"And is there anything you wish to say at this point, Lord Warwick?"
There were a million things he wished to say, in a harsh, loud voice, but he simply shook his head.
And with that, the first meeting was concluded. It would be too strong to say he'd dreaded it. Mostly he'd told himself he didn't care one whit, but it was hard to deny the anger that simmered so close to the surface. Truthfully, he'd thought himself so completely cold to her now, but the moment he saw her, it rose like a roaring beast.
As etiquette expected, he rose as she did and bowed his head. His regard for a woman did not outweigh appropriate etiquette, even for a faithless and uncouth wife.
Again he felt an irrational urge to grab her as she walked out of the room. For what reason he wasn't sure. Probably to rail at her and to release some of this anger that had been simmering inside him for years and years.
Instead, he sighed his relief when she was gone. He wasn't sure exactly how he'd expected her to react, but not as coolly as this. Maybe he’d expected tears and wailing. Melodramatics. That would not be in line with the Eliza he'd known, but it had also come out that he hadn't known her at all.
"I understand you have been supporting Mrs. Hennington throughout your separation," Mr. Holsten said.
"Yes. If living with frugality, she should have been comfortable enough."
"Any such support can cease after the divorce. As there are no children in the marriage, it can be quite a clean separation."
Caius’ thoughts hadn't extended past the divorce itself, and he hadn't decided whether he wished to provide ongoing support. The angriest part of him said no, but there was a part of him that was too much of a gentleman to leave her completely in destitution, particularly as she had no standing in society anymore. No, for his own peace of mind, he would probably have to provide her with something. He could hardly have his former wife imprisoned in the workhouse, even if many felt that was what she deserved.
Right now, however, he didn't wish to speak or think about it. A simple meeting had left him feeling utterly drained. "I think we will have to leave this discussion for another day." With a nod, he left. And he knew exactly where he wanted to go. To his club that he hadn't visited in much too long. They might not even remember him at the door. They did have the best whiskey in town and right now, he needed one or two.
There was no sign of Eliza as he walked outside. Half of him had expected her to accost him as soon as he left the barrister's office, but no, she must have left. Back to Lambeth, no doubt.
Instead of taking a hack, he walked. It was some distance to St. James, but he felt he had energy to burn. As of yet, he hadn't been to Bickerley house to sort the carriage for his own use. There was much he needed to sort out with regards to Bickerley. It could be in a state for all he knew as his uncle had aged. There was also a second townhouse here in London that was his, which he needed to consider.
Eliza popped into his head for a moment, but he quickly dismissed her. There had been a time when she’d been first and foremost in his thoughts, but on the other hand, he had thought relatively little about her for many years now. It had been strange seeing her in the flesh. In his thoughts, she’d been as distant as a painting. Fixed and unmoving.
And really, where did she get the idea of pleading not guilty to the charge of adultery? Did she wish to make herself a liar to all of the world as well? If she had any sense, she would plead guilty so the whole business didn't have to be dragged out and examined for all and sundry. What in the world did she hope to achieve?
Now this would all call her character into question. That shouldn't be difficult. Her address alone was sufficient proof to many.
His return was becoming known, as would the impending divorce before long. Stories about her might come out of the woodwork. Interestingly, not to the degree that Octavia had heard anything. So either she was very discreet, or she was traveling in some truly low circles.
Another idea occurred to him, that she was some man's mistress. Fury rose again. It was bad enough that he’d been cuckolded once, but was now in the process of ridding himself of another man's mistress.
With firm strides he walked, his mind turning to mull over the kind of whiskey he wished to console himself with.
Chapter 8:
ELIZA POSITIVELY MARCHED home. Anger coursed through her body. It had been an awful meeting. Every single thing about it had felt bad. From the moment it had started, to the very end.
And the request that she plead guilty, for the purpose of making it easy for everyone. It was just too much.
Amazingly quickly she was at her door, her mind being too caught in anger to notice the streets go by. Pulling out her key from her reticule, she went inside.
"How did it go?" Teresa asked as she entered the front room.
"It was…" Eliza started, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Horrific? That might be a bit strong. "Unpleasant," she settled on. But that simply wasn't strong enough. "Well, it was an experience I should never wish to repeat. And the worst was that they wanted me to plead guilty so to expediate the process. Never mind the fact that I'm not guilty. They simply didn't care. My perspective on this simply isn't important."
Pacing around the room, she tried to dissipate some of the anger she felt.
"But he was there?"
It wasn't hard to guess who Teresa was referring to. "Yes, he was there."
"And what did he say?"
Eliza had to think about it for a moment. "I don't actually recall him saying anything." Had he even spoken? She remembered his voice, so he must have. Eliza paced some more. "I don't know," she finally said. "He has to prove my guilt, so he has to find this man who accused me, who as far as I know, isn't in England anymore."
"The case is all about adultery, so they cannot proceed without him. Provided he agrees to testify."
"I'm sure he will. He was so very keen on baseless accusations to begin with. I doubt he'll have qualms about repeating them because he must do so under oath."
"What if he cannot be found? Or is dead?"
