“Ah, the note “Lady Macbeth has recovered”?” Rebecca nodded. “I suppose there was another note in the event Bentick hadn’t followed through?”
Gabby dropped her head. “That one read: ‘Lady Macbeth is not well.’”
Gasping, she said, “You didn’t deliver it yourself.”
“I think you are forgetting exactly who was behind all the stratagems from our younger days,” she said, dryly.
“True.” Rebecca was quick to agree. “And, clever. Don’t tell me Huntley was in on such a stunt. I’ll never believe it.”
“I’m not a complete fool,” she said, some of her impatience eking through. “He would likely lock me in the house or consign me to Doncaster. Not that I couldn’t get out. Although, I did mention our lock-breaking skills.”
“Oh, dear. That couldn’t have gone over well.”
“He was surprised, but he laughed—I think.”
“You know, Gabs, using Lady Macbeth as camouflage won’t work over time.” It said much for their friendship that Rebecca wasn’t angry with her.
“Yes.” She went to the windows and looked out over the dark gardens. “I wonder how one confesses one is blackmailing a peer to one’s husband.”
“You’re impossible, my friend.” Rebecca joined her at the window, their shoulders touching, a smile in her voice. She turned and looked at Gabby. “Sebastian will not be happy, Gabs.”
“No. But we can handle him,” Gabby assured her. “Better yet, I vote we don’t tell him at all.”
“We can decide later. Who did you get to assist you with your little extortion scheme? You certainly didn’t pick up the funds yourself?”
“Oh, dear, there is so much to tell you.” Gabby went on to explain how she’d engaged Vella’s assistance and Vella’s Thomas. How her father was pinching all her money and refusing to allow her to marry. “The worst part is when Vella brought my gown to me yesterday, her face was swollen.”
“Her father?”
“No, Madame Bovine assaulted her and told the poor girl she spoke too much and was too familiar to her betters.” Tears hit her again. “It was horrid, Rebecca. I feel so responsible.”
In true sisterly-fashion, Rebecca hugged her. “That modiste has seen the last of my business!”
“That’s all very well and good. I doubt the lack of your business will hurt the woman with what little you spend on your wardrobe.” Gabby hugged her back, sniffing then fumbled for her handkerchief for the second time in twenty minutes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I vow I can’t seem to control my emotions tonight. In any event, Huntley and I escorted Vella to Hope Street earlier today. She’s to be our new seamstress.”
Rebecca barked out a laugh. “You’re right about my wardrobe, of course. However,” she said slowly. “You spend a fortune. And if we rally our friends: Ladies Kimpton, Harlowe, Brockway, and a few others, I daresay we could make a huge dent in the woman’s earnings.”
Their joint laughter filled the room, indeed, reminding Gabby of their days at Miss Greensley’s.
“How did you end up at Hope House with Huntley?” Rebecca asked her.
Gabby crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ll never countenance it. Huntley had the audacity to set his man of affairs to follow me. I caught him in a plain carriage just outside the modiste’s shop a few days ago. Then, yesterday, Huntley actually showed up at the modiste’s.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “He didn’t come in!”
“Oh, he did. You might say we had words.”
“I imagine Huntley has underestimated you. They all do,” Rebecca said with an uncharacteristic giggle.
Gabby shrugged. “It’s probably due to my obsession over fashion. It’s a defect,” she said on a sigh. “Anyway, Vella gave me the blunt for Mabel. One thing led to another, and we ended up at Hope House.”
“That’s outrageous, putting a spy on one’s wife!”
“Isn’t it? I was furious, I must say.” Her lips tingled, remembering what followed in that carriage.
Rebecca bristled, then squeezed her hand. “You are always welcome to stay with me and Sebastian, Gabs.”
She blinked back another sting of tears. “I’m not leaving. Not this time.” She spoke softly. She knew she would never be able to leave.
