There was no one at the breakfast table when Rosalind made her way downstairs on Tuesday morning. Evan had risen much earlier and had set off for who-knew-where with Mr. Williams. While the woman broke her fast, she was left to her own thoughts.
"Letters for you, Lady Evan," the butler said as he approached the table.
"Oh, thank you, Jenson," Rosalind said, taking the messages from the salver he held out to her. "Has Mrs. Williams been down yet this morning?"
"It is my understanding she took breakfast in her room." With that said, the butler withdrew from the room with his usual dignity.
Coupling that information with Emily's paleness the day before, Emily suspected her cousin was suffering from morning sickness. With a sigh, she turned her attention to the letters in her hand. She recognized her aunt's handwriting on the one, and set it aside to focus on the other, which was from her sister-in-law's letter. As she broke the seal, Rosalind wondered what could have prompted Henrietta to write.
Dear sister,
I do hope you and Evan are enjoying your little trip into the country. I'm afraid it was ill-timed and the longer you remain away, the more cause for gossip you create. The rumors flying around the drawing rooms are enough to put me to the blush. Do you have any idea just what your behavior is doing to the family's name?
Aghast, Rosalind stared at the words as her sister-in-law detailed what members of society were saying: Evan had caught her and Mr. Rowley in a passionate embrace and thus they had left London abruptly. Others said she was carrying Mr. Rowley's child and had been secreted away until the birth.
"Oh, how could they? This is ridiculous! " Rosalind said aloud, her horror growing with each word. Hoping desperately to read her sister-in-law had refuted the claims, she read on.
And, really, I couldn't be expected to lie for you. How often did you keep a note from my gaze when flowers arrived? You made such a show of disdaining Mr. Rowley's attention, and what else is the world to think but that you were attempting to allay suspicion?
"I can only imagine what Evan's mother is going to say when she hears this news. Goodness knows Lord Emberdown is livid..."
Sickened, Rosalind refolded the letter. She pushed away her plate of now cold toast and stood up. Notes in hand, she rushed from the room and went towards the staircase. However, when she set her foot on the first step, she paused.
Her first instinct had been to run to Emily and get her cousin's perspective on the matter, but that wasn't the right course of action. Evan may not be there, but as her husband, he was the one she needed to turn to. If only she knew where she could find him...
"Is there a problem, my lady?" the footman in the all asked, a tinge of concern in his voice. "Do you need something?"
"No. No, not at all," Rosalind said, forcing a smile. "Did Lord Evan or Mr. Williams happen to mention when they would return? Or what part of the estate they were visiting?"
"No, my lady."
Disappointed, Rosalind thanked him and then went up the stairs. Somehow, she would keep her worried to herself until Evan returned. He would know what they should do next.
****
Two hours later, Evan had not come back. Rosalind went to the drawing room with no little apprehension. She forced a smile as she sat across from her cousin. "Is that embroidery I see in your hand?" she asked, trying for a light tone. "What has the world come to?"
"Rosalind, you look so worried," Emily said with a concerned frown. "Is everything alright? You're not nervous about this afternoon, are you? Because you have no reason to be. You're married to the son of a marquess—your brother-in-law is the current Marquess of emberdown, after all—and no one could be unkind to you now."
"I'm not nervous at all." Rosalind kept her eyes down as she ran her fingers across the needlework in her lap. "The Williamsons have always been kind to me if a bit forgetful about my presence."
"True, but Mrs. Goldman will be coming as well and you know how much the woman likes stirring up trouble."
"As far as I have seen, she merely enjoys gossip the same as any member of society," Rosalind said with as much patience she could muster. "Really, Emily, you cannot allow your past grievances and dislikes continue to color the present. Otherwise, you will be constantly unhappy."
In the ensuing silence, she glanced up to see Emily tilting her head with a frown. "What?" Rosalind asked, surprised by her cousin's thoughtful expression.
"I'm trying to think of how I can turn that back on you, the veritable queen of allowing the past to influence the present," Emily said. She sighed and shook her head. "Never mind. I promise I will be civil to all of my guests if that is what you are concerned about."
"No, but that is an admirable start. You really must think of your children. You do wish for them to grow up in a friendly neighborhood, do you not? And to have friends to associate and play with?"
With a huff, Emily crossed her arms. "Of course I do."
Relieved to have turned the conversation away from herself, Rosalind smiled. "There you are, then." She lifted her needle again. "Be polite, make friends, and make sure your children will be accepted in the neighborhood."
