Virginia And The Wolf

by Lynne Connolly

  “I thought you might stay at Hatherton Cross for the time being, if you would like that.”

  Emilia clasped a hand to her formidable bosom. “Goodness, that would never do! A woman living on her own is either a servant or a doxy! And since I am neither, I would prefer to remain in a house with other ladies.”

  She wanted to stay here at Wolverley. While Winston teased Virginia’s hair into a glossy knot, with a few loose locks falling into curls that were anything but careless, Virginia stared into the mirror at her companion.

  Emilia had made herself at home on the daybed. She wore her second-best evening gown of bright blue satin, which Virginia privately thought was a touch too bright and a touch too shiny for Emilia, but she would never dream of saying so. Emilia declared herself an expert on fashion, as she was on everything else.

  But she had a kind heart.

  “Well, you must regard my old home as yours,” Virginia said desperately.

  “Well that is exceedingly kind of you, Virginia, but I will need respectability.”

  Virginia cast about for an answer. She could not have Emilia here. Sooner or later Francis would crack. He did not have the patience to deal with her. There had to be a place for her somewhere. Would the dowager take her?

  Anybody?

  “Of course you will, my dear. How remiss of me.” She turned her head, keeping still so that Winston could ply the curling tongs. This being summer, instead of heating the tongs in the fire, Winston was employing a small lamp, and the scent of burning oil added to the aromas of lavender, rosewater, and starch.

  All scents Virginia was deeply familiar with. Scents of home.

  “My dear, I was never so shocked as when I heard you had married Lord Wolverley! Your note took me quite aback. I had assumed you were still at Combe Manor, since you said you would join me from there, but to hear you had taken this step…! When I left London, you were quite resolved on eternal widowhood. I have done my best to explain your sudden decision to your neighbors, but I have been stretched to do so.”

  Virginia heard the unspoken resentment loud and clear. She had never treated Emilia as her dearest friend, so she had no right to expect it now, and yet this was what she had come to hear. She would have to disappoint her companion. Repeating the legend she wanted to become the truth seemed the most expedient. “Lord Wolverley has been courting me this past year and more. Surely you recall?”

  “Ah, oh yes.” Emilia had never been slow at reading between the lines. But she sometimes had the annoying trait of taking the wrong ones. “But I thought that was merely because you are neighbors here in Devonshire. He never seemed overly smitten to me.” She sniffed. “You could have done so much better, Virginia, if you were set on marriage. Think of the Duke of Watmough!”

  Virginia recalled the short, squat duke full of his own importance and did not bother to suppress her derisive snort. “Really, Emilia? The man is a walking parody. He might be a duke, but Wolverley can easily surpass him in wealth.”

  “Wealth is not everything,” the lady said, flicking her fan out with a decisive swish. “Consequence can amount to much more. Lineage and history, my dear. Wolverley is merely the second earl, is he not? His grandfather was a mere baron.”

  “A clever one who set Europe on its ear when he acted as Ambassador to the French court,” Virginia pointed out. “Or are you casting aspersions on my mother-in-law?”

  Emilia covered her face with her fan, but not before Virginia had marked her heightened color. Of course that was what Emilia meant. The dairymaid countess.

  “I prefer to assess people by their character,” she continued relentlessly. “Many a fool holds a title.”

  Winston stepped back, her signal that she had finished. After a glance in the mirror, Virginia nodded and smiled her thanks. She had performed her usual miracle and made a beauty out of her. Virginia had made herself graceful and elegant, but Winston added the touch that gave the illusion of beauty. She had enhanced the simple way Virginia preferred to dress. Virginia was so glad her maid had not betrayed her.

  But others had. People she’d trusted, and she could not deny how much that hurt. And what it had done to her self-esteem. If not for Francis, she might have gone into a decline. Or, of course, been dead.

  With that sober reminder, she went downstairs to dinner.

  * * * *

  The morning of her wedding, Virginia awoke alone in her own bed. She turned over, expecting a pair of strong, warm arms to curl around her, but of course he was not there. She had insisted that they spend this night apart. What had she been thinking? She’d missed him all night, her sleep disturbed by his absence.

  A movement told her Winston was already in the room. When Virginia sat up, Winston stacked pillows behind her back and then brought her a tray with tea and toasted bread and butter, her favorite way to start the day. They would have breakfast later. Most of the company who had been arriving for the ball didn’t know they weren’t already married. Virginia hugged her secret close to her heart.

  Today was her wedding day.

  Once arrayed in the fresh, pale yellow silk, her hair dressed simply, she went down to the chapel, where Bishop Lavington waited for them, together with the vicar of the local parish.

  Mrs. Lavington, Jamie, Maria, the lady soon to become the Dowager Countess, and to her shock, Angela Childers were there. When had she arrived? Angela gave her a warm smile, but Virginia had eyes only for one person. The man standing at the altar, dressed most untypically in ivory.

  The light shade made his skin appear darker, his eyes brighter. She had not even known he had something that pale. The gold buttons gleamed in the morning light streaming in from the skylight above, and the candles flickering at the end of every pew. The staff had prayers here once a week, but a long time had passed since the last wedding was held here.

