The Perfect Mistress. Victoria Alexander
scandalous great-grandmother.” She glanced at Veronica. “And why is it that you know about this Lady Middlebury and I don’t?”
“My grandmother quite enjoys a good story and considers them even better if they include an element of truth.” Veronica smiled with the memory.
“Gossip?” Portia scoffed. “My family has never been prone to gossip.”
“How sad for you, my dear.” Veronica cast Portia a sympathetic look then turned her attention back to Julia. “I, for one, think this is fascinating. Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
“There is much about my family I don’t know. I always thought we were quite ordinary, but apparently we are a family of many secrets.” Julia thought for a moment. “I did know that my great-grandmother was considered quite notorious in her day but she died before I was born and my mother rarely spoke of her. I know as well that she was not close to her children—my grandmother and her brother—and spent the later years of her life living in France.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t even know my grandmother was still living until six years ago when my parents died.”
“Which is when you became responsible for her support,” Veronica said slowly.
“A responsibility that should have fallen to your great-uncle,” Portia pointed out, again.
“It’s all quite tangled and convoluted. After all, including me, it encompasses four generations.” Julia paused in an apologetic manner. “And you have heard much of this before.”
“And like any good story, we shall enjoy hearing it again.” Veronica refilled her cup.
“My great-grandmother and her children were estranged. She lost her husband at twenty-four, the same age I was when I lost William.” Julia sipped her tea. “Spouses do not seem to live overly long in my family.”
“There’s something to be said for that,” Veronica said coolly.
Julia bit back a smile. In spite of Veronica’s skeptical comments, she knew full well her friend had cared deeply for her late husband.
“My mother and my grandmother at some point had a falling-out which led to their estrangement for a time although I have never known why. But then, as I understand it, she became ill—”
“Mad.” Portia nodded sagely.
“She’s not mad,” Julia said quickly. “Eccentric, yes, but—”
“You told us she hears voices,” Portia said. “That’s the very definition of mad.”
“She’s not mad.” Julia’s tone was sharper than she intended even if she didn’t quite believe her own words. “She has lived quietly in the country for years with a housekeeper who is more friend than servant. Indeed, they …” She hesitated then looked at her friends. “They both seem quite happy. I first went to see her when my parents died and I learned of her existence—”
“Kept secret because of the madness no doubt,” Portia said under her breath.
Julia met Veronica’s gaze. “I had to meet her and see for myself, you understand, how ill she was.”
Veronica nodded. “And?”
“And, I would not call her mad.” Julia smiled. “I thought she was delightful. Quite witty and most amusing.”
“And her voices?” Portia asked. “Were they witty as well?”
“I visit whenever I can and her company is most enjoyable. And”—Julia turned to Portia—“I have never seen behavior that I would truly call mad. Certainly her memories are muddled on occasion. She has a tendency to speak of matters long past as if they were yesterday—gentlemen callers and treasures lost and found and paths not taken. But it seems to me she is merely eccentric which, as a woman of advanced age, she has earned the right to be.”
“Perhaps the voices simply don’t speak to her when you are there.” Portia’s smile was entirely too sweet and not the least bit legitimate.
Veronica frowned. “You’re being exceptionally nasty today, Portia. What on earth has possessed you?”
Portia opened her mouth to issue a sharp retort then apparently thought better of it. “My apologies. It’s my mood I’m afraid.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “My cousin is having yet another dinner party tonight. Inevitably I shall be seated next to the most eligible gentleman there who has been invited with the sole purpose of marrying me.”
Veronica smirked. “Again.”
Julia stifled a laugh. In recent months, Portia’s loving and well-meaning family had apparently decided it was time for her to remarry. While she did indeed wish to marry again, her family’s interference did not sit well. The woman who had never had a rebellious bone in her body found herself in the unfamiliar role of mutineer.
“Whether she is truly mad or merely odd with the eccentricities of age scarcely matters. After my husband died, I wanted to bring her to London to live with me but she refused. She insists she is happy where she is.” Julia shook her head. “But I am reaching a point where I can barely support one household let alone two. Therefore …” Resolve straightened her spine. “I shall sell my great-grandmother’s manuscript and use whatever it fetches to support her daughter. The gentleman you saw here is a publisher.”
Portia gasped. “Surely you’re not serious?”
“I have never been more serious in my life.”
“I’m not sure publishing will provide you with the funding you need,” Veronica said thoughtfully.
“If it sells well, it should provide a steady income.” Julia wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or her friends. Still, she had nothing else.
“Perhaps it isn’t scandalous enough to sell well.” Portia’s gaze settled on the manuscript. “As your friends, it might be wise if we all read—”
“It is a risky proposition.” Veronica thought for a moment. “I think Portia’s suggestion might better serve.”
Portia glanced at the other woman. “What suggestion?”
“Blackmail,” Veronica said in an offhand manner.
“I suggested nothing of the sort.” Portia huffed then paused. “Did I?”
Julia stared. “I don’t recall blackmail being mentioned nor would I consider such a thing.”
“You should,” Veronica said, “although blackmail might be the wrong word as it implies something, well, wrong.”
Julia’s brows drew together. “Probably because it is.”
“What did I suggest?” Portia said.
“You said some people have very long memories.” Veronica nodded at Julia. “There are no doubt any number of people who would prefer that past scandals stay in the past.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Julia waved away the comment. “You said it yourself. My great-grandmother’s adventures were half a century ago. No one cares about those scandals now but hopefully they are interesting to read. However, I shall allow you to judge for yourself.” She selected a section she had copied and handed it to Veronica. “This chapter is about a gentleman related to you.”
“How delightful,” Veronica murmured, and paged idly through the pages.
“Isn’t there anything in there about a relation of mine?” Portia craned her neck to peer at the manuscript.
Julia shook her head. “Not that I’ve found thus far.”
“We have never been a scandalous lot. Still …” Portia eyed the manuscript with barely concealed longing. “It would be advisable to look. Just to make certain, you understand. For no other reason than that.”
“Of