Widow in White

Chapter Six: Damp Scandal

There was nothing that could stop Lady Harriet's tongue once she got her eyes and ears on a juicy bit of gossip, and scarcely had she seen Lady Laura in the embrace of Lord Albroke than the entire country knew about it.

It had been a slow, dull winter for the country, damp weather and damp scandal. A divorce had fizzled out into an informal separation. A baronet's son had threatened to elope with his mistress, but his parents raised his allowance and he dropped the matter. An actress had reappeared on stage after a nine-month sabbatical, but as her lovers hadn't a title between them, no one could find it in themselves to care very much about it. Upon this barren ground, the gossip about Lady Laura and Lord Albroke fell like a thunderstorm. Lady Laura already had a reputation for being a spitfire and a flirt, and the fact that Richard had never done anything worth gossipping about before did not make him a less interesting target now. Quite the opposite, in fact: it gave people free rein to imagine whatever dire untruth they wished about him. And the most dire, appealing untruth they could come up with was that he was madly in love with Lady Laura who, like Anne Neville, would not have him — yet.

It was enough to put Lord Brocket in a sour mood for the rest of winter. Even if the gossip were not true, the mere fact that other people believed it threatened to ruin all his plans. There were few men amongst Lord Brocket's list of prospective husbands who could afford to cross a man of Richard's connections and influence. Two weeks after the party at Lady Harriet's, all of Laura's lovers had faded quietly away from her side.

Then, to Lord Brocket's pleasant surprise, two things happened: Lord Albroke returned to London early for the year, and Giles Fordham, who had previously never been interested in her, became one of Laura's strongest admirers.

Lord Brocket questioned neither event, only smiled, and let fate do its work. Smiled though his daughter never did.

It was cold, snowing February morning when things came to a sudden head. Lord Brocket was sitting at his desk in his study, dealing with his correspondence. There was a soft knock at the door, and as he looked up a maid entered, holding her hands behind her back.

"What is it?" he asked sharply, not liking to be disturbed by the staff at his work.

"If you please, my lord, there's..." the maid blushed. "There's been a letter, my lord."

"The post arrived an hour ago."

"It didn't come by post." She came nearer, brought her hands out from behind her, and slipped a letter onto a desk. "A man gave it me by the gate."

"Which gate?" Lord Brocket eyed the letter, which was unaddressed, but sealed with wax.

The maid blushed red. "The — kitchen gate, my lord."

She was lying. Lord Brocket eyed her steadily and pieced it together. She had been outside the grounds, no doubt slacking off, perhaps meeting a lover. He would tell the housekeeper to keep an eye on her, likely fire her within the month, but no need to get her guard up now.

"What kind of man?"

"Why, a gentleman's groom, I should think. He had a sort of manner about him."

"And what did he say to you?"

"Not much, my lord. Said he'd give me a crown if I gave this here letter to my lady. But I didn't know as you'd like it, my lord, so I took it straight to you."

"And did you get your crown?"

"No, my lord." The maid looked virtuous.

Lord Brocket gave a thin smile. She was lying about that too. A month? She wouldn't last two more weeks.