“You mean to tell me that Henry lost my miniature at cards and then youpawnedit?” she cried.
Mr Keeley shrugged. “Needed the readies, dear girl. Thought Halbert would have told youthat.”
“Well, he didn’t,” she said indignantly. “Great heavens! I thought Henry must have dropped it somewhere. Well!”
“Wagered it quite often,” Mr Green said, nodding sagely. “Always won it back… until he died, of course.”
“And it never occurred to you that I might like to have it back?”
“But you’ve got it back, haven’t you?” Mr Keeley said, puzzled. “That husband of yours got it back.”
“Bought it back, I imagine, after you pawned it.”
Another shrug. “Needed the readies,” he said again, as if no other explanation was needed.
Georgie got to her feet. “Thank you for the sherry, gentlemen. I dare say we shall not meet again.”
She strode determinedly across the room and out into the passageway, where she had to step aside for the landlord carrying a tray of food dishes. That was when she saw the stairs.
“Is that where he fell?” she said, grabbing the landlord by the arm, to the imminent danger of the tray. “Henry Hastings… was that where he fell?”
“Aye, all the way from top to bottom. Broke his neck, poor fellow.”
“But his chair’s in the common room… so… what’s up the stairs?”
“Only the bedrooms, ma’am.” Then, perhaps realising that this was not an idle enquiry, he licked his lips and added, “Know him, did you?”
“He was my husband, but it seems I didn’t know him at all.”
“Ah. ’Scuse me, ma’am, must get this lot delivered.”
He scuttled away from the awkward moment. Georgie found Green and Keeley watching her from the common room door.
“So who was it?” she said, with cold determination. “Oh… was it Sally?”
“Her name was Nancy,” Keeley said. “Chambermaid.”
Green nudged him in the ribs. “Shut your mouth, fool! She don’t need to know that. It weren’t serious, Georgie, just a bit of playing around.”
“That makes me feelmuchbetter,” she said savagely. “I think I shall go and have a word with Henry Hastings.”
“What?” Keeley said. “But… he’s dead!”
“I know exactly where he is,” she said. “At least I can be sure he won’t answer me back, which is good, because I intend to give him a piece of my mind.”
“Aye, you ring a peal over him,” Green said. “Dare say he deserves it.”
“I’m sure he does. Pity I didn’t do it when he was alive.”
***
The churchyard was quiet. For a while the sexton and a boy worked at a grave in a distant corner, but when they went home for their dinner, Georgie had the place to herself. She had never been to Henry’s grave before. At first, she had been too distraught to consider it, but even afterwards she could not bring herself to go. If it had been at her own local churchyard, she could have visited Henry whenever she liked, but in death he no longer belonged to her, for his aunt had reclaimed him.
Now she was surprised to see how neglected it was. The stone was very ornate, of course, for his aunt had paid all the costs, but the little square of walled ground surrounding it was infested with weeds, and a cheeky strand of ivy had begun to wind its way around the stone itself.
She sat on the low stone wall and, for a while, she had nothing to say, for the cut was too deep. Nancy! How many times had he passed the evening with Nancy and then come home to Georgie, speaking of love and playing the part of a faithful husband? So well had he played it that she had never for one moment suspected the lie beneath the smiling words and his passionate kisses.
For a long time she wept and wished she had never come back to Oxford, for then she would never have known the truth about her treacherous husband. After a while, she pulled out his miniature to remind herself of his deceitful face, but no, he was still in looks the same charming man she had fallen in love with. No matter how she tried, she could not reconcile the warm smile she remembered with a man who slipped away upstairs at the inn for an assignation, when he had a loving wife waiting for him at home.
