Nine Shillings

Growing Predictable

London - 1842

'It's nice to get out away from the children for a little while,' Lady Arton said, as we walked arm-in-arm along a path near The Serpentine.

I'd been wishing I was at home with my children. Questioning people to find out the name of the dead woman was eating up my time. It was important but so were my children. I missed playing with them, telling them stories, and giving them cuddles. Lady Arton had a nanny and a governess to do that bit of mothering for her; she wasn't a bad mother, she just wasn't the type to crawl about on the rug with her children.

I went for a non-committal, 'Hm.'

'Now, as to William calling Meredith a big baby that's what children do,' she said. 'He probably has a liking for her, they're getting to that age –'

'If he likes her, he should be nice to her,' I replied. 'If he thinks it's acceptable to talk to women and girls like that he should be corrected.'

She continued as if I hadn't spoken, 'Of course, she will be marriage age soon, she really should begin to act more ladylike.'

'My daughters are not getting married at fifteen,' I shot back. 'And that's Millie.'

Lady Arton's eldest, Sally, was fifteen and engaged, it wasn't long ago she'd told Millie they found babies under rhubarb leaves.

'They are young ladies of...' Lady Arton hesitated where 'quality' was supposed to go. 'Wealth. They could marry very well on the strength of Mr O'Connor's fortune.'

I shot her a sidelong look.

'I didn't make the rules about the Irish, darling. It's the way it has always been.'

It was a roundabout argument we'd had many times before; I should've won because I was right, it was ridiculous, but she was too stubborn to accept it.

I scowled at the path ahead and an approaching couple glanced at us warily. 'They're heiresses, they don't need to marry at all.'

'Do tell, how much will they have a year?' She leaned in closer.

'So you can persuade your sons to "woo" my daughters?'

She gave me a look that tried to suggest she would never do such a thing. She would. Lady Abigail Arton was a social climber; it was how she'd become Lady Arton. She had no idea I'd become a woman of fortune in my own right and I wasn't going to tell her; in some areas she could keep secrets till the grave, in others she was leaky as a sieve. With two fortunes to inherit the children would attract every fortune hunter in the country, I'd already had other mothers try to broach the subject of a 'closer acquaintance'.

'Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you,' I muttered.

She put her hand over mine. 'Because I tell you all the gossip and know the filthiest jokes.'

I laughed.

'I'll talk to William about name calling but it might not do any good, too much of his father in him. Lord knows I love that man, but he's a bloody snob.'

Silence seemed the best form of diplomacy.

Elizabeth's thick, floral perfume drifted to me on the breeze. I took too many walks along The Serpentine, I'd become predictable.

She was sitting on one of the benches beside the path and smiled at us as we approached. 'Why, Charlotte, fancy meeting you here,' She got up and made a show of air kissing me without coming anywhere near me.

I unhooked my arm from Lady Arton's before I accidentally broke it.

'I don't think I've had the pleasure.' Lady Arton offered her hand.

'Miss Elizabeth Wry,' I said, staring at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth ignored Lady Arton's extended hand. 'Mr O'Connor and I are very old friends.'

Lady Arton lowered her hand. 'I see.' I had no doubt she did see, having been Lord Arton's mistress before his wife. The expression she threw my way said if I needed backup, I had it.

I gave her the smallest shake of my head. 'If you'll excuse us a moment, Abigail.'

'I'll be right here.' She sat down on the bench Elizabeth had vacated, eyeing her with unconcealed dislike.

I grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and quick walked her down the path.

'Quite the grip you have,' she said. 'Bran must like that.'

'What do you want, Elizabeth?'

'I thought we could take tea and compare notes. We have so much in common.'

I pulled my hand away, the only thing we had in common was the space we'd share when I put my fist through her face, except I'd promised Bran I wouldn't. 'In common?'

'If you didn't like to hurt him, he wouldn't be interested in you.'

I stopped walking and pulled my hand away.

She turned to me. 'Oh, don't be coy. I saw it in your eyes as I left. You're not the meek little girl you were pretending to be.' She smiled. 'You're like me.'

I flexed my fingers before my claws impaled my hands. 'We're two different kinds of monster, you and I.'

'Are we now?' She stepped closer. 'Just remember,' she whispered and tucked an escaped strand of hair behind my ear, 'when he's inside you, it's me he's thinking of.'

I smiled and held her gaze. She frowned. People glanced at our silent duel, they passed at a distance as if our malice formed a wall. She saw me as clearly as I saw her. She preyed on weakness. I preyed on her.

She stalked away. Whatever Elizabeth wanted from Bran she knew she wouldn't get as long as I was around.

Lady Arton came up behind me. 'Your predecessor, I take it.'

'Yes.'

'I hope she gets hit by a Hansom.' she snorted.