“Georgia?” Miss Sandiford said.
“Yes, Miss Georgia Inglewood.”
Miss Sandiford looked decidedly uncomfortable with that topic of conversation. Cecilia knew she needed to find a way to calm her fears. “So young to die,” she said. “I heard she was not one to snub those who by birth might be considered a lower class.”
Miss Sandiford’s expression perked up. “Yes. Much to her parents’ dismay.”
“So I have been led to believe,” Cecilia said.
“It’s true, my lady. She was fun to be around! –My mother thought her too wild.”
“Did she forbid you to have anything to do with her?”
“No, Mother is too wise for that. This is a small village, and our mercantile is where everyone comes.”
“Did you consider her wild?” Cecilia asked.
“With the boys in the village, mayhap,” Miss Sandiford said after considering a moment.
Cecilia nodded. “Yes, getting with child does speak to a wild recklessness.”
“Georgia said she had to experience life before she went to London for the season next year, else she’d be considered a country bumpkin. I told her having intimate relations with the boys here would not give her town bronze, but she laughed at me.”
“Do you know who the father of her baby was?”
“No, and I don’t think she did either, though sheclaimedit was the viscount.”
“Did she? I hadn’t heard that. To whom did she say that?”
“To Martha and me, the last time we saw her. She said if she couldn’t shed the baby, she would make the viscount responsible. At least he had rank.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Sandiford; however, she sounds callous for the way she talked of getting rid of a new life. I can understand circumstances where it is warranted; however, her attitudemakes me shiver. I can’t imagine losing my Hugh,” Cecilia said, losing her sympathetic tone.
Miss Sandiford sighed. “You would have to have known Georgia to understand. She was fun, like I said, but she thought only of today. She said, ‘Tomorrow can go to bloody hell’ —excuse my language, my lady, but that is what she said on many a day.”
“Do you know why Mrs. Jones would not give her the pennyroyal this time?”
Miss Sandiford shook her head. “Not rightly, though her refusal sure made Georgia mad. We thought the vicar’s wife had gotten more puritanical because she got herself with child again.”
Cecilia shook her head. “I learned from Mrs. Aldrich and Mrs. Hull that Mrs. Jones said a second usage of pennyroyal would likely kill her or make her have long-term consequences. Pennyroyal is a plant that can as easily kill the person taking it as the baby they carried. It had likely already done some injury to Miss Inglewood’s insides. The recipe for the tisane must be followed exactly and with great care.”
“Recipe?” Miss Sandiford asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes. The quantity used in the tisane needed to be precisely measured.”
The color drained from Miss Sandiford’s face.
“I didn’t know that. I suspect Georgia didn’t either—or, if she did, she didn’t believe that was the case.” She pushed the mug away from her and hurriedly got to her feet. “I must go. Mama will be wondering where I am.” She curtsied. “Thank you for the lemonade,” she said and turned to run off the terrace and back to the village.
Cecilia watched her for a moment, then turned to Daniel. “Discreetly follow her, if you can, and let me know where she goes and who she sees.”
“You don’t think she will go home?”
“No. She will run to tell someone what I told her about Mrs. Jones. I’d like to know who that is.”
CHAPTER 9
BEER AND ALE
