Page 71 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)
F rom the Quentin Daily-
The Theme of the Season! Another Broken Engagement!
The Marquess Beaufort Punts His Bride to Be!
Was she found wanting, or does he just want another?
Perhaps it’s one and the same! The marquess retires to his country home in Norfolk, while the lady in question remains in London, most likely trying to snag another, less-discerning man on her hook.
Who will he be? For surely only bottom-feeders will have her now!
Letters were such funny things, Vera thought. A bit of tree pulp, a splash of ink—the whole thing weighed hardly anything. And yet, their contents could change a life forever.
She hiccuped a desperate laugh and read the words again .
Miss Vera Ashbury,
Since you have abandoned all daughterly duties, I must assume that you are comfortable abandoning the title itself. And if one is no longer a daughter, one can no longer claim any relation or priviledges that would be assigned to a daughter. I wish you the best in your future endeavors.
No further contact will be necessary between us.
Sincerely,
Lady Callista Ashbury
Disowned! She’d been disowned with the stroke of a silver pen. It hadn’t even been a new sheet of paper—the bottom half of the parchment contained a scratched-off shopping list. Her mother was in need of lavender soap, gloves, and a new hat, apparently. Or, she had been.
Vera wondered—did her father know? There was no way to ask him. Her mother opened all household correspondence, no matter if it was addressed to her or not.
Vera had known there would be some sort of penalty to pay when she’d left London for Devon. She hadn’t asked her parents permission to go, after all. She hadn’t dared—not when she knew what her mother’s answer would be.
Instead, she’d stuffed a carpetbag full of her least offensive dresses, tossed it and her shoes down from her second-story window into the back garden, and climbed down the elm tree barefoot.
She’d done it a hundred times as a child, but never in stays and a thick dress.
She nearly tumbled from the branches several times, and she’d scratched her feet terribly.
But she got down without braining herself, slipped on her shoes, and trotted out the rear gate.
Once she made it down her street, she walked briskly, head high, as if she had every right to be headed in that particular direction without the chaperone of mother or maid.
Perhaps it was cowardly to do as she did—to wait until just before Candace planned to leave London to join her, so that even if Vera’s parents found the note she’d left and sent someone after her, they’d be too late to stop the Salisbury carriage.
Vera soothed herself with the knowledge that at least she’d left a note, vague as it had been. She’d tucked it beneath a vase full of flowers on her mantel. Even if no one saw it when they first searched for her, the flowers were days old and would need to be changed soon.
Father and Mother,
By the time you get this note, I will already be gone. I’ve decided to accompany Lady Candace Waldrey to the countryside for an indefinite amount of time.
Please do not worry—I’m completely safe and well-chaperoned. I won’t behave in any untoward way while I’m away, and I do plan on returning eventually. In short, there won’t be a scandal unless you make one of my absence, and I’m certain none of us want that.
The only reason I didn’t ask permission to go in the first place is because I believe you would have said ‘ no,’ even though it was a perfectly reasonable request. You may send post to the Marquess of Salisbury’s London townhome; it will be forwarded to our destination from there.
Love to you both,
Vera
Vera thought that it had been a logical, straightforward letter. She’d assured them of her safety, let them know she wasn’t absconding to Gretna Green in some foolhardy match, and assured them of her propriety.
Her mother would doubtlessly find it shocking—her mother was always shocked when someone didn’t do exactly as she wanted them to.
But Vera had never expected this .
What was she to do?
Travelling back to London was out of the question.
Her mother was stubborn enough that Vera would be turned away at the door—of that she had no doubt.
Even if she could get word to her father, he’d never been good at standing up to his wife.
Besides, he might have approved of the awful letter before she’d sent it—Vera had no way of knowing.
Perhaps she could appeal to one of her brothers.
She chewed her lip, considering. Would she rather act as governess to Bertrand’s children—who’d chased away a string of governesses by putting honey into their hair while they were sleeping—or would she rather act as nursery maid to her brother Campton’s squalling twins?
Honey in her hair or several years of changing nappies—she couldn’t decide which was less offensive at the moment.
And knowing her mother, neither was an option. Not really. Lady Callista Ashbury was remarkably talented at closing the ranks. That was probably why this letter hadn’t been delivered until now—her mother had been crafting a narrative to shut down any support Vera’s brothers might have given her.
Vera wondered what lie they’d been told as she shoved the letter to the bottom of her basket and walked briskly from the village in the direction of Jacqueline’s house.
Vera desperately needed advice, and the Baroness Winthrop was just the person to give it.
Find out what happens to Vera in Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart .