Three
The sky was gray and the air heavy as the mourners stood around the grave of the former Lord Whittemore. Cordelia noticed that no one around her was crying, only staring impassively at the casket as the men from the undertaker lowered it into the hole. She supposed she wasn’t the only person to be glad to see him go, but she had no doubt she was the one who was happiest.
Even though she knew she should feel guilty for even thinking it, Cordelia was glad the old man was out of their lives for more than one reason. Now that he was gone and Arthur was to take his place as Lord Whittemore, they wouldn’t have to put forth the charade of their happy marriage for much longer. The thought was enough to make her laugh but she didn’t allow herself so much as a smile, for propriety’s sake.
Getting free of Arthur and the Whittemore estate posed a challenge all its own. A judge would doubtlessly grant their divorce, especially if Arthur didn’t fight it, but even though she felt nothing romantically for him she didn’t want to drag his name through the mud. She planned to keep the reason for their divorce as quiet as possible and assumed he would as well, but she had a feeling that it would require some maneuvering that she wasn’t sure she was prepared to do.
As soon as the casket was in the ground, Birdie detached herself from the larger group and went to Cordelia’s side. Even though she wasn’t strictly required to do so, she was dressed in black and it somehow made Birdie look much younger. The last time they’d been at a funeral together they’d both been girls, so Cordelia assumed that was the reason for it.
“How are you holding up?” She kissed Cordelia on the cheek. “It happened so quickly, you must be in shock.”
“Yes,” Cordelia said, looking over at the casket. The crowd was starting to disperse, and the undertakers would come out and start shoveling dirt onto it once they were all gone.
It had been quite surprising when Arthur’s father developed pneumonia, but he wasn’t a young man and he’d been caught outside in the midst of the hardest rain in months. After another week of rain, he passed away before the doctors were able to treat him. Cordelia had found him in his bed, looking as peaceful as if he was sleeping. She’d gone to Arthur at once to tell him the news and everything since had been a blur. “If only he’d listened to Arthur’s advice and stayed home instead of going to Greenley.” Before Birdie could reply, a man in a dark blue suit came forward with a grave look on his face.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, patting her gloved hand. “You must be devastated.”
“We certainly weren’t expecting it to happen so soon,” Cordelia said. “Thank you for coming, Lord Whittemore and I do so appreciate it.” The man, who Cordelia was certain she should have known, glanced over at Arthur. He was speaking to the minister and they both looked quite serious.
“I was hoping to speak to Lord Whittemore,” he said, “but it seems he’s busy. Do you think I could come to the manor once you’re moved in to do so?”
“Of course,” Cordelia said, allowing herself a small, polite smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him when everything has settled down.”
“I appreciate it,” the man said. “I’ll leave you to your mourning, Lady Whittemore.” He walked away, nodding at Birdie as he did. She smiled pleasantly at him, then leaned close to Cordelia’s ear.
“Who was he?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Cordelia said softly. “I’ll describe him to Arthur as best I can so he can be prepared when he shows up at the manor.”
“The manor,” Birdie breathed. “I can’t believe you’re really a lady now. Remember when we used to play at being royalty? I’m so jealous of my big sister.” She was grinning brightly, and Cordelia could just hear what Mrs. Richmond would have to say about it.
“Don’t be so sure,” Cordelia said. “It’s not all roses. As for the manor, it’s just a move up the hill a bit. More room to rattle around and try and find something to do.” She sighed. “Perhaps I should take up sewing. I may not be good at it but it would give me something to do with my time.”
“What about your piano?”
“I haven’t gotten it yet,” Cordelia said. “Arthur bought it but I had a difficult time finding a place in the house for it so it’s still sitting at the music store. At least I think that’s where it is.”
“Well, you should have no trouble finding a place for it now,” Birdie said, still beaming at her. “There’s probably so much more room that you’ll probably have a whole room for it. Then you could invite me over and hold recitals and all sorts of wonderful things.”
“I think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Birdie.” The wind picked up and pulled at Cordelia’s hat, which lifted off her head a little. She put a hand on it, not trusting her pins to be up to the task. When the wind died down and she took her hand away, she saw another man coming toward them.
