Felicity and the Damaged Reputation

by

Alicia Cameron

For Stéphanie, Michael, Sacha and Dann. I borrowed Lord Sumner’s dialogue from Dann Mercier. Merci, Dann!

© Alicia Cameron 2018. The moral rights of the author have been asserted

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 1

Felicity goes to London

There was no doubt about it, Felicity Oldfield’s grand London adventure had commenced. First, she had been abducted by a peer of the realm on the journey, released, then in less than a few hours she had arrived in London for the post of governess, been cast off without a sou, walked the streets of London alone, been pursued by a young gentleman, met a man of bad character who might have led her onto a path of ruination, saved by a rich and fashionable couple in their velvet-lined coach and was even now being taken to her mad Aunt Ellingham where she expected to be treated appallingly - maybe even sent to the kitchen to live a life of servitude. Like every heroine she had ever read about, Felicity had suffered. How wonderfully exciting! Not all of it was wonderful, of course, but then one expects some discomfort when one had chosen to live rather than take the path of safety.

In the county where she had erstwhile resided, Felicity was considered the most pitiful of all the Oldfield sisters. Upon the death of her papa, the large draughty mansion that had been her home was no more so, but the twins, Amity and Charity, being three years her senior, had been sent to their mad Aunt Ellingham the season before, and Amity had had the great good fortune to become engaged. Well, strictly speaking Amity’s engagement to the Reverend Mr Cedric Barnabas, was not considered great good fortune until the unexpected death of Papa, whose perennial cough turned out to be something more serious than any of the family had thought. This had allowed Mr Lawson, a nephew whom her papa could never mention without revulsion, to inherit all, save twenty pounds a year each. The Reverend Mr Barnabas, as serious as he was round and red-faced, agreed that the twins should not be parted, and agreed to his Dearest’s desire that Charity come to live with them. Their other sister Felicity, a head taller than the twins and still only eighteen, he could not consent to have, since his resources were meagre, he said, and she had the look of one who would eat more than her share of the victuals.

After Lady Crosswell, of the premier family in the area, had shamed Mr Lawson, Papa’s heir, into writing to offer Felicity a home with him, Felicity realised that she could not stay. She was determined that she should hire herself out as a governess to make her own way in the world. There was a period of grace, while the Lawsons came back from abroad which allowed the sisters to live at Oldfield Castle still, not very amicably. Felicity, even though feeling her father’s absence more than the twins, was adjudged to be too cheerful, and it suited them all if she banished herself to rooms where they were not, excepting, of course, meal times. Then they took the opportunity to remind her of her many failings and to wonder how Mr Lawson would put up with her. When that gentleman arrived, eight months later, along with his miserable little wife, it became clear. One look at that cowed lady gave Felicity her cousin’s character all at once, and she knew she must leave. The twins then turned their remarks to the governess plan: they were very sure that no family might be found to accept such an unaccomplished girl.

With Mr Lawson’s arrival, Amity’s wedding was quietly achieved, and Felicity stayed for the happy occasion.

Seeing her sisters settled after the wedding breakfast in the modest two bedroomed cottage, with the wrap around garden that they must learn to tend or starve, Felicity was not inclined to rue her fate. The twins, tiny and neat and identically fitted with brown hair and eyes in self-satisfied little faces, sat on either side of the Vicar, making up between them his number of years and seemed to care for him equally.

‘Oh, my dear Reverend Barnabas, let me pour your tea.’ Charity.

‘My love, should you care for some bread and butter?’ Amity.

They twittered almost as one, whilst the round red face between them remained serious and entitled, like a foreign potentate whose slaves did his every command. At least poor Papa used to preface his requests with a charming, if vague, smile which he reprieved when his will was done. Reverend Barnabas deemed such attentions unnecessary.

As all three regarded Felicity rather pityingly, pleased at their place in the world, and rather despising of hers, she knew she should seem admiring, but she found she could not. The idea of being married to — but no, this was something to be congratulated on, and she did so. Amity smiled, smugly. And Charity, too, looked placidly complacent. As Felicity left, with her carpet bag and one bandbox (tied with grosgrain ribbon) to catch the mail coach to London, they hugged her lightly, pleased to offer her their affectionate sympathy. Felicity accepted theses mild caresses, then looked over Amity’s shoulder as she did so, at her smug husband, and shuddered.

