Page 60 of If I Loved You
“I have,” Emma answered, exhibiting some hesitation. Was this woman, like her godson, about to tell her whom she may or may not befriend?
“About some confounded letters, I am to understand.”
“Yes.” As Lady M’s tone was indicative of her mood, and her tone was prickly, Emma would leave off giving more than asked, having no idea why the subject should concern her.
The Lady’s thinning brows bent further over her sharp eyes, possibly unappreciative of Emma’s short replies.
“Did he mention me?”
This confounded Emma yet more, certainly as the query was attended by so hesitant a voice, something Emma was sure not many could claim to have heard. “Um, he said only that you were acquainted with Caralyn Withers, but...but that you hadn’t any idea where she might have gone.”
“So, it’s true?” She said, stamping her cane onto the floor. “They were love letters.”
Still unaware of why this should bother the lady, Emma could only nod. She wasn’t comfortable sharing George Fiske’s story with Lady M.
“And that’s all he ever said about me?”
Emma nodded. “I don’t understand—pardon me, my lady, but I’m not sure what you’re looking for, or why George Fiske’s letters to Caralyn should be of interest to you?” Even as she believed she’d recognized some affection for George Fiske fromLady M when she’d observed their brief encounter at the ball, she couldn’t imagine why the woman had driven an hour to put these vague questions to her.
Drawing a deep breath, which lifted both her shoulders and her chin, Lady M announced, “I was in love with him myself.” She set her cane aside, leaning it on the side of the chair, and retrieved a handkerchief from some unseen pockets in her voluminous gray skirts.
Emma admitted, “I gathered as much,” which returned the frown to the matron’s face, prompting Emma to explain, “I saw your reaction to him at the ball.”
“You are very clever, indeed.”
“But...but what do you want to know?” Emma persisted.
“I wondered if he truly did love her.”
“He did,” this, without hesitation, having read those letters, having borne witness to George Fiske’s grief over the loss of his Caralyn. “This still doesn’t answer why—”
Lady M cut her off, her voice thin as she murmured, “I won’t take it to my grave. I cannot. It has eaten me alive for forty years.”
It was a calamitous prelude, uttered with such anguish as to beg from Emma, “What did you do?”
The gray crepe of the veil that hung down over her hat swayed on her drooped shoulders. “I told her—Caralyn—that he loved me. I told her we’d been...intimate, that she was only a toy to him—”
“That was not true!” Emma argued, instantly outraged.
Lady M tossed her head back, worrying the handkerchief in her hands. “No,” she fairly hissed “it was not.” And then her black eyes misted, and her chin quivered. “I was right there,” shewhispered brokenly, “right in front of his eyes. He never saw me. And I was so in love with him.”
“But you had taken up with Lord Marston.”
The hankie waved in front of her face. “I did that to make him jealous, when I thought I was losing him to her. My God, he never noticed. He couldn’t care less. He saw only her.” And then, with some disgust, “She was naught but a servant.”
Emma sat back, gaping at the old, suddenly very frail woman. It was indefensible, what she had done. Emma could feel no sympathy for her.
Seemingly of a need to exorcise the entire circumstance from her memory, Lady M continued, “I told Caralyn he’d been only amusing himself, that she and Marston meant nothing, was just a little game we played before we settled down. She was... distraught. Lindsey’s mother, believing my lies as well—though I think later she might have suspected—helped me find Caralyn a position with some family—Baron Grantham, if I recall. He was the ambassador to Spain. We sent her there. I—I never heard from her again, not until just a few years ago, when I happened upon news of her death. She’d stayed in Spain, had married I believe. Lived there for thirty years.”
Emma’s lips twisted while her hands fisted. She felt a rage engulf her, for what this selfish woman had done. It occurred to her that mayhap the woman had come today seeking a certain acquittal of her crimes. “I’m glad to hear it has given you no rest. I hope it never does.”
Lady M glanced sharply at Emma, but then quickly melted with renewed weakness. “You are right. I don’t deserve it.”
“If this were my house, I would kick you out,” Emma said, her voice tight. “As it is—”
“Miss Ainsley!”
Emma jumped and turned to face the door, finding the earl standing there.
