I watched Mama sit in her chair. “I need my own. I’ll send for Wycliff. I’ll tell him everything.”
I went to the closet and pulled out stationery, a blotter, and ink. Flopping on the sofa, I curled my feet under me and began writing a short note.
My hands shook, I smeared things terribly, but the words, ‘Come.Please come.,’made it on the page.
I thought about going to him, getting in a carriage. Did I have enough courage for that and to spill my secret? I did. “I’m going to get Jonesy to take me.”
“You can do it, Ruth. Do you need me or Ester to come with you?”
I wanted to go by myself, but I couldn’t afford to fail. “I’ll send this to him. He said he’d come. Thank you, Mama.”
I opened the door to the parlor, but Ester was there with her hand poised to knock. “Ruth. This came for you.”
It wasn’t a ribbon-wrapped note.
I took this one and savored the jasmine scent of the paper. It was from Madame Talease. It was an answer, the proof I needed.
I had to read this, to see if it said what I remembered.
I took my note to Wycliff and handed it to Ester. “Help me get this to a groom. I need this to go to Lord Wycliff as soon as possible.”
She took the folded note. “The more I try to stop you, the more it’s driving you to Wycliff. I give up. I’ll get this to him right away.”
“This is a new tactic? The loving little sister indulging her older, daft one?”
“No, this is the loving little sister trying to love you right. Ruth, if you want him, I’m with you.”
“And if I am a fool, and this is nothing but something reckless, will you gloat?”
“No. I don’t stick my tongue out anymore. I wish you happiness. You deserve that, but I’ll be here to wipe your tears. Then we’ll plot how to bludgeon the whip-ferrying goat with a poker.”
I reached out and hugged Ester, truly hugged her. “I love you, Sis.”
“Let me get this to Jonesy. He is the fastest in getting notes delivered to Bex.”
Ester dashed away.
A little spent, I decided to go upstairs with my letter. I needed my wits for when Wycliff came.
Halfway up the stairs, I heard Clancy open the door.
Mrs. Johnson slid inside. She wore mourning black, head to toe, with a veil.
She ran and clasped the newel post of the stairs. “Ruth, I need to see you. I haven’t been a good friend.”
I glared at this woman. “No friend at all. You need to go.”
“I have to see you now. It is of the upmost urgency.”
“There’s nothing to hear.”
I came back downstairs, went to the door, and opened it. “Please leave.”
“It’s Madame Talease. She’s ill. She’s dying.”
I stopped and grasped the thick paper in my pocket. My heart hurt. Madame Talease was my friend. “To the study. We can talk in private.”
Madame Talease had been good to me. I hoped Mrs. Johnson was wrong, dead wrong.
