Free Death of a Dowager by Joanna Campbell Slan

fears to rest, as the reality was no worse than I had conjured it. Up to that point, our evening had been enchanting, so I decided I would carry on. I would not give the Ingrams the satisfaction of taking away my happiness.
    Only . . . Edward, Lucy, Mr. Douglas, and Lady Grainger seemed more affected than I. They stood still as garden statues.
    At long last, Lady Ingram angled herself away from us and began speaking to Lady Grainger in low, urgent notes. The Ingram daughters circled their mother and aunt, listening in.
    “That was a cut sublime. I have heard of such treatment but never have I seen such a public rebuke, such a mortal blow.” Lucy’s voice trembled as she whispered in my ear.
    “A mortal blow? I do not bleed. I am still standing.” I laughed, thinking back to punishments I’d endured growing up. “I feel no pain. Actually, I prefer not to be recognized by the Dowager Lady Ingram. She and her daughters impress me not one whit!”
    “You don’t understand, Jane. You’re too innocent to realize.” My husband’s voice was so gruff, so annoyed, that I lost my grip on my fan and it fell from my hand.
    Mr. Douglas bent to retrieve it. As he handed the fan back to me, he spoke very quietly. “Trust me. You have no idea what you just endured. The Dowager Lady has not only damaged you, but she has also dealt Lucy a horrible blow. In brief, because my sister sponsored you, this is a stinging rebuke to her as well. You have both been insulted.”
    This sobered me. While I could laugh off the slight and return to our country home, Lucy could not. She would live and die here in London, unless she chose to follow her husband Augie again to India.
    “Oh, Lucy, I would never have knowingly caused you pain.” I reached out to her.
    She took my hand and squeezed it but said nothing. I could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
    Her misery caused me to feel quite undone. Usually Lucy was magnificent in a crisis, which provided yet another reason that her response surprised me. How could it be that the Dowager Lady had caused her such distress?
    “Lucy, darling, have a care. It will blow over . . . soon,” said her brother gently.
    “No it won’t. We’re in for a long, ugly siege,” she said as she brushed a tear off her cheek.
    “Ah! Good evening!” A familiar voice interrupted the tense atmosphere and set us all in motion, as though we were clocks that had been badly in need of winding.
    Phineas Waverly bowed first to me and then to the rest of our party, his battered face showing little emotion. As usual, he carried a black baton under his arm. I knew from having seen it before that at one end it bore a royal emblem in gold, a symbol of the Bow Street Runners’ responsibility to the Crown. Mr. Waverly spoke loudly, almost as if making an announcement. “It is a particularly pleasant surprise to see you here, Mrs. Rochester. Quite timely, too. His Majesty heard you are in town and expressed an interest in meeting you.”
    “Meeting her? Whatever for?” His greeting had caught Lady Ingram’s attention, and she moved closer to inspect the newcomer. “Why would the King take notice of a common governess?”
    The spark of that insult set the dry timber blazing.
    “How dare you!” Edward snarled, but Mr. Douglas grabbed him by the arm and bent to his ear to say, “Stop! Collect your wits! Can’t you see? This is exactly what she wants. All eyes are on you!”
    He was quite correct, as a small clutch of onlookers had gathered to watch the drama unfold.
    Mr. Waverly turned toward the Dowager, studying her from behind wire-framed glasses. A certain set of his shoulders, an intensity about his mouth told me that he had caught Lady Ingram’s aspersion toward me—and he was not pleased. Not at all.
    “Allow me to introduce Mr. Phineas Waverly,” Mr. Douglas said, with some gravity. “He is the senior officer at Bow Street, currently assigned to guard His Majesty.”
    “Which is why my visit must