Death of a Dowager (19 page)

Chapter 39

When we returned, Blanche and Mary Ingram were in the drawing room waiting to be measured for their mourning clothes. Both young women wore fashionable dresses and lace-trimmed mobcaps, typical society attire for mornings at home. Blanche’s muslin of lively pink with sprigs of blue red roses seemed to be particularly unsuitable given her recent bereavement, while Mary’s pale blue was at least somewhat more somber. Although both girls showed signs of weariness, only Mary’s eyes were red rimmed. She kept mopping at her nose.

The seamstress had uncoiled her measuring tape, and now she stood expectantly. “Which lady would like to go first?”

Neither girl looked up to greet us or acknowledge their aunt’s entrance. Blanche mumbled, “I suppose I shall,” while Lucy helped her friend into a chair beside the tea table. I waited until the older woman was seated and then took a chair on the periphery.

In short order, Blanche’s measurements had been taken, and it was Mary’s turn. When the seamstress turned to Lady Grainger, she demurred. “I still have what I wore when my husband died. It will be fine. Thank you, Mrs. Hutton. When can we expect these to be finished?”

“Tomorrow, ma’am,” said the woman, hungrily eyeing the tea tray that the parlor maid set on the tea table. Evidently the Ingram girls had ordered tea while we were in the garden.

“Lillian? Please see that Mrs. Hutton has a cup of tea before she leaves,” said Lady Grainger. “And wrap up whatever pastries are left from breakfast for her. I’m sure she and her sewers will be working late tonight.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am, and I speak for all of us when I say we are sorry for your loss.” With that the seamstress followed Lillian from the drawing room.

That small gesture, I thought, spoke volumes about Lucy’s friend. Despite her losses, despite being distracted, despite the vast differences in their stations, Lady Grainger had taken note of the woman’s lean expression—and took the time to do the woman a good turn.

Blanche’s actions were also illustrative—but not in a positive manner. Lillian had refreshed the hot water, and Blanche reached over and helped herself to a fresh cup of tea without offering to pour for her aunt. Lucy’s nostrils flared with suppressed indignation, but instead of reproving the girl’s bad manners, she said, “May I serve you, Lady Grainger?”

Then she did the woman’s bidding and offered the same courtesy to me. The strong black tea was most welcome and revived my spirits. Lucy and Lady Grainger also took obvious pleasure in the brew.

Blanche glared at Lucy but otherwise ignored my friend’s presence. The punch to the gut must have worked some magic, because Blanche seemed unwilling to further harass Lucy. Instead she was keeping her distance.

It was only after I set my teacup down that a shiver reminded me there was a poisoner in our midst, and we might be at risk. I glanced up, wondering if anyone other than me even harked back to that sad event of two days ago. How fickle is the human mind! How easily we discard self-preservation when it becomes inconvenient! We had each fallen on our drinks and pastries like a hungry horde without a second thought.

“I’m glad you are up and about, Aunt Olivia,” said Blanche. “Someone needs to order mourning cards and put an ad in the
Times
. I cannot bear to visit the undertaker and select a coffin for Mother. You’ll do that for us, won’t you? And another thing, Aunt Olivia. You’ll need to hire a midwife to sit with Mama’s remains. When she’s back from the undertaker, that is. Do find someone who looks reputable, won’t you? That woman who kept watch at Uncle’s visitation was a disgusting creature. I was surprised you let her into your home. Oh, and I think poor Mama should be wrapped in a black silk shroud rather than wool, don’t you? Oh, I do hope we have a good representation of the ton for the visitation.”

She continued, “I wonder if the Earl of Sessingham will visit. He’s rather dashing, and I know he was interested in me. Need I wait a full six months to marry?”

These were the first words out of Blanche Ingram’s mouth. I glanced sidewise at her sister, Mary, and watched the younger sister shift her weight uncomfortably on her chair. Mary had kept her eyes downcast. She hadn’t touched her tea, and she’d wrapped her handkerchief so tightly around her fingers that they turned white.

Lady Grainger squinted at Mary. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No,” she said, adding eagerly, “perhaps you could send a footman for Mr. Lerner.”

I kept my eyes on my tea. The girl simply refused to accept the man’s word that he was uninterested. I wondered what more he would have to do to be convincing. How would he be able to carry out his responsibilities in the same county as the Ingrams’ estate if she continued with this nonsense? There was only one solution: We would have to hope that he would marry Miriam quickly. Surely that would put an end to Mary’s fantastical imaginings.

“I kept thinking about Mother,” said Mary, and her voice broke under the strain of emotion. She used the end of her handkerchief to dab her eyes, and she appeared to be on the verge of losing herself to grief. “I miss her already.”

“So do I, of course,” said Blanche. “But we must go on. Oh, Aunt, I told that woman I need several dresses in lavender and gray as well as the black bombazine. That reminds me . . . I’ll need a new bonnet as well. Something in dove gray that can be perked up with ribbons at a later date.”

