Gemma couldn’t determine the older woman’s age. She must be firmly over fifty. Her skin was thin but still retained a creamy unlined texture. Her short gray hair suited her face, bringing the kindness of her gaze to the forefront. She was tall, thin but not unfeminine.
She looked to Gemma. “You say you are practical. Well, you haven’t taken a sip yet, and you need it. It has been a trying morning. However, nothing compared to my being up half the night.”
“Up half the night?” Miss Taylor echoed.
“You can’t imagine what was going on here last night,” was the answer before Mrs. Warbler downed her glass.
Gemma was not one for spirits in any form, except when the occasion did call for something. She tasted the sherry, found she liked it, and followed Mrs. Warbler’s action of swallowing it neatly. Rich liquid flowed down her throat. It settled in her empty belly. She placed her hand against her abdomen, afraid she would disgraceherself . . . until she experienced a spreading of warmth.
Mrs. Warbler had poured herself another glass. She was obviously no stranger to enjoying good sherry. “Miss Taylor?” She offered the bottle.
“I’m fine. I think I shall fetch water for tea, if I can start a fire.”
“Excellent idea.” Mrs. Warbler handed the bottle to Gemma. “Help yourself.”
At that moment a serving woman joined them in the kitchen. She was of middle years and held a tea caddy in one arm. Her other arm was full of sheets. She pulled up short at the sight of the kitchen. “Oh, dear.”
“I know,” Mrs. Warbler agreed. “I would say that this kitchen wasn’t cleaned after Old Andy’s wake, exceptwesaw to it, didn’t we, Jane? The two of us together. It was a late night.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The Logical Men’s Society has destroyed this place.” Mrs. Warbler clicked her tongue.
“Men are beasts,” Gemma said, repeating her new refrain, and a fine one it was.
“Right you are,” Mrs. Warbler agreed. “Oh, and for introductions, this is Jane, the steadiest of souls in the village.” Miss Taylor returned with a full kettle of water and set it on the hook.
“And this is Miss Clarissa Taylor. She is promised to our good doctor.”
Gemma would have offered her condolences, except her manners were returning.
Miss Taylor had the good sense to appearslightly embarrassed. “His outburst was uncharacteristic of him,” she offered. She and Jane began building the fire. Apparently, the maid knew wood was stacked somewhere outside and had fetched it. “He forgets himself sometimes.”
Gemma chose not to answer because any comment she would have made about Dr. Thurlowe would have been a rude one. Instead, she took another sip from the sherry.
Her limbs had relaxed. Her tears had dried on her cheeks and she held the sherry bottle by its neck in her lap. She didn’t even realize she had it until Mrs. Warbler gently took it from her. “So Old Andy was—?” the woman prodded.
“My uncle. My mother’s brother.” She looked at the women in the kitchen. “I didn’t know he’d died until two days ago.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t know,” Miss Taylor said. “That must have been a shock.”
Was it? Gemma feared she was beginning to expect death at every turn.
Jane made a triumphant sound at having the fire going. Suddenly too tired to move, Gemma watched as the maid swung the hook holding the kettle over the flame.
“So what is your story?” Mrs. Warbler said. “Do you have a name? Are you married?”
“My name is Gemma Estep and my husband is dead.” And before she stopped to think, or because of the sherry, she blurted out, “I don’t mourn him, I can tell you that. He gambled awaymy father’s fine house in Manchester and I knewnothingabout it until a family arrived to move in. I was put out immediately. My husband didn’t even help me move. He was in London. He was always in London. Always away, and I certainly didn’t matter to him.” She wouldn’t mind another spot of sherry, except perhaps she’d had enough...?
“Did you know that he was of such low character when you married him?” Miss Taylor asked, her tone shocked.
“No, he was a captain in the Horse Guard and Lord Latimer is his brother. When I was introduced to Paul, he acted the very model of a gentleman,” Gemma said. “Father was quite taken with him. Actually, Father was not well and hadn’t been for some time. I believe he was most anxious I marry before he died. He wanted to ensure I had a proper husband. Paul Estep appeared in society and, well, he swept us both off our feet and out of our money.”
“Yours is a sad story, Mrs. Estep—” Miss Taylor started, until Gemma cut her off.
“Gemma.My name is Gemma. I don’t claim Estep. Not after what that family has done to me. Paul died and no one told me. He was killed by an angry husband, in aduelover the man’s wife. I arrived in London expecting to see him, but he had already been buried.”
“Good Lord,” Mrs. Warbler whispered.
