“So if Mr Nettles was not the bad influence, who was?”
“Well...” He opened and closed his mouth, and fell into a contemplation. She could see the judge in him working away, considering what he could or should say. Eventually he said, “The whole lot of them was a bad influence. From the top down.”
“Even Lady Purfleet? She facilitates many of the gatherings.”
“She’s not someone I personally associate with.”
His reply was tellingly brusque.
Adelia nodded. She decided not to push that matter any further and trigger another attack of rage. Instead, she said, “Mr Nettles was widowed, was he not? Were there any suggestions he might have been linked with women who would make potential future wives?”
“Nothing serious as far as I know, but if it’s gossip you want, speak to my wife. Constance?” He raised his voice and jerked his head. Charlotte and Constance stopped speaking and got to their feet.
The four of them now gathered together closer to the fire. Lord Mareham said, “Constance, tell Lady Calaway about Mr Nettles and that dancer of his.”
“I thought you said his reputation was spotless!” Adelia cried.
“In business, yes. In his personal life ... maybe not so much, but he was a man, after all. Men have needs.”
“That excuse is used far too much.”
“Excuse? Hardly. It is plain fact, my dear. But it’s science, so...”
She bit her tongue. This was not an argument that would be worth pursuing. Instead she turned to Constance and smiled.
Constance was keen to spill everything that she knew. She tapped her husband’s knee playfully. “For a start, darling, the dancer is nothing to do with Mr Nettles. If you must gossip, dear, get your facts right. As far as I know Mr Nettles kept himself to himself after the death of his wife, God rest her soul. He had been pursued by many women of questionable morals, of course, but he behaved impeccably. Gossip linked him to a few but it was nothing more than rumour.”
“Such as?”
“Here’s where the dancer comes in. You must have met Octavia Dymchurch?”
“Yes. She’s a widow too.”
“Yes and I hate to say this, but she has been blessed with widowhood, if you see what I mean? Her change in circumstance was something of a release to the woman.”
“Her husband was not entirely likeable?”
Constance laughed. “He was a philandering snake who should have been pushed off a cliff.”
“Is that how he died?” Adelia asked in horror.
“Oh, no, he had ongoing gastric issues and a heart problem, I believe. And it came not a moment too soon. And it was he who was quite openly running around London with Mariana da Costa, an exotic dancer, a model, and quite the darling of the Bohemian set. Well, she is the favourite for as long as her looks last.”
Adelia shuddered. One of those women. “Poor Octavia.”
“Yes. Poor Octavia indeed. She is becoming a dear friend to me,” Charlotte said.
“Quite,” said Constance. “She is free of all that now, and I see she is easing herself back into society.” She paused, and then said carefully but pointedly, “It is just a shame that she has chosen to go back into the artistic set rather than what would be more proper for her. Charlotte, she is a woman to be pitied but please do take care in your association...”
“But would she be welcome in all circles? Or would the taint of her dead husband’s activities affect how she was received?” Adelia asked, aware of Charlotte’s sudden discomfort.
“Oh, you know what people are like. But until now, she’s been a model of propriety and really ought to take care not to lose her good reputation.”
Her sentiments were much like what the Earl had been saying about Robert and Charlotte. Reputation was everything. Once lost, it was impossible to regain. And so much depended on who one was seen with.
“With your very words, you are eroding her good reputation,” Lord Mareham said.
Constance nodded and smiled. “You told me to gossip.”
“I did, I did.” He smiled, and sighed, and got ready to stand up. Charlotte had a mulish look on her face, which no one remarked upon. Lord and Lady Mareham took their leave, and as soon as they had gone, Charlotte excused herself and went off to her room, no doubt to sulk about being told to watch who she mixed with.
Adelia was left alone to ponder. While things were fresh in her mind, she decided to write it all down, so she headed back up to her rooms to find her notebook.
Nine
Theodore looked up as Adelia entered. She had that look on her face which told him she had information and she said hello almost mechanically as her attention roved around the room. “Where’s my notebook?” she muttered.
“Come and sit down and tell me everything.”
“How do you know I have things to tell you? Oh, because I asked for the notebook. And there it is.”
He smiled. He sometimes thought she imagined that he was less perceptive than he really was; and perhaps that was true when it came to dealing with strangers. But they had been married for a long time, and he knew her expressions better than he knew his own.
She opened the book to a blank sheet of paper and took up a pencil. “I’ve been talking with Lord and Lady Mareham,” she said.
“Ah, how is the old duffer? I hope he didn’t give you any hassle. Or advice.”
“I can cope with his type of hassle but luckily yes, he refrained from advice. He actually apologised to me so Constance has evidently put him to the rack. You know, I do think that he’s getting more and more set in his ways as he gets older. If you engage him in conversation about the state of the country these days, be prepared to take cover. He’s not a man who embraces change. I thought I was a little grumpy about new things – the sending of cards, trees inside the
