Chapter 8 #3
“I’ll show you, then,” Miss Sandiford said eagerly.
“I agreed with mother,” she continued as she rose to go to the bench.
“The fabric will look wonderful on you.” She pulled on the string holding the wrapped parcel in brown paper.
The paper crinkled as the string fell away.
Miss Sandiford quickly pushed the paper aside to reveal a beautiful dark-blue fabric.
“There are ten ells here. Mother also said you did not have to take it all if you did not need that much.” She picked up the folded material and brought it to the terrace table.
Cecilia reached out to touch the fabric.
It was a beautiful color, though perhaps a trifle darker than her eyes; it would highlight them nicely—something James would like.
“I do like this material, though at the moment, I have no idea what I should like to make of it. Too many ideas to settle on one,” she said with a laugh as she felt the thickness and texture of the fabric. “I will take it all.”
“But you don’t even know the cost!” Miss Sandiford protested.
“No matter. A woman doesn’t often come across a fabric that is so suited to her as I feel this is to me. Your mother is a genius.”
The young woman nodded eagerly, then blushed as she saw Daniel come out of the house bearing a large mug of lemonade.
“Miss Sandiford,” he said courteously as he placed the mug before her.
Cecilia raised her brows. Daniel did not habitually address their guests; that he had called her by name was most singular.
While Daniel was studiously polite, Cecilia saw he looked longer at Miss Sandiford than was his wont to do.
Interesting, she thought as he walked back to his station by the terrace doors.
“Miss Sandiford, I shall have Daniel bring payment to the store by the end of the week.”
“Oh, there is no rush for payment, Lady Branstoke. Father made a ledger page in his account book for Summerworth Park.”
“I appreciate that; however, I prefer to see my debts are paid promptly. You see, my father lived on credit, and I found it embarrassing, especially as he so seldom paid on his accounts. –But I don’t wish to talk about bills and such. I should like to learn more about Miss Inglewood.”
“Georgia?” Miss Sandiford said.
“Yes, Miss Georgia Inglewood.”
Miss Sandiford looked decidedly uncomfortable with that topic of conversation. Cecilia knew she needed to find a way to calm her fears. “So young to die,” she said. “I heard she was not one to snub those who by birth might be considered a lower class.”
Miss Sandiford’s expression perked up. “Yes. Much to her parents’ dismay.”
“So I have been led to believe,” Cecilia said.
“It’s true, my lady. She was fun to be around! –My mother thought her too wild.”
“Did she forbid you to have anything to do with her?”
“No, Mother is too wise for that. This is a small village, and our mercantile is where everyone comes.”
“Did you consider her wild?” Cecilia asked.
“With the boys in the village, mayhap,” Miss Sandiford said after considering a moment.
Cecilia nodded. “Yes, getting with child does speak to a wild recklessness.”
“Georgia said she had to experience life before she went to London for the season next year, else she’d be considered a country bumpkin. I told her having intimate relations with the boys here would not give her town bronze, but she laughed at me.”
“Do you know who the father of her baby was?”
“No, and I don’t think she did either, though she claimed it was the viscount.”
“Did she? I hadn’t heard that. To whom did she say that?”
“To Martha and me, the last time we saw her. She said if she couldn’t shed the baby, she would make the viscount responsible. At least he had rank.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Sandiford; however, she sounds callous for the way she talked of getting rid of a new life. I can understand circumstances where it is warranted; however, her attitude makes me shiver. I can’t imagine losing my Hugh,” Cecilia said, losing her sympathetic tone.
Miss Sandiford sighed. “You would have to have known Georgia to understand. She was fun, like I said, but she thought only of today. She said, ‘Tomorrow can go to bloody hell’ —excuse my language, my lady, but that is what she said on many a day.”
“Do you know why Mrs. Jones would not give her the pennyroyal this time?”
Miss Sandiford shook her head. “Not rightly, though her refusal sure made Georgia mad. We thought the vicar’s wife had gotten more puritanical because she got herself with child again.”
Cecilia shook her head. “I learned from Mrs. Aldrich and Mrs. Hull that Mrs. Jones said a second usage of pennyroyal would likely kill her or make her have long-term consequences. Pennyroyal is a plant that can as easily kill the person taking it as the baby they carried. It had likely already done some injury to Miss Inglewood’s insides.
The recipe for the tisane must be followed exactly and with great care. ”
“Recipe?” Miss Sandiford asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes. The quantity used in the tisane needed to be precisely measured.”
The color drained from Miss Sandiford’s face.
“I didn’t know that. I suspect Georgia didn’t either—or, if she did, she didn’t believe that was the case.
” She pushed the mug away from her and hurriedly got to her feet.
“I must go. Mama will be wondering where I am.” She curtsied.
“Thank you for the lemonade,” she said and turned to run off the terrace and back to the village.
Cecilia watched her for a moment, then turned to Daniel. “Discreetly follow her, if you can, and let me know where she goes and who she sees.”
“You don’t think she will go home?”
“No. She will run to tell someone what I told her about Mrs. Jones. I’d like to know who that is.”