“Blanche,” said Lady Grainger sternly, “black is de rigueur. Unless you want people to speak ill of you, you will wear it. Girls, I know you both have something you can wear until your mourning clothes arrive tomorrow, because the dresses from when your father died are still in my trunks. Remember? I shall instruct Dorsey to ready them for you, and I expect you to change immediately.”

“I’ll go up directly.” Mary’s lower lip trembled, and a fresh fountain of tears spilled down her cheeks.

“You are right, Aunt. This is a house of mourning. We must comport ourselves accordingly. So should your staff. Do you know that someone was out there digging in the garden? How unseemly. Really, Aunt Olivia, you must speak to your servants. They need to be taken in hand. If this were my house—”

Lady Grainger set down her teacup and cleared her throat. “I have been meaning to talk to you about that. Given the loss you have both endured, I know this timing is awkward, but if I wait to speak on this matter, you might embarrass yourself by saying something that later haunts you. Especially since your mother’s passing will have naturally brought such concerns to scrutiny.”

“Pray, what is it?” Blanche put down her teacup. “You sound very serious.”

“It’s about my will.”

Blanche beamed as if someone had lit the wick in her oil lamp.

“I believe we should go.” Lucy pushed back her chair, and I immediately followed suit.

“No. I wish you wouldn’t,” Lady Grainger said firmly.

I continued to gather my skirt, but our hostess stayed me with a wave of her hand. “Please, Mrs. Rochester. You are dear to Lucy, so you might as well hear this, too.”

I folded my hands in my lap and waited. To disobey Lady Grainger would have seemed rude, so I stayed. I noticed that Lucy also lowered her eyes. It was as if we were trying to disappear, even though we’d been asked to stay. There was tension in the air—and we wished to avoid another scene with Blanche.

“Blanche, Mary,” Lady Grainger began, “while your last visit was fresh in my mind, I met with my solicitor. Please know that I gave myself several days’ worth of prayers and thought before proceeding. As you both are well aware, your father, my brother, was very dear to me. My husband and I always longed for children, although God deemed it best we not have them. When the three of you were born, I hoped you would become as daughters and a son to me, and I told your mother as much. Over the years, I have tried to make you welcome here.”

“Everyone knows we’re here for the holidays and for the Season,” Blanche said.

“Yes, it has been your wont to use my home as your own. As a consequence, people have formed the assumption that you will inherit everything from me.”

Blanche struggled to restrain herself, although the hint of a smile threatened to overcome her efforts. Mary’s eyes, although still red and puffy, also grew round with expectation.

“Obviously, your brother had already inherited your family home and property. But your father was unable to make provisions for the two of you. He asked that I care for you financially. Your mother made it abundantly clear that she expected for me to give you, Blanche, this house, as the older daughter, and to leave Mary a dowry and an income.”

“You are so kind, Aunt Olivia. Believe me, I shall never forget you, no matter how long I live. No matter what changes I make, I shall think of you. Dear, dear aunt.” Blanche clasped her hands to her breast.

“Blanche, you are putting the cart before the horse,” Lady Grainger warned.

The younger woman lowered her eyes and attempted to look chastised. “Of course, I am. Only because you brought up the subject. Otherwise I would have never said anything. We are obviously talking about the future—and certainly, a long time from now. A while, at least.”

“Yes, well, that’s why I want to talk with you. Things have changed.”

Avarice triumphed over grief in the faces of the Ingram girls.

Lady Grainger continued, “I have decided not to do that. Instead, I am leaving the bulk of my wealth and my property to Evans Forrester.”

Chapter 40

“Aunt Olivia!” Blanche slammed both palms against the tabletop, which caused the silver to jostle. “You can’t! You cannot do that!”

Mary started crying louder than before.

“Blanche, that’s where you are wrong. I not only can do as I please with my money and property, but I
shall
do as I please. In fact, I already have.”

Lucy’s mouth had fallen open. “Olivia? Are you sure? I mean, that’s terribly kind of you, but wholly unnecessary.”

“I know, but it’s my pleasure.” The older woman grasped Lucy’s hand and squeezed it. The two exchanged looks of purest affection. “Remember? I mentioned at the opera that I spoke to Claymore, my solicitor,” said Lady Grainger. “Really, Lucy, my mind is quite firm on this. I have prayed over it for many hours, and I think it best for all involved. While Silvana walked this earth, she determined that Mary couldn’t find a husband until Blanche was wed—and she delighted in seeing Blanche’s triumphs. As a consequence, neither of my nieces has moved on with her life. Now things have changed, and I am even more confident I have done what’s best for all concerned.”

“How can you say that? You’ve impoverished us! First our mother dies and then you cut us out of your will!” said Blanche.

“Niece, you did not listen carefully. I said that I was leaving ‘the bulk’ of my earthly riches to young Evans. There remains money set aside as a dowry for you and your sister. I will also support you for one more Season, but that is it. This cruel charade must end. You have rejected many wonderful men with sterling qualities, and in my heart of hearts, I do not believe you do so because you care about love. You do so because you are caught up in being the belle of the ball, and that must stop. Now.”