  “We are gathered here together…” the bishop began.

  Virginia became the Countess of Wolverley in twenty short minutes. Or rather, she was declared the wife of Francis Collingwood. She liked that better, because she was marrying Francis the man, not the title. At last she could leave her previous history behind her.

  Almost. There remained one more thing to do. But she would not think of that now.

  Apparently Francis thought the same, because in the few minutes before their family joined them to congratulate them, he leaned over and murmured in her ear, “Today is for us. Nothing else matters.”

  Then she was being hugged and kissed by everyone but Francis. The vicar brought the register to them, his face a mask of impassivity. He probably disapproved of their behavior before their marriage. Or perhaps he had another candidate for Francis’s countess. Whatever his problem, he did not cast a shadow on their day.

  * * * *

  Henderson arrived in the late afternoon. The journey here would have taken him most of the day. Virginia took some satisfaction in that. She saw him in the library.

  “You should know that I have married his lordship. I am now Lady Wolverley,” she told him bluntly.

  Not being a cruel woman, she poured tea and served him herself, while he sat down at the big table, goggling at her. “You have given up your inheritance?”

  She nodded. “So you have much work to do.”

  “I do indeed. I must inform the trustees immediately.”

  Virginia walked over to the window, gazing outside at the people enjoying the sunny day. She would keep this brief so she could join them. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  How much did Henderson know about the ulterior motive behind the orphanages?

  “What do you mean, my lady?” He slurped his tea, keeping his attention on her, peering over the rim of his tea dish.

  “Matters have arisen…” She turned to face him fully. He sat in the chair by the cold fireplace, watching her gravely.

  She
started again. “The orphanages were not all they were meant to be. I am contacting the authorities, so they may look into the matter. I need you to send all the details of my prior marriage and the arrangements for his orphanages to my husband’s man of business. After all, the terms are now void, and there is no longer any need to keep them secret, is there?”

  His mouth dropped open. He had not closed it when she left the room.

  She was done with the orphanages, with the inheritance, with the whole sorry business. From now on, the excise, customs, and magistrates could squabble over the will and punish the gang of smugglers.

  * * * *

  Dressing for the ball was a particular pleasure. When Francis had asked her what she was wearing, she had said casually, “I thought I’d wear my new blue.” The one she had not worn yet. The gown was in the French style, and nobody had yet seen it.

  The gown was dark blue, the color of summer midnight, and the theme was roses. Pink roses in raised embroidery rioted down the robings either side of her bodice, and more decorated the deep flounces of the matching petticoat. They edged the flounces on her sleeves, too, grazing the triple flounces of Mechlin lace that Winston sewed to the end of the sleeves on her shift. She’d even had matching shoes made, and the buckles were pink brilliants. Her stomacher was a riot of bows in the same color as the roses.

  Virginia stood back from the pier glass on the wall and examined her appearance critically. Winston had dressed her hair in her usual knot, with curls teasing her bare shoulders.

  “Jewelry,” she murmured. She glanced at the dressing table, where a box holding her pearls lay waiting for her. She made a sudden decision. “No pearls. They stand for tears. I want nobody to construe anything but happiness.”

  “I have it, my lady.” Winston closed the box and took the pearls back to the dressing chest that held Virginia’s jewels. She had a new one tonight, a plain gold band on her finger that she would never take off. It was the most precious piece that she owned.

  Someone tapped at the door. Winston locked the chest before she went to answer it. A murmur of voices followed, and she came back to Virginia. “Your lord husband sent these. He says they are part of the family collection. He would appreciate you wearing them.”

  Virginia sighed. “Let us pray they are not emeralds.”

  Winston opened the lid of the wooden box.

  Pink topazes and diamonds. Each large oval pink stone was surrounded by diamonds, and diamonds linked them. The earrings had to have ribbons to support them over the tops of her ears; otherwise, they would have pulled the lobes down too far. There were bracelets for each wrist and a large brooch, which she pinned to the top of her bodice. And hair ornaments, set on tiny springs so they moved with her, shivering when the light caught them.

  “Oh my goodness.” She had some good pieces but none as fine as these.

  “Madam,” Winston said, her voice full of awe.

  “Do you think it’s too grand for a country ball?”

  Winston’s voice went up an octave. “At Wolverley? My lady, how can you say such a thing? You are the mistress of the most elegant house in the county, the treasure of Devonshire!”

  “I’m not sure I like that.” She held out her hand. Winston placed her fan in it, and Virginia felt complete. “You took good care of me,” she said quietly. “I will never forget that. Thank you.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she gathered her skirts and left the room.

  Only to find her husband waiting outside. He was leaning against the wall, but at her appearance he kicked away from it and came to her, hands outstretched to take hers. “You look like an empress. I am the most fortunate man alive.” He lifted her hands to his lips, one after the other.

  “In that case you are an emperor. You could pass for one.”

  He smiled. He’d chosen blue velvet, in a shade lighter than her deep ultramarine. Diamond buttons glittered in serried rows down his coat and waistcoat. A huge sapphire gleamed at her from his finger, and he wore another ring, a plain gold one, the twin of hers.