No, as she sat on the stagecoach, clutching her bag to her (the bandbox attached behind), Felicity knew that she was headed to a new life. London might have been denied her as a debutante, but she was going there to work. Who knew what exciting and romantic adventures a governess might meet? Did they not, in novels, marry their widower master? (Though it was a Mrs Hennessey that had written to her about the position) Or perhaps be tempted by some man into unspoken amour and be ruined forever? Felicity was not quite sure what ruination in the world signified, but it involved meeting a charming older man and later, one’s friends casting one out. She was already cast out from friends by nature of her leaving home, so ruination seemed preferable to life with the Reverend Barnabas or indeed, Mr Lawson, new owner of Papa’s estate.

The fingers grown white on the handle of her bag, and the paleness of her complexion might suggest rather more fear than she was like to admit, even to herself. If you wanted to clear a fence, you had to throw your heart over it — however afraid you were. So Felicity raised her head a little higher.

The beginning of her adventure lacked glamour, it was true. She was crushed between a man who smelled of the stables, and a round dame in an enormous straw bonnet who constantly refreshed herself from the contents of a large wicker basket on her knee, and partly on Felicity’s. There were two especially thin children opposite, who looked at every move the fat lady made with hungry eyes. When the woman affected not to notice, Felicity found an apple she’d been keeping for breakfast at the bottom of her carpet bag and bade them share. This caused more commotion than she’d intended, for the younger was disinclined to surrender his treasure to the elder and violence erupted, with the two striplings falling into the foot well and rolling around in a brawl, squashing Felicity’s feet in the process. This was halted, first by Felicity’s expedient of releasing the apple from the little one’s grasp. In the second of shock that this produced, Felicity hardly had the time to react before a thin man accompanying them had caught both heads with one resounding slap. He relieved Felicity of the apple with insouciance and sat eating it with loud noises, making the little boys cry.

Felicity smiled at them sadly. No doubt their father was teaching them the wages of greed. She looked at the fat woman hopefully, for the children’s sake, but that dame ignored the activity and continued to eat — a little cheese which she had wrapped in muslin — with great relish.

The young girl, whose long limbs were not suited to the crush of the stage coach, stared out of the window as they travelled, her yellow brown eyes watching the world go by. She was wearing her very best clothes, but after seeing the finery that the twins had required for their London Season, she knew that her warm wool pelisse worn over a grey dress was not fashionable. Her bonnet too, was a simple straw, boasting only a blue ribbon and one bunch of artificial cherries. That it framed a charming face she did not know, for no one had ever said so. Her papa, in noting her height, called her the maypole, when he noticed her at all. But indeed, she was merely the height of Lady Crosswell and her daughters, she just seemed tall in her own short family. It was fortunate, she thought now, that her clothes were respectable rather than fashionable — for after all, she was about to lower her station in life. Fashionable clothes would have been unacceptable for a governess.

Felicity, as her name suggested, could find the sunny side to most circumstances. In a rare moment of attention her papa had remarked that she was well-named, unlike her sisters. Indeed, Amity had a fractious spirit and if Charity had any compassion beyond the normal, Felicity had never encountered it.

She tuned out the smells and the noises and continued in her London dream. She would seek her adventures there, and surely something more must happen than in the cottage at the edge of a tiny hamlet where her sisters now lived. Or even in Oldfield Manor, with its new, frightful owner. Felicity felt no particular grief in the parting. She had never been close to her sisters. The twins were an entity all to themselves, who had had, at one time, (she’d been told by the kindly cook at her home) their own language, which they had ceased to use after they were perhaps four, since the arrival of Felicity had demanded that they get their attention from the greater world too.

