that
perhaps she had been too hasty in getting dressed when a sudden
crash from the workroom made both of them freeze and swivel their
heads toward the back door.
“Mr. Hudson must be home,” George
said.
Harriet felt panic rising in her
chest. She could not be seen like this, sleep rumpled and sticky
with cherry juice, next to the bed where she had George had just
made love.
“Go. Take your horse and ride back
to the Hall. Tell them you rode home last night for a visit and
decided to stay because of the rain. I'll deal with Mr. Hudson.”
With one last quick kiss, he pushed her towards the door, at the
same time that he called out, “Hallloo, Mr. Hudson!”
Harriet stopped only once on the
ride back to the Hall, at the river to wash her face and tame her
hair. It was still early when she arrived but the servants were up.
She was hopeful that she could get inside and up to her room before
anyone of the household saw her in her state of dishevelment. The
moment she set foot on the landing, however, she heard a voice call
out, “Well, well, it is good of you to join us, Harriet,
dear.”
Lady Whitney stood at the top of the
stairs, a sneer marring her perfect features. “I must admit I did
not expect you to arrive in solo. Though, I suppose you tired of
poor Sir George's company after the first time or two. Women of
your sort need so much diversion.”
Harriet stood transfixed as the
other woman advanced on her, eyes flashing. Lady Whitney was
deathly pale with only two spots of high color on her cheekbones.
When she came close enough, Harriet could smell the sharp scent of
alcohol emanating from her. The woman was drunk and clearly ready
to make a scene.
“I'm afraid I don't know what you
are talking about, Janet. I spent the night at Thornwood Park when
I got caught in the storm,” Harriet spoke as matter-of-factly as
she could considering her increasing fear that a servant or, God
forbid, the Dowager would come along any minute.
“Don't you lie to me!” Lady Whitney
shrieked. She grabbed Harriet's arm and dug her nails into her
flesh, making Harriet cry out in pain. “I know what you have been
doing, you little bitch! I saw the two of you ride off together
last night, and neither of you came back last night. If you think
you can oust me by spreading your legs for him, you are very wrong.
He and I are getting married as soon as my mourning is over. He
didn't mention that when he had you on your back, did he? I am Lady
Whitney, and I will not be set aside!”
Harriet could see the hysteria
mounting in her. She looked positively wild with hair escaping from
her pins and the shine of madness in her eyes. Harriet yanked her
arm out of Lady Whitney's grasp and ran past her up the stairs,
ignoring the shrieks following behind her.
She didn't breath again until she
was in her room with the door securely locked behind her. She sat
heavily on the bed, her head sinking between her knees. She didn't
cry; she felt empty, bereft of feeling. The idea of George marrying
Janet left a heavy lead weight in her stomach. She thought about
the time she had spent at the Hall, the way they interacted with
each other, the way the Dowager set them always together, and she
knew it was true. She did not know how long she sat there,
immobile, but when she was able to move again, she stood up and
began throwing all her belongings into her valise.
It took Harriet less than half an
hour to pack everything she had brought with her to the Hall.
Before she left, she slipped into Margaret's room and found her
sleeping. Margaret almost had her full color back, and the doctor
said she should be able to be moved in the next day or so. Harriet
decided not want to wake her. On her way out the door, she left a
note by the bed, telling Margaret that she was going home to
Thornwood Park and would see her there soon.
She found Jonah the butler in the
dining room, polishing the Dowager's prize silver. He was intent
upon his work and did not look up