"But none of that explains why you look so worried. Did you read something unsettling in your father's journal this morning?"
"Oh, no," Rosalind said hastily. "What I've read has been mostly references to the weather, his thoughts on the politics of the day, and the people he met. I cannot tell if he made mention of those people because he owed them money or if they owed him."
Emily hummed a note. "Well, then, what has you so worried?"
The door opened, saving Rosalind from having to find a way to reassure her cousin. "Mrs. Smithson and Miss Smithson," the butler announced.
Shooting her cousin one last narrow-eyed look, Emily rose from her seat. The visitors entered the drawing room. "Mrs. Smithson, Miss Smithson, welcome," the lady of the house said with graciousness. "I'm so happy you could visit us today."
"We are delighted to be able to join you, Mrs. Williams," Mrs. Smithson said cheerfully. She dropped a proper curtsy and then straightened. "The whole neighborhood has been holding its breath in anticipation for when you would begin entertaining."
Emily made no answer to that statement but invited them to sit down. "I'm sorry the rain will confine us inside today," she said. "I'd planned on some lawn games, but I'm sure we can amuse ourselves just as easily indoors."
"Lady Evan, perhaps you could tell us news from London?" Miss Smithson asked eagerly as she sat down. "The latest gossip? The change in fashion?"
Though she couldn't keep from flinching, Rosalind managed to keep a smile on her face. "I'm sure you keep up with the fashion plates more than I do, Miss Smithson," she said to the younger girl. "My seamstress in London had to guide me in every choice I made, I'm afraid."
Miss Smithson blushed prettily, taking Rosalind's words as a compliment. "But what about the latest happenings? Surely there must be something new you can tell us."
"I'm sure the latest Luddite attack is known even here. It is cause for concern to most."
The girl waved her hand. "What about Princess Caraboo? Is she as exotic as the reports have said? Have you seen her?"
"I've not met the young woman, though I have heard the story," Rosalind said, remembering the strange report of a princess from a far-off island. "I'm sorry I can only disappoint you, Miss Smithson, as I can give you no more information than what you've already read."
"Mrs. Goldman," the butler announced in the doorway.
Mrs. Goldman entered, the feathers of her bonnet bobbing with each step. She cast a glance around the room before making her curtsy. "My, you all look cozy," she said as she straightened. "I'm not interrupting any confidences, am I?"
"Mrs. Goldman, how delightful that you have joined us," Emily said with a forced smile. "I feared the rain would keep you at home."
"Though you may not know it, a vicar's wife must go out in all weather, Mrs. Williams." Mrs. Goldman's tone was sharp. "It's something to which I have become accustomed in my marriage."
"And I'm sure the parish appreciates the hard work you and Mr. Goldman do," Rosalind said swiftly. She had no intention of allowing her cousin to bait her guest. "Has Mrs. Miller been ill? I didn't see her yesterday."
"The poor dear has been so weak these past few weeks," Mrs. Smithson said with a sad shake of her head. "She's nearly eighty-four, you know, so we shouldn't be surprised by this decline."
"The poor dear summons my husband to her bedside every other day," Mrs. Goldman added as she sat down beside the woman. "To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if she lived to be a hundred and keeps the entire neighborhood bowing to her wishes until it happens. She is as strong as any of us."
Her blunt words made the other women shift uncomfortably. "I will have to make a point of visiting her while I am here," Rosalind said, breaking the moment of silence. "I've always admired her needlework and how she continues even at her age."
"Lady Evan, you have hit on the very thing to cheer up Mrs. Miller," Mrs. Smithson exclaimed with enthusiasm. "A fresh face and news from outside of Ambershire will be welcome, I am sure."
Mrs. Goldman gave a huff, her blue eyes narrowing. "My husband and I have done our best to keep her apprised of what has been reported in the papers. There cannot be much Lady Evan can share that we have not already spoken of."
"I'm sure no one was suggesting you have not been doing your duty, Mrs. Goldman," Emily said, a sharp edge to her tone. "Can I offer you ladies some fancy work? I myself have a lovely design I have been working on. Nothing that can compare to Mrs. Miller's work, of course, but I am proud of it."
"May I see?" Miss Smithson asked, her blue eyes lighting up.
"Certainly," Emily said graciously.
