Page 10 of The Ruin of Miss Amelia Burrowes (The Matchmaker’s Ball #4)
The next afternoon, Amelia sat in the drawing room at Ainsley House, more than a little self-conscious about this very odd meeting, specifically having to do with her disgraced state. She had arrived to find not only Lord Haversham and Nathan’s sister in attendance, but that they’d invited Lady Celinda, Miss Locke having deemed her a “secret weapon.” Amelia joined in the conversation with the other two ladies while Nathan had his head together with his friend at the sideboard. By the time the tea arrived, they were all on a first-name basis at Kate’s insistence.
“Sugar and milk, Amelia?”
“Yes, thank you.” She accepted the cup and thankfully sipped the hot beverage. Fortification for the conversation to come.
“Kate told me about your unfortunate experience with Mrs. Sheldon,” Celinda began rather abruptly.
“Oh, dear.” Amelia had slopped the tea over into the saucer. Nathan’s younger cousin did not beat about the bush.
“Do not worry, I beg of you.” Celinda had taken the teapot from her hostess and was pouring her own tea. “Between the five of us, we will come up with a scheme that will bring the ton around to the conclusion that you’re not the wanton they believe you are.” Celinda stopped, apparently realizing the import of her words. “I beg your pardon, Amelia, but I am certain you know what I mean.”
“Nathan and I discussed that as he walked me home yesterday afternoon.” The closeness of her betrothed as they strolled along the London streets and the resounding kiss he’d given her just before he left had soothed her spirits immeasurably.
Celinda leaned closer. “Did you come up with some solution? I daresay you had a similar discussion with your parents when the rumors first surfaced ten years ago.”
“Yes, I told Nathan as much.” She gulped and continued. “My parents tried every way they knew of to refute the gossip, but nothing worked. After the maid told another servant that she’d found blood on my sheets when I’d been ill, the gossip intensified. I tried to explain it was my courses, but they didn’t want to listen.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “Especially when it became known that on his deathbed, Lord Carrington kept asking about his child.”
There was an audible gasp from the ladies, who exchanged startled looks.
Without giving them time to comment, Amelia forged ahead. “After that, people came forward and falsely said I’d confided in them about my plight.” The anger at those who’d unabashedly lied about her had never quite left her. “I never confided anything to anyone. There was nothing to confide.”
“Nothing?” Stirring her tea, Kate leaned toward her. “Surely you spoke to someone other than your mother about your relationship with Lord Carrington?”
Sadly, Amelia shook her head. “I was still distraught over the defection of your brother. That was why I accepted Lord Carrington so quickly, to soothe myself that someone wanted me, loved me enough to marry me. I didn’t talk to anyone about Lord Carrington because there was really nothing to tell. I was going to marry him so I could be married and perhaps forget about Nathan.”
Celinda cocked her head. “I was wondering, after all this fuss about you anticipating your wedding vows, did Lord Carrington ever actually ask you to do such a thing?”
“He certainly did.” Amelia rolled her eyes, making the others giggle. “Almost from the moment I accepted him. He had not struck me before as a man with that voracious an appetite, but I assume once he thought I belonged to him, even on the strength of the settlements, he believed I should act like we were married.”
“Did Lord Carrington ever correspond with anyone about your marriage?” Bouncing excitedly on the edge of her chair, Celinda held her teacup out so it wouldn’t splash onto her green and gold gown. “A friend he may have confided in that you were not behaving toward him as you should, or some such nonsense?”
“What nonsense are you coming up with now, cousin?” Nathan had sauntered up, followed by Lord Haversham.
“We are trying to ascertain whether or not either Amelia or Lord Carrington ever corresponded with someone to whom they may have poured their hearts out.” Dropping two goodish lumps of sugar into her cup, Celinda stirred vigorously as she gazed thoughtfully at Amelia.
“Did you, my dear?” Nathan settled into the chair next to Amelia’s. “Write to anyone?”
After racking her brain to remember, she finally shook her head. “I do not recall writing to anyone during that time, save Jonathan himself.”
All their gazes turned to Amelia. She shrank back in her chair. What had she said?
“Amelia, you wrote to your betrothed?” Kate looked dazed at the news.
“My love, why did you not tell me this before? This may be our salvation.” Nathan grabbed her hands. “Do you have the correspondence at your parents’ home? If he wrote to you about his demands…”
“He did.” Amelia puckered her lips. “Nearly every one of his letters had some kind of insinuation or outright suggestion that we become intimate before the ceremony. By the time we ceased the correspondence, I dreaded receiving the letters at all.”
