Chapter Eighteen #2
Farrah was aware that she had handled the situation most ineptly.
Her determination to exercise discretion had fallen at the first hurdle, partly because Mrs Armstrong had employed a goading tone, probably hoping to tempt Farrah into …
Into what precisely? Farrah felt disadvantaged but adjured herself to remain civil and not give her suspicions about the woman away.
‘My, my!’ Mrs Armstrong tutted, her amusement evident. ‘A female who speaks her mind. How refreshing. I was like you at your age, and it got me into no end of trouble. I was considered audacious and ungrateful for the opportunities that came my way.’
Farrah paused to consider her response. It was clear that the lady had no intention of mentioning her father, but with every second that passed, Farrah became more convinced that she knew of his whereabouts.
‘Your sister is very pretty,’ Mrs Armstrong remarked, breaking the awkward silence that Farrah had permitted to extend between them when she failed to respond to the woman’s earlier comment.
‘Oh yes. She is the beauty of the family, there’s no doubt about that, and I am sure she is destined to make a splendid marriage.’
‘Your lady mother has the duke in her sights for the favoured one, I take it.’
Farrah raised a brow, wondering if she had just been offered an opening. ‘What makes you suppose that Sophia is the favourite?’ she asked.
‘I have eyes in my head. Sophia conforms.’
Farrah laughed in spite of herself. ‘And I do not.’
‘Which makes you far more interesting.’
‘Thank you.’ Farrah paused. ‘I think. How do you know so much about my family?’
‘I follow society, even though I am not permitted to join its hallowed ranks.’ A note of bitterness had entered Mrs Armstrong’s tone. ‘I am aware that you enjoyed your season but declined several eligible offers.’
Farrah sent her a suspicious look. ‘How do you know that?’ she asked, narrowing her eyes. ‘It is not common knowledge.’
‘I have my sources.’
Farrah knew she was being taunted. ‘By which I take it you mean Papa told you,’ she said, jolted into giving herself away.
Reuben was highly suspicious of Farrah’s motives, convinced that she would corner Mrs Armstrong and ask questions that might well put her in danger.
Farrah was so wretchedly headstrong, so determined to find her father, that she was likely to throw caution to the wind.
If Mrs Armstrong was as ruthless as the information that Reuben had obtained about her activities implied, then she would not permit the inquisitive daughter of a man who was effectively under her control to stand in her way.
Given that it was in Mrs Armstrong’s best interests to maintain a low profile, Reuben wondered why she had accepted his mother’s invitation. Presumably because to decline would have provoked the collective curiosity of the local gentry and drawn unnecessary attention to her.
‘Blast!’ Reuben missed an easy ball, handing victory to his brother, and put his cue aside.
‘Your mind is not on the game,’ Ezra said. ‘Care to share?’
Reuben shook his head. ‘It’s this business with Dalton. Given what we now know about the late Mr Armstrong, I’m wondering if his widow is carrying on in his stead.’ Reuben rubbed his chin. ‘In fact, I’m wondering if she was the driving force all along.’
‘You might well be right. We men are guilty of looking upon the weaker sex as being incapable, which is fundamentally not true.’
‘She’s probably running things now, but if she was doing so before her husband died, she’s hardly going to admit it – even if I ask her nicely.
’ Reuben thumped his fist against the surface of the billiards table.
‘Anyway,’ he added, reaching for his discarded coat and slipping his arms into the sleeves.
‘I suppose we had better join the fray. I shall try to get the measure of Mrs Armstrong. It will be interesting to see if she’s comfortable in our mother’s drawing room and whether she aspires to be admitted to our circle.
There won’t be much of an opportunity for anything other than superficial conversation, but even so we can learn a lot from that.
See what you make of her. I’d value your opinion. ’
‘Anything to oblige, big brother,’ Ezra replied, reaching for his own coat.
Their entry into the drawing room interrupted a lively debate amongst the younger set.
Reuben’s gaze roved over their heads and came to rest upon Farrah at the far end of the room.
He groaned when he saw her in conversation with a woman whom he did not recognise but who had to be Mrs Armstrong.
She was the only stranger his mother had invited.