She imagined them for mornings to come being joined by the Reverend Barnabas, he bending to kiss his wife on the cheek and to bow his head in greeting to her twin. How shocking if one day he bent to kiss Charity and nodded to Amity! Felicity gurgled at the thought. She wondered what would happen to Charity if her twin had children. Where would they put them? And would Charity be well enough without a marriage of her own? Amazingly, Felicity expected so. The unnatural bond of the sisters would be difficult to break save by another Reverend who lived in a duplicate cottage next door. Felicity charitably gave this gentleman more hair and less bulk than Reverend Barnabas, for if not quite feeling affection for Charity, the other twin was at least less unpleasant to her than Amity’s acerbic tongue and strange moods.

Felicity’s grief for her father and her home was more real. He had been a distant figure, but he had taught her to read and that plus her late mother’s passion for novels, which were still to be found in his library, had led to a rich internal world that she populated with characters more interesting than those around her. It was difficult to think she would never again be tucked behind the curtains of the library, reading a book on the upholstered window seat, with her father in a chair by the fire, perhaps hardly aware of her existence. She had chosen to believe they were linked by a love of books, and that his silence was fellowship of a sort.

When Felicity had taken the coach to visit her sisters after the wedding, and thus leave Oldfield forever, a small coterie of under-servants, who had no business being there, came to wave at the carriage. The butler, Jenkins, did not have the heart to shoo them away, for he too had a tear in his eye.

From the time when Felicity, escaping her nanny (who was dealing with her fractious sisters) had toddled into the kitchen, she had been a favourite with them all.

‘Ooooh, young miss!’ had said the Betty, the kitchen maid, lifting up the child she had nearly stepped on. Betty was now Mrs Tansy, the cook, the self-same dame who was now dabbing at her eyes, watching as the carriage disappeared, Felicity’s head still straining out the window and her little hand waving.

‘Ooooh, Nancy!’ she now said, with a departure from the usual formality, to the housekeeper, Mrs Merryweather. That straight-backed dame had shining eyes, too. ‘Lunnon is so very far! And I’ve heard such terrible ends that young girls can come to there.’

‘Nonsense, Betty. Let us go down and take some tea.’ For the housekeeper to offer to take tea in the kitchen, and not in her own room was also a lapse of standards, but Jenkins was not much put out.

‘She’s a strong and brave girl, ladies.’ He said now comfortingly. ‘You must not worry on that account.’

‘But too beautiful! If she were going for her season as she ought, if the Lord had not seen fit to take her papa, then it would be an asset,’ she sniffed. ‘But out in the world on her own — heaven-knows-what might happen to her.’

‘Don’t fuss, now ladies,’ he said, encompassing the two crying maids as well. ‘She has gone to a respectable position.’

‘My Miss Felicity, a governess — her who would have made a marriage such as would have made them others jealous.’

The maids, Mrs Merryweather and the butler all tried to comfort the cook, but they all needed comfort themselves. In the kitchen, there was already gathered the head groom and his young assistant and Jim, the boy who mucked out, hardly higher than the table.

‘Is she gone then?’ said Farley, the grizzled old groom.

The cook’s cries answered.

Forgetting himself, Jim spoke, ‘She never teased me cos of my lowness to the ground, not onct. Onct, she helped me muck out when I was a bit late, like.’

Farley cuffed his head. ‘Shouldn’t ha’ done that. Not that ye could stop her. She was a rare one for helping. She nearly ruined Dorian’s coat with the curry comb when she were but a lass. I found her helpin’ in his stable. He were a dangerous horse, but he were gentle with her, somehow.’

‘Do you see, Mrs Tansy? The whole world will be gentle with Miss Felicity. It’s her special talent to make us so,’ said Merryweather.

‘But she’s too affectionate. How many times did I tell her it was not fitting for a daughter of the house to hug a servant, and cover herself in flour to boot!’

‘You couldn’t stop her,’ said Mrs Merryweather, who had busied herself by making the tea, since Lucy the kitchen maid was still in attendance on her cook. She filled the cups ‘She used to find a cloth from somewhere and clean the windows with Sally when she was only five years old.’ She smiled.

‘And it took me forever to clean up the horrible marks she made after,’ said Sally fondly, from the other side of Mrs Tansy.

‘But you never