Page 5 of Mistress of Sins

Jeffrey would never forget learning that his sister Lucetta had been shot by a madman in Dredthorne Hall’s front foyer, or that she had come close to bleeding to death and dying there. He hated the reminder of how hopeless and helpless he had felt as he had waited to learn from the doctor if she would survive. He recalled every day she had spent with him and Deidre at the parsonage, slowly recovering from the savage wound. The ending to that story could only be called joyful, but he would never feel the same about the ordeal.

Many of his young parishioners would go to the ball. Someone had to look out for them.

“I think we must attend,” he told his wife. “We need not stay very long, but I wish to make an appearance.”

Deidre didn’t look happy, but she nodded and held out a ginger nut for him. “We will want costumes to wear, unless you wanted to play the vicar and his wife.”

He thought for a moment. “Perhaps we might employ some metaphor in that.”

Chapter 3

The next day Jennet made sure her mother was sleeping before she set out for the village from Reed Park. Dr. Mallory had stopped in and prescribed rest and an herbal soother for Margaret, and checked with the housekeeper to insure they had some laudanum on hand if her panic escalated.

“I should think she will recover in a day or so, Miss Reed,” the doctor advised her before leaving to attend his next patient. “Until she does, keep her indoors and well-wrapped against chill, and avoid provoking excitement.”

Debny promised to sit with Margaret while Jennet attended to her errands, which included a stop at the haberdasher’s shop. She hoped to find embroidery threads to match the old gown Catherine had lent her, but as soon as she entered the establishment she saw a clutch of young ladies giggling over the fine laces.

The proprietor greeted her with a ready smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Reed. May I be of service?”

“I think I will browse, sir,” she told him, and went over to the threads cabinet, where she pulled out the drawer for shades of blue. She had clipped a tiny piece of the gown’s silk from an inner seam, and took it from her reticule to compare it to the available stock.

“I hear he is very tall, and dark, and has the broadest shoulders,” one of the girls at the laces counter said, cooing the words. “Perhaps he will dress as Wellington, and carry a sword.”

“Surely not, for I have seen the Iron Duke, and he is nothing at all,” another claimed. “He is very short and slight, and has a hooked nose.” She drew an outline of the latter over her own.

“I think he should dress as Mr. Brummel, for I daresay he is just as elegant, and a hundred times as rich,” a third girl put in, making all of them giggle at her shocking remark. “And I will dress as the Queen of France, so he will not be able to resist asking me to dance.”

“Rose Abernathy, you are utterly shameless,” the first girl accused.

“Why? Because I wish to make the acquaintance of a rich, unattached gentleman with a title, who may desire a wife?” Rose made a contemptuous sound. “It is not as if he is engaged to any of you.”

One of the other girls whispered something, and the group turned to stare at Jennet.

She ignored their wide-eyed gawking as she selected her thread packet, and brought it up to the front counter. “I will have this, and some long-eyed needles, please.”

The shop keeper smiled uneasily. “Yes, Miss Reed.”

“Jennet Reed, is that you?” Rose Abernathy came to join her at the counter. “I thought so. Were you eavesdropping on us? I do not blame you if you were. It is not as if a spinster has anything better to do.”

As her friends gasped, she regarded the smirking girl, but said nothing.

“I will dance with him, you know,” Rose assured her, leaning closer. “He is not yours any longer. He has not been for these seven years.”

“His lordship is an excellent dancer, so I hope you do,” Jennet said, and handed the coins for her purchase to the proprietor. “I would advise you not try to marry him, however. He cannot seem to find the church.” To the shopkeeper she said, “Thank you, sir.”

Walking out of the shop, Jennet heard Rose sputtering and her friends giggling. It had not been her best retort, she admitted to herself, but she had felt out of sorts ever since learning William Gerard had returned to Renwick. Until he left, there would probably be more of the same, as it seemed no one had forgotten her disastrous engagement.

Of course, they have not. That will be who you are to them for the rest of your days. The spinster, the pariah, the poor girl that William Gerard left at the altar.

The next shop she visited was the dry goods, where she paid for an order Mrs. Holloway had made, and then decided to treat herself with a stop at the bakery. There she selected some queen cakes, of which she was particularly fond, and a slice of lemon cake with raspberries that her mother loved.

“Miss Reed?” a hesitant voice said.

Jennet turned and saw one of Rose Abernathy’s friends hovering behind her. “Excuse me.”

When she tried to go around her the girl stepped in her path. “Forgive me,” she said quickly. “I know we have not been introduced, but I only wished to apologize.”

Jennet nodded and waited.