"Perhaps he doesn't need to testify. There were enough witnesses to the accusation. Perhaps that is enough." Although she didn't know that for sure. What if William Castle Garrick couldn't be found? It was a question for her barrister. Surely the requirement wasn't dependent on the parties confessing? Was that why they wished her to plead guilty? "Poppycock," she said out loud.
"What was he like?"
"Who?" Eliza replied to the jarring question. "William the liar?"
"No, your… husband."
The question stumped her for a moment. "Well, he was older, I suppose. He must be thirty now."
"Still quite young."
"His hair was longer." And he still had that impossibly stern look on his face.
Bringing her hand up, she rubbed along her brow. It was too confronting to think about him. She hadn't in years. Not really. He'd turned into a specter for her. "He proposed to pay for the divorce proceedings."
"I suppose he can afford it. He is the one who wants a divorce. Can hardly risk it not proceedings because the woman cannot afford to hire an expensive barrister. Not many women would be in a position to do so."
"I could manage."
"We'd be much better off if he paid for it. It would mean we didn't have to strip the business down to the bare bones. That business is what will support us after he's done with you."
There was a bleak harshness in Teresa's voice, but then she did have a very poor perspective on men. And in a sense she was right. She would have very little after he was done with her. Certainly no prospects in the terms of marrying again.
"We really do need to push you to the forefront of the business," Eliza said quietly.
"I suppose there is time to do so if they are to chase this William the liar around the world. They'll want a deposition from him. Unless your husband is in too much of a hurry. Do you think there is someone he wants to marry? I understand divorces often happen
when the husband wants to marry someone else."
The thought hadn't even occurred to her. But then she didn't suppose he'd been celibate the last six years. For all she knew, he could be in a relationship, one that started in the Orient, and he now wished to marry this woman.
A new level of unease washed over her. It all felt so sordid. It had been much easier with him gone, him being simply a ghost full of disdain and disapproval. Now he was real again, a real man with thoughts and wishes of his own. And clearly he wished to marry someone. An heir would also be important now that he had an estate. It would be his duty to his uncle, and Caius was always aware of his duties—except perhaps to his wife when she was falsely accused.
But from the moment he’d left, he’d diligently provided her with a stipend, as he would have seen as his duty, no matter what he thought of her. It was an action out of duty than for any affection for her. That had dried up the moment the accusation had been laid, and she’d had no recourse. How could you prove that adultery hadn’t happened? There was no way to do so. It could only be denied, and it was up to others to listen or not. To not listen was what they had uniformly chosen.
"Well, I will not plead guilty simply to please others. That is a step too far. Expediency?" she said with a snort. "I am curious why I’m even needed in this process at all."
"I suppose it is possible you could refuse to participate. The trial would go ahead without you."
"That's…" Was that even possible? "They could then say anything they wanted about me."
"Which they are probably going to do irrespective of whether you are there or not. They're going to utterly defame your character."
A groan escaped her. It was all just so unpleasant.
"This change in your life is going to happen," Teresa continued. "Now it's simply a matter of making the best of it. See what's left and rebuilt. The good thing is that as a divorced woman, all the decisions you make are your own. You can enter into contracts in your own right. You can even go back to Eliza Ellerson. There is nothing to say you can't go back to using your maiden name."
For the first time, Eliza could actually see a future beyond this, and not just the overwhelming unpleasantness of the impending. "Provided our business survives."
"Well, if it doesn't, we’ll rebuild. We have the skills to manage a business. We will do so again. Even if we cannot stay in educational books, we'll find something else. It will be hard, but it would be much stronger this time, and there won't be any pesky husbands in the mix.”
The term ‘pesky husbands’ made a smile spread across Eliza's lips. Teresa had a way of seeing the potential in things, and to her, this divorce was an opportunity as well as a setback. If only Eliza had her faith, but she’d always been the more conservative one out of the two of them. She feared the impact, and worried, even as she wasn't the one who had truly seen destitution the way Teresa had when they'd first met. Maybe she feared less because she knew what it was to fear.
"There is a letter from Lord Fortescue," Teresa said. For a moment, she'd feared Teresa had said Warwick.
"Oh," Eliza said. Lord Fortescue was the man who owned the building they held the business in. They'd had some dealings recently when she'd refused to pay the rent until he fixed the leaks in the roof. It had been a negotiation. In the end, he’d capitulated and fixed the roof as she’d wished. "What could he want? We’re not in arrears."
Walking back into the hallway, she saw the letter she’d missed as she'd walked in. The letter was written on fine paper, the wax sealing it closed. His seal was pressed into it. In all, she'd found him a curious man.
The seal snapped with a small crack and she opened the stiff paper and read.
"What does he want?" Teresa asked, appearing in the hallway.
"He wishes to come inspect the work done to the roof. I would have informed him if any leaks continued."
"Perhaps he simply wishes to see for himself. So he is coming to see us. Perhaps that would be a good time to talk about our continued leasing of his property. Being as he is one of them, he may seek to end our arrangement in light of your situation. If so, it would be good to know sooner rather than later, so we can find another building."
