Page 51 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
The older woman’s expression tightened, and Patrina saw a flash of pain.
“It’s nothing you can imagine. My husband… oh, he was gone by the end. He made such terrible accusations. It occurred to me then that the illness might be hereditary. After all, madness often is. I watched both my children closely and was just beginning to hope that we had escaped when Neil began showing symptoms.”
Patrina swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
For a moment, Emma seemed to age before her eyes, her spine softening, shoulders sagging. She almost tipped forward, hunching in over herself.
“I just don’t know what to do,” she whispered, voice barely louder than a breath. “I’ve lost my husband; I am losing my son. What about Cynthia? Will she be next? Oh, I can hardly imagine it.”
“Whatever happens,” Patrina said firmly, reaching out to take Emma’s hand, “you won’t be alone. I can promise you that.”
Emma smiled weakly, squeezing Patrina’s hand in return. “Thank you, my dear. For what it’s worth, I am glad we went ahead with the marriage. I could not have chosen a finer bride for my son. Oh, heavens, are those carriage wheels outside? Theguests will be arriving. Lady Ashworth will be first, I wager. She’s an old family friend, and will be inspecting youclosely,I’m afraid.”
“I shall try and prepare myself,” Patrina chuckled, getting ready to go and welcome their guests. She reached the door, then paused, turning around. “You said that at the end, your husband made accusations. Which accusations were these?”
Emma shuddered. “Oh, he accused us all of poisoning him. Can you imagine? Until then, I could always reach him, always calm him down, but he grew most distressed when he saw I did not believe him. Mr. Blackburn had to prescribe anodyne to calm him down. The end came quickly, after that.”
Patrina frowned, chewing her lower lip. “I see. That is terrible. Thank you for telling me, though.”
“You are family, now. You deserve to know the truth, I think. No matter how hard it is to hear. Now, hurry on downstairs – Lady Ashworth doesnotapprove of lateness.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, Patrina stood in the centre of the large, freshly decorated ballroom, faced with the tallest woman she had ever met in her life.
Lady Ashworth was somewhere in her early fifties, close to six feet tall, stocky and broad-shouldered. She had eschewed the silks and satins so fashionable in Society at the moment, preferring instead to wear a plain, old-fashioned cut of gown that suited her remarkably well, a feathery shawl draped over her shoulders. She had dark hair streaked with grey, a strongly featured face, and a pair of remarkably beautiful clear blue eyes.
She struck Patrina as the sort of woman who generally got what she wanted, and browbeat anyone who disagreed with her.
“So you are the latest Lady Morendale, then,” Lady Ashworth remarked, lifting a quizzing glass to inspect Patrinacloser. “I was not able to attend the wedding. A hurried affair, was it not?”
“We had a small wedding, indeed,” Patrina said, smiling. “On account of Neil’s health.”
Something softened in Lady Ashworth’s face. “He is no better, then?”
Patrina hesitated, glancing around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping.
“Worse, in fact,” she murmured. “I… I worry about him. He’s been so kind and so welcoming since our marriage. I only mention this to you because Lady Emma assures me you are a trusted family friend.”
Lady Ashworth seemed to soften further. She slipped the quizzing glass into her sleeve, and sighed, shaking her head.
“It is indeed worrying. For my part, I never believed that Mr. Blackburn did all he could. I have it on good authority that he has not consultedanyother experts on Lord Morendale’s condition, any more than he did for the previous Marquess. He takes offence at any mention that he should do so, but really, thisis notan ordinary affliction. How can it be?”
Patrina was conscious of a wave of relief.
I am not the only one who thinks that something is amiss.
“I did wonder how…” she began, but was forced to quieten down as a haughty-looking pair approached. The gentleman was short and rather weaselly-looking, the woman taller and dressed in the latest fashion. They both shot Lady Ashworth quick glances of dislike, then pasted smiles on their faces.
“Lady Morendale, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last!” the woman cooed. “I am Lady Evans, and this of course is Lord Evans. I do hope you’ll attend our musical evenings, once you are quite settled here!”
Lady Ashworth snorted. “Yes, indeed, Lady Evans, we’ve all heard of your musicales. Quite infamous, they are.”
“You meanfamous,I think,” Lord Evans rumbled. Lady Ashworth smiled sweetly, and it occurred to Patrina that that wasnotwhat the woman had meant.
“I was a little surprised,” Lady Evans said smoothly, flashing a smile that did not reach her eyes, “to hear that you have invited a guest of your own here tonight.”
“Ah,” Lady Ashworth shot Patrina an apologetic grimace. “I brought along my cousin, Lady Morendale. I asked Lady Emma Tidemore’s permission first, although of course it isyourpermission I should have sought.”
