Chapter 3
Three
“Icannot believe this is happening! How can they print such filth?” Adele flung the Morning Post onto the growing pile of scandal sheets on the floor. “This is a disaster.”
It was three days after her wedding, and she was standing in the drawing room of Kidlington House. She could not quite bring herself to think of it as her house, even though it was.
Across from her, the housekeeper, Mrs. Patmore, stood with her hands clasped in front of her.
“I can have a word with Mr. Jenkins, the Steward, and we can ensure you do not have to see such distressing publications. I could talk to him now, in fact let me just —” Mrs. Patmore glanced towards the door, but Adele cut her off, caught up in her own thoughts.
“That will hardly stop them publishing the things. And I would rather know what is being said about me than live in ignorance.” She gestured to the mountain of scandal sheets. “I just… I cannot believe that they would be so cruel.”
“The scandal sheets are not known for their kindness,” Mrs. Patmore said, not ungently.
Adele’s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.
If she did not think you a na?ve fool before, she certainly will now.
“How can people believe this though? They are calling me ‘the Black Widow’, and with some of the things they are printing, I will be utterly ruined. No, I am utterly ruined. How am I supposed to show my face in the ton after this?”
“I am sure that in time, this will pass.” Mrs. Patmore glanced towards the door again, but Adele barely noticed as she frowned down at the scandal sheets.
“Will it? I find it hard to believe. The papers seem far too delighted that the whole affair was the most convenient thing to happen to me. I wonder if it is Duke Scarfield’s doing?
” The memory of the anger and triumph in the Duke of Scarfield’s face brought her anger back to life.
He may be handsome, but his personality is sorely lacking.
“I doubt it; Duke Scarfield has a rather low opinion of the scandal sheets.” There was something in the way she said “Duke Scarfield” that caught Adele’s attention, but she could not quite put her finger on it.
She waved it away. “It is not fair. I did everything I was supposed to, and now, I am a widow, and more to the point, I am being demonised for something I did not do. It’s as if I am the only one who cares about finding out the truth! Everyone else seems more than happy to fling out accusations!”
The memory of the Duke’s smirk filled her mind, the way he had towered over her at the door. Her heart sped up, and she rubbed a hand over her wrist, remembering the way he had caught her hand. She forced herself to calm down. He probably would have taken that as proof of my violent nature.
“My Lady, I really must get back to my duties, and I am overdue to check on Martha.” The housekeeper moved towards the door.
Adele jolted and swallowed as guilt rolled over her. “How is Martha? I hope she knows that I will do everything in my power to take care of her. Perhaps I should visit or —”
“That will not be necessary. I do not think it would help matters for her to see you. Besides, you clearly have enough to worry about.” The housekeeper’s smile slipped slightly.
“Are you sure? I do not want her to —” Adele began again, but Mrs. Patmore cut her off; this time there was no smile on her face.
“It would be best if you kept your distance, My Lady. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my work.”
“Of course. I am sorry for keeping you.” Adele nodded to the woman, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl who had been chastised by a teacher.
She watched as the woman swept from the room, shutting the door behind her. Silence settled around her, and her heart sank. It was clear from Mrs. Patmore’s face that the woman cared for Martha, was protective of her, and that filled Adele’s chest with a dull ache.
“Do not be so ungrateful. She has lost her true love, and it is good that she has people to care for her, who wish to look out for her,” Adele chided herself.
“I am being silly, and childish. I am a widow after all, and I will be looked after. Martha… She will not have the same protections. I will not begrudge her the small comfort she might find in the care of others.”
She meant her words, even as shame at her own feelings filled her, but she could not help but think of the way her parents had fled before Eric had even died. They have not even visited to see how I am.
Adele looked at the portrait of Eric, smiling down at her.
“I may not have loved you as a wife, but that does not mean I did not care for you. We were friends, and now, you are gone. And I know that is not the same loss as Martha has suffered, but… I just… I wish that I had someone who cared about me.”
The portrait remained unmoved, and Adele sighed. At that moment, she heard a commotion from the hallway. Frowning, she flung open the drawing room door and peered out.
She saw a very beleaguered looking Mr. Jenkins standing in front of a group of women Adele had never seen before.
