Page 147 of A Much Maligned Miss

“I know. It saw its hairs all over his trousers last time we went for lunch.”

“In any case, Mrs. Ryland was more Mama’s dupe than her husband,” Caroline persisted. “You may punish Mrs. Ryland for another six months, but I want you to relent now where the vicar is concerned. He gave me a very heartfelt apology last summer at the squire’s picnic party and I accepted it.”

“I require another six months for the vicar,” he answered swiftly. “And another full year for Mrs. Ryland.” He lifted his neck to meet her gaze full on. “I feel strongly on the matter. Give me this.”

“Oh, very well,” she conceded. “But I am going to start being terribly sweet to him.”

“You may do that,” he said generously. “But only because it will add to his suffering.”

“And you think I am the stern one,” she marveled.

He caught hold of her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I cannot wait to see you in your new clothes,” he confessed in a swift change of subject. “We must have lots of garden parties this summer to show them all off.”

Now an official twelve months of mourning had passed, a whole new wardrobe had been carefully selected for Caroline and ordered in a wide range of pretty colors and delicate fabrics. The pergola had been pulled down and replaced with intricately planted flower beds.

Sophy had been laid to rest in her native Shropshire, at her parents’ local church. Her younger brother Charlie had started an apprenticeship at a draper’s which Caroline had paid for, along with a commemorative gravestone and plaque.

It turned out that poor Mr. Penrose the fishmonger had been Sophy’s reason for loitering in the garden that day. They had been used to meeting there when he made deliveries to the house. He had actually seen Sophy’s body that day and fled, terrified that he would be suspected of her murder. He only broke down later and told this to the squire, who had to support him when reporting this to the authorities.

Goring had confessed all, once she had learned her mistress’s grisly fate. She had not seemed to care about any consequences for herself or her cousin in its wake. Sidney Price had caught a raging infection in the hospital and had never recovered from it. As for Goring, she had refused to eat or drink in custody and had not survived long enough to go to trial.

Their swift ends had meant the scandal was not so very severe as Caroline had feared. Not that it would have mattered. Lady Sharpe had taken up her cause so enthusiastically that Caroline had been fully vindicated and her survival celebrated in both Penarth and London. Gervaise had been quite right, they were inundated with invitations these days from all quarters.

“I think I will almost miss my black silk gowns,” Caroline mused. “Blanche Ingram confessed to me that she almost wished she had a bereavement to commemorate. She said I always look so romantic and tragic in mine and she quite envies me.”

“Mmmm, you do look good in them,” Gervaise reflected proudly for he had specified every flounce and pleat. “But you will look just as good your new wardrobe, if not better. I have ordered you several gowns in a new type of shot silk. They call it glacé silk and the color shifts under the lights. You will look spectacular.”

“I will confess, I won’t miss always being draped head to toe in black and all the children pointing me out in church like I am some personage of great notoriety.”

“They will still point you out, my maenad.”

“Why? You think they will still recognize me out of my mourning?”

“They will recognize you as the most beautiful woman in the country. Just as they will know you for the most beautiful woman in Europe when we finally visit my mother next year.”

She smiled absently. She had long since learned that protesting Gervaise’s ridiculous bias was a waste of breath. “She wrote again to me last week of another set of friends who will wish to meet us when we are next in London.”

“No doubt. Did you read Uncle’s letter yet? I don’t know why he bothered to address it to me for it was patently full of items for you. He even included a press clipping about some new opera house he wants to take you to when we are next in town.”

“The dear sweet man,” Caroline murmured. As predicted, she had grown extremely fond of Uncle George. “He spoils me.”

“I know,” Gervaise answered sourly. “And that is my favorite pursuit.”

“I do hope he comes for a good long stay in the summer and brings Macey with him.”

“He’s threatening to in the postscript.”

“Good! We must take him to dinner at Vance Park again. Teddy adored him. He’s the only person who believes that story about them having part of the Colossus of Rhodes in their library.”

“That’s because Uncle is naïve,” Gervaise said dampeningly. “And Teddy likes him because they’re like two schoolboys together.”

“Do you know who else wrote to me this week?”

“Not your brother?” Gervaise pulled a face.

“No, Diana.”

“That’s the same thing. What’s wrong with them this time? A leaky roof in need of repair? Their baby has croup?”