A Porcelain Viscountess by Hazel Linwood

Chapter 13

“Iam not sure about this,” Phoebe muttered, wringing her hands together as she paced up and down the chamber.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea!” Louisa declared as she turned back to the door.

“I agree,” Hayward said, proffering forward a bundle of clothes from where he was standing in the doorway. “Here, these should fit I think.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Louisa took the clothes from him and retreated across the room, showing them to Phoebe.

Phoebe was aware of Hayward hovering for a minute in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe and watching her closely. She tried to ignore the feeling of those eyes on her as she looked down at the clothes Louisa was showing her. There was a crisp white shirt in the bundle, along with a smart black jacket and a pair of boots.

“Whose clothes are these?” Phoebe asked.

“My valet’s. He doesn’t know. I’m hoping he’ll just think the laundry maids are taking a little too long with his washing this week,” Hayward said with a smile as he continued to watch her.

“I’m struggling to remember how you and Lady Dodge managed to talk me into this,” Phoebe said, turning away from the bundle and pacing up and down the chamber again for a few minutes, with her hands on her hips.

“I think you accepted the genius of the idea in the end,” Hayward’s words finally tore her gaze back to his. He was smirking in a mischievous way.

“You look far too happy at this outcome,” she said, pointing at him. “This is still a risk! Imagine if I am caught out in London dressed as a boy? What happens then to my reputation?”

The mischief on Hayward’s face vanished, and he grimaced instead.

“I know it is a risk –”

“My reputation could be in tatters!” Phoebe said then turned back round another time, grasping her hair at her temple with stress.

“My Lady,” Hayward’s voice pleaded with her to look back up to him. “I wish I could take away that risk, truly, I do, but if you were seen in London as you are, then we do risk the chance of you being seen by someone who knows your husband. It is the best precaution we can take.”

“I know, it is just…” she paused and fixed her gaze on him. “I have never done anything like this before.”

“Then maybe it is time to be a little more adventurous?” Hayward said with a smile. “Now, the staff are having a meeting with Mrs Goodman in fifteen minutes time. I’ll meet you downstairs then. It is the perfect chance for us to get you out of the house without anyone seeing you.”

She nodded her head to him, watching as he left, and Louisa closed the door behind him.

“Be a little more adventurous,” Phoebe repeated Hayward’s words to herself.

“Sounds like a good piece of advice to me,” Louisa said as she lifted up the clothes from the bundle. “Now, let’s get started!”

Phoebe was shocked by how quickly the transformation took place. Soon, she was facing the floor-length mirror and staring at a reflection that she did not recognize. Where a gown used to be were now the formal clothes of a valet, with the smart black jacket and the cravat that masked the bruise on her throat. Her curves had been hidden by the bagginess of the jacket, but it was the tight-fitting breeches that made Phoebe more than a little nervous. Her legs were slim and shaped so that she looked suspiciously like a young lady rather than a young man.

“What do you think?” Phoebe asked Louisa who walked up behind her.

“Hmm, it’s not quite right, it is. Oh, I know, turn around.” Louisa begged Phoebe to spin round to face her. Louisa fussed with Phoebe’s hair a few minutes before urging Phoebe to turn back to the mirror.

With her hair tucked up beneath a low-lying flat cap, she looked quite different. From how low the hat had been pulled down over her face too, it hid some of her features.

“I think you’re ready, my Lady,” Louisa said, jumping on the spot and clapping her hands.

“Right. Here we go then,” Phoebe breathed deeply, trying to find some courage as she left the room.

Hurrying through the house, she descended the stairs, constantly looking back and forth in case there were any staff around that had avoided Mrs Goodman’s meeting. When she reached the entrance hall, she found Hayward waiting by the open door.

He flicked his head toward her as she arrived, and a smile spread across his features.

“Convincing?” she asked with hope, standing primly with her feet together.

“Not entirely,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh dear,” she sighed.

“It’s not so much the appearance as your mannerisms,” he said, hurrying toward her. “For one thing, stand with your feet apart, and you may need to adopt a deeper voice.”

“How’s this?” she asked, affecting a deeper tone as she jumped, placing her legs further apart.

“Much better,” he said then winked at her. The simple wink made a fluttering sensation in her stomach grow. “Now, we best be quick.” He beckoned her to follow him outside.

They stepped out toward the carriage that awaited them. Without a footman in attendance, there was just the coach driver, who was so busy ensuring the horses were ready to leave, that he didn’t notice when Hayward urged Phoebe to step into the carriage before him.

“All ready, James,” Hayward called to the coach driver, climbing into the carriage too.

“Right, Your Grace, we’ll leave now,” James called back.

