Just This Once (24 page)

The idea that she might at last be near to
tracking down Miss Denby, and to learning something definite about
her own parentage and how she came to have the brooch, sent what
little appetite Josie had sailing out the window. She nibbled at
bread and jam, tasted a forkful of eggs, and sipped half a cup of
coffee. Her eyes shone with dreams of the future. But when she
shook herself, and glanced at the sideboard, she returned to the
present with a jolt. Her breakfast was done—and a mountain of food
still remained.

Josie’s eyes narrowed. She thought of how
the children in Mrs. Guntherson’s care would squeal with joy over
the repast that had been offered her. And what of the poor people
right here in England? According to what Mr. Latherby had told her,
there were teeming slums in London filled with men, women, and
children living in squalor, most of whom would no doubt sell their
souls for such a meal.

She pushed back her chair and went in search
of Mrs. Fielding.

“I scarcely touched my breakfast,” she said
crisply, as the housekeeper, who had been showing one of the
housemaids in the small withdrawing room the correct way to polish
the lamps, turned away from the task to give her mistress her full
attention.

“And I wish what is left of the meal to be
distributed among those who are needy here in the area. There are
needy people here in the country, aren’t there?”

“Well, yes, my lady.” The housekeeper looked
doubtful. “Many. But—”

“Is there any reason why it can’t be
done?”

“No, my lady, of course not. But the late
earl never—”

“The late earl is dead. And I am mistress of
this house now.” Josie smiled pleasantly, but her tone was firm.
She ignored the freckled maid who gaped at her in stupefaction. “I
would like Rupert or Charles or one of the grooms to distribute the
food to those who need it. And also, Mrs. Fielding—”

“Yes, my lady?” the housekeeper quavered as
Josie broke off, thinking.

“Is there an orphanage in the area?”

“Not here in Sussex, my lady. I believe
there is one in Kent County. It is more than an hour’s drive from
here.”

“I’ll want to visit it when I return from
London—to bring some food and blankets and clothing for the
children. Will you help me to collect what I need? I would imagine
there are probably piles of old but useful things packed away in
attics or spare rooms all about this house.”

“Yes, my lady. Of course there are. I’ll be
happy to assist you.” There was a newly respectful expression in
Mrs. Fielding’s eyes now. Josie smiled.

“Thank you. We’ll do that as soon as I
return. I wish I had some idea how long we’re going to be in
London.”

But before she had time to ponder this
further, Perkins appeared in the doorway.

“Lady Tattersall to see you, my lady.”

And Josie had to set aside her newfound
project, and concentrate on remembering her lessons as she walked
slowly and sedately to the drawing room to receive her guest.

Lady Tattersall looked none the worse for
wear this morning. Her saffron gown was as elegant as ever, and
every curl on her head was immaculately arranged beneath a small,
feathered hat where silk grapes were clustered together in a tight
band of gold satin.

“Dear Ethan came by a short time ago to see
Colonel Hamring and I just had to repay his kindness and see how
you were faring, Lady Stonecliff.” At Josie’s invitation she seated
herself on the pale green sofa and clasped her fan between her
gloved hands in a dramatic fashion. “Ah, my dear, do you mind if I
call you Josephine?”

“Please do, ma’am,” Josephine managed to
utter before Lady Tattersall raced on.

“Well, Josephine, I am mortified, absolutely
mortified, that such horrid, unspeakable violence took place in my
home and befell my guests. Can you ever forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forg—”

“When I think how close we all came to
losing our lives... well, it doesn’t bear thinking about, now does
it? Thank God for Ethan—so amazing the way he subdued those
cutthroats, was it not? And, of course, Colonel Hamring behaved
with great bravery. And you, my dear! You were positively
heroic!”

“Oh, no, not really.”

“Yes, yes. I must say, when I heard that
dear Ethan had married a young woman from America, I wondered what
kind of a person she might be, because the last girl he took up
with was totally unacceptable—though what happened to her was a
tragedy, just a tragedy, you know, and—”

“I’ve heard something about this girl,”
Josie broke in, but got no further before Lady Tattersall clapped a
hand to her own mouth, and then rushed on, her words tumbling like
a waterfall.

“Oh. Dear me. I never should have brought it
up.”