I suppose they are unlikely to be vultures from the scandal sheets, but what are they doing here?
“Ladies, please, the Marchioness has said she has no wish to receive visitors.” Mr. Jenkins held his arms to the side, preventing the women from getting past him.
The youngest of the group attempted to duck under his arms. “We are no ordinary visitors.”
“What on Earth is going on?” Adele decided to intervene, relieved that her voice sounded far more stately than she expected.
“Lady Kidlington —– I tried to tell them you were not receiving visitors, but they were rather insistent.” Mr. Jenkins adjusted his somewhat ruffled livery.
Adele nodded. “I can see that, Mr. Jenkins, and while I appreciate your efforts, I suspect it may be easiest to allow my guests through to the drawing room.”
“As you wish.” Mr. Jenkins allowed the women to pass him.
Adele stood aside as the three ladies traipsed into the drawing room. They were an odd assortment of women, and Adele did her best to keep her expression neutral, trying to remember what polite smiles should look like.
“You will have to forgive our persistence, Lady Kidlington, but we felt it of utmost importance to meet you. Especially in light of the circumstances,” the middle of the three women spoke.
She was taller than both of her companions with long, dark hair styled into a practical bun. Her clothes were nice though Adele could see some signs of wear, and a few places where the repairs had been done by a skilled but not masterful hand.
The coolness of her tone put Adele’s back up. “If you are here to gawk at me, I will ask my guards to escort you from the room immediately.”
To her surprise, the youngest of the women clapped her hands together and let out a delighted laugh that filled the room as she flipped back her long auburn hair. “Oh, there is some fire in you. How wonderful! She will fit in most splendidly.”
This remark did nothing to soothe Adele’s nerves or her irritation.
“I think it would be best for us to introduce ourselves, Verity, before we test our dear Lady Kidlington’s temper.” The oldest of the three gave her companions a fond but reproachful look before turning toward Adele.
She had elegantly styled grey hair, kind blue eyes and a warm, almost maternal smile. “I am Lady Cora Lovett, widow of the late Sir Henry Lovett. This is Lady Verity Creswall, Dowager Viscountess of Nettle.”
She gestured to the woman with auburn hair. Lady Verity curtseyed and grinned at Adele. Adele curtseyed back.
The final woman introduced herself, her voice full of quiet confidence. “And I am Lady Rowen Berrymore, Dowager Countess of Irving. My late husband was the Earl of Irving.”
“It is a pleasure to meet all of you.” Adele hesitated and then blurted, “Why are you here?”
“We have come to extend an invitation to join our little group.” Lady Verity gave Adele a conspiratorial look. “You may have heard of us.”
“The Black Widows!” Adele’s jaw dropped as she looked at each of the women, realising who they were.
“Indeed.” Lady Rowen nodded.
“Why would you call yourselves that??”
“What I have learned, in my long life, is that words have power. If you claim something as your own, it ceases to be able to hurt you,” Lady Cora explained.
“But are you not worried what people will think of you?” Adele had flopped onto the sofa, and the other women took this as an invitation and sat down opposite her.
“Why would we?” Lady Rowen arched an eyebrow at her.
Lady Verity laughed. “Let them say what they like; we do not need their good opinion.”
“That is easier said than done.” Adele could not keep the bitterness from her voice.
“I feel as though I am being shunned by all of society. You are the first people to visit me since it all happened. Even my own family… It would seem that you are the only people who do not wish to keep your distance.”
Adele’s feelings broke free, and words poured from her.
“It is bad enough that I am a widow, but I feel like I am being torn apart on every front. Half the scandal sheets aim to imply I am some murderous harlot, desperate for a bit of power, the other half claim I am dishonouring the institution of marriage by even claiming to be a widow.” She let out a bitter laugh.
“I would say there are plenty of people who do far more than you to disgrace the sanctity of marriage.” A flash of anger crossed Lady Rowen’s face, and Adele wondered what had caused it.
“Perhaps the papers are right, after all — we did not even consummate the marriage.” Her cheeks flushed scarlet.
To her immense irritation, the image of the Duke’s smirk as he suggested she had killed her husband just to avoid such a thing filled her mind. Her indignation boiled over, adding to the flush of her cheeks.