Lady Grainger sat with her hands folded loosely and regarded her niece. There was no malice in her eyes, only regret. “I have long thought that you were on the wrong path. You trifled with the affections of the men who have shown interest, because you enjoyed the thrill of the game, just like you enjoy a good hunt. Your mother supported you in this. Had she stopped such foolishness early on, you would have been happily married.”

“Happily married? My mother sat alone at Ingram Park while my father had dalliances. That’s not what I would call a happy marriage. Perhaps you think it so, but then—” Wisely, Blanche stopped. But not before I finally understood my adversary’s motives: To her, marriage was a jail term, not an invitation to a more fulfilling life. Suddenly, I felt sorry for Blanche. As time worked against her, she struggled harder and harder to escape a future devoid of happiness. At least, that was her prediction for the years ahead. That she could be wrong never occurred to her. She was far too busy fleeing her presumed fate than examining it closely and weighing its accuracy.

Blanche was still sputtering. “But how can you leave your estate to the bastard son of a man who’s not even a blood relative? You can’t do that! What about our father? We are your brother’s rightful heirs!”

“Your father died without tuppence to his name. All he had left was his title and the deed to your home. If you’ll recall, the bulk of my fortune is from my husband’s family. Since the Graingers are not your blood kin, you have no legal claim to it. Please remember that out of the goodness of my heart, and because of my love for my late brother, I have propped up you and your mother and brother for years. Several times I have handed over money to erase gambling debts that your brother incurred. However, as of today, that comes to an end.”

Mary sniffled into the damask cloth that she held to her mouth. “I miss Mama . . .”

“Oh, hush,” said Blanche. “I miss her, too. If she were here, you would never dare to do this, Aunt Olivia!” Any semblance of good manners had flown out the window. Blanche spoke with all the brash intonations of a common fishwife. Her aunt’s pronouncement thwarted all of Blanche’s ambitions, and the girl was not about to give up on her hopes and dreams. Not yet.

“That is another reason that I must do as I have said. I can no longer countenance your behavior, girls. You have been unceasingly rude. You have taken liberties.”

“Liberties?” Blanche looked askance. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“You came into my home and ordered around my staff. In fact, your mother even slapped Dorsey.”

“But that was our mother! I didn’t touch your servant!”

“No, but you have bullied them and brought them to tears with your accusations and demands. Somewhere along the way you and your mother forgot that this is my home. All three of you seemed to have misunderstood that you stay here by my grace and favor. Let me offer a simple example: Mary hacked away at my flowers. Without my permission. Without a word to me. And you both know how much I cherish my flowers. You see? You have made it clear to me that I am nothing more to you than a purse of coins. And that must stop,” said Lady Grainger. “Without gratitude, you have nothing, because everything will never be enough.”

Olivia Grainger’s words of wisdom were lost on her nieces. Blanche fumed, her pretty face turning redder by the minute. Mary simply continued crying and repeating, “I want my mother.”

My discomfort grew, as did Lucy’s. My friend stared at her empty teacup, while she drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. This habit, I had noticed, was a way of coping when she was upset.

“This is all your fault, Mary.” Blanche spat the words out. “You had to go out there and putter around, didn’t you? Cutting flowers and messing about in the kitchen. As if you knew what you were doing.”

Without waiting for Mary’s response, Blanche turned her attention to Lady Grainger. “Dear, dear Aunt! I am so sorry for what my sister has done. I promise you it will never, ever happen again. You can depend on it. I shall watch her like a hawk. But please, think carefully before you cut us off. At the end of the day, we are family, and blood is thicker than water.”

“Your actions do not support your words,” said Lady Grainger. “I’ve heard enough for one morning.”

I realized that not once during this entire meeting had either girl shown any compassion for Lady Grainger. Not only had our hostess lost her sister-in-law, but she had suffered this tragedy in the confines of her home—and she had lost her beloved companion, Mags, as well.

Taking this opportunity to effect our exit, my friend said, “Olivia, there was a purpose to our visit. We were wondering how we could help. I am sure you have cards that need to be written. Jane and I would be happy to do that for you. Then you can sign them and send them on.”

“That would be incredibly helpful,” said Lady Grainger, as she rose from the tea table. Leaving the Ingram sisters behind, Lucy and I followed our hostess to her library. Once she’d given us a sample of the message she wanted to send and a stack of black-bordered cards and envelopes, Lucy and I were ready to return to #24 Grosvenor. My friend hugged the elderly woman, and I again offered my condolences for her losses.

“Thank you both for coming,” said Lady Grainger. “Now I think I shall go back to my room and lie down. I’ve found this whole ordeal incredibly tiring.”

Lucy and I were almost out the front door when Blanche pushed Stanton aside and blocked our way.

“You,” she said, jabbing a finger at Lucy, “took full advantage of an old woman’s friendship.”

“You know that’s not true,” said Lucy. “Now, please, step aside.”

The memory of Lucy’s swift punch in the stomach must have given Blanche pause. Although she hesitated, she did move out of our way. “Oh ho! It becomes clear. This is all up to you, isn’t it? This was your plan from the start, wasn’t it? You are nothing more than a common murderer. You killed our mother—and I shall see you hang for it!”