ChapterTwenty-Two
The Knightswood Grand Ball; Heroes and Heroines
Several hours later
‘Well, there’s your gothic novel idea, anyway!’ Matilda exclaimed, throwing herself back on Josephine’s bed. ‘I mean, who needs misted graveyards and poets when you have Knightswood Lake and Josephine Fairfax!’
‘Mary Shelley might disagree. And Lord Huntingly isn’t a bridegroom any more, Matty,’ Josephine replied, fastening the buttons on the sleeves of her Parisian silk ballgown.
She tried to ignore the stab of pain every time she recalled that Huntingly had left Knightswood believing her wholly indifferent and his reputation damaged forever, when both were so far from the truth.
Matilda rolled over to eye her older sister. ‘That’shisloss,’ she murmured loyally. ‘That French silk is perfect on you, by the way. You know I don’t set stock by such matters but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so beautiful. Sophie was right!’
‘I am always right about fabric and birth dates.’ Sophie sighed from the doorway. ‘I told the midwife she was wrong about Mini Rotherby arriving this weekend, and guess what happened? Absolutely nothing! I’ve unbuttoned my stays, relinquished all my corsets and given up on anything but muslin, and yet, here I am, a human post-chaise and four!’ she concluded mournfully.
‘You couldn’t look less like a post-chaise and four, dearest,’ Josephine reassured affectionately. ‘A rose in bloom, if anything! But shouldn’t you be lying down? Or lying in? Or at least resting?’ she added in concern. ‘You haven’t long to go now.’
‘Pah! I did that for the first two, and much good it did, I was just bored!’ Sophie huffed. ‘I might be with child, but that doesn’t mean I’m an invalid! Far better to keep to the same old routine I say, and at least I’ve sisters to live through in the meantime. By the way, Matty isn’t wrong: I knew Madame Montmartre’s silk would complement your complexion– you look positively ravishing tonight! Just a little rouge, I think, and we’ll have every gentleman fighting for your hand, never mind old Lord-no-parties-or-honeymoon-grumpy-face!’
Matilda let out a peal of laughter that brought Phoebe to the door, while Josephine realised her hope of a few quiet moments before the Ball started was looking increasingly unlikely.
‘He had his reasons,’ she reminded her sisters, quietly buoyed by Matilda’s lack of concern for Huntingly’s departure. Perhaps she’d allowed herself to worry too much, after all.
‘Who had reasons?’ Phoebe smiled, settling into Josephine’s window seat in a fetching new gown of violet taffeta.
‘Lord Huntingly,’ Matilda replied, when she’d recovered sufficiently. ‘Lots of them! How much do you think he knows, anyway?’ she added, watching Sophie apply rouge to Josephine with practised ease. ‘About George covering for Eliza, and Sir Francis’s involvement, I mean?’
Josephine waited for Sophie to finish and start inflicting the same torture on Matilda, before answering. She’d spent thehours since her return from Knightswood Lake sharing the whole story with her sisters, who’d been shocked and furious in equal measure.
‘I believe George Pellham may have said something in Italy that implicated Sir Francis in it all, but without evidence’ she replied. ‘It would explain why he and Sir Francis could never meet without feuding. It must haunt him…’
She trailed off as Lord Huntingly’s dark eyes and scars surfaced amid her thoughts. He’d lost a father, two best friends and his reputation before she even arrived and started treating him like a criminal.
‘It is quite clear, sir, that you keep many secrets… It is your choice, of course, except they mask a truth that could free others from heartache… and I might guess at your need to travel when you keep such old friends abroad…’
She swallowed, recalling her whirling accusations that had prompted his departure– they must have felt like salt in an open wound. Had he considered telling her his suspicions then? He must have been sorely tempted, given Sir Francis’s continued stay at Knightswood. Perhaps she would never know– and yet she was determined to clear his name now. What was the worth of her sisters moving within the best circles of thehauteton, if she could not ask them to spread a few well-placed truths, after all?
‘You could write to him, dearest,’ Phoebe suggested, ‘to let him know Sir Francis has confessed his part? I’m sure he would appreciate the truth from your hand, though I wish Sir Francis all the luck in the world once Lord Huntingly knows.’
They all chorused their agreement, before Matilda grinned, and then chuckled, and then finally rolled onto her back to give in to her mirth with large body-wracking gasps.
‘I wish… you… could have all seen him,’ she gasped. ‘Naked in the lake… with Jo quizzing him… like he was facing… a justice of the peace!’
At this, they all began to give in to her infectious laughter, until even Josephine was holding her sides with tears running down her cheeks.
‘And then… Fred… muscled up… like he’d read one too many hero novels too!’ Matilda howled.
‘Oh dear, darling Fred!’ Phoebe exclaimed, mopping her eyes.
’What on earth happened to Sir Francis, anyway?’ Sophie gurgled, grabbing Josephine’s dress hook to undo the back of her ballgown and sigh with relief. ‘Where did you hide his clothes?’
‘Oh, Lord, that was the absolute best part. They were right where he left them all along!’ Matilda snorted. ‘I simply placed them back and listened to Jo give him the most wonderful grilling. Don’t think I’ve never heard her quite so brilliant, or Sir Francis so furious. I will never forget it!’
‘Oh, Matty,’ Josephine murmured, quite pink by this point, ‘you know it was Fred, really. He mentioned their friendship and then it all started to slot together.’
‘Pooh! You’re sharp, Josephine Fairfax, and don’t you forget it! Anyway, we suggested he look for his clothing in the vicinityafter we left, but instead he ran straight into Amelia and Charlotte who were both so shocked, they needed their smelling salts and a lie down!’She groaned and started to laugh again. ‘So, I’m not sure if he found them, or if he’s still naked and running around in the shrubbery– though he’ll have left by the quietest exit, if he has any sense.’
‘I still can’t quite believe it,’ Phoebe chuckled, shaking her head. ‘He seemed so very proper in every way.’
