Four Times A Widow, She Will Brave The Altar Once More
Madame Carnehomme Will Walk Up The Aisle Again- Will The Fates Be Kinder To Her This Time Than They Have Been Thus Far?
“Zometimes I wonder if I am Cursed!” Says the Charming Mme. Carnehomme
Madame Carnehomme, the woman dubbed The Merry Widow of Mayfair by some Low Sensation-Seeking Rag, will marry for the fifth time, our sources say. Our sources are always reliable, but in this case, the story came from the pen of the fair lady herself, who wrote to us to issue an invitation for “your handsomest reporter” to come to her London mansion for an interview. After a certain amount of Squabbling, we all agreed that I, Gerald Baker, was Handsomest (that is, we agreed that, since after the squabble, all of the other reporters seemed to have black eyes, I was the only one of us who was even slightly presentable) and off I went to meet the lovely lady for a tete-a-tete.
She received me with Gallic courtesy (that is, I assume it was Gallic courtesy; her family IS French, after all, and I cannot believe that she meant anything more than to make me feel welcome when she flung her arms around me and drew me down upon a handy Fainting Couch) and effuse Charm and Good Cheer. “Zo many husbands!” She bubbled, laughing up at me from behind her devastatingly dark lashes. “And now anozer one! Ah! What you must zink of me, I cannot zink!”
“And who is the lucky man?” I asked, trying to keep my mind Firmly On Business.
“Lord Arboghast,” she said, demurely. I gasped. Lord Arboghast, one of the wealthiest men in England! Of course, Mme. Carnehomme is herself rather well-off, I understand, as all of her husbands were men of Substance. Still, Lord Arboghast! Well, I mean to say! And him a known Woman-Hater!
“Madame, I am not surprised!” I lied, gallantly. “No man, not even a crusty old Misogynist like Lord Arboghast, could resist you!” She smiled, with simple, sweet, innocent, womanly charm.
Food-Poisonink, and zen when ze chandelier fell down and crushed poor Martin, and zen ze horse zat ran off with dear Harry, and zen ze hot-air balloon zat fell into ze sea with William inside! One rather wonders what horrid fate will overtake Lord Arboghast, does one not? But at least if ze worst does happen, I shall have ze consolation of all of zat lovely money. Not zat zat will bring him back, alas!”
dreamy, introspective expression on what I could discern of her features, “It is a dry old place, and zo far from any nice fire-men with their funny hats and their efficient fire-extinguishing ways. And I fear zat Lord Arboghast has quarreled so extravagantly with ze local fire-chief (the masterful brute quarrels vith everyone he can think of, does my darlink Lord Arboghast) that I fear that any plea for assistance in that quarter may not be kindly received.”
Notes: Lord Arboghast, though a Blinkered Idiot, is surely not such a fool as all that. Why is he marrying her? Could it be that the Rumors I have heard about the shakiness of Lord Arboghast’s true financial position are true? Could he and Mme. Carnehomme be entering, not so much the Married State, as a Duel To The Death, with winner taking all the money? I shall watch Developments with interest.