“Then there is the proof!” Nathan grabbed her up out of the chair and hugged her. “These letters show without a doubt that you did not succumb to his persuasions.” He tilted his head back and forth, his puzzled expression deepening. “Why did you not show the correspondence when you were accused before?”
“Because I do not have it, my lord.” Amelia hung her head. She’d gone through this with her parents all those years ago.
“You burned the letters?” Celinda had clasped her hands in an almost prayerful attitude.
“No, I never possessed them.”
“What?” Nathan spoke, but all her friends looked the question as well.
“I’ve begun this badly. It is a little involved, as many requests of Jonathan’s tended to be. Please, my dear, sit down.” She seated herself and picked up her now-cold tea. She sipped it and made a face.
“Let me ring for more.” Kate made to get up, but Lord Haversham waved her back.
“I’ll ring for the tea.” He strode to the bell pull and gave it an impatient tug. “Begin your tale, my lady. I am all ears to find out what the devil went on.”
“Very well.” Amelia sat with her hands primly folded in her lap. “Our correspondence began almost as soon as the ink had dried on the settlement papers. I was surprised and pleased to receive the first one, which was most flattering, as I recall. But soon after, they became much more amorous, and he began to suggest assignations where we might meet to become more…intimate.” It had been difficult enough to confess all this to her parents; however, to be stating it all so baldly before Nathan and his family… She closed her eyes against tears. It had been her own folly not to inform her mother about the content of the letters when she’d first received them. She must pay the piper yet again, it seemed.
“Please continue, my dear.” Nathan gathered her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.
Nodding, she summoned her courage once more. “To discourage him, I told him I was afraid my mother might intercept the letters and intimated that she would read my correspondence from time to time. I hoped this would curb his epistolary efforts, but instead he came up with a plan to circumvent my scheme. He arranged with a former housemaid of his, who now lived in London, to receive our letters. The idea was for her to hold my letters from him until I called for them. I would read them and leave them with the maid, Mary Adams. I would also leave any letters for Jonathan with Miss Adams to pass on.”
“So where is this Mary Adams now? How may we locate her?” Nathan leaped to his feet, so animated she believed he might try to fly around the room.
“My parents tried, but after Jonathan’s death, everything was in disarray for a month at the least. Then when the rumors began, they questioned me, and I told them about Mary Adams.” She looked from Nathan’s hopeful face to Celinda’s more cautious one. “I gave Father her address, but by then, she’d left London. No one there knew where she’d moved. Father even questioned Lord Carrington’s other servants, but the maid had been gone for some time, and they could not hazard a guess where she might be.” Amelia shrugged. “So you see, the letters are well and truly lost—either thrown away, which I think is most likely, or still with the missing Mary Adams.”
The silence around the room would deafen her in a moment.
“Well, this seems discouraging and particularly futile,” Celinda spoke up, the only one of them not looking like grim Death had come to visit. “Still, I think we may as well do some sleuthing rather than staying home feeling helpless.”
“Celinda is correct, brother.” Kate set her tea down with a determined clatter. “We can still do something, even if there’s not much evidence left. We must make a start.”
“Then we are agreed we shall try to locate Mary Adams?” Nathan rose, and the others followed suit. “Marcus and I will approach Carrington’s family. See if they or their servants remember anything of Mary. Also, if they have any other correspondence belonging to Carrington. It’s long odds, but it won’t hurt to ask.” He gazed at Amelia. “What will the three of you do?”
Amelia looked from one lady to the other, uncertain if she was in a position to put forward suggestions.
Kate cocked her head, as if running through different scenarios they might attempt. “Well, we could—”
“What do you think, Amelia?” Celinda turned to her pointedly and nodded. “You are most familiar with the woman. What should we do?”
Taking her courage in hand, Amelia grasped the reins. “We could return to the lodgings where Mary lived ten years ago. Perhaps neighbors will remember her still or have some idea where she may have gone.” The other women nodded, but Amelia sighed. “These are not odds I would wager very much on, my dear.” She gazed up at Nathan, her growing affection for him warring with the dismay of fighting the same losing battle once more.
“Do not fret, love.” He laced their fingers together, and she reveled in the closeness she’d not felt with a gentleman before. “We will find a way to vindicate you and restore you to Society where you deserve to be.”
“And if we cannot?”
He sighed and squeezed her hand. “We will cross that stream when we come to it.”