what happened.”
“Logical…” Mary held herself very still. Her head was throbbing, and her mouth felt packed with cotton.
The wine.
A frenzy of images filled her mind’s eye.
“Carried you in his arms from his town carriage.” Anne stood and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”
“H-he did not explain?” Mary swallowed hard and stared hopefully at her sisters.
“No, he did not.” Elizabeth chuckled into her hand. “But I have my own suspicions. I think Anne and I are of like minds on that point.”
Mary fashioned a glower and shot it at each of her sisters in turn. “I should think it quite evident. I simply indulged in the Harringtons’ excellent wine. You know I have no tolerance for spirits of any sort.”
“That much is obvious.” Anne leaned close, too close for Mary’s comfort. “Did you make a spectacle of yourself? Or don’t you know, and must we read about it in the
Mary thought a moment on that question.
In truth, she did not know. “How silly you are being, the both of you. There is quite a simple explanation for everything. Lady Tidwell wasn’t feeling well, so Lord Wetherly escorted her to her home. I had no other means of transportation, so Blackstone offered his carriage.”
Anne smirked. “And when will you provide us with the ‘simple explanation’?”
“The rock of the carriage, the wine and warmth of the night air lulled me to sleep. That’s all.” Mary started to draw back the coverlet, then thought better of it. “Now, if you both will excuse me, I should like to see to my toilette.”
“Very well.” Anne narrowed her eyes but rose from the bed and led Elizabeth toward the door. “We shall speak more of this when we break our fast, for I know there is more to the story than you are sharing, Mary.”
The moment the door closed, Mary whisked back the coverlet and lifted the hem of her nightdress.
No…no. She was sure it had just been a dream.
But there was no denying the evidence before her.
There, between the jointure of her thighs, were twin smudges of blood.
Mary threw the coverlet back over her legs and slapped her palms to her eyes.
God help her.
She was ruined.
Chapter 12
After dressing, Mary did not go below stairs to join Anne and Elizabeth for breakfast. She turned the key in her bedchamber door, thus ensuring her privacy for at least a short while.
She had to consider the situation in which she now found herself, as well as the options-what few she still had-available to her.
With a nicked sterling spoon, she stirred the willow bark powder into a small amount of water and drank the mixture down. At least she assumed it was willow bark powder the young, mute maid had given her.
Mary had not even asked for the powder, but somehow the new maid had known-she always knew what the Royle sisters needed before they themselves thought of it-and had brought it right away.
How she did it, they did not know, so they decided that this was simply the way of her.
She had been engaged as a maid-of-all-things only two weeks past, after responding, Mary assumed, to the notice she had placed in
During the short interview, which had consisted of a series of nods and head shakes in response to Mary’s questions, it had become apparent that the girl did not, or possibly could not, speak, nor did she exhibit the ability to write or cipher. Still, she had seemed to understand every word said to her.
And, after Anne’s constant quibbles with both the outspoken butler and brash cook, the fact that the would-be maid did not speak had actually been a tick in her favor.
Like MacTavish and Mrs. Polkshank, she had appeared upon Aunt Prudence’s doorstep without references, but, amazingly, she had seemed experienced in all manner of maid’s work, from scullery to intricate coiffures.
Her abilities, joined with the fact that she would accept the meager wage Mary could offer, had made her instantly welcome in the household.
Her name remained a mystery, however. Not even Mrs. Polkshank could pry it from her, therefore becoming quickly convinced that the brown-eyed beauty was, in truth, a French spy.
Mary and her sisters were not so convinced, but they humored Mrs. Polkshank by using the name the cook had given her-
Mary rubbed her fingertips to her temples. What had she been thinking to have taken so much wine?
There was a soft knock at her door. Mary’s head snapped around, amplifying the noise all the more. “Who is there?”
When there was no reply, Mary removed the key from her dressing table and crossed the chamber to insert it, warily, into the lock. She opened the door but a crack and saw that it was the maid, Cherie.
Cherie’s huge brown eyes looked down at the portmanteau sitting beside her. She lifted it, which hardly seemed possible given her petite frame, but when Mary opened the door fully, she carried it into the bedchamber and hoisted it upon the tester bed.
Mary stared at the large leather bag, and moisture began to well in her eyes.
The maid waited silently for several moments, but when Mary made no move to remove it or open it, Cherie grabbed the handle.
“No! No, you are correct, Cherie.” Mary scrubbed a heavy tear that had caught in the edge of her eyelashes. “It is my only choice. I must return to Cornwall. It is only a matter of days, perhaps only hours, before all of London hears of my indiscretion.”
Cherie gave Mary a sad smile, and all at once, Mary broke down and gave in to the tears she’d been holding back.
“What a fool I was, Cherie. Such a fool. I was no match for his rakish ways, and still I thought to send him for the hills by playing the innocent who wanted him.”
Cherie took a handkerchief from the chest of drawers and wiped the tear from Mary’s cheek.
“But the wine, the wine ruined it all. And now I must leave. I cannot stay here and risk ruining my sisters’ good names as well.”
The maid touched Mary’s arm. Once she had her full attention, she pointed to herself with a pleading look in her eyes.
It took several seconds before Mary realized what the maid’s gesture meant, but then she knew. “No, I must go alone.” She managed a weak smile. “Besides, Anne could never part with you. You are the only member of our staff she truly likes.” Mary gripped both of the maid’s bony upper arms. “You will stay, won’t you, Cherie?
The girl nodded her head slowly, then turned and opened the portmanteau for Mary.
“Thank you, but I can manage the packing myself. If you have gone missing too long, Anne will come to seek you out, and I do not wish her to know that I am leaving before I am prepared.”
The maid nodded again before suddenly throwing her arms around Mary and hugging her tight. Then, she spun around and scurried from the room.
Mary followed the maid to the door and closed and locked it behind her.
She opened her wardrobe, removed a few articles of clothing, and settled them inside the portmanteau.
Her mind was filled with tasks to complete. She’d have to see to the household accounts before she left. Anne
