Page 29 of The Ones Left Behind
“She would not say, ma’am, but she did reveal that you were old acquaintances. I believe her to be Lady Gordon.”
Unfortunately, a housekeeper could not simply refuse to see people as a lady could. Kitty stopped and checked her appearance in the mirror in the entrance hall before proceeding, wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek as she did so. She chuckled. That would never do. No one else had seen it, or at least had not had the gumption to mention it.
She smoothed down her skirts and opened the door to the drawing room. Why she would have a caller in the drawing room instead of the housekeeper’s rooms, she did not have time to dwell upon. The woman sitting there, rigid-spined had aged almost beyond recognition. Her once dark hair had greyed and her face was etched deeply with wrinkles that made her resting expression a perpetual scowl.
“Fanny? What are you doing here?” she asked as she closed the door behind her. Sir Nigel’s wife was the last person she would have expected to call. While Sir Nigel had always objected to the marriage and treated Kitty with disdain, Fanny had been civil. She had not been a friend to Kitty, or shown warmth like a sister—although there was nothing unusual in that—yet neither had she been an enemy. It seemed that was about to change.
She sniffed, her nose in the air, as though it was beneath her to be here as well. “You may have heard that my husband paid a visit to Lord Thackeray which was less than successful. I thought that I, as a fellow lady...” She hesitated, clearly over including Kitty in that last word. “Might appeal to your better nature.”
“My better nature?” Kitty already sensed where this conversation was heading.
“Lord Thackeray is a gentleman and they all have some misguided sense of honour. Although keeping you under his roof unwed is hardly honourable, we do understand why he cannot marry you.”
Kitty’s bristles were already on end.
“If you choose to be careless with your name and reputation, that is entirely your own affair, but why must you be so with ours?”
That was enough. “Why did you not consider this when I sought you out after Peter’s death?”
“We gave you twenty pounds to see you established! If you squandered such a sum, it is not our villainy to be blamed for your situation as you would have me believe!”
Kitty detested arguments; and was there really any point in trying to reason with someone like this? There seemed to be a subdivision of the aristocracy that was born without that ability.
“Lady Gordon, I will assure you the money was not squandered—unless you consider my survival trivial. I did my best to economize, but it is far from easy for a gently bred woman to live on her own without fortune or references. I did the best I could. Of a certainty, I did not squander the funds!”
“Well!” Fanny huffed, clearly affronted.
“Was there anything else?” Kitty no longer had the patience to be civil to someone who could treat her thus.
“I came because I thought you might need a little sisterly advice, but it is clear you will not be reasoned with.” Motherly was more like it, Kitty fumed inwardly. Fanny was ten years her senior, but she had never been one to accept her age with grace. “I know you have not had Lady Thackeray’s guidance and may not understand the importance of what is being said about you.”
“I was married for three years and have been widowed for two. I am well aware of what is said of me—by people who were born with silver spoons in their mouths.”
Lady Gordon stood up, a red blotch high on each cheek, the feathers on her bonnet reflecting her annoyance in their movement. “I cannot help you if you will not help yourself. You are, quite brazenly, living in sin, and out of Christian charity I came here to help you save your reputation. I am certain Mr. Henderson will be paying you a visit soon. I wanted first to prevail upon our previous relationship and beg you to reconsider.”
“Christian charity? You dare to speak to me in such terms when I was left begging for work like a pauper? I do not think I care to heed such reprimands from those who have more regard for their name and appearance than my welfare. Good day, Lady Gordon.” Kitty turned and left the room, hurtling through the house and out towards her garden. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake, but she had set her course and was determined at least to see Matthias healed as well as he could be.
CHAPTER9
This is the vilest thing I have ever tasted!” Matthias exclaimed as he attempted to swallow the bitter brew Kitty had prepared for him.
“Do I need to plug your nose and force it down?” Hornsby asked with mock severity.
Matthias tipped his head back and drank the remainder of the dose while glaring at his old batman, who wore a satisfied look on his face.
“Now for the oil,” Hornsby announced, looking at the bottle with open scepticism and distaste.
He folded back the sheet to reveal the offending limb. On the surface, it did not look anything like how it felt underneath. Beneath, it felt like a volcano, gurgling hot lava that it was about to cast from its molten depths.
“You mean to touch me with that?”
“Ay, my lord. Much though I do not wish to, I cannot think you will be able to make a proper shift of it.”
“It smells…not horrid.” He could not quite place the mixture of herbal scents.
“Very medicinal, like,” Hornsby added.
“I am afraid to know. Get it over with, then.”