“Now that you have, Lady Tattersall, may I
ask you a question?”

“Of course.” But there was a shrill wariness
to her voice. No doubt she was ready to bite off her tongue for
having allowed it to wander so carelessly to this topic. Here was
her godson’s new young wife, and she had babbled to the girl about
a woman from his past.

“Who was this girl my husband once...
loved?” Odd, but the last word stuck in Josie’s throat. Lady
Tattersall regarded her knowingly.

“It doesn’t matter, my dear. He loves you
now—can there be any doubt? Look how ferociously he defended you
last night.”

“Oh, I’m in no doubt of my husband’s
feelings for me.” Josie summoned a smile. “But you see, Mr.
Winthrop mentioned her, too. And Ethan has told me some of the
story,” she lied, steadily watching Lady Tattersall’s face. “I
didn’t want to press him for details because it seemed quite
painful.”

That much at least was true. The painful
part. He’d knocked Winthrop across the room and inflicted a good
deal of pain on him. She held her breath, waiting to see if Lady
Tattersall would fill in the story. If she refused again, Josie
would have no choice but to let the matter drop. She could push
only so far. But to her relief, Lady Tattersall must have been
eager to discuss it beneath her show of reluctance, for she needed
no more urging than this before she fluttered her fan and began to
speak in a low, rushing voice like that of a gurgling stream.

“Her name was Molly Flanagan. She was a
shopgirl. Poor as a mouse. Lived with an aunt and an uncle who
toiled in one of the factories. I believe poor Ethan met her when
he went into Madame Fanchon’s, a very exclusive milliner’s shop, to
purchase a hat for... for...”

“Yes?” Josie wasn’t about to let Lady
Tattersall back away from the tale now. “For who?”

“For his mistress,” the older woman burst
out, then fanned herself frantically. “But all it took was one
glance at this Molly—she was lovely, I heard—and Ethan forgot
about... that other woman whom he had no intention of marrying, of
course, and began actually
courting
this girl, this
nobody.”

Lady Tattersall shook her head sadly, then
stared at Josie in alarm.

“I hope I haven’t lessened your respect for
your husband by telling you this,” she said in dawning horror. “Any
man is susceptible to a pretty face, even a common one, and I’m
sure Ethan simply lost his head—”

“You haven’t changed my feelings toward him
in the least,” Josie interrupted impatiently. “But what happened to
Molly? Did they become betrothed?”

“No. Yes. Well, I’m not certain. You see,
that’s when all the trouble began, when it became known.” She
sighed. “Molly Flanagan was scarcely someone the old earl would
ever have countenanced as a wife for his son, even his younger son,
as Ethan was. He forbade Ethan ever to see the chit again.”

“And then?”

“And then, oh, it’s quite dreadful, my
dear.”

A knock sounded on the drawing room door and
Lady Tattersall clamped her lips together as the butler entered.
“My lady, Miss Perry and Miss Crenshaw have come to call.”

Josie could have screamed at the
interruption. Just as she was about to find out what happened to
Molly! It took all of her self-control to keep from grinding her
teeth in frustration.

But both Lady Tattersall and Perkins were
watching her, waiting for the correct response. She had no choice
but to give it. “Show them in, Perkins,” she managed with a most
ladylike little nod.

Though Josie was glad to have the chance to
see Miss Perry again, she didn’t feel nearly as warmly toward
Rosamund Crenshaw. During the next half an hour she forced herself
to listen politely to the black-haired girl’s shrill recounting of
the previous night’s events, to her exclamations of how terrified
and shaken she’d been, of how thankful she was that her jewels had
been restored to her, and of her admiration for Lord Stonecliff s
heroism.

“Lady Stonecliff showed herself to be
equally brave,” Miss Perry pointed out with her gentle smile. At
this Miss Crenshaw’s beautiful pale face seemed to grow cold as
marble, and she raised her brows at her chaperon.

“Brave? Perhaps.” Miss Crenshaw gave a
shrug, then turned to Josie with a slight smile. “Forgive me, Lady
Stonecliff, I don’t wish to appear rude, but I think your actions
were foolhardy. For a lady to actually swing a candlestick at a
man...”

