AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She stroked her hands over her belly and breasts in a gesture Catherine had probabl
y not seen before, and the shock on her cousin’s face made Cressida laugh.
This night had been the most extraordinary of her life. Her encounter with Justin at Madame Plumb’s—truncated though it had been—had reminded her of the physical pleasures she’d so missed. When she was in Justin’s arms and the first difficult words had been said, she knew the rest would be easy. A man didn’t change character overnight and if Justin had strayed, Cressida was confident enough of winning him back, now and for the future, that she was prepared to put the past behind them.
“I am sorry for your unhappiness, Catherine, but we reap what we sow. When did you last please your husband, Catherine?” she asked. She began to count on her fingers. “Let me think, your two sons were born less than a year apart. Baby William, your second son and final child, was born four years ago. Once you’d provided James with two sons, you felt you’d done your duty, didn’t you? You’ve denied James access to your bed ever since, yet you blame him for seeking his pleasures elsewhere?”
“How...dare...you.”
For once, Cressida felt no fear in the face of Catherine’s anger. She shrugged. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s speculated that. Of course, it is only speculation, but I’m not the innocent I was, Catherine.” Excitement bubbled inside her at the thought of what lay ahead. Taking another quick look at herself in the looking glass, she dragged down the lace-edged black silk at her décolletage, enjoying the fact that her behavior was, for once, scandalizing her cousin. She swung back to face her, not hiding her pleasure at the prospect of seeing Justin again. “You see, Catherine, I realize how lucky I am. I’ve enjoyed a love most women never experience, and I’m not about to squander the opportunity to take it in a new and exciting direction.” She raised her eyes heavenward and said in an adrenaline-fuelled rush, “I went to Mrs. Plumb’s last week and again this week, Catherine, and I’ve seen things you’d not believe.” If she sounded like a schoolroom miss, she didn’t care, especially as she saw the effect her admission had on Catherine.
Yet all her cousin could manage was, “Oh, Cressida!” as she took a step forward, no doubt prepared to stop Cressida physically from leaving.
“So now that I am weary to the bone of listening to you tell me how to make my marriage as miserable as yours,” Cressida went on, “I am leaving this very minute to go back to Justin.” She gave Catherine a challenging look. “And to show him what a loving wife he has, now that I have power like no mother, aunt, sister or cousin ever told me was possible.”
Catherine took a very slow, deep breath and a measured step toward Cressida, who was now halfway to the door. Her lips were a thin line in her gaunt, bitter face, like a smear of plum juice over a piece of grey leather.
“You’d do better collaring Madame Zirelli and forcing her to admit everything,” she hissed.
Cressida cocked her head as she contemplated the idea, one hand on the bell rope. “The trouble with you, Catherine, is that you always believe the worst. Someone is always to blame. Except you, of course. I used to pity you, married to philandering James.” She sighed. “Now I pity James. But, yes—why not? I wi! take your advice and pay a call on Madame Zirelli, despite the late hour. I’m dressed for the occasion, after all, and Wednesday nights at Mrs. Plumb’s are always most intriguing.”
Chapter 13
Madame Zirelli had long since retired to her bed, but in her dimly lit little sitting room she graciously—and with little surprise—received her visitor. She’d thrown a thick paisley shawl over her nightgown, and now in her muslin nightcap with her dark hair braided over one shoulder, she looked very kind and motherly and very different from Catherine —or any kind of mistress.
“I thought—no, hoped—I’d see you before the night was through,” she said as she knelt by the grate to build up the fire. “I gather you’ve been held hostage by your ghastly cousin. At least, that’s how Justin described her.”
Cressida took the seat Madame Zirelli waved her into, and considered the woman whom Catherine would have her believe was the great threat that stood between her and her husband. Madame Zirelli might once have been Justin’s mistress, but regardless of whether she now was or not, the real barrier in Cressida’s marriage, Cressida realized, was not just her own ignorance but her lack of courage.
It was strange, but the truth was, she felt more at home with this woman in these surroundings than she had when she’d been with Catherine.
With a modest fire sending out a weak heat, her hostess eased herself into a chair opposite Cressida, clasped her hands in her lap and said, “I gather you’ve come to me for help and information, just as three weeks ago, I sought help and information from Justin. Information which he supplied and which tonight has brought me both joy and sorrow.” Her enigmatic smile brought mystery and youthful beauty to her face. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, regarding Cressida with interest. “So you see, it has been a momentous night for both of us. Do not apologize for disturbing my slumber, for I’ve been unable to sleep, on both your account and mine. I did so hope you’d come,” she repeated, adding with renewed energy, “for Justin’s sake.”
“Justin’s sake?” Cressida bit her lip, accepting now that she was about to be severely shamed. “Please tell me,” she asked softly, “why Justin was here?”
When she found the courage to meet the woman’s eye, she saw only concern.
“You do know I was his mistress before he met you?”
Cressida nodded and twined her fingers together, a sudden fear overlaying her previous acceptance. She could forgive Justin, she told herself. She just wanted to hear the truth. Softly, and awkwardly, she admitted, “I thought he’d returned to you when he found so little love from his wife at home.” She felt the color tickle her cheeks as she amended, “I mean, of the bedroom variety. I’ve always loved Justin and hoped he’d know it.”
Madame Zirelli smiled. She looked tired and careworn yet sympathetic. And motherly. “Of course you’d have assumed the worst. I should have insisted Justin acquaint you with the nature of the business with which I charged him for fear of such a scenario as has played out tonight.” She raised her hands, palms outward in that peculiarly expressive Gallic gesture, adding, “but I was afraid you’d inadvertently reveal it to your cousin Catherine, or to Mrs. Luscombe, who are both on the board of the Sedleywich Home for Orphans.”
“The Sedleywich Home for Orphans?” Cressida repeated. This was an odd departure for the conversation, and seemed not at all related to this evening’s dramas.
“It was because I’d just learned Justin was on the board that I contacted him,” the other woman said. “That’s what started all this. I wanted information.” She glanced about her, then spying the brandy decanter, rose and poured them each a glass. “A panacea in difficult times,” she said with a sigh as she handed one to Cressida. She took a sip and for a moment was silent as she stared at a painting above Cressida’s right shoulder. Then, returning to her chair, added in a brisker tone, “You must know that until three weeks ago I’d not seen Justin for eight years.” She sank into her chair. “ Nor did I intend to rekindle our friendship. That is, until a shock sighting of a young woman whose distinctive looks convinced me I was looking at my lost daughter.”
“You...have a daughter?” Cressida couldn’t help the shock in her tone when the basis for seeking out Madame Zirelli for information had been her supposed childlessness.
Why had she lied?
“I had a daughter many years ago but she was taken from me.” A challenging look crossed Madame Zirelli’s face, quickly swept away by sorrow. “You do understand under what circumstances these things happen, naturally?”
Of course Cressida did. Madame would not have been in a position to keep a child born out of wedlock.
“And my husband has been helping you to locate your child?” Cressida, who’d finished her brandy rather quickly, clasped her hands together and gazed at the woman across from her, not sure what she felt. “Because Justin is patron of the Sedleywich Home for Orphans?” she clarified.
Madame Zirelli nodded. “The Sedleywich Home for Orphans was where my baby had been sent a few days after her birth. I wanted Justin to look at the records and discover for me what had indeed happened to the child. Did she still live? Was she in desperate need? Such questions have tormented me.”
