Cassandra untied the twine and removed the paper from around the rock, smoothing it out.
She stared at it, trying to work out what she looked at or why somebody would throw it through her aunt’s window. It was an illustration of a lady on horseback, raising a shotgun at three gentlemen floating in a cloudless sky.
“Really, Cass,” Sybil said, her voice frightened, “there may be poison on it or something equally dangerous about it.”
In a moment, Cassandra perceived what she saw. The lady was herself. Someone at the table at the Bergrams’ ball had repeated her claim to having used a shotgun. That, combined with the three lords’ escort of her out of Hyde Park and through London, had been enough to compose the scene.
“There is poison here, to be sure,” Cassandra said. “Just not the sort to damage one’s physical person.” She carried it to the window seat, careful to step around the broken glass, and showed it to Sybil.
Sybil stared at it, then looked up. “What does it mean? I do not understand it at all.”
“The lady is meant to be me. I did not mention, because I wished to forget, that during my initial encounter with Lord Hampton I was rather provoked and owned to having shot bird on my father’s estate. Clearly, I was overheard.”
Sybil laughed, though it was rather a small laugh. “Cass, shooting? Why should you say such a thing?”
“Because it is true, though I need not have laid claim to it.”
Sybil considered the idea for a moment. She said, “Taking up a shotgun is unusual, to be sure. Though, if your claim of shooting birds is the cause of this, why should the birds in the illustration be three gentlemen? Are they the three gentlemen mentioned by Mr. Richards? Who are they?”
“I am afraid they are the Lords Hampton, Lockwood and Ashworth,” Cassandra said. “I had not yet had time to tell you of my encounter in the park yesterday. Mr. Conners, who I met at the Montagues’ ball, approached me and proposed I engage in a horse race.”
“He did not!” Sybil exclaimed.
“He did. Then Lord Hampton came on the scene and chased him away.”
“That was very good of Lord Hampton,” Sybil said.
“Yes, it was,” Cassandra said. “But there is more. Not long after, Lord Lockwood and Lord Ashworth arrived. The three gentlemen insisted they escort us on our way home.Allthe way home. It was strange and there were no end of people staring at us. You see? The three gentlemen in the illustration are Hampton, Ashworth and Lockwood.”
“I do see,” Sybil said. “Goodness, that is unfair. You have not deserved this. As well, it does not entirely explain Mr. Richards’ comment on the three gentlemen. Why should one be wary of your company because three gentlemen of the pact did you a marked courtesy?”
“I do not know, nor do I fully understand why they did such a courtesy. I am perhaps most alarmed at the idea that something that occurred yesterday afternoon was so widely known that same night and a mocking of it is done today.” Cassandra paused, then said, “As well, who would be so determined as to throw it through my aunt’s window?”
“Lady Marksworth will know what ought to be done,” Sybil said. “I expect a ‘Chin up and ignore the gossip’ is what she will say.”
Cassandra took Sybil’s hands in her own. “But you need not ignore it, my friend. I would not like to see you tainted by talk involving myself. This will not be the only copy of this print and I cannot know how many others circulate. Perhaps Mr. Richards was right, perhaps it might be best for you to stay away for now.”
“Stay away?” Sybil said, with more vigor than she had displayed all morning. “I certainly will not. Lady Sybil Hayworth is made of sterner stuff than that, thank you very much.”
Cassandra smiled at her friend’s valiant loyalty, though she knew it might not hold. “Your mother may not feel the same,” she said.
“My mother comes from a long line of lady warriors,” Sybil said. “She will not retreat in the face of difficulty.”
Racine came in with the two footmen, who both worked to catch their breath. “The little blighter could not be caught,” he said.
“It is no matter,” Cassandra said. “I do not know what we would have done with him if wehadcaught him.”
“Knock the stuffing out of him is what I would do!” Racine said.
Cassandra smiled at the idea. It appeared Racine was from a long line of warriors too.
“I think,” she said, “the best thing we can do is send somebody to Mrs. Hanson’s house to retrieve my aunt.”
Racine nodded, though he appeared to experience some disappointment in not having the opportunity to knock the stuffing out of anybody. “Jimmy, you go. Say an important letter has arrived, nothing more until you are on your way. Ben, sweep the glass from the rug and cover the window with a cloth. I will arrange for a glazier to come and repair it.”
Cassandra felt a bit better, having settled on a plan of action and seeing Racine so competent in carrying out the details. She would feel both comforted and mortified to see her aunt. She had caused talk about herself! She would need to own that she had spoken so out of turn as to mention shooting. As for the three gentlemen escorting them home, she could not have done anything about that—Lady Marksworth had quite approved it.
It was simply that the two pieces of information, taken together, resulted in a humiliating picture. She supposed that was what the people who dreamt up such illustrations sought out—combining a few disparate facts into a scene that would amuse.
