Page 88 of The Work of Art

“He was the devil of a shot with a pistol,” Lord Darly said. “Do you remember when…?”

“He’s nothing to fear now,” Mr. Forsythe responded.

“Everyone wants to know the truth of it,” Elizabeth said. “We’ve had ever so many callers since you left.”

Philly turned to look at her. “I beg your pardon?”

Abigail leaned forward in her seat. “Constance Penniman said you might have been tricked into a carriage and stolen away, and that after you were compromised, you’d have had no choice but to marry.”

“You’ll put our minds at ease on that score, won’t you, Mrs. Heywood?” Lord Darly flashed a teasing grin at Abigail.

“Yes,” Mr. Forsythe agreed. “Tell us once and for all. Has Heywood kidnapped you and forced you to wed him?”

Philly’s expression tightened. She’d heard similar nonsense from her own gossiping servants, but she hadn’t thought to hear it from her guests. It took an effort to keep her countenance. “What utter absurdity. I’ll thank you not to repeat—”

“It’s what people are saying,” Abigail murmured over the edge of her teacup. “Else why would you marry him instead of the duke?”

“Pray don’t listen to them.” Lady Eliot covered Philly’s hand with her own. “Those of us who truly know Captain Heywood can attest that he is, at all times, a gentleman. Is that not a fact, Mrs. Heywood?”

A vague feeling of dizziness caught Philly unaware. She was becoming overwhelmed by all the overlapping talk. And the tea she’d been sipping had made her feel rather nauseous. She wished Lady Eliot would remove her hand. It was too hot, and the weight of it was smothering.

“Why, Mrs. Heywood, you look as if you might be ill. I daresay it’s the fault of this drawing room. It’s always been too much in the sun at this time of day. You’re surely overheated.”

Philly looked up at Caroline Eliot, certain she hadn’t heard her correctly. “You’ve been here before?”

“Oh heavens! Many times.” Lady Eliot lowered her voice to a soft purr. “I don’t like to be indelicate, but I’ll wager that on more than one occasion I occupied the very bedroom you sleep in now. Blue brocade hangings and a rather monstrous mahogany bed? Ah well, it was the fashion once, I suppose. As for this room, I always advised that the paper be changed. There’s a section that’s peeling. Just there. Do you see it? Now, I’ve found some marvelous hand-painted Oriental paper for my townhouse. It might do for you, if you’d like to copy my style…”

As Lady Eliot ran on, Philly stared, unseeing, at the section of claret-colored flock paper on the wall that had begun to peel away. Her mind was in turmoil.

How long had it been since Lady Eliot was last at Heywood House? Had she really advised Arthur on how to decorate? Had she really slept in Philly’s own bedroom?

It must be true, but Philly couldn’t credit it.

“…which you should do if you can bear the expense,” Lady Eliot continued, “for Heycombe has absolutely nothing to offer in the way of fine paper hangings.”

Elizabeth rose to refill her teacup, and having done so, moved to sit nearer to Lord Darly. Abigail came immediately to take the vacant seat next to Philly on the sofa.

“May I see your wedding band, Phyllida? They’re rubies, are they not? I could see them sparkling all the way across the room.”

Preoccupied with her own thoughts, Philly made no protest when her cousin lifted her hand to admire her ring.

“How delicate it is!” Abigail exclaimed.

“Yes, it is quite flattering,” Lady Eliot remarked. “I wasn’t persuaded it would be, rubies being far more suitable to someone of my complexion. But Captain Heywood was quite determined on it. I’d even go so far as to say that there was nothing at the jeweler’s he liked better.”

Lady Eliot’s words seem to hang in the air for an eternity. Philly couldn’t quite absorb them. She told herself she’d misheard. It couldn’t be true. Arthur wouldn’t have taken his former fiancée along with him to choose her wedding band. He could never have been so cruel.

Lady Eliot smiled a slow, languorous smile. “Now, I must be naughty and confess something to you.”

“Must you?” Lord Darly asked under his breath.

“There was a pair of ruby earrings to match it.”

“Matching earrings!” Abigail cried out with delight.

“I tried them on myself to display for Captain Heywood, and I can attest that they were, indeed, superb stones.” Caroline Eliot met Philly’s eyes. “But you needn’t take my word for it, Mrs. Heywood. I shall wear them the next time I come to call, and you may judge for yourself.”

“Shooting. Fencing. Boxing with Gentleman Jackson.” The earl climbed out of the carriage. “One doesn’t simply forget a lifetime of excellence in such pursuits.”