young girl had some friends to speak of and had not been thrown from society entirely although she could imagine that her invitations had dwindled these last few weeks. That made her all the more determined to see the young lady again and do what she could for her.