Cold Hearted (Villains 8)

Lord Tremaine clapped his hands together, laughing. “Ah! See that! She likes it, my good man! Then we shall take it!”

Lady Tremaine had never seen him in such a jovial mood. It wasn’t like him to act so gregariously in public, or to go into poky little shops for that matter. But it didn’t matter; he seemed well again and that made her heart happy.

Lady Tremaine looked up from the brooch as the memory faded, and she found herself back in the Fairy Room at Lady Hackle’s home. It was such a fond memory, going into that little shop with her husband, one of the last lovely days they’d had together. Soon after, she had lost her husband to the illness she thought he was recovering from on that outing. She found herself having to banish the images of him on his deathbed and choke down the memory of their last words to each other, trying to root herself instead in the present, doing her best to replace the sad images of her departed husband with lovely ones of a bright and beautiful future, perhaps even with Sir Richard.

The thought surprised her. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted this man. Here she was imagining a future with him. A future where she and her daughters lived happily with Richard and his daughter.

“Are you well, my lady?” asked Rebecca.

“Yes, Rebecca, I was just lost in the past, and perhaps the future. I’m careful not to linger there too often for fear of being lost there forever and not seeing what is in front of me.” She handed the brooch back to the lady’s maid.

“Shall I put this out with your other jewelry, then? Would you like to wear it today to the picnic?” Rebecca asked.

“No, Rebecca, it doesn’t go with my dress. But I’d like you to leave it on my vanity. Perhaps I will wear it this evening at dinner,” she said, staring at it one last time before Rebecca closed the box.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but I have to ask: you’re not worried about Mrs. Bramble’s ravings about the brooch being cursed, are you? It’s all nonsense if you ask me,” said Rebecca.

“Is that what you would call it, Rebecca? Ravings? Is it that bad with Mrs. Bramble?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so, my lady.”

Lady Tremaine wanted to chalk it up to an old woman’s wild imagination, but recalling her conversation with the shopkeeper gave her pause. “The funny thing is, Rebecca, I just remembered the shopkeeper telling Lord Tremaine and me that he had acquired it from a mysterious dealer along with a number of other items, including a book of fairy tales written by witches. I wonder if this is the same book Mrs. Bramble gave me. And I’m almost sure he mentioned some sort of curse, but it has been so long since that day. Maybe I’m mistaken.”

Rebecca frowned. “Perhaps Mrs. Bramble is simply remembering the story you shared with her back then.”

Lady Tremaine shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself. Of course, that’s what happened. And she’s somehow managed to get it all jumbled in her head. Tell me, Rebecca, has there been talk downstairs about Sir Richard?”

Rebecca smirked. “No more than the usual when a handsome man comes to visit. The maids and some of the footmen are swooning, of course. I mean, he is a very good-looking man.”

Lady Tremaine laughed. “And is there any talk about the Many Kingdoms, where Sir Richard is from? Mrs. Bramble would have me believe it is a dangerous place.”

Rebecca looked uncomfortable.

“Out with it, Rebecca. What are they saying down there?”

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Well, my lady, if you don’t mind my saying so, I think Mrs. Bramble is getting on in age and might be confused. I honestly haven’t heard any disturbing stories about Sir Richard or the Many Kingdoms from anyone other than Mrs. Bramble herself.” Rebecca looked as if she felt bad for saying so.

Everything was starting to make sense. “I see,” said Lady Tremaine. She realized it was probably best that Mrs. Bramble had left the book of fairy tales with her and wasn’t reading it obsessively.

“I hope I didn’t speak out of turn, my lady,” Rebecca said.

“No, Rebecca, you didn’t. You said exactly what I needed to hear.”

Ladies Tremaine and Hackle were enjoying some time to themselves away from the other guests in Lady Hackle’s parlor, which was so much grander than her own. With its French doors and its abundance of ferns and exotic flowers, it was almost like a solarium. She thought about how lovely it would be in the future for her and Lady Hackle to be old together, watching their grandchildren run around in this room. Lady Hackle often suggested that Lady Tremaine come live there once their children were married, and if she didn’t like the idea of living in the big house with all of them, she could live in the dowager house if she preferred, since there was no dowager in residence. Lady Tremaine loved the idea and always held it in reserve should she never marry again.

She had a lovely afternoon with her dear old friend while the rest of the guests were taking their leisure in their rooms after the picnic. It was the perfect opportunity for the two ladies to sneak off and chat.

“Won’t the other ladies feel like we’ve left them out?” asked Lady Tremaine, feeling a bit like a naughty schoolgirl and making Lady Hackle laugh.

“Well, we won’t tell the other ladies. Most of them are sleeping anyway. The dressing gong won’t be for ages, so we have all the time in the world to gossip! Don’t get me wrong, I love these gat

herings, but sometimes I need a little time to myself. Take it from me, there is nothing like a long afternoon outdoors to make your guests retire to their rooms,” she said, laughing again.

“I want to hear all about your walk with Sir Richard.” Lady Hackle’s eyes were alight, giddy for her friend. “You two seemed so enchanted with each other at the picnic. I didn’t dare come over and interrupt, and the next thing I knew the two of you were gone. I must have all the details.”

Lady Tremaine remained silent, fidgeting with a spare thread on the hem of her sleeve, trying to avoid Lady Hackle’s question. “Will you just look at that?” she said, showing her friend the thread on her sleeve. “I’d better bring it to Rebecca’s attention.”

Lady Hackle gave her friend a knowing look. “Come on, my dear, something is going on between the two of you, you can’t deny it. And I want to know everything, now spill!” she said, laughing and prodding her friend.