Chapter Five
“Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing; ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed.” – Othello, Shakespeare
The Following Morning
“Diamond Falls from Grace,” Papa read aloud, his voice thundering through the otherwise silent drawing room.
“Lady Ursula Caught In Scandalous Tryst. Appalling Scene at the Winter Ball. These are just some of the titles I have read in the newspapers and scandal sheets this morning, Ursula. Some are even more unsavoury than this. Caricatures have been drawn depicting the scene, not that I would sully my eyes with looking at them. London can talk of nothing but your disgrace. Do you have any idea what you have done?”
Ursula stood in the centre of the drawing room; her hands folded in front of herself. She had not been invited to sit. Mama sat on a sofa, her back ramrod straight and her gaze fixed ahead of herself. She did not speak.
There was a silence going through the house, almost as if somebody had died and the whole place had been plunged into mourning.
In a way, I suppose it has, Ursula thought dully. We are mourning my honour and my reputation.
My future.
Every single one of the popular scandal sheets and newspapers had reported on the matter.
Some details were exaggerated or just merely wrong, but the facts were all the same.
Ursula, the Diamond of the Season, was found dishevelled, with torn clothes, alone in a secluded tree glade with Lord Sinclair and the unconscious Sir Roderick Black, London’s most notorious rake.
Simply conversing with the man would be enough to shed doubt on a woman’s reputation. Being alone with him under any circumstances might ruin her. But being alone with him, with her clothes torn and her hair falling down, in a dark forest? Oh, there would be no recovery from this. It was all over.
Not a single bouquet of flowers or calling card had arrived today. Not even Charlotte had written a note, although Ursula was desperate to believe that it was Charlotte’s parents who had prevented her, and that her friend had not turned her back on her.
Papa snatched up a handful of the newspapers, dashing them into the fireplace in a fury. There was a fire there, but it was a frail one, and the pile of newspapers quickly put it out. Smoke began to seep into the room.
“You are ruined, Ursula, ruined!” he bellowed. “Nobody will take you now. See, here, this column speculates which woman Lord Ashford will move onto next. And I can assure you that he will move on. He’ll never take you now, not in a thousand years!”
Ursula opened her mouth, desperate to say something, anything, in her own defence.
Nothing came to mind. There was nothing to say.
She was ruined. She would not be invited to any more parties.
The invitations she had already accepted would be hastily and clumsily rescinded – Mama had received several notes that very morning to that effect.
She would receive no visitors, and if she tried to pay calls on anybody, they would be conveniently ‘not at home’.
It's over. My first Season has barely begun and already it is over. My glittering future has vanished, just like that.
“You do not have all the facts, Papa,” she heard herself say, her own voice seeming to come from far away.
“Oh? And what is it that I do not know?” he snarled, rounding on her. His pallid face was red with fury, and it occurred to Ursula, not for the first time, that she did not know her father very much at all.
Fathers have put their daughters in asylums for less than this.
Swallowing her fear, Ursula forced herself to meet Papa’s eye.
“Sir Roderick Black tried to force himself upon me, Papa.”
Mama gave a low groan. “Ursula, please. Do not speak so vulgarly.”
“What am I to say, then?” Ursula snapped. “I was trying to escape him! I did nothing wrong. And Lord Sinclair came along, just as he said, and rescued me from him. Nothing occurred. Nothing!”
“It does not matter,” Papa responded, shaking his head. “Your life is over, Ursula. You’ll never wed now. Even a merchants’ son would turn up his nose at your lowly state now. Nobody wants to buy soiled goods. You are ruined.”
Ursula flinched, her cheeks turning crimson.
Soiled goods. As if I were an item for sale.
“Why did you go into the gardens in the first place, you foolish girl?” Mama spoke up, glaring at her daughter.
“I wasn’t alone,” Ursula answered, her teeth gritted. “I was with Georgie.”
“Georgiana says that you were not with her.”
Ursula flinched again at this, glancing down at her mother to see if she were joking. Apparently not.
“Georgie was with me, Mama. She was the one who wanted to walk in the gardens. I was content to stay on the terrace. You must believe me. I swear to you, I am telling the truth.”
Mama eyed her for a long moment, then sighed, shaking her head.
