“I am not sure.” Fortuity held her head, massaging her temples and wishing the ever-increasing ache would cease its pounding. There was no time for a megrim today, and this confrontation, a thing she never did well, would only fuel it witha vengeance. “Matthew told me, but I have forgotten. We had words this morning.”
“From your expression, I take it the words were not pleasant ones?”
“His patience has worn thin with my insecurities regarding our relationship.” Fortuity gave up on trying to ease her throbbing head and pressed both hands to her aching heart. “He does not understand why I cannot ignore all the furor that Eleanor and the dowager duchess create.” She slowly shook her head. “I wish I could ignore them, and all the trouble they stir, but I simply cannot.” She pulled the folded gossip rag from her reticule and sadly stared down at it. “How can I, Gracie? They are trying to steal away that which I longed for and feared I would never have.”
Grace hurried over and gave her a reassuring hug. “But you do have it. That is what you must always keep in mind, and fight them. Do not fight Matthew and push him away. That is what they are trying to force you to do. Do not let them steal your joy and win.”
“I am trying to be strong.” Fortuity pulled in a deep breath and released it with a heavy sigh. “There is simply so much to lose.”
“You are not going to lose anything. We will not allow it. Be like Mama. Would she allow anyone to take Papa from her?” Grace jerked her head downward in a determined nod. “You have always shown great strength, Tutie. I know it is wearing thin, but remember, you have the advantage. You are Matthew’s wife.”
A light tap on the door interrupted them.
“Yes?” Fortuity braced herself, sensing it was time.
Mrs. Greer opened the door wide enough to peep inside. “Everyone is in the dining room, my lady. Just as you asked.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Greer. I shall be right there.”
The housekeeper nodded and closed the door.
Fortuity tossed her reticule onto her desk, along with the light shawl she had worn to protect her from the coolness of the spring day. She never wore hats. Hated them, in fact. But she tugged off her gloves and deposited them into the pile with the rest of her things, refusing to wear them in her own home. One of the maids would take them up to Anne so she could get them sorted. She turned and noticed Grace had shed her outerwear as well and draped her things over a nearby chair.
“Ready?” Fortuity asked her sister, already seeing the answer in Grace’s snapping eyes.
Grace nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Very well, then.” With the dreadful gossip rag in hand, Fortuity led the way to the dining room.
Mrs. Greer had assembled every servant in Ravenglass’s employ and had them lined up as though they were about to be marched off to the gallows. Some in the somber group were quite pale. Others twitched in place, nervously shifting and resettling their stance.
Fortuity cleared her throat and held up the tattered pamphlet. “I do not know if any of you are aware of this despicable publication, but this particular edition contains an extremely unsavory paragraph about Lord Ravenglass. Anything that besmirches him also besmirches me, and this most definitely does.”
She cleared her throat again and read the terrible thing aloud, proud that her voice remained strong and didn’t quiver a single time. Once finished, she slowly refolded the pamphlet into the small wad she’d carried in her reticule, then lifted her head and studied each and every servant, noting their expressions of shock and some even of horror. Mrs. Greer had turned an alarming shade of red and held her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles glowed a bright white.
“I am not accusing any of you,” Fortuity said, hoping she sounded sincere, “but the part about the correspondences concerns me. How would this publication come by such information?” She paused, hoping Grace was having better luck than she was at deciphering their expressions. “If not given to this rag by the dowager duchess herself, how would they know she had sent several messages here to Lord Ravenglass?”
Mrs. Greer stepped forward and whirled about, prowling up and down the line of servants like a warring general. “If any of you betrayed her ladyship and his lordship, I shall have your guts for garters!” She shook her fist at them. “Confess now, so we can call the vicar to pray over whatever is left after I finish with you.” She halted in front of the butler and jabbed a plump finger in his face. “You! Thebson! You would be the one to deliver whatever letters came here. Only you would know how many and who they were from.”
The old man sputtered and spat and, for the first time since Fortuity had met him, actually showed some emotion. “I would never!” he said in a loud, bellowing voice that was surprisingly strong for one his age. “I have been with Lord Ravenglass since he was born. Never would I betray him.” He pointed a shaking finger at Fortuity. “Nor would I do anything to harm or sadden our fine mistress. Her ladyship deserves only the very best of our honor, respect, and protection.”
The rest of the servants agreed with vigorous nods. One of the stable lads stepped forward and said, “We would never tell private things about this house, your ladyship. You and his lordship treat us good and pay us well. ’Twould be a sorry cove, indeed, who did such a cutthroat thing.”
They all seemed so sincere, so sympathetic, and angry about the cruel gossip. Fortuity glanced at Grace—who waved her closer.
“I do not think it was any of them,” she whispered. “It must have come from the duchess.”
“I feel the same,” Fortuity said just as quietly. She turned back to the dedicated group of people. “Thank you all so much. I appreciate everything you do for his lordship and myself. Again, I was not accusing any of you, but you needed to know that someone somewhere is handing over information about our household. If any of you see anything suspicious, please bring it to my attention. Thank you for meeting here today. You may return to your duties.”
Mrs. Greer shooed them out of the room as if herding sheep. As she reached the servants’ door that led to the kitchen, she turned and gave Fortuity an apologetic bow. “I am more than a little sorry about that ugliness, my lady. Very sorry, indeed.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Greer. I know you are.”
“What is going on here?” Matthew asked from the doorway of the dining room, his cloak in the crook of his arm.
“I’ll be going now,” Grace announced. She curtsied to Matthew. “Brother.” Then she scurried around him and disappeared.
“Fortuity?”