He was much younger than the other man, and far more attractive. Cordelia noticed his blue eyes before anything else. Set against his black hair, they were a startling color that put her in mind of the ocean. She was so distracted by them that she didn’t hear another word her sister said. Part of Cordelia hoped he would walk past her, as she had no idea if her mouth would even function in his presence, but he came right up to her and smiled.
“Good afternoon, Lady Whittemore,” he said, his words rounded by a cultured accent. It wasn’t one she’d heard around Greenley; she associated it more with Londoners and the upper classes. “My deepest condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you,” Cordelia said, lowering her face slightly in the hopes he wouldn’t see her blushing. “Lord Whittemore and I appreciate your coming today to pay your respects.”
“Of course,” the man said. “I was acquainted with the late Lord Whittemore. He could be a difficult man at times.” Cordelia looked up at him just enough to check that he was being serious, and he seemed to be ready to say more when Arthur bid farewell to the men he was speaking to and waved him over. “If you ladies will excuse me,” he said, nodding to Cordelia and Birdie before he went to talk to Arthur.
“Oh my,” Birdie said, watching him go with wide eyes. “He’s quite handsome. Who is he?”
“I’m not sure,” Cordelia said, following Birdie’s gaze. As soon as he was by Arthur’s side, both men smiled and Cordelia sighed. I see, she thought. I can’t believe he would invite one of them to his father’s funeral. “He is handsome, though. Such beautiful eyes.”
Another pair of mourners came to interrupt her thoughts and she focused her attention on being gracious and accepting their condolences. When she looked over at her husband again, the good-looking man was gone. She wasn’t surprised. That sort of man wasn’t likely to stick around long enough for people to ask questions.
“I should probably go,” Birdie said. “Richard will be wondering where I’ve gotten to. I’ll come out to the manor once you’re all settled in and have your piano set up so you can show it to me.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you,” Cordelia said, hugging her sister. “Say hello to Walter for me.” Birdie nodded, then hurried off to find her husband.
Deciding that it was probably a good time for her to find her own husband before anyone wondered why they weren’t together, Cordelia made her way through the mourners to the grave where Arthur was once again talking to the minister.
“Ah, here she comes now,” he said, holding out his arm when he saw her. Cordelia dutifully went to his side and he smiled at her. She couldn’t help thinking that entirely too many people were smiling at this funeral, but she let him kiss her on the cheek anyway. “Cordelia, darling, I’d like you to meet Reverend Archer. He’s known my father for years.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Cordelia said, then turned to her husband. “Arthur, dear, would you mind terribly if we went home? I seem to have developed a bit of a headache.”
“Of course not. I don’t want you taking ill with all the moving going on around you. You won’t be able to get any rest. Good day, Reverend.” He put a hand on Cordelia’s waist and led her away from the grave.
When they were far enough from the rest of the mourners that she was sure no one could hear them, Cordelia turned to Arthur.
“I’ve kept my end of our bargain,” she said, making sure she was still smiling like a loving wife so as not to arouse suspicion, “now that your father is gone and you have the Lordship, I can petition for divorce. Or would you prefer to do it?”
“I’m afraid we can’t just yet,” Arthur said, his smile fading. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming. “It seems my father’s will carried a condition that I remain married and produce an heir to the Whittemore estate in order to inherit it.”
“What?” Cordelia’s stomach dropped. “What does that mean?”
“It means we have to remain married until my solicitor can determine whether or not I am truly bound by the condition. It’s possible that I, as Lord Whittemore, would be able to circumvent it but my solicitor needs to look into it further.”
“Oh, Arthur,” Cordelia said. “You promised me that we would be free of this charade once your father passed away!”
“I didn’t forsee this,” Arthur said apologetically. “I give you my word that this will be over as soon as possible. You must know I feel incredibly guilty about the whole thing.” Cordelia folded her arms over her chest, no longer caring who was watching. “Please, darling?”
“Fine,” Cordelia snapped. “But if you don’t settle this soon, I’m going to leave you, consequences be damned.” She strode away toward the carriage, leaving him behind quickly enough that she hoped he couldn’t see her crying.