Page 86 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
She was a pale, thin creature, young, but then again, not young. She seemed to hail from some curious realm where women age quickly in spirit and yet remain in young bodies. And in such a case, the spirit cannot help but leak out of the pores and stain the countenance with harsh wisdom.
“I’m not a woman you yourself are familiar with, M’Lady. You can’t be, ever. You’re too pure at heart. I can tell these things. I’m a girl what works out of the publick house, and sometimes take my trade out onto the streets. I trust you understand as much.”
Madeline put her hand to her mouth. “Dear ... I believe I understand.” She felt the urge to take a step back lest she be tainted with sin.
“Well, I’m not wantin’ no judgement from you, M’Lady, with all due respect. I come a long way in this world, and I think I’m comin’ out alright in the end. I got my maker to contend with and that’s all. And He made me the way I am and I can argue the point well. I’ve had plenty of practice in that regard, you see.”
“I do,” said Madeline.
“That’s good. ’Cause we have to have an understandin’ if I’m going to get through to you.”
“What did you summon me here for,” said Madeline, a streak of boldness coming forth unbidden.
“Right, I’ll get down to it. You were taken by a woman. Word gets around the village when a Lord what bears the village’s name has a daughter involved. And they said that a man by the name of Lord Peter Lytton rescued you. I know that much as well.”
The girl scrutinized Madeline’s face for reaction. She hoped she revealed none, for she knew that to do so would be to yield the upper hand. But that didn’t quell the unease within her that tangled her guts like choking weeds.
“I’m going to come right out and say it. Lord Peter Lytton is a cad, a rake, and a lover of drink and debauchery. I know it myself ’cause I seen it first-hand. I won’t go into no further detail ’cause I like not to sully a lady’s ears with such talk. But it’s true as I’m standing here on top of four or five generations of the dead.”
Madeline felt herself swoon and grabbed the stone for support. This gesture elicited a disgusting chuckle from her companion.
“Ol’ Martha’s of some use after all!” she said wetly and caught a fit of coughing that lasted a minute or more.
“This is most horrid talk,” said Madeline. “How am I to believe you?”
“Would the Lady prefer I give more details?”
“No!” Madeline said abruptly. “Please don’t.”
“Well then, just keep in your mind that I may be riddled with fifty sins, but lyin’ ain’t one of them. Soon, word will get around that you been consortin’ with the likes of Lord Peter Lytton. By that time, you’ll be wishin’ you never met the man. It’s your reputation, see. It ain’t good for your reputation.”
“I don’t believe a word you say,” said Madeline, feeling another surge of courage. “And as for your filthy tongue, your malignant insinuations, and your vulgar, brutish, ugly sense of humour, I’ll have you know I consider you lower than the worms that grow fat in these grounds! I bid you good day!”
With this, she turned and started away.
“Stay away from him if you know what’s good for you!” yelled the woman in the girl’s body.
Madeline stormed out of the cemetery. For a moment, she considered entering the church and falling to her knees, but decided that her energy was too great, and that in doing so, she might shatter her knees in the process of throwing herself to the floor. She thought of the scorned women of the Old Testament, and how they beat their breasts and tore their garments in unseemly rage.
She felt close to them now, and it frightened her, and this was the real reason she did not enter the church.
Instead, she left, hailed a coach, and had the driver race her back to Aspendale as if someone’s life was in danger if he didn’t.
Would that this was truly an exaggeration.
Chapter 61
Lord Oliver arrived in a red-striped cotton coat with copper buttons, looking fresh from a sporting holiday.
“How is he? Good heavens. I was away when I received the news.”
“He is weak,” said Mama, “but the physician has high hopes for him.”
“Dear Countess, if I can be of any service at all—”
Mama smiled. “That is most kind of you, Lord Oliver.”
“Most kind indeed,” said Madeline.
