“It seems not even the rain could stop her either.” Hathor giggled from behind her easel. “I wonder what sort of news she brings with her this time.”
“Hathor.” The marchioness gave her a stern look as she placed her cake down and rose to her feet. “Do see her in, Ingrid, and have tea sent.”
Hathor quickly moved from her painting to sit beside me at the window. I had not known of her talent for art until I saw her sketches, many of which were of her family.
“Mrs. Marie Loquac? She is the favored modiste, correct?” I asked Hathor, sure I had heard that name recommended to me by one of the other ladies in town.
“Yes, she is the granddaughter of an earl and never wishes anyone to forget. But I much prefer to call her the ton spy,” she mused. However, before she could say another word, the doors opened once more for a rather short, plump woman with rosy dimpled cheeks, green eyes, and wavy brown hair that she had pinned up with a green feather, though her dress was a soft pink. Behind her were two plain young ladies, one holding books and the other a measuring tape and hat. Their hems were soaked in mud, though Mrs. Loquac’s was not.
“Your ladyship.” She curtsied to the marchioness and then once more to Hathor and me both. “How lovely you all look today.”
“We must not take credit for that, as your dresses seem to make us radiant even on a gloomy day such as this,” the marchioness said as she outstretched her arm to gesture for Mrs. Loquac to sit. “I see you’ve brought more designs to part us with our pocketbooks.”
“I do believe that with or without my dresses, you and your girls would be the envy of the ton. Many inquired about the silk used in your daughter’s wedding gown, and even upon trying it themselves, they still could not match half her beauty,” Mrs. Loquac exclaimed, and I heard Hathor take in some air beside me. But to my surprise, she did not speak. Instead, she held out her hand for Mrs. Loquac’s assistant to give her the book.
“Verity, I do not believe you have been introduced. This is Mrs. Marie Loquac. She is quite the dressmaker,” the marchioness said to me as Ingrid came with the tea. “Mrs. Marie Loquac, I am sure you know of my goddaughter, Lady Verity Eagleman. She shall be staying with us for some time and will need a few more dresses as soon as possible.”
“Godmother, you need not—”
“I wish to, and I shall,” she interrupted with a smile. “You do not have nearly enough, my dear, and before he left your brother all but begged me to see to your needs.”
“Does he really think me so lacking?” I’d thought he worried I spent too much on clothing. I did do my best to keep up with the fashions of the ton but felt them ever-changing.
“He does not but merely wishes you to have all your heart’s desire.”
“Correct me if I am mistaken, but isn’t Damon his closest friend? Why has he not inherited such a trait? I see no such concern for my needs,” Hathor stated as she flipped through the book.
“Unlike Evander, I have far too many sisters for me to be concerned with their wardrobes, and your needs, in particular, are never-ending, Hathor,” Damon spoke from the door as he adjusted his sleeves. “Do excuse me for the intrusion, ladies. Mother, I shall be off.”
“Oh, I thought you had already left to meet your father at the club?” The marchioness looked up from the book before her.
“Silva was not feeling well, and I wished to stay with her until she rested.”
“Really? Why did you not say? I would have come. She looked well during breakfast. Whatever could be wrong?”
“She wished not to worry you and claims it is merely a headache.”
“Pardon my intrusion,” Mrs. Loquac spoke up, “but it would be best if you called for Dr. Darrington.”
“I do not believe a mere headache calls for a doctor, ma’am. Thank you.” Damon nodded to her before looking at his mother to speak once more when Mrs. Loquac added, “You can never be too sure, and now that we have such a great doctor in town, it would be a waste not to use his services. It was he who cured Lady Clementina. She had—”
“Yes, we have already heard,” Damon replied shortly before speaking to his mother. “I am off. Good day to you, ladies.”
“Do watch the roads!” the marchioness called after him, but he was gone with such speed that I looked to see if he was not already within his carriage.
“Do forgive him, for he is never one for conversation,” the marchioness said to Mrs. Loquac. Even though Damon always seemed to be conversing, at least with his family, I had noticed he was rather short-tempered with the rest of the world. “What is this you heard of Lady Clementina? She is altogether fine now, is she not?”
“Finally, more information,” Hathor muttered under her breath without looking away from her book. Due to the rain, all we had managed to gather was that she was recovering but not much beyond that.
“Yes. Apparently, she is in much better spirits,” Mrs. Loquac said as she lifted a biscuit for her tea.
“Thank heavens she is well. It was such a fright.” The marchioness was clearly not at all interested in any of the designs despite her frequent gaze upon them.
“To think it was her own mother’s doing.” Mrs. Loquac scoffed.
“What?”
Everyone’s head rose to look back at the modiste.
“You have not heard?” Mrs. Loquac sat up on the edge of her seat. “Evidently, what preceded her misfortune was that the duchess noticed Lady Clementina had grown another half-inch taller. She requested the help of another doctor to stop the poor girl from growing. He prescribed her a tonic.”
“Is that what made her ill?” I asked, while, in my mind, I thought of my very own tonic.
“Ill? That poison nearly killed her!” Mrs. Loquac exclaimed before taking a bite of biscuit. She shook her head and let out a breath. “They say that upon discovering the source, Dr. Darrington threw it out the window.”
“My heaven.” The marchioness frowned, closing the book in her hand. “Who prescribed the tonic? Surely they cannot be a true physician.”
“That is what is so shocking, your ladyship, as it was prescribed by none other than Sir Grisham.”
“Truly?”
I looked to Hathor, remembering my introduction to the “garden sisters,” one of whom had been his daughter. She nodded as though she could read my thoughts.
“Maybe it was a mistake with the apothecary who took the prescription?” the marchioness said gently. “After all, Sir Grisham was knighted due to his proficiency and dedication over the years. I have never called upon him before, but his reputation has not been called into question.”