He looked for Charlotte, intending to bestow a chastising look upon her for failing to keep the two ladies apart as requested, but she was in the midst of the younger girls, avidly discussing the infamous Madame Celeste – in a critical way, it appeared.
Reuben’s interest quickened. If his anonymous correspondent was right about Madame’s identity, Farrah’s reaction would be telling.
‘Ah, your grace.’ Lady Dalton waved a hand in his direction.
‘What fortunate timing. You find us all a dither and in need of your advice. All along, I have tried to tell the girls that this Madame Celeste creature must be a fake, intent upon causing turmoil amongst the younger set, and now I have been proven right. The woman is dangerous and must be stopped from exerting influence over impressionable minds, would you not agree?’
Lady Dalton’s strident tone drew the attention of everyone in the room, belatedly including Farrah, whose mouth dropped open when she realised what all the commotion was about.
She was no more embarrassed than usual by her mother’s very obvious attempt to garner his attention, Reuben suspected.
It was the subject of Madame Celeste that had caused her anxiety.
Any lingering doubts he had allowed himself to entertain about Farrah masquerading as a mature Frenchwoman with an encyclopaedic knowledge of amour dissipated as he watched the colour drain from her face.
She rallied quickly, though, and when her gaze clashed with his, she tilted her head in a defiant fashion.
‘I am sure she is harmless, Ruth,’ the duchess said in a placating tone, ‘and has no untoward intentions. She simply titivates and gives the girls something to giggle about. I am sure we would have joined in when we were their age. Besides, nothing so very terrible has happened.’
‘I beg to differ, Agnes,’ Lady Dalton replied stiffly.
‘We have it from Miss Cunningham, who is just now down from town, that a certain young lady took Madame’s advice and when the suggested potion failed to attract the attention of the gentleman she had set her heart upon, she …
well, the poor chit attempted to do away with herself. ’
Everyone in the room spoke at once, all seeming to have an opinion.
But Reuben kept his attention focused on Farrah, who fell into the nearest chair, seemingly because her legs would no longer support her weight.
Fury radiated through him. How could she demean herself to such an extent?
She was a lady of quality, for the love of God, not some penny-pinching scribe out to create a sensation.
Reuben’s attention was caught by a neighbour who persistently attempted to thrust her daughter upon him.
By the time he could extricate himself and look for Farrah, he had his temper under control, after a fashion, and would give her the opportunity to explain herself before hurling accusations at her.
But she was nowhere to be seen.
Mrs Armstrong, he noticed, continued to watch the drama unfolding without voicing an opinion about Madame Celeste or her credibility.
She sent frequent glances Reuben’s way, a slight smiling playing about her lips, supremely confident in herself since they had yet to be introduced.
His mother had probably forgotten that she and Reuben were not acquainted, but Reuben would make himself known to her in his own time, after he had run Farrah to ground.
He looked away from Mrs Armstrong and scanned the room, but there was no sign of her.
Where on earth had she gone? A glimpse through the window was sufficient to answer that question.
Farrah had taken herself outside, despite the biting cold, and was pacing up and down with her arms tightly folded across her torso, muttering to herself.
He slipped from the room and followed her, still furious with her for her reckless behaviour.
‘You will catch your death,’ he said, coming up behind her, and grinding his jaw in an effort to hold back the trimming she so richly deserved.
‘Perhaps that would be for the best.’
Reuben’s blistering anger at her irresponsibility was tempered by the tears streaming down her face.
‘You are Madame Celeste.’
It wasn’t a question, and she merely nodded once. ‘How did you know?’ she asked, glancing up at him.
Reuben explained about the note he had received. ‘I didn’t want to believe it,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think you would be that irresponsible or that uncaring about the consequences, given that your so-called advice was directed at highly impressionable young women.’
‘How dare you judge me!’ she cried, her eyes blazing with anger. ‘We are barely acquainted, and anyway I do not answer to you.’
‘You have been giving silly young women who are desperate to snare husbands highly contentious advice.’
‘How lovely it must be to always have the freedom to occupy the moral high ground.’
The sarcasm in her tone gave Reuben pause.
He had promised himself that he would give her the opportunity to explain, rather than berating her for her foolishness.
Not that any explanation was likely to satisfy Reuben, nor did he have any right to ask her for one. Even so, he was burning with curiosity.