  Startled, she lifted her eyes and met his amused gaze.

  “I wanted to. I know it’s unusual. I have decided to have two signet rings made, with our seals on them, just in case you want a change.”

  “I…” She had expected none of this attention, the public signs of affection he was lavishing on her. She put her hand to the large brooch on her bodice. “And this…it doesn’t look old enough to be a family piece.”

  “My father had the gems remade for my mother, but she didn’t like it. However, before he died she wore it enough for people to know what it means. It was made for love. They will know.”

  Before she could answer, he tucked her hand under his arm and walked with her to the other side of the wing, where people were gathering for the dinner before the ball.

  Normally a ball this early in the summer would be thinly attended, especially considering the short notice the guests had been given, but her mother-in-law had informed her that they had covers for forty.

  The numbers did not daunt Virginia. Although she had never catered for so many before, she took the twenty she had regularly entertained in her previous marriage and doubled it. She would have liked to sit next to her husband, though.

  The table in the great dining room had all its leaves slotted into it. The state rooms were all open. Everything was as ready as she could make it.

  “So charmed you invited us.” Sir Bertram and his family had arrived in good time. Unfortunately, since they lived some way off, they were staying overnight, and the magistrate had brought his whole family with him.

  At least he had no children left in the schoolroom; otherwise, Virginia suspected they would have had to find nurses and governesses. Most guests brought their own, but Sir Bertram had only brought a footman and a coach driver. Virginia had located a couple of servants to attend Sir Bertram, his wife, his heir, and his three daughters.

  And Sir Bertram had been unhappy with the rooms assigned to them and insisted on moving to the family wing. Virginia had compromised and put them on the floor above. Her other guests included the Duke of Colston Magna, Lord Marston, and the Duke and Duchess of Leomore.

  The newly married couple had caused a sensation during their courtship because of the lady’s humble beginnings and the way she met the duke. Having been accused of stealing a valuable necklace, she set out to prove her innocence.

  Virginia knew her well and embraced her warmly when she arrived. Like Virginia, Phoebe wore her SSL pin. “Y-you look very happy,” she said. Not a comment on how fine she looked, as everyone else had said. She knew the difference.

  “So do you,” Virginia said in the few minutes they had to themselves. “You are happy, are you not?”

  Phoebe nodded. “Oh y-yes. B-blissfully.”

  “Yes,” Virginia said softly because she knew what Phoebe meant. “But, Phoebe, I have something I want to tell you.”

  Drawing her aside, Virginia outlined what she and Francis had discovered. “Will you help?”

  “Of course!” Phoebe’s face lit up. “I’m d-delighted you asked me. Should I tell the others?”

  “I’ve already told Angela.” In a walk that morning in the grounds. “And only the other members of the SSL and your husband. We still do not know who we can trust. We had thought Jamie was involved. Lord Dulverton,” she added by way of explanation, “but he is not.”

  “I see.”

  Who could Virginia trust but her colleagues and friends from the society?

  Now Sir Bertram was confronting her with a familiarity she did not enjoy but would put up with for the sake of peace. “If we had not met you on the road, we would not have had the slightest idea you were married,” he said, sliding his quizzing glass out of his breeches pocket. He lifted it, but Virginia, not liking to be stared at, gazed at him, chin up, lids half-closed.<
br />
  He put the glass back in his pocket.

  “We did not wish for fuss until we told his mother,” she said. “Of course she knew he was courting me, but when my maid fell ill, we decided to marry early, so we could leave together for the country.”

  “Hmm.” He glanced around and caught sight of the dowager. Resplendent in deep pink, the lady was deep in conversation with Lady Dean and the Countess of Wickham, but she spared Virginia a smile. “I had no idea you were close to the countess.”

  “I was not,” Virginia answered, “but as you know she takes her own path, and I met her outside the ballroom.” But not at the society, or at the other places she had liked to go. Not for the first time, a suspicion whispered through her mind.

  Had the countess known the smugglers? Did she know them still? But she adored Francis. She would not have arranged to have him killed, or even hurt.

  Not knowing which of the guests here tonight were part of the organization made her itchy. Knowing she had been involved didn’t change the way she felt about closing it down. Perhaps she should talk to some of the guests, try to find out more. After all, she had the support of the SSL here tonight.

  Even Angela.

  But before that, she had another job to do.

  The quartet from Exeter that her mother-in-law had hired struck up, playing a tarradiddle to announce their readiness. Virginia turned in a swirl of skirts to find her husband waiting. She smiled.

  “I’m glad I have that effect on you,” he said, taking her hand. “My lady, we are expected on the dance floor. The minuet.”

  Balls started with a minuet. Elegant, graceful, executed with care, it was the pinnacle of the dance, the height of civilization, as she’d heard it described once. She wouldn’t go that far, especially with smugglers in the room. But the dance was important, in an esoteric way. Executed properly, it told people that they belonged. And demonstrated to those who did not belong that they were not part of the exalted few.