Even my dear brother, George, hovers like a puppy, eager to please. He fetched me ribbons from town today; said they were the shade of my eyes. I kissed his cheek, which made him blush and stammer. My brother is the easiest of all.
If I were to disappear, they’d likely pine themselves to death.
Cecilia skimmed ahead. “Oh, James, Miss Georgia is beginning to be frightened. It has been a couple of days since the previous entry. I wonder what has happened. I detect bravado in this next entry. Tell me what you think.”
I am done being frightened. The stupid talk of “herbs” and “remedies” has gone on long enough. The thing is gone—nature took care of it days ago, though no one but I know that. I hid the evidence and then got rid of it before my maid could discover and tell Mother. She would have told Fatherand saved him the trouble of pretending concern, but I prefer that he scheme and fret.
“She lost the babe naturally?” James asked.
“That is how I read that,” Cecilia said.
“And she didn’t want anyone to know. Most interesting.”
“The babe was a useful ploy.”
He sent Mrs. Hester fussing about her jar containing the pennyroyal again. He said that I must “drink the tea.” Well, Mrs. Hester may brew whatever she chooses—I’ve taken every bit of the pennyroyal from her jar and replaced it with spearmint. They smell near enough alike. If he means to poison me in a mistaken means to regain respectability, he’ll only make me feel refreshed.
The Cathcart twins say the apothecary in Maidstone has no more pennyroyal to sell, which pleases me mightily. Let Father rage; he can do nothing now. There is no more pennyroyal to be had. I am safe.
As for the Viscount, he still plays the virtuous man, talking of duty and scandal as though either could bind me—but he said he did try to procure pennyroyal; however, the apothecary in Maidstone was sold out. I shrugged at him and told him no matter, that I will not take it anyway. He says he will not marry me, no matter what.
Not yet, I told him, and smiled. He will yield in time—they always do. Once the vows are said, I shall turn him as easily as I turned the rest into doting devotees.
I am finished being afraid of men. They will all learn it soon enough.
I wonder how much pennyroyal is now in my hiding place. Likely enough to poison the entire village!
Cecilia paused. “Didn’t George say he bought pennyroyal in Folkestone, not Maidstone?”
James nodded. “I begin to understand how she came to take the pennyroyal.”
“Thinking she was drinking mint tea.”
He nodded. “Remember how George said he gave the pennyroyal he’d purchased into his father’s care? And not Georgia’s or Mrs. Hester’s?”
“The magistrate most likely added it to Mrs. Hester’s jar.”
Kendell is a fool. I told him plainly—if he marries me, all is well, the child will be his, and no one need whisper. It would raise him, not lower me. He had the insolence to laugh and say he will not be “caught” as his father once was. He called me reckless. Reckless! I am giving him the chance of his life. He dares refuse me, saying he won’t be “trapped.” Trapped! As though any man could do better than me.
He thinks my Father will not compel him. But Father has always had his way, and he will again. I will see the Viscount kneel before me yet, whether by altar or by scandal—child or no child.
Kendell avoids me, but he cannot avoid me forever. Father says it will be arranged, he will see it settled, and I believe him. When he speaks so, I know he means to force the issue. He knows I will not be cast aside. I will be mistress of a fine house, and all these petty folk will curtsy when I pass.
“She is losing confidence,” James observed. “What is the date on that entry?”
Cecilia looked down at it again. “April 28th.”
“Hmm. Five days before she dies,” James muses.
Cecilia glances through the next entry. “You are correct. I believe she’s now fearful for her life and living on ego, bravado, and sheer nerve.”
Father has been rougher as of late. Yesterday, he gripped my arm so tightly when he shook me that today I am forced to wear long sleeves to hide the bruises his grip created.
And today, all morning, like a broody hen, Mrs. Hester has been fluttering about my cottage—for so I’ve come to think of this shabby, cozy hut. I asked what she was so agitated about. She said Father ordered her to “see to the herbs.” I laughed in her face. Let him order her to prepare the pennyroyal tea—I changed the contents of her jar myself. I know every leaf in there. I told her that and swore her to silence.
She gives me sad, pitying looks, as if she knows something I do not. Poor woman. I can almost feel sorry for her. When I live after I drink the pennyroyal tea—and since Father knows he can’t control me—he will try to kill me. I’m certain of it. La! Luckily, I am smarter than he. Mrs. Hester forgets who taught me to lie with a straight face.
I stole a carving knife from the kitchen. I keep it with me, hidden in the pocket tied on top of my petticoats.
