Regina wasn’t sure why she had chosen Cora out of all of them. It had just seemed right. Aunt Jane set down her toast.
“Oh?” Aunt Jane’s eyebrows had climbed high up onto her forehead. “I didn’t realize you had certain preferences.”
“What?” It took Regina a moment to realize what Aunt Jane was getting at. Then she laughed—albeit a little hysterically. “Oh, no, not at all, Aunt Jane. Miss Cora is an old friend of the family.”
“That does sound familiar.” Aunt Jane tilted her head. She seemed to be in thought for a moment. Then she said, “Ah, yes. She was dear friends with your sister, Miss Bridget.”
“Yes, she told me so as well. She knew my mother before she died. I had been hoping to speak with her about that, actually. That’s where I’m going this morning.”
“She is a delightful woman, from what I hear.” Aunt Jane picked up her toast again. “Fortunately few people know of her inclinations. Take care not to spread it. From what I hear her family averted one scandal when she was young.”
“Could she not go to the continent?” Regina asked.
“I’m sure that she could. It would be easier for her there. Something in England compels her to stay. From what I’ve heard, it’s related to that business when she was younger.”
Regina was burning with curiosity. “She did say that she was still in love with someone. The same person, for ten years.”
“That would explain it.” Aunt Jane gave a sympathetic sigh. “Love will make us do rather stupid things. It is a pity that she must struggle in this way.”
Regina still didn’t understand that. But she figured it wasn’t her place to argue. “I will try and be home by dinner but I can’t guarantee it. Miss Cora hosts friendly games of Whist and they can take up time. I quite lost track of the clock last night.”
“So long as you have your wits about you, I am secure,” Aunt Jane assured her. “And since your inclinations are towards men, allow me to remind you about them.”
“I know, and I will guard myself against lies,” Regina said. She had heard this lecture from Bridget and from Louisa many times over the years. She’d gotten abridged versions from various society matrons. And she’d gotten a sort-of lecture last night at dinner.
“I meant more that you guard yourself against pregnancy,” Aunt Jane replied.
Regina dropped her fork.
It made a clattering sound and Aunt Jane laughed. “Oh, my dear. You really are adorable. Do what you will. Just be smart about it. Make sure no one will spread rumors, that the man will treat you with respect and keep it to himself, and that you do not end up with child. That’s all.
“In fact, you might find it helpful. A few youthful romps will help prepare you for marriage. It’ll make the whole affair seem less daunting. And your husband will be quite impressed with you.”
Regna snatched her fork up again and hastily shoved some eggs into her mouth so she didn’t have to talk. The world was far less straight-laced than she had been led to believe. She wasn’t sure if she was excited or dismayed. Or some combination of both.
Chapter 19
When Regina knocked on the door that morning, a servant opened it.
Regina took a step back, instinctively on her guard. But the servant, a scullery maid by the looks of it, just curtsied. She didn’t seem surprised to see Regina.
“Right this way Miss,” the girl said. Her accent made her voice sound a little hoarse.
Regina followed the girl through the kitchen and up the back stairs, into the library. There, she found not Harrison, but Cora sitting there.
Cora was reading a book in French. Regina had always struggled the language herself. She couldn’t even make out the title before Cora looked up and set the book aside.
“Good morning, Regina.” She smiled warmly. “Come, have a seat. The fire is most inviting.”
Regina sat down on the other end of the sofa. “What are you reading?”
“A French romance.” Cora lowered her voice. “They’re the best kind. Tell me,” she added, “How do your sisters fare?”
Her tone was oddly light, as though she was trying to sound casual. Regina couldn’t quite make out why. It felt like Cora was struggling to hide something.
“They’re as well as can be expected.”
Cora’s gaze turned sharp. “What does that mean?”
Regina outlined what had happened to her family. She trusted Cora. Perhaps that was unwise of her but Cora had been childhood friends with Bridget. That was good enough for Regina. And the whole of England would know what her father had done soon enough. There was no use in hiding it.
The card game wasn’t a matter of stopping the knowledge from getting out. It was fixing things before the knowledge did too much damage. It was winning everything back the same way it had been lost so that all honor was restored.
When Regina finished telling her, Cora was pale. “How is Bridget,” she asked. Her voice was but a whisper and yet she sounded quite urgent. As though Bridget was badly ill. “How is she holding up?”
“She’s weathering it better than the rest of us,” Regina admitted. “Louisa is beside herself. She is convinced that she and Mr. Fairchild will never marry now. Bridget has done her best to console her.”
“That would be Bridget,” Cora said. She smiled, and there was something sad about that smile. Something Regina couldn’t place. “She was always thinking of others before herself. Sometimes at her own expense.”
“Elizabeth and Natalie object to it because they do not want to marry yet,” Regina said.
“They’re both of a marrying age,” Cora replied. “As much as we sometimes try to deny it, our job as women is to marry. It’s practically a business decision.”
Her tone suggested that this was partially a joke, and Regina laughed. It was true, though. “I wish you would tell them that. Bridget gave them a fair tongue-lashing but they could always do with another.”
“I am glad of it,” Cora said fiercely. “They were the spoiled ones when we were children.”
“They were?” Regina leaned in. “I must know what it was like when you knew them. I was barely eight when she died. I can hardly recall any of it.”
Mostly she remembered reading indoors with Mother. She’d already shown a disinclination for the outdoors and other people. Instead she had read in her bedroom or with Mother nearby.
Then after Mother died, when everyone was filled with grief, Bridget had their governess teach her needlepoint. It would give her something to focus on besides her grief, Bridget had reasoned.
It had worked.
Cora thought for a moment. “Your mother was never overly strict,” she said. “She always had love to spare. I loved her more than I love my own mother. If you think I ever have moments of hardness, that is where I get it. That woman was not born. She was carved from ice.”