W is for…


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

Madame 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.


Mme Carnehomme Receives Me

Mme Carnehomme Receives Me

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!

Lord Arboghast, Refusing To Look At a Camera

Lord Arboghast, Refusing To Look At a Camera

“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.

“He is a brave man, to marry me, after all the bad luck I’ve had, don’t you zink?  I begin to zink I am blessed- er, I mean Cursed!  Yes,” she continued, with a dramatic gesture, “After Reggie’s


The Fatal Chandelier

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!”

Four GravesMy heart ached for the lovely, luckless lady who still clung to me, piteously, shaking, probably with weeping.  Surely she could not have been laughing?  No, I am sure she was not.  Fie on me, for this Unmanly Suspicion!
“I am so afraid- Mr. Baker- of- Fire!”  She cried, with a Wild Despair.
“Fire?”  I queried, Not Quite Getting The Lady’s Drift.
“Zat place- that old pile, as you English so charmingly say- of Lord Arboghast’s in ze country,” she continued, with a

Harry, About To Meet His Maker

Harry, About To Meet His Maker

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.”

“There, there,” I said, patting Mme. Carnehomme’s hand with tender solicitude, “do not repine, dear lady!  Surely no English fire-chief would disregard the call of duty, even if he happens to be quarreling with the old tyrant!”
She withdrew her head from my manly bosom and looked at me with searching intensity.  “You think not?” (cont. pg. 23)


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.



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  1. Ha! Great post. Good times. LOL.

  2. I would be interested in those developments, too! I’m betting on Mme. Carnehomme.

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