“Hmm.” Penelope looked suspicious, but was distracted by a whispered word from Scarborough. The guests were gathering their things in preparation for returning back to Pelham House.
Phoebe started for Artemis, but Miss Picklewood laid her hand on her charge’s arm and directed her to accompany Miss Royale.
A confused expression flitted over Phoebe’s sweet face, but then she smoothed it into social politeness and took Miss Royale’s arm.
“Miss Greaves, will you walk with me?” Miss Picklewood asked in a tone that suggested an order rather than a request. “The path is so uneven.”
“Of course,” Artemis murmured as she linked arms with the older lady.
“We haven’t had a chance to speak in quite some time,” Miss Picklewood said softly. They were at the back of the line of returning guests, a position that Artemis felt sure the other lady had maneuvered them into. “I hope you’ve been enjoying the country party?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Artemis answered warily.
“Good, good,” Miss Picklewood murmured. “So often I’m afraid people come to these country parties and leave their, shall we say, higher principles behind in London. You wouldn’t believe, I know, my dear, but such scandalous goings-on I’ve heard about!”
“Oh?” Artemis thought herself inured to innuendo, but the problem was that she rather liked Miss Picklewood and so cared for her opinion. The older lady’s words made her ears burn.
“Oh, yes, my dear,” Miss Picklewood said ever so gently. “And of course it’s always the most innocent who become entangled in gossip’s net, as it were. Why, a married lady—especially if she’s titled—can get away with all sorts of things. I won’t enumerate them, for they aren’t for innocent ears. But a respectable young matron who might not be titled or have any weight in society must be very, very careful.”
Miss Picklewood paused as they picked their way around an outcropping of rock, then said, “And of course, it’s quite beyond the pale for an unmarried lady to engage in any sort of behavior that might seem untoward. Especially if such behavior might make her lose what was otherwise her only position.”
“I understand,” Artemis said tightly.
“Do you, dear?” Miss Picklewood’s tone was gentle, but underneath there was iron. “It’s the way of the world that the ladies in such cases are always to blame, never the gentlemen. And it’s also the way of the world that dukes—however honorable they might be otherwise—have no reason but the nefarious to take young, unmarried ladies of little means into secluded places. You must have no hopes there.”
“Yes.” Artemis breathed in quietly, making sure her voice did not shake. “I do realize.”
“I wish it were otherwise,” Miss Picklewood exclaimed quietly, “truly I do. But I think it doesn’t do for ladies such as we to be anything but utterly practical. Too many have stumbled into disaster thinking otherwise.”
“Ladies such as we?”
“Of course, dear,” Miss Picklewood said comfortably. “Do you imagine I was born with gray hair and wrinkles? I once was a comely young girl like you. My dear papa loved to play at cards. Unfortunately he was never very good at it. I did have several offers from gentlemen, but I felt we wouldn’t get on well, so I went to live with my Aunt Florence. Quite a persnickety old lady, I’m sad to report, but a good heart underneath it all. After Aunt Florence I went to my brother’s house. You would think the closeness of blood would make the connection dearer, but such was not the case between my brother and me. Possibly our mutual antagonism was made worse by my sister-in-law, a dreadful penny-pincher who resented another mouth to feed in their household. I was forced to return to my aunt. And then…”
They were within sight of Pelham House, and here Miss Picklewood stopped and looked wistfully up at the magnificent mansion. “Then you know the rest. Poor Mary died along with the duke, her husband. Well. Our relation was distant, you know. Quite distant. But Mary and I were bosom bows as girls, and when I heard about the tragedy I came at once. There was a time at the beginning when the lawyers and men of business were swarming ’round, when I thought someone would throw me out. Find another to bring up Hero and Phoebe. But then Maximus started speaking again and that was that. Even at fourteen he had the bearing of a duke. I showed him the letters his mother and I had exchanged, and he made up his mind that I should raise his sisters.”
Miss Picklewood stopped to draw breath and for a moment both ladies stood staring up at Pelham House.
Artemis turned to the older lady. “You said he ‘started speaking again’?”
“Hmm?” Miss Picklewood blinked. “Oh, yes. I suppose not many remember now, but Maximus was so shattered by the deaths of his parents that he went mute for a full fortnight. Why, some of the quacks that came to look at him said his brain was addled by the tragedy. That he’d never speak again. Rubbish, of course. It simply took him time to come to rights again. He was quite sane. Just a sensitive boy.”
A boy who, when he came to himself again, was no longer a boy but the Duke of Wakefield, Artemis thought. “It must have been horrible for him.”
“Yes, it was,” Miss Picklewood said simply. “He witnessed their murders, you know. A terrible shock for such an emotional lad.”
Artemis looked thoughtfully at the older lady. Emotional wasn’t a word she’d ever use to describe the duke.
But perhaps he’d been a different person before the tragedy.
“Goodness!” Miss Picklewood exclaimed. “I have gone off track. Your pardon, my dear. I’m afraid sometimes my words run away from me. I simply wanted to let you know that you and I aren’t that different, after all—we’re merely at dissimilar stages of life. I, too, can understand the temptations of our position. But you must learn to resist them—for your own good.”
“Thank you,” Artemis said gravely, for she knew the advice was meant kindly.
Miss Picklewood cleared her throat. “I do hope this little talk won’t come between us?”
“Not on my part,” Artemis assured her.
The elder lady nodded, evidently satisfied. “Then let us see if refreshments have been laid out for us.”
Artemis nodded. Tea sounded good, and after that she meant to run Penelope to ground.
She needed to return to London and Apollo. And Maximus.