“It doesn’t matter in the slightest. Nobody would believe you. Accusing your cousin of… well, I am not sure what you are accusing her of, but it will only blacken your name further.”
“Blacken her name further?” Papa snorted.
“That is not possible. Ursula, you are to stay in your room until we decide what to do with you. You are not to leave the house. You are to restrict your activities to the drawing room and the library. No, not the library, as it is likely your hunger for books which has led us here. If, by a miraculous chance, we have visitors, you will strictly stay away from them. Do you understand?”
Ursula stared at her father until her eyes blurred with tears.
“Yes, Papa,” she said softly. “Papa, I… Will I be obliged to marry Sir Roderick?”
“He hasn’t offered for you,” Papa spat. “You aren’t rich enough for him. He’s weathered scandals before, and I imagine he will weather this one, too. Now, get out of my sight. I have had quite enough of you.”
He dismissed his daughter with a flick of his hand, and Ursula turned, humiliated, towards the door. She heard Papa speak to Mama next.
“This would not have happened if you’d given me a son, you useless creature.”
The sofa creaked as Mama rose to her feet.
“You might have avoided any semblance of fatherly duties when it came to bringing up our daughter,” Mama snarled back, “But as you can see, you’ll still share in her shame nonetheless.”
Her face burning, Ursula hurried out of the room, pressing her hand across her mouth. Her stomach roiled. She hadn’t eaten much last night, and nothing at all this morning, and bile burned the back of her tongue.
Sharp, clipped footsteps followed her, and Ursula turned to find Mama storming out of the room, tight-lipped.
“You heard your father,” Mama snapped. “Go to your room.”
“Mama, I…”
“Be quiet. You will listen to me, now. While I am heartily ashamed of the disgrace you have brought upon this family, I am not quite ready to write you off yet, as your father seems willing to do.”
Ursula bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t understand.”
Mama drew in a deep breath, standing up a little taller.
“I am going to manage this, Ursula. Do as you are told, and we may claw back a little of our footing in Society.”
Without waiting for a response, Mama turned on her heel and trotted off down the hallway. Ursula stared after her, eyes wide.
“Mama?” she called in vain after the disappearing woman. “Mama, what are you going to do?”
***
Diamond Falls From Grace! Screamed a headline, peering up at Graham from his desk. Sighing, he turned the newspaper over.
What nonsense, he thought sourly. Have they nothing else to report upon?
His mother was furious at his involvement, naturally, but it seemed that the key players in this scene were Sir Roderick Black – who had had plenty of scandals of this kind before – and Lady Ursula, Society’s Diamond and darling.
Well, not anymore.
Graham lowered himself into the seat behind the desk, trying and failing to banish the memory from his mind. He’d begun chewing his nails again, a rather unpleasant habit he thought he’d left behind years ago.
I did all that I could, he reminded himself. I am so relieved I didn’t simply walk away. I could not have lived with myself if I had.
He couldn’t quite seem to forget the vision of Lady Ursula, standing in the moonlight with her torn dress and tangled hair, chest heaving and eyes glittering. Swallowing thickly, Graham cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.
I must stop this. The poor woman will be ruined.
A tap on the door made him jump. Morrison peered into the room, looking rather anxious.
“Your lordship, you have a guest. I understand it’s early, but I… I thought I had better admit her.”
Graham winced. “If it’s my mother, please make some excuse. I don’t want to hear her nag at me about the damage I’ve done to my reputation. My reputation barely seems to have taken a knock, as a matter of fact. People have almost forgotten I was there.”
Morrison chewed his lower lip. “It isn’t the Dowager, your lordship.”
Graham blinked, frowning. “Then who?”
Lady Farendale sat straight-backed in a sofa facing the fireplace. She had been shown into the parlour and had not moved a muscle since then.
Graham announced himself with a long, pointed cough, which Lady Farendale gave no indication of having heard.
“What an unexpected pleasure, my lady,” Graham managed, his voice a little hoarse. “Have you been served tea?”
“I was offered it,” the woman responded shortly. “I refused it.”
“I see,” Graham murmured, shifting from foot to foot. Lady Farendale did not get up, and instead only stared up at him thoughtfully.
