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“As am I,” Bridget agreed. “He is a true devil.”
Silence fell over them, the only sound their cutlery clinking against porcelain. The sky had looked almost hopeful that morning when she had peered out, but it had once again turned. Another storm was brewing; Bridget could hear the rumble of distant thunder. She hoped Graham would make it through all right.
“So, you are to join our family,” the dowager said, drawing her back to reality.
The duchess had a knack for changing the subject. It was one of the things Bridget liked best about her, the way she was direct without hiding her true meaning.
“I intend to, yes,” Bridget said. “Graham offered me his proposal last night, and I accepted.” She paled. “I hope you do not disapprove.”
The duchess snorted. “I was the one who urged him to do it,” she said. “Of course, we shall have to do it right. I shall write to your father about the matter. There will be no impropriety as there was with Mary.”
She frowned and shook her head. “I still cannot believe Mary never told me.” Bridget opened her mouth, but the duchess waved a hand before she could reply. “It is all said and done now. But from now on, we will do things properly. I shall speak with your mother also. Given your father’s frequent travels, it may be best. She is in charge of the estate, I take it?”
Bridget nodded. “The steward has to sign off on anything she wishes to do, and he reports to my father, but yes. My mother makes the decisions.” What would she say when she heard the news? Would she be believed? Bridget knew her mother had not wanted to arrange the marriage with Lord Bragg. However, she had still done so. She’d stood idly by as her husband wasted the family’s wealth, gambled it away, never uttering a word.
Or so Bridget thought. Perhaps she was not being fair. Her mother was a woman, and women had little sway in their society. Still, shehad been eager to force herinto writing that sad goodbye note to Graham to please Lord Bragg.
She’d made her priority quite clear.
“Bridget?” The duchess’ voice drifted into her ear, and she looked around.
“I beg your pardon. I was thinking of my family, that is all,” Bridget said, and the woman nodded before patting Bridget’s hand.
“Your father is a troubled man; there can be no mistake about it. There has been much fiddle-faddle about him for years, and what little I know to be true is… concerning, shall we say?”
“Lord Bragg bought his debts. That is partly why all this has happened,” Bridget admitted with some hesitation.
“I see,” the duchess replied, her lips pursed. “Well, I can assure you that Graham will make things right. We are more than capable of absorbing said debt. Now, why don’t you ready yourself for the day? You and I can take a walk around the park before Graham returns. I’d quite like to take the air. It will rain again soon, by the looks of it, so one must make the best of it.”
Bridget nodded. She too was anxious to hear the result of Graham’s expedition that morning, and walking would help alleviate it. The dowager had a very comforting air about her and talking to her had helped her already. Thus, she excused herself and returned to her chamber to dress.
Once she arrived there, she rang the bell for Jane, who presented herself at once, with a smile on her lips.
“Would you help me change into a walking dress?” Bridget asked, aware that the dowager had provided several of Mary’s outfits for her use.
Jane nodded and hurried toward the armoire at the end of the room, pulling out a simple, green muslin dress and a straw bonnet. Bridget smiled. She had felt unable to wear her friend's nightgown the night before, but after speaking to Mary in her dream, she liked the idea of having something she had worn close to her.
“I recall Mary wearing that dress,” she said as Jane helped her into a fresh pair of stays. “When last we ventured into the village. We’d purchased sweetmeats at McCurdy’s, and she dropped a piece of chocolate nonpareil down it. Being warm that day, it melted straightaway.”
“All down the front,” Jane chuckled. “I remember. I was the one who cleaned it and attempted to remove the stain. It took me most of the day, and then, when it was dry and pressed, the stain still bled through.” She pointed to a speck. “It is why Her Grace had placed it into the pile to be given away. There are quite a few of Lady Mary’s discarded gowns in the armoire. Fortunate for you, my lady, I dare say.”
Bridget’s lips curled upward. As she slipped the dress on, it was as if Mary was hugging her from the great beyond—yet she also felt a bit like an imposter. She ran her hand along the muslin material that now covered her arm, feeling the softness of it under her touch.
“You are to walk out with Her Grace?” Jane asked, helping her into a pair of white gloves.
“Indeed, to pass the time until His Grace returns.”
“I hope he is swift,” Jane said and grimaced. “I long for the news that this menace has been apprehended.”
“I feel the same,” Bridget said and placed one hand on her stomach. Now she was no longer in the presence of Mary’s mother, the fear that had been kept at bay crept in again. She glanced at the freshly made bed and remembered her dream—Mary’s warning. She shuddered, which did not go unnoticed.
“Shall I fetch you a cup of chamomile tea before your walk? For your nerves,” the maid suggested. Bridget smiled, grateful for the suggestion.
“I would much appreciate it. I hope Her Grace will not mind,” she said, suddenly worried her future mother-in-law might be upset if she lingered too long.
Jane waved a hand. “Her Grace always takes time to select her attire when going outside. With her being in mourning and all her dresses black, one would think it would be easy for her to make a choice, but she is quite particular. You shall have more than ample time for your tea, my lady.”
With that, Jane turned and exited the chamber, closing the door gently. Bridget took a deep breath and stepped to the window. The garden below looked peaceful, but she was not focused on it just then. Instead, her eyes were on the distant path that led to Sedgwick Manor. She had hoped to see Graham there, maybe with the constable, but the road lay empty save for a few birds that had landed there to pick at crumbs left by travelers.