As tea was carried in, Rosalind let out a breath of relief. Annabelle James Goldman had always made a show of desiring Emily's friendship, though she had ignored Rosalind. In the past year, though, it seemed the young woman believed she had not gotten the future she deserved with her marriage to the young curate.
Even had she not been worried about the letters she'd received, Rosalind did not anticipate an enjoyable afternoon.
****
"Evan, where have you been?" Rosalind asked when her husband entered their shared room an hour before dinner. "I expected you hours ago."
"Oh, out and about," Evan said carelessly. He paused as he glanced at her. "My dear, you seem upset. What's wrong? Surely you knew I would be spending the day with Will while you ladies had company. They were not unkind, were they?"
Hand shaking, Rosalind handed Henrietta's letter to her husband and allowed it to explain the situation for her. She watched his face as his eyes moved along the lines. His lips pursed and his hands tightened on the paper.
"She cannot be serious," he said when he reached the end. Anger tinged his voice. "How can she believe this after the months we lived in the same house? Why would Henrietta even repeat such malicious gossip?"
Rosalind shook her head. "I don't know, Evan. I know it must be the doing of Mrs. Fisher and Mr. Rowley, but I don't understand why. What could they gain from blackening my name?"
"This is outrageous." Evan shook his head. "I cannot believe my sister-in-law would write in this tone. What good does she think it would do?"
"I don't know. Will she have written this news to your mother?" Rosalind asked apprehensively. "And what of your brother? Will they have heard already since they intended to go to London themselves?"
He swung his gaze to her. "She wouldn't dare!"
"I'm very much afraid she would."
The letter crumpled in Evan's grasp. "I've always known she was a cold-hearted female, but this is beyond acceptable! This cannot be allowed to go unpunished. "
"Punished?" Rosalind repeated, alarmed by the suggestion. "What do you intend to do?"
For a moment, Evan was silent. His shoulders heaved with a sigh and then shook his head. "I don't know. If I write to my mother and tell her to disregard Henrietta's vicious words, it will only appear I am hiding something. However, if I do not write, who knows what they might be thinking."
Putting her arms around her husband, Rosalind leaned against him. "How did this happen?"
Immediately, Evan embraced her in return. "I do not know." He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. "I will write to Thomas and demand he control his wife's tongue. He cannot realize the damage she is causing."
"Perhaps she does not realize the damage she is doing to the family name," Rosalind said, even though she didn't truly believe it herself. She closed her eyes, reveling in her husband's strength and support. "This would never have happened if you hadn't married me, you know."
"Never say such a thing!" Evan tightened his embrace. "I would much rather face a hundred times worse than this than imagine my life without my Rose. We will find out way clear of this mess. After all, we have done no wrong."
"From what I've seen, that won't matter at all to members of society," Rosalind said, unable to keep the tremble from her voice. "They'll believe because they want to believe it. You know I'm right."
Evan sighed. "I'm afraid I do. If I find out Rowley had anything to do with these vicious rumors, I'll—"
"Do what?" Rosalind interrupted, pulling back. She searched his face with worry. "Call him out? Challenge him to a duel?"
"My dear, this is 1817," Evan said with a slight laugh. "You know such things are frowned upon. I would, however, plant him a facer as I should have done the moment you came to me with your worries. I know his nature and ought to have seen he meant mischief."
"If you strike him, then he would challenge you to a duel. I don't see how that is any better."
Her husband shook his head. "At best, he would want to prove himself superior in Gentleman Jackson's academy. And you know I excel there."
"Somehow, I don't believe it would be as simple as that," Rosalind said, frowning at him.
He took her hands in his. "I promise you we will put this right, Rosy. We will find a solution to put people's idle tongues to a halt about this."
Even though she had no idea how they would accomplish such a thing, Rosalind chose to trust her husband's words. "Promise me you will tell me before you take any action."
"Naturally." Evan kissed her forehead. "Now, let us dress for dinner. We wouldn't want to keep our hosts waiting." He paused. "You didn't tell your cousin, did you?"
"No. I thought it best to wait for you."
"Then, we will keep this ugly rumor to ourselves, for now. I know how easy it is for your cousin to overreact and there is little she or Will can do to clear up this matter."
Sighing, Rosalind nodded her agreement. No doubt Evan was right, though she still wished she could confide in Emily as she had often done before. She moved to the bellrope to summon her maid.
Somehow, she would find a way to keep her worry from being noticed by her too observant cousin.