She shuddered. “You invited attack upon
yourself by behaving as a common hooligan. And you suffered for it.
One should remember that violence is hardly appropriate behavior
for a lady, no matter the circumstances.”

“My dear, she was trying to aid her
husband!” Miss Perry exclaimed, and Lady Tattersall echoed this,
but Miss Crenshaw’s fair skin flushed an unbecoming mottled
red.

“I fail to understand! You have all the
sympathy in the world for
her
and none for me.” She turned
wrathful olive-green eyes on Miss Perry. “May I remind you, Cousin
Clara, that it is my mama who gives you a home and the bread that
you eat and the clothes that you wear. Not Lady Stonecliff. And
last night, while I was terrified and hiding out-of-doors all
alone, you were concerned only with helping Colonel Hamring and
tending to Lady Stonecliff. You gave me no thought—no thought
whatsoever.”

“That’s not true, dearest,” Miss Perry
protested. Though her voice was calm, Josie saw the pallor of her
cheeks, the frightened dismay that entered her eyes.

“I believe it is.”

“But no—I was most terribly concerned for
you, for all of us, only Lady Stonecliff was injured and—”

“I wish to go home. To London. Now, today.”
Miss Crenshaw swept suddenly to her feet. “I believe Mama will have
something to say to you about your conduct during this holiday,
dearest
.”

Observing the black-haired girl’s rising
indignation, and Miss Perry’s distress, Lady Tattersall hastened to
intervene. “Now, Rosamund, my love, you’re still distraught over
all that happened last night and who can wonder at it? But, please,
don’t make any rash decisions while you’re so upset—why don’t you
come to tea this afternoon and we can have a nice quiet chat? It is
the country air that will settle your nerves in a day or so, not
the frantic pace of London.”

“I’ve decided. I’m going home!” the girl
announced, and nodded curtly toward her hostess.

“Good day, Lady Stonecliff.”

She started toward the door, obviously
expecting Miss Perry to follow meekly, which she did.

But Josie moved more quickly, dodging into
Miss Perry’s path and waylaying her.

Josie had begun to realize during this
interchange that Clara Perry, like herself, must be alone in the
world. A poor relation, who lived with the Crenshaw family and was
made to feel like a burden and a servant as she endured the
“kindness” of their generosity. Josie had lived in many places
where she’d been made to feel unwanted and unworthy, and fury rose
in her like a swift summer storm as she saw Miss Perry’s eyes brim
with tears.

She put a detaining hand on the
auburn-haired woman’s arm. “I want you to know that my husband and
I will be driving up to London today as well. You’re welcome to
visit us—I believe the house is in Mayfair.”

She looked to Lady Tattersall for
confirmation. Ethan’s godmother nodded.

“And if you would care to stay, for as long
a visit as you want—er, wish—you would be most welcome.”

Miss Crenshaw whirled and glowered at her.
Josie ignored it. Miss Perry squeezed her hand gratefully, but only
said in her quiet way, “You’re very kind, but I believe the
Crenshaws have need of me.” She looked uncertainly toward Rosamund,
who just stared at her without any softening of expression.

“They are my family, you know.” Miss Perry
took a shaky breath. “But I’m certain Miss Crenshaw and her mama
and I will look forward to calling on you, Lady Stonecliff.”

“Hah.” Miss Crenshaw gave a most unladylike
snort.

Josie turned toward her. But Rosamund
immediately swept toward the door once again.

“Miss Crenshaw!”

The cool imperative of her tone forced the
other woman to stop and turn. Josie came forward and smiled
tightly.

“Miss Perry is welcome to visit me in
Mayfair at any time, but if your mama is anything like you, I hope
she’ll stay away. As for you,” she continued in a low pleasant
tone, “don’t bother to pay me a call in London or anywhere else
unless you can keep that spoiled, sneering expression from your
face and behave with civility. I’m sure you didn’t learn your
manners—or lack of them—from Miss Perry.”

For a moment there was a shocked, white-hot
silence. The very air in the sunny green drawing room seemed to
quiver. Then Josie heard Lady Tattersall’s strangled gasp.

I guess I’ve done something awful,
she thought, and knew she ought to be sorry. But she wasn’t. She
decided to finish the business with a flourish. “You may go now,”
she said in the same dismissive tone Latherby had taught her to use
with the servants.