Page 36 of An Unusual Wager

There was nothing for it. “He is indeed my papa.”

The sparse eyebrows, that had been painted in with a harsh line of black, rose towards the old lady’s impressive wig. “And if my memory serves me right, which it so often don’t, didn’t your papa leg it to the Continent with yet another French hussy? Seems to me there are all too many French hussies in your combined families.”

Determined not to allow herself to be offended and cause a scene, as, after all, she was dealing with someone very old who probably thought she could say exactly what she thought, Verity had to nod. “Although I have no knowledge of whether my mother was a hussy or not, as I knew her for so short a time before she died. She was not…interested in her child.”

The dowager nodded. “If she was French, then she was a hussy. Just like my daughter-in-law. All the Frenchies are either hussies or revolutionaries and not to be tolerated.” Those startling brows formed a heavy frown as she glanced at Kitty. “We’ve had enough of scheming French hussies around here, haven’t we, child?”

Kitty nodded with enthusiasm.

This conversation was becoming more and more confusing. Obviously the old lady’s dislike of the French was rooted in her dislike of Jonnie’s mother. This was a rather sweeping statement as Verity knew well that not all French women were hussies. But it would not be good to provoke an argument in any way on so short an acquaintance and with so elderly a lady. However, from what she knew of her own mother, it was entirely possible the old lady might be correct in her case.

Without warning, the old lady suddenly sank back into her seat with a sigh, her eyes glazing over and staring sightlessly into the distance. Her whole body had deflated, the spark of life she’d been exhibiting doused, as though someone had blown out the candle of her mind.

Kitty leaned towards Verity. “She’s having one of her turns. I’ll fetch her nurse. She has the room next door. We’ll get no sense out of Grandmama again today.” She gave a little shrug. “We were lucky she was so receptive and alert, I suppose. She’s like this.” She waved her hand at her grandmother. “More often than not nowadays. Chatting away to me one moment and the next away with her head all befuddled.”

And she departed to find the nurse.

Verity sat back in her seat, regarding the Dowager. Gone was the acuity and intelligence and in its place only the husk of a woman remained. And with it had gone the vitality that had been apparent when she’d first laid eyes on her. She now looked every one of her ninety-seven years. How cruel life was, to rob her like this of herself, to snatch away her memories of those she loved.

Verity had encountered an old man like this, far away now in a villa in Italy, outside Florence. Papa had wanted to steal his money, but seeing the state of their mark, Verity had refused. Papa had not been pleased, but he couldn’t have done it alone. She could still see that old man’s face as he smiled up at her out of eyes as rheumy and faded as the Dowager’s, thinking she was his long-gone wife returned to him. She’d sat and held his hand until he’d slept, then crept away to rejoin Papa, full of guilt at what they’d been planning to do.

She wiped a tear away before Kitty and the nurse returned, not wanting them to see.