Plum held her breath, her eyes on Harry’s as they glittered meaningfully behind his spectacles. Miss Stone was no match for him. Before his threatening gaze, her eyes wavered, then fell as she slumped back into the chair, deflated of the spite and venom that had puffed her up like a balloon.
Harry turned to the vicar and his wife, both of whom immediately swore their wholehearted devotion to clearing any misconception regarding Plum’s past.
Plum herself stood in silent misery-laden bemusement, watching Harry carefully. He turned to her, pulling her hands to his mouth as he winked before kissing her fingers. “My dear, I’m sure you wish to change into something a little less reminiscent of a cesspool.”
“Yes.” Plum blinked at him, her mind more than a little numb. Had he just winked at her? Had he taken the wind so effectively out of Miss Stone’s sails? Had he with just a few words, erased the shame of her past?
“Now, perhaps, would be a good time?” His eyes twinkled at her. She goggled at that. He could twinkle after what just happened? Twinkle?
“I’m sure you will all excuse my wife. Thom?”
“I’m right here. Come along, Aunt Plum. What you need is a bath to wash all that pond off you.”
Thom’s arm was warm on her damp sleeve, but Plum couldn’t stop staring at Harry. He winked and twinkled? Was he mad?
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Rosse,” the vicar said, standing and giving her a little bow.
Was she mad?
His wife hurried to add her niceties. “Oh, yes, it was, it was very nice, and I hope we see you on Sunday.”
Mayhap they were all mad, and none of them knew it?
“A pleasure,” Miss Stone said in a begrudging, surly tone. Her face was dull red with anger, but Plum found little sympathy for her.
“Plum?”
Her name was soft on Harry’s lips. She turned to him. “Hmm?”
Harry made shooing motions with his hand.
She blinked, then suddenly reason, blessed reason was returned to her, and she realized that he had done the impossible just as he said he would. She wanted to kiss him, but felt she’d shocked the vicar enough for the day, so contented herself with allowing her love to shine in her eyes. Harry mouthed, “I told you so,” at her as she let Thom escort her from the room.
“What a nasty, vile old cat that Miss Stone is,” Thom said as they walked up the stairs.
“And what a wonderful, adorable, marvelous man Harry is,” Plum replied, her mind full of her husband. She sighed happily. “Could any man be more perfect?”
She was married to a raving lunatic.
“We’re what?” Plum cried ten days later.
“Leaving for London in three days.” Harry stuffed another handful of papers into a leather satchel. “Gertie assures me the children’s things can be packed by then — you won’t have any difficulty, will you?”
“No, of course not — that is, yes! Yes, I will! I couldn’t possibly pack everything by then. London? All of us? Why?” Plum was well aware that last word was pronounced desperately close to a wail, but she was too distraught to worry over such trivialities. He wanted to go to London? Now? Wasn’t the shameful scene they’d recently survived — admittedly due to his ability to forcibly erase her past — enough for him? He had to be scorned and ridiculed in London as well? Why now, when she was just starting to feel comfortable with her role as his wife? Why couldn’t he wait, oh say, ten or twelve years, just until she felt like she really had a firm grasp on the job of being his wife?
Harry stopped satchel-stuffing long enough to make a face. “I have to go to London to meet with the head of the Home Office. It’s nothing I want to do, Plum, but it is my duty to go when it concerns a past investigation of mine.”
“Investigation? What sort of an investigation?”
He set down the satchel. “I told you that I did some work for the government, didn’t I?”
“Yes, although you didn’t say what sort of work, exactly.” And at that moment, Plum didn’t care what he had done in his past, except in terms of it necessitating his return to London.
“The nature of the work is neither here nor there, the fact is that I have to present the results of my findings to the new head of the HO, and discuss with him the possible repercussions. As it is my preference not to leave my new wife alone for who knows how long, and since I know you won’t wish to leave the children, I have decided that we will all go to London. Granted the city may never be the same after the children get through with it, but we’ll just have to take that chance.”
Plum wrung her hands and tried to convince her husband to leave the children and her at home, but he would have none of it. “Plum, I don’t want to leave the children behind because…well, I left them earlier this year to check out this property when it had been left to me, and during my absence there was a fire. An entire wing burned down, the wing housing the nursery. It was only by the quick thinking of Gertie and George that the children were saved. You know that the girls’ governess died?”
“Yes, but—”
“She died in that fire. The children were upset about it for months.” His thumb stroked a line down her jaw. “I know it’s silly of me, but I don’t want to leave them again. I almost lost them once — I don’t wish to tempt fate again.”
Her heart melted under the look in his eyes. “Harry…the scandal—”
“What scandal?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.
She gave up. She knew there was no way she could stand against neck nuzzling, so she didn’t even try. Instead she gave the (reluctant, and with much misgiving) orders for their things to be packed, and three days later they set out in numerous carriages.
“You’re making too much of it,” Thom told her two days after they had started their journey, as they were about to leave the inn at which they’d spent the night. “Probably no one will recognize you — it’s been twenty years, Aunt! And how long has it been since that man you married died? A year?”
“Six months. Even if no one remembers the scandal itself, I will be recognized, and then everything will come out,” Plum said glumly, one eye on the younger children as they romped around the inn yard chasing geese. “The whole dreadful thing will be aired once again, and everyone will mock me, shame Harry, ruin the children’s and your lives, and then he will regret marrying me, probably going so far as to hate me, no doubt ending with him going to the Lords asking for a divorce, at which point I shall die homeless and friendless living in a ditch with an earthworm named Fred as my sole companion. I just hope Harry will be happy then.”
Thom laughed and patted her on the arm. “Don’t be such a pessimist. I’m sure you’ll have a perfectly lovely time in town, and no one will know who you are if you don’t want them to. Twenty years is a long time.”
“Not nearly long enough, but at least I can do right by you,” Plum said thoughtfully, noting how well a new gown suited Thom. Her dark curls were glossy with health, her cheeks bright, her eyes sparkling with good humor and happiness. “I can see my duty through with regard to your future. You will make your debut. You will go to balls and routs and breakfasts, and possibly the opera, if I can arrange all of that before I’m recognized and our lives are completely and utterly destroyed.”
“No!” Thom said, her face turning pale. “I don’t want to go to balls and routs and breakfasts, and I especially do not want to go to the opera! I can’t think of anything I’d like less! I’ll be miserable! I’ll hate it! I’ll be wretched!”
“Welcome to my world,” Plum said, then hurried off to rescue a goose that had been cornered by the twins and McTavish.
Two nights later Plum stood with a trembling hand on her husband’s arm as they paused at the top of a long curved flight of stairs. She wondered briefly if she threw herself down the stairs whether or not she’d break her neck outright, dying instantly, or if she’d just bounce down the steps, embarrassing Harry by displaying to everyone not only her sad lack of ability to navigate stairs, but also showing too much limb and perhaps even petticoat. Since she suspected it would be the latter, she allowed him to pull her unwilling self down the stairs, a grim smile curving her lips.
“Plum.”
“What?” she asked, transferring her grim smile to her husband.
“You look like you’ve been asked to roast a small child over an open fire.”
“I do not.”
“You do. You have a horrible expression on your face.”
“It’s called a smile, Harry.”
“Yes, but it’s a I’ve-been-asked-to-roast-a-small-child-over-an-open-fire sort of smile, one that is going to frighten the elderly and make everyone else stay away from you.”
“Good,” Plum said, her voice rich with satisfaction, the first morsel of satisfaction he’d heard her express since he had informed her that morning that they would be venturing into society by way of Lady Callendar’s ball. “Perhaps that way no one will discover who I am and I might just possibly survive this evening.”