With the carriage door shut, the horses lurched forward, and the carriage was pulled away across the driveway. At first, Phoebe peered out through the window, intrigued to see a bit of life in London after spending so many days in one house, but soon, she retreated back from the window and pulled her hat low over her face, just in case she saw anyone in the streets who could recognize her.

“Do you think I’m convincing enough?” Phoebe asked, turning to Hayward.

“You only need to convince anyone who casually looks your way. Once we get to the solicitors, you can drop the act,” he said with a smile. “I do not think I have ever seen you so nervous.”

Phoebe tried to quell her trembling hands by clasping her palms together, but it did little to help.

“Well, it seems I must distract you then.”

“Distract me?” she said in surprise. “How?”

“Have I ever told you that I have been to Venice?” he asked, waiting for her reaction.

“Venice? What was that like?”

It was only a few minutes later Phoebe realized how successful Hayward had been in his mission to distract her. She became so caught up in hearing of his travels to Venice, of seeing the canals, the narrow houses, St Mark’s Basilica and more such beauties, that the trembling of her fingers had stopped, and all that she was interested in was hearing more of his travels.

Sat in the carriage together, Phoebe had angled her body more toward Hayward at the side of her, hanging on his every word. They talked for so long about Venice, that she didn’t even notice that they had arrived, not until there was a tap on the carriage door and she jumped to high heaven.

“Good lord, Josiah, you frightened her half to death!” Hayward said as he turned and opened the carriage door. It revealed on the other side the Marquess of Dodge who was standing on the pavement, looking up and down around him.

“Apologies, but I think now is the best chance we’ll have to get Lady Ridlington inside with as few people seeing her as possible.” He beckoned Phoebe forward. She followed the gesture quickly, out of the carriage and looked up and down the street as well from under the brim of her hat.

Fleet Street was a busy place, though most people seemed to be heading home for the evening, each person absorbed in their own business and barely looking at the carriage. Phoebe bent her head once more and looked away from the street, following the Marquess through the nearest door and into one of the townhouses, with Hayward close behind her.

Inside, the Marquess and Hayward exchanged a few words with a young secretary, who then pointed them through to a room on the second floor. Walking into the office that was lined with books, a little like a library, with a desk in the middle and an abundance of chairs to sit in, Phoebe felt out of place. It was as though she was walking into a world that her father and husband had always banned her from.

It is as much my world as it is theirs, remember that. She supposed she would just have to get used to being in such places if she was to obtain her separation.

“Right, where is the Lady Ridlington?” a voice asked. Phoebe turned round to see that there was actually a man in the room. Small, weedy and with features rather pointed, like that of a mouse, he looked up from where he had been standing in the far corner reading some books.

“I am Lady Ridlington,” Phoebe said, using her normal voice as Hayward beckoned her forward.

“Ah,” the solicitor’s eyes widened in amazement before he stepped forward and snatched up a pair of spectacles from his desk and placed them on the bridge of his nose. “Well, that is quite a terrific deception, my Lady. You had me quite fooled!”

“Thank you.”

“I am Mr Norman Preston,” the solicitor said with a bow. “It is good to see you again, Lord Dodge,” he turned and bowed to the Marquess. “And you must be the Duke of Hayward,” he addressed Hayward at last.

“I am. It is good to meet you,” Hayward said, offering his hand to shake.

“As it is to meet you. Now, let’s sit down,” the solicitor urged them all to take seats. Phoebe was rather startled when Hayward pulled out a chair for her to sit in, urging her to sit before him. It felt rather odd to still be treated like a fine lady when she was dressed as a boy. “I understand from the Marquess that you wish to file for separation, my Lady. I have agreed to take on the case, but I wished to speak to you, so that you know of the difficulties on such occasions as these.”

“What do you mean?” Phoebe asked, sitting forward in her chair.

“Marriage law is somewhat…skewed,” Mr Preston said painfully as he slid some papers across the table and began to flick through. “It is regrettably always in favor of the gentleman. In terms of getting an annuity out of your husband too for the rest of your life, your husband is better placed in law to argue against the value and get such a thing reduced.”

“I see,” Phoebe said quietly. “You wished to see me because you wish to tell me that my chances of success are slim?” She froze in the chair, aware that either side of her the Marquess and Hayward were fidgeting uncomfortably, clearly disquieted by this news.

“In a way, yes,” Mr Preston sighed with the words and paused flicking through his paperwork. “That is not to say that such cases can’t be won in the favor of the lady, but we usually have to be more artful. Especially if the gentleman does not wish to have the separation, then the stakes are even harder.”

Oh Lord, why did I ever think this was even possible? Phoebe gripped the sides of her chair as the thought struck home.

“What is it you need?” Hayward spoke up. “In order to settle the case in Lady Ridlington’s favor.”

