Page 13 of Miss Mulberry and the Moody Marquess
“Are you so well acquainted with Miss Mulberry, my lord, that you observe her birth date?”
“Not so well acquainted, but I do know she was a young lady just out when I arrived in Ambleside and I’m perfectly capable of recalling the date of that very clearly… And should there be any question about whether or not Miss Mulberry’s age is of any significance, I will only say that I can think of any number of women who possess such beauty that not even time can mar it. Miss Mulberry, for instance, is one of them. While the symmetry of her features would be enviable to any lady, I would imagine, it is the light of her inner beauty—based in her kind nature— which sets her apart.”
Mrs. Cranford’s smile tightened perceptibly. “You are full of pretty compliments, my lord. I daresay Miss Mulberry is quite appreciative of that. The poor thing.”
At that, Ethan laughed outright. “The poor thing? I hardly think so. I would hazard to guess, Mrs. Cranford, that Miss Mulberry has an enviable future before her, as well.”
Mrs. Cranford stiffened as her smile transformed into an expression of suspicion and no small amount of dismay. “You seem very certain of that, my lord.”
Knowing that his reply could either fuel or snuff out gossip, Ethan considered his response carefully. In the end, he elected to be completely honest. “Hopeful, Mrs. Cranford. Hopeful,” he replied smoothly.
At that moment, Regina approached him, linking her arm with his. “My goodness, brother, you rarely speak more than a handful of words, but when you do, you certainly make them count. Now, I’m famished… let us see what sort of tempting morsels Mrs. Whitlow has prepared for us, shall we? Something skewered, perhaps. Or should I say,something elsethat has been skewered?”
There were a handful of tittering laughs camouflaged behind fans as Regina smiled triumphantly and Mrs. Cranford gaped like a landed fish. The doors opened then, and conversation halted entirely as the subject of conversation walked in. Ethan turned in her direction, letting his gaze travel over her. He made no attempt to hide his appreciation. He wanted it well noted by everyone. If they wished to gossip about Charlotte, it ought to at least be truthful and not whatever manufactured narrative Mrs. Cranford chose to put forth. They could speculate about a wedding, betrothal, courtship, or aught else between them as long as they liked and so long as they said nothing inappropriate about her within his earshot. He was not inclined to allow such slights to go unchecked. Very few people had ever stood for Charlotte because there had been, prior to Cranford jilting her, no need. But he would stand for her. Always.
“Miss Mulberry, you look quite lovely. May I get you something to drink? There is lemonade or tea if you prefer,” he offered.
“Lemonade would be lovely, my lord. Thank you,” she replied. On the surface, it was a perfectly polite exchange. But the blush that stained her cheeks was quite telling, both to him and to the nosey nellies that were present.
Leaving her in Regina’s capable hands, he went to fetch her libation. There was little doubt that if Mrs. Cranford chose to attack, she’d be met barb for barb by someone who didn’t mind drawing blood.
Chapter Nine
“He’s horrid! What a wretched, wretched man,” Georgianna fumed as her maid dragged a brush through her hair. “Why he would take on so over a mealy mouthed little thing like Charlotte Mulberry is quite beyond me.” Arliss had gone for a walk, but she knew he simply wanted to be away from her and her temper. Such displays made him uncomfortable. It was something else to lay at Miss Mulberry’s door.
“She doesn’t even have a maid,” the servant said, clearly scandalized. “I would hazard that she cannot afford one.”
Georgianna smiled. “No, she cannot. Poor as a church mouse, as I understand it.”
“Orphaned as a young girl, I believe, and raised by her uncle. Though I think there has been speculation that he may not be her uncle at all. She could be a by-blow passed off as a ward. T’wouldn’t be the first time such a thing has happened.”
No, indeed it would not. “This is the first I’ve heard of the gossip. How did you come by it?”
“Mrs. Whitlow’s maid, ma’am. She had a bit of brandy in her tea last night thinking no one else would notice,” Seivers said with a cool smile. “She’s a bit of a talker when she’s in the drink.”
“Hmmm. If she gossips to you, she gossips to others,” Georgianna said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “And those servants in turn gossip to their employers!”
“Indeed, ma’am. Relaying pertinent information is half of our duties,” the maid agreed.
“How remarkable, Seivers! You’ve given me the perfect idea. No man wants to be married for his wealth alone. And certainly no man wants to be married to a woman who might be… unchaste. And certainly no man certainly wants the scandal of being attached to a woman who is a known fortune hunter.”
“Ma’am, forgive me for saying so, but Miss Mulberry is well known to everyone here. Most would never think such things of her.”
Georgianna met the maid’s gaze in the mirror, her expression one of smug satisfaction. “Yes, and that is where you and the other servants have a part to play. You will talk to Mrs. Whitlow’s maid, when she’s had a bit of brandy, of course. Then she will pass the gossip to everyone else. If it comes from her, it will be quite believable. No one will trace it back to us. Most will assume that the servants got it from their own individual employers.”
Seivers nodded. “It could work. What sort of gossip? Surely not just about her parentage. That alone would not cast doubt on her character since it’s old gossip.”
“No, it would not! But Miss Mulberry has been jilted only recently. Her betrothed taken from her. Would it surprise anyone that such terrible events might alter her in some way? If I can provoke her into losing her temper, into saying and doing even one thing that is out of character in front of witnesses, that plants the seed. Between that and the gossip you will help spread—she will soon be a pariah. A spinster pariah!”
“That is devious, ma’am,” the maid replied, but it was not censure. If there was one thing that had swayed Georgiannawhen it came to taking Seivers on as her ladies’ maid it was the servant’s own somewhat villainous tendencies. She loved a good plot and loved even better to be in the thick of it.
“It is devious,” Georgianna agreed. “Whatever maid Mrs. Whitlow has assigned to her, make friends with. We’ll need to know exactly where she is and what she is doing at all times.”
“Oh, I’ve already done that,” Seivers answered. “I anticipated there might be some plot or scheme afoot. Miss Mulberry will be strolling in the garden this afternoon… likely with the Marquess. And in the morning, they are set to go into Blackpool and see the town’s sights.”
“Just the two of them?”
“No. It’s an outing arranged by Mrs. Whitlow. Everyone is welcome to attend… I’ll let the other servants know you mean to join.”