Is she angry? Does she blame me for… for what happened?
It was hard to believe that this faded, greying woman was Lady Ursula’s mother. Although, on closer inspection, Graham saw more similarities such as the shape of her eyes and even the curve of her chin.
“My daughter tells me that Sir Roderick Black attempted to force himself upon her,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Graham flinched. “Yes, I believe so. I believe he must have accosted her in the woods.”
“The papers are saying that they must have arranged an assignation. What do you say to that?”
I feel as though I’m being interrogated.
“I would say that it seems unlikely,” he answered firmly. “Lady Ursula seemed quite repulsed by the man.”
“Hm. But you did not see the beginning of the altercation?”
Graham paused. “I did not.”
“So your testimony is not particularly helpful. While Society does not care much about innocence, I can assure you that I do. Do you believe that my daughter is innocent?”
There was another longer pause after this. Graham inspected the small, fierce woman staring up at him. What was her aim? What did she want from him?
“I do,” he responded at last. “I find it ridiculous that she should be so demonized when she has done nothing wrong.”
Lady Farendale inspected him for a moment, just as closely as he inspected her.
“I agree,” she said at last. “But Society cares little about the truth. It is the look of a thing that matters. The correct thing, of course, would be for Sir Roderick to offer for her. He won’t do that, and I am not sure that I could countenance my daughter entering into matrimony with a man of his lies. ”
“It’s certainly a predicament,” Graham agreed. Suddenly tired of standing like a supplicant in his own drawing room, he settled himself in an armchair and folded one leg over the other.
Any minute now, she’ll get to the point of why she is here.
Lady Farendale, however, seemed in no rush. She watched him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed.
“If my daughter is to be saved,” she said at last, “she’ll need to arrange a matrimony. And quickly.”
“I imagine that would do the trick,” Graham agreed.
The silence stretched out a little further, and in a rush, he understood why Lady Farendale had come.
“Now, wait a moment…” Graham began again, leaning forward.
Lady Farendale neatly interrupted him. “If only a gentleman could be found to rescue her. One who knew she was truly innocent.”
“Do you expect me to wed your daughter, Lady Farendale? A woman I barely know?”
No matter how pretty and intriguing she may be, I won’t throw away my freedom like that. Even if she does read Frankenstein.
Lady Farendale spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness.
“I cannot compel you to do anything, Lord Sinclair. I am only appealing to your better nature.”
Groaning to himself, Graham rose to his feet and crossed to the window.
Outside, a group of under-gardeners were occupied in raking the gravel.
His mother insisted that the gravel be raked daily, even though she herself lived in the Dower House these days.
She would doubtless walk herself down to his home later today, to scold him for involving himself in a scandal.
He hadn’t danced with Lady Annabella last night, apparently offending her and her entire family, and his mother had complained extensively about it in her morning letter.
If I were wedded, she’d have to stop forcing me into situations with Lady Annabella and her ilk.
A cold, prickling feeling washed over him, like being drenched from head to toe in invisible cold water.
Could this be my way out?
The Season stretched ahead of him, full of endless parties and social engagements, all of them full of hopeful young women, all would-be viscountesses, flanked by their severe and ambitious mammas.
He could already feel the tension sweeping through his body, the fear of being somehow caught by one of these unscrupulous ladies.
Women had to wed, of course, and the penalties for remaining unattached were harsh.
Some ladies would do whatever was necessary to secure a man and avoid that hellish, shameful title of spinster.
But if I were wedded, Mother would be forced to leave me alone. I wouldn’t have to participate in the Season unless I wanted to. There’d be no worry of being caught. No worry about my legacy fading out. Once I am wedded, the question of an heir will probably resolve itself sooner or later.
As well as this, a matrimony of convenience is something I can control. I never imagined I would fall in love, anyway.
He turned slowly back from the window to find Lady Farendale watching him shrewdly.
“Matrimonies of convenience are very… well, convenient,” she said blandly. “Many powerful men have found their wives elsewhere than through the marriage mart.”
Graham found that he was speaking before he even knew what he wanted to say.
“That is quite true,” he said. “You have my agreement, then. If we can come to a settlement, I’ll do it. I shall wed your daughter.”