“The ecclesiastical court requires quite a lot in order to obtain what we call divortium a mensa et thoro,” the solicitor winced with his own words. “By law if a woman walks out on her husband without a good reason, he has the right to find her and drag her home again.”

Phoebe flinched at the words.

“I think it best we opt for different language, Mr Preston,” Hayward said cautiously. Phoebe glanced between the two of them, realizing Hayward was saying such a thing for her sake.

“The words can’t hurt me, Your Grace. It is fine,” she said with feeling, watching as his lips flickered into the smallest of smiles before it was gone.

“You said unless there was a good reason,” Hayward turned back to the solicitor. “What would be the reason?”

“Adultery,” the solicitor said with a nod. “If it can be proved a gentleman was disloyal to his wife, then that can often produce a divorce.”

Phoebe shifted in her seat. She didn’t think Graham had ever been disloyal to her, partly because he had never had much interest in that side of life to begin with. He would always much rather hurt her than be intimate with her.

“You say that like it isn’t a certainty,” the Marquess of Dodge spoke up, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s not,” Mr Preston said, looking between them all. “I am afraid I have seen many divorces settled if a woman is unfaithful, a man seems to somehow withstand the slight to his character. Often in the court it must be proven that the husband is physically cruel to the wife as well. That is a certain way to obtain the divorce.”

“Physically cruel?” Phoebe asked, moving to the edge of the chair again.

“I think you have your way to obtain a separation sorted,” Hayward said. Phoebe snapped her gaze toward him, fearful of what he was suggesting. It meant possibly going up in court to talk of all the different ways that Graham had hurt her over the years. She would have to talk about those moments, to a room full of men, who might well sympathize with a man who tried to keep his wife under control.

“Did he abuse you, my Lady?” Mr Preston asked with a gentleness to his words.

She nodded, unable to admit it aloud.

“Is that enough?” Hayward asked.

“To be honest, not always. If we can add witness testimonies to seeing bruises, proof of the abuse, then we are getting somewhere,” the solicitor said.

“Then you can have my testimony. I’ve seen the bruises,” Hayward said confidently. Phoebe snapped her head toward him, startled he was so ready to stand up in court for her.

“You can add mine too,” the Marquess said, making Phoebe look back to him too.

“My Lady?” Mr Preston asked, gesturing to her. “Do you bear any bruises now? Then I can claim I have seen them as well.”

With shaky fingers, she lifted a hand to the cravat around her throat and pulled down the material for him to see the bruise.

“Will this do?” she asked, knowing the bruise was still not recovered. What had been purple and blue before was now yellowing, but the finger marks were still plain to see around her throat. The solicitor nodded with widened eyes, looking as afraid as Phoebe had felt the night that Graham had grabbed her.

* * *

“Where is the carriage?” Phoebe said with worry as they stepped out of the solicitor’s office.

“It is just a few minutes’ walk down the street, the driver will have had to pull up at the end,” Hayward said, gesturing down the road. He appeared as unsettled as she was.

They had left the Marquess behind to discuss the particulars of the money, whilst Hayward insisted on returning Phoebe home as soon as possible.

“I cannot believe you may have to stand up in court to prove something like abuse,” Hayward muttered as she hurried along beside him. “What is wrong with this world? It’s been born backwards!”

Phoebe could see his anger was raging, but her mind was being drawn elsewhere, to the people around them as they walked to the end of the road. It was growing dark, and she did not miss the way a couple of people were looking their way. She adjusted the hat on her head, nervous of her true face being seen.

“Is it not maddening?” Hayward asked, glancing back at her before walking ahead again.

“Of course, it is,” she said, hurrying alongside of him. “But if it obtains the separation –”

“I pray to God that your husband sees sense and agrees to a separation so that it may never come to the courts,” Hayward said, now so angry that his face was turning red.

“I pray for that too,” Phoebe said as she grew aware of footsteps behind them. In the darkness, she looked back, seeing a shadowy figure that was now pursuing them. “Your Grace?”

“I cannot believe this,” Hayward said again, throwing his arms up in his fury. “Even the solicitor wanted to see the bruises. My word and Josiah’s weren’t enough.”

“Erm…Your Grace?” Phoebe tried to interrupt him and pull on his jacket sleeve, but he barely noticed. His determination to reach the carriage quickly, coupled with his anger appeared to have blinded him.

Phoebe looked back, aware that whoever was following them down the road was getting closer and closer. They were now so near that she could see their clothes. They were dressed poorly, with their jacket in rags, and a patchworked hat. He delved a hand into his pocket and pulled out something – it glinted in the light from an oil-lamppost nearby.

It’s a knife.

“Your Grace!” Phoebe screamed the words this time.