The Chemickal Marriage

Temple turned her face, not wanting another slap.
    ‘O good
Lord
.’ The Contessa motioned her attendant to help the other. ‘I will manage my own. Get her sorted.’
    With both women tugging her to order, Miss Temple’s shame overcame her stimulation and eventually she stood, corset tight and tied, dress restored. The Contessa pushed money at the attendants and waved them out. She met Miss Temple’s hapless, tear-streaked face with an intolerant glare.
    ‘Our survival depends on whether Lord Axewith still waits outside.’
    ‘Why Lord Axewith?’ Miss Temple’s eyes burnt. ‘I thought it was
Lady
Axewith –’
    ‘Lord Axewith waits for Her Majesty’s seal. His declarations do not
require
it, but – the crisis being what it is – he is frightened. Lord Vandaariff – who is rich and never wrong – has offered his aid and Axewith has leapt for it like a bishop in a choir loft. Yet, because these orders will spark new blazes of unrest – people displaced and their property claimed – Axewith, for he is weak, and Vandaariff, for he is shrewd, want the
Queen
to issue the commands, allowing Her Majesty – who is despised already – to take the blame. But
now
, because of
your
story, the Queen will refuse to sign any order coming from Vandaariff, whom she considers a traitor. The Queen’s refusal will be a denouncement, which means the orders cannot be issued at all! Unless, that is, Axewith has lost patience, walked out and issued them himself!’
    ‘But why should he? If he has waited so long –’
    ‘O Celeste, why should a man do anything?’
    ‘So if Axewith
is
gone –’
    The Contessa pulled Miss Temple to the door. ‘Then we, little piglet, are undone!’
    The door was thrust open by a heavy woman with hair as bright as a Spanish tangerine. For an instant each side smiled in apology, but then the heavy lady’s face went white with shock.
    ‘
You
! How
dare
you! How dare you show yourself
here
!’
    ‘Lady Hopton, how unexpected –’
    ‘
Harlot!
I have just come from Axewith House!’
    The Contessa stepped back, eyes lowered before the other woman’s rage, hands submissively behind her back. ‘Indeed? I trust Lady Axewith is well –’
    ‘You
trust
! Lady Axewith is
dead
! But, unlike her physician, I am notblind to the cause!’ Lady Hopton raised a fist. She shook it at the Contessa – still cowed by the woman’s anger – then wheeled round with a snort for the far door. ‘Out of my way, you filth! Once I speak to the Queen –’
    The Contessa lunged, a cord in her hands. In a flash it was around Lady Hopton’s throat.
    Lady Hopton careened in a circle, straining for the door she’d come through. Her face went cherry-red, her mouth a garish, gasping hole. The Contessa tightened the cord with a convulsive snarl, dislodging Lady Hopton’s tangerine wig. The hair beneath was thin and grey. But still the woman bulled forward, swiping at Miss Temple, her voice a terrified rasp.
    ‘
Help
–’
    ‘Stop her!’ grunted the Contessa. ‘If she opens that door we will be
seen
!’
    Miss Temple froze, transfixed by the bulging eyes – this poor proud woman who had spoken to the Contessa just as Miss Temple had always wanted to. With a helpless clarity Miss Temple saw where she had placed herself, and how desolate her future had become.
    She ducked Lady Hopton’s arms and seized her dress, wrenching the woman from the door. Lady Hopton whined with dismay, but the Contessa twisted the cord and the sound soured to an ugly rattle. For five seconds the three of them hung suspended, then Lady Hopton collapsed. Without pause the Contessa knelt on the fallen woman’s chest and, leverage improved, pulled the cord taut for another half-minute.
    ‘Took you long enough.’ The Contessa dragged the dead woman to the nearest wardrobe niche. ‘Pick up her filthy wig.’
    The attendants were told with a tactful nod that Lady Hopton required privacy for a
conversation
, and that any new arrivals might be shown to another attiring room altogether. Back on the mildewed landing, Colonel Bronque waited alone at the rail. The older lady who had shown them to the attiring room called with a knowing smile. ‘Did you meet Lady Hopton?’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    The old woman’s eyes glittered. ‘I believe she took your same route to the baths.’
    ‘We did not see her for the steam,’ the Contessa answered blandly. ‘No doubt Lady Hopton waits upon Her Majesty even now.’ The Contessa