Page 26 of Lady Liar (A Series of Senseless Complications #5)

W hen Lilith had arrived to Lady Jellerbey’s house, she’d been fully prepared to gauge the effects of the caricature she’d sent flying around the town.

It would take time to really establish a foothold, as she’d only had a small amount of money and so could not purchase as many copies as she would have liked, but surely somebody present would have seen one.

That was all that was needed to get the thing going.

If there was one thing the ton liked to do, it was to relay terrible stories about somebody else.

She’d been waylaid in the great hall by Lady Farthingale and told the tale of Lady Rareton’s card party and the poisonous mayonnaise. Apparently, the guests who consumed it were taken ill, including Lady Pegatha, who was said to do very poorly.

That was when she realized the evening would not be quite what she imagined. Lord Wembly would not leave his aunt when she suffered an illness, and therefore, he would not come.

But then she’d had an idea. Might not there be something made of his failing to attend? She’d been all along thinking of driving Lord Wembly away from Lady Verity, but perhaps she could drive Lady Verity away from Lord Wembly as well.

She’d searched the dim rooms and finally found Lady Verity and the duke. They stood with another couple, one of which she believed was Lord Dashlend. That would mean the other was Lady Verity’s sister, if she’d got the connections straight.

They all looked exceedingly jolly, which meant they knew nothing of the caricature going round. Certainly it must mean that. Who could be jolly when they were mocked in a print?

Lilith had hurried over and made a great show of things. She thought she’d done a credible job of looking caught out and confused about Lord Wembly’s whereabouts, ending with: “You have not heard.” Never was there a more ominous statement when it came to London society.

“Heard what?” the duke asked.

“Goodness,” Lilith said, maintaining her flustered appearance, “I do not think, rather I am certain, it is not for me to say.” She motioned as if she would leave the party, assuming the duke would stop her from doing just that. Which he did.

“Wait a moment,” the duke said. “One cannot very well say that we have not heard something and not say what it is we have not heard.”

Lilith pretended at being an unwilling deliverer of news. “Well, I suppose, that is, people are saying…he does not come because of the print going round.”

“What print?” Lady Verity asked, sounding mortified.

“Oh, as to that, I have not seen it myself. From what has been described to me, it is, oh goodness, I do not like to say.”

“You had better say,” Lord Dashlend said, looking grim.

Lilith put on a look meant to convey she would not for the world repeat the information, but she was being forced to do it.

“As I understand it,” she said slowly, “it pictures Lady Verity lecturing at the Royal Society. You know, about the fish seeing out of water, something about the River Esk. And it is noted that a red-haired gentleman looks on. Just a bit of teasing, I’m sure.

But then, Lord Wembly is rather prickly about The Royal Society. ”

The duke, Lady Verity, and Lord and Lady Dashlend all stared at one another.

Lilith curtsied. “I’d really better go.” She hurried away, certain she had accomplished something. Lord Wembly did not come because Lady Pegatha was ill, but for all Lady Verity and the duke knew, he did not come because he was offended by the caricature.

Now, all there was to do was drift round the candlelight picnic with her ears open, listening for any news of her prints. She’d done what she could, now she just must wait and see what came of it.

*

Verity had known that her ridiculous story of the inquiry into whether a fish could see out of water had been talked about.

But an actual print mocking it! That was something else entirely.

Lady Lilith had said it mentioned The Royal Society—Lord Wembly’s very own society.

The society he’d dedicated years to was now mocked and ridiculed.

It had pointed to Lord Wembly himself by mentioning a red-haired gentleman.

She’d thought telling Lord Wembly that she could not read would be the real test. But it was not. This was the real test. Could he possibly overlook being personally mocked? Could he overlook his society being mocked? The answer stared her in the face—he had not come.

One minute, he was sending her sisters a thoughtful gift and the next he was avoiding her. That really said it all.

Her whole body felt heavy and there was a very good chance she was going to cry, though she was working hard against it.

“All right,” the duke said after Lady Lilith hurried away, “I do not know quite what has gone on, but I think we will not like to stay.”

“I will make inquiries into this matter, Your Grace,” Lord Dashlend said.