At times, Teresa was superbly practical, and in this instance, she was right. Lord Fortescue might object to being in business with a divorced woman. Quite a few people would, which made it all the more pressing to shed her identity as Eliza Hennington and re-establish herself as Eliza Ellerson. It wouldn't help much with the charities she was dealing with. It was likely they would take deep offense to her status as a divorced woman, but that would have to be dealt with as it cropped up.
"I guess we will just have to see what he says," Eliza said absently, tapping the envelope on her fingertips.
Chapter 9:
LITTLE HAD CHANGED at his club when Caius arrived. The people were the same, the furniture was laid out exactly as it had been.
"Jeffrey," he said as he arrived at the whiskey bar, which he’d been instrumental in installing.
"Mr. Hennington," Jeffrey said.
"Lord Warwick now, I'm afraid."
The man reddened. "My deepest apologies. I had not realized that your uncle had passed away."
"It was a recent development."
"I am sorry to hear. As always, we have an excellent selection. Is there anything I can tempt you with?"
With a sigh, Caius perused the shelves. "Perhaps the Brenock Golden."
"Excellent choice," the man said, exactly as he always had years earlier. It was nice that some things never changed.
The liquid really was golden, like captured sunlight. After the afternoon he'd had, he could use a little brightness. It had all felt very bleak. Eliza had looked exactly the same. The years had not worn her in the least. If she led a disreputable lifestyle, it certainly didn't show on her. There was always something a bit lovely about her, dreamy, but looks were deceiving, and he knew that more than most.
This was all so very sordid. But here was joy in a small glass, and he lifted it to his mouth.
"Hennington," someone said, clapping him on the back so the whiskey spilt. Caius closed his eyes. With another deep breath, he ignored the man and drank. It was rude, but so was approaching a man in mid-appreciation.
The whiskey coated his mouth and tongue, then the smooth burn as it went down. Countryside, rough hills and ocean gales. Sometimes the roughness of the British countryside was captured perfectly. It wasn't all gentle hills and meandering dairy cows. Whiskey was made in the wilder parts of the country.
Gently, he put the glass down. Yes, he’d made a good choice with that one. Now to the intruder. "Rawley," he said, turning to the man waiting expectantly, having just been ignored. "How are you these days?" The man's hairline wasn't what it had been. They had known each other at Oxford.
"Good, good," he said. "I understand you have been fortunate and come into a title. Congratulations, old man."
Henry Rawley would stubbornly be waiting for his title for a long time. His father had married young and had a good few decades to go yet. Henry might well be in his fifties before he received his title and estate. It made him not optimally appealing on the marriage market, but there would be some families with foresight who would be happy to wait. Perhaps it had happened already, but the man had that bachelor sense about him. The gleam of youthful mischief in his eyes. Married men lost that. Not all of them as there were some who still wanted to roam London's streets with their fellow miscreants.
"I am so pleased you have returned from the wilds," Rawley said. "You must join us tonight."
Caius smiled. No, he wouldn’t be roaming the establishments of London with the youthful miscreants. "I'm afraid I have plans."
"Of course," Rawley said, his smile not budging. "And how is your brother?"
"Good."
"Still not married?"
"No, not yet.
"Getting a bit long in the tooth."
"Aren't we all."
&nbs
p; "I suppose with that awful business, it might have put him off."
By the awful business, he meant the deceptive Eliza. There was an awkward silence. The man was curious about what he was going to do about her now. They all were. It must have been the topic on every gossiping tongue who was familiar with his affairs. Equally, all would be judging him for having made such an atrocious choice in bride. They had a point. For generally being able to make good decisions, he’d made an awful one with regards to the most important of his life.
"Yes, perhaps," Caius finally said. This divorce would be quite closely followed—maybe to the point where he had to stay clear of the club for a while. Some, like Rawley, didn’t have the sense to leave things be when appropriate.
"The lady in question hasn't been seen, I have to say," Rawley continued. "Neither has the Lancelot in this case." Rawley was clearly pressing for information. "Makes one wonder if they absconded together, living somewhere in sinful bliss."
Clearly, Rawley had no idea about William Castle Garrick's whereabouts, nor Eliza's—although he could imagine Rawley trying to seduce her if he did know. Men like him might be why she stayed away from this society. Unless some cad just like him had her hidden away somewhere. A wave of nausea assaulted him. If so, it wasn't William Castle Garrick, because according to Eliza, he had absconded to the West Indies.
How had she known this if Rawley didn't know? Had they met after they’d been uncovered and he'd confessed his plans to leave her behind? Had it broken her heart?
Where had that thought come from? She deserved it for being so utterly stupid if that was the case.
Another thought occurred to him. Surely it couldn't be a ruse—her trying to deflect attention away from them, when they were hidden away in Lambeth. It would be an untruth to say she didn't lie. That had certainly been uncovered. No, he needed an impartial opinion on this.
"Have you seen Sommerset lately?" Caius asked.
"I saw him earlier this evening, actually. He might still be around."
The Nuisance Wife Page 4