“I’m so glad.” Maud leaned back against the squabs. “That’s one worry off your mind, at least.” She laid her hand on Ivy’s. “How are you managing, dear girl?”
Knowing the question was asked from the heart of a friend, Ivy shrugged. “I spent yesterday wandering around Hartsmere, annoying the staff and trying to get a picture of the rooms and corridors in my mind.” She sighed. “’Tis much larger than it looks from the outside.”
Maud chuckled. “I know what you mean. But I was asking more about you and the Duke and this damned rumour business.”
“I miss him,” said Ivy bluntly. “I wasn’t sure about our marriage—the circumstances were unusual, to say the least. But today? Yes, I miss him quite dreadfully. And knowing he’s trying to find out who started these rumours is unsettling.”
“Have you heard anything from him yet?”
“Too soon,” Ivy shook her head. “But I am worrying. This isn’t a jaunt to a Northumberland country estate for a shooting party, my Lady. This is going into places where emotions are running high. Passions have been ignited in a variety of areas, and it’s my understanding that people are starving.” She stared from the window. “We cannot imagine such things. Nor can we imagine what lengths people will go to for their families and their lives.”
Maud was silent for a few moments, and Ivy wondered if her words had sounded too dramatic.
“Laurence is concerned that violence may erupt,” said Maud finally. “It’s not something he talks about, but I know that thought is there. He too deplores the prospect of Britons starving.”
Ivy turned to her. “I don’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of the political situation, my Lady. But how can this happen on such a scale?”
Maud looked at her sadly. “My inclination is to put the blame squarely on the shoulders of those worshippers of the greed demon. But they’re everywhere.” She sighed. “Reform, of some sort, is going to have to happen. Until then, I’m not sure what we can do.”
“This whole matter of Maidenbrooke being accused of supporting what sounds like an uprising…it’s utterly absurd,” mused Ivy.
“I know. Laurence knows. Anyone who’s ever met your husband knows that such insinuations are ridiculous,” scoffed Maud with disgust.
“But it is London. It’s the Ton snapping up the latest morsel of gossip, true or not.”
“An excellent analogy. Sometimes it’s like living in the middle of a bunch of carrion-loving crows.”
Ivy bit her lip, hesitation for a moment or two. “Sir Ronan had heard the rumours.” She spoke quietly, knowing they were nearing their destination. “I asked him the source.”
“You did?” Maud’s eyes widened. “What did he say?”
“He said he’d heard it from his dance partner. At the Wednesday Club.”
Maud’s jaw dropped, but before she could respond, the carriage drew up in front of Lady Glenowen’s residence. There were several other vehicles already there, so Ivy knew they wouldn’t have much more time alone.
“Beatrice Ringwood,” she murmured, as she and Maud prepared to alight. “That’s who told Sir Ronan.”
“Hmm.” Maud nodded and allowed the footman to help her out.
“This way, ladies, if you would?” Another footman showed them into the hall and a maid took their outer garments.
The hum of conversation lessened as Maud and Ivy were announced, the words “Her Grace the Duchess of Maidenbrooke, Lady Sydenham” making more than a few heads turn in surprise.
“Maud, darling,” gushed a woman hurrying toward them. Ivy assumed this was Lady Glenowen. “How very wonderful of you to join us.” She turned to Ivy, her eyes alight with enjoyment. “And my goodness…Duchess. I’m very honoured, my dear. Please tell your husband it has been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of his company. We’ve missed him.”
Knowing a curtsey would be incorrect given her new, highly elevated status, Ivy merely smiled and dipped her head in acknowledgement. “I will relay your kind words to him, my Lady. I know he’ll be happy to rectify the error he’s committed in neglecting you for too long. He’s travelling on some urgent business at the moment, so what better way to pass the time while I await his return?” Her smile turned into a grin. “Although now he’s married, he will be a little bit busier than usual when he gets back.”
The surrounding laughter was general and good natured, and Ivy found herself settling down on a comfortable sofa, next to a Miss Curry and her Mama.
To her surprise, the time passed quite quickly, since everyone attending had an opinion on their current reading assignment and was more than willing to share and discuss it.
Maud spent some time arguing the finer points of one of Miss Edgeworth’s novels, while Ivy and Miss Curry lost themselves in a conversation revolving around the Romanticism movement, and whether poets had a place alongside novelists.
When Lady Glenowen’s butler announced that refreshments were prepared, everyone rose, eager to quench the thirst their morning activities had created.
“Well this is more fun than I’d anticipated,” muttered Maud as she and Ivy walked together into the dining room.
“I agree,” chuckled Ivy. “And not a spiteful nor inappropriate comment from anyone.”
“Just goes to show,” said Maud. “People who read are much more intelligent, and mannerly, than those who don’t. Give me a reader to talk to any day.”
Lady Glenowen beckoned to them, and they joined her on one side of the room, taking the seats next to her around a small drum table loaded with delightful tasty tidbits. “Come, my dears. Tell me how you’re enjoying this little gathering.” She helped herself to several pastries.
“It is truly delightful, my Lady,” said Ivy. “I have been most challenged and intrigued by my conversation with Miss Curry, and I noticed