“Papa,” Grace said, “go and give our excuses to Lady Jellerbey and call the carriage. I will take Verity to the retiring room until she can leave.”

“Right,” the duke said. “I’ll claim she has a headache.”

As all these arrangements were made, Verity only nodded.

She would agree to anything, as she did not know what ought to be done.

Grace took her by the hand and led her down the corridor.

They entered the lady’s retiring room, which was a long room of small and private apartments.

Grace smiled at the attendant as if there was not a thing wrong, though it must seem odd that they entered the last of the apartments together.

Aside from the chamber pot covered by an ornately decorated wood lid, there was a small sofa and a looking glass.

“Now,” Grace said, as they sat down, “at times like these, it is very important to think of nothing. Nothing at all. Empty your mind. You’ll have time to think when you are in the carriage. ”

Verity nodded.

“I will tell you about Miles and that will keep your mind elsewhere,” Grace said.

Verity’s sister went on to tell her stories of her young nephew.

On the estate, he’d one day hidden his grandfather’s humidor as he did not like the smell of cigars.

He’d also brought home a cat who looked very unhappy to be there and had scratched up his arms. It turned out to be a neighbor’s barn cat and had to be returned.

He’d also been discovered as the culprit of a disappearing tray of marzipan, which was finally located, empty, under his bed.

She listened closely to these stories, following Grace’s advice to keep herself from thinking of what had happened.

“I think Papa will have got the carriage round by now, so let us go,” Grace said. “Dashlend will get to the bottom of this, and we will come and see you on the morrow.”

Grace led her out to the great hall and Verity found herself grateful that the rooms were all so dim. If there were people staring, she could not see it. Soon enough, she would be home. Then the flood would come, but not before she was away from here.

*

Mrs. Right could only be grateful that Valor had been abed when the duke and Verity arrived home early.

As Verity wept and was consoled by Winsome, the duke poured his housekeeper and himself large glasses of brandy and told her what had happened.

At least, as much of what happened that they understood at this moment.

It was well that the duke had filled her glass generously with brandy, as her rage over her girl being hurt was near overwhelming.

As far as she understood it, somebody in society had made it their business to mock Verity by printing up a caricature and spreading it about.

As if that were not bad enough, Lord Wembly had seen fit to avoid her over it.

What sort of man was he? What sort of lord could not stand up to a teasing?

It was true that Verity often invented a fact or two.

It was definitely true that she’d invented the idea that she was examining fish eyesight.

Mrs. Right had been hoping she’d outgrow the habit.

She was not even sure why or how she had acquired the habit.

But what a small thing to fall apart over!

Lord Wembly was so struck by the print mocking the idea that he could not even meet her? What was he doing? Hiding in his house?

As always seemed to be the case, Mrs. Right’s mind began drifting toward how to make Lord Wembly pay for his perfidy.

It was true that she’d made a few slight mistakes in past years with Mr. Stratton, Lord Dashlend, Lord Stanford, and Lord Thorpe.

But that was all water under the bridge now.

This time, there could be no mistake. Lord Dashlend was out hunting down a copy of that print and there it would be as irrefutable evidence of Lord Wembly’s crime.

Mrs. Right tapped her chin. If Lord Wembly was so affected by Verity being teased and mocked, she wondered how he would stand up to being teased himself? She did not know anything about how one went about getting one of these prints done, but she supposed she could find out.

Yes, she very well thought she could work out how to arrange it. Let Lord Wembly feel the sting of it. Let him pay.

In the meantime, she would take Verity above stairs and soothe her to sleep.

Her poor girl had been through the wars, and she must be reminded that whatever went on out of the house, she was perfectly safe and protected inside the house.

On the morrow, she would set out to have a print made mocking that feckless and fearful Lord Wembly.

She would make arrangements to paper the town with them.

Then they would all see how he stood up to that .

*

Henry was pleased that his aunt had felt well enough to descend to the drawing room. She was still looking piqued, but her spirits seemed well recovered.

“I am sorry you missed Lady Jellerbey’s candlelight picnic,” she said. “I had hoped it might be the night you went forward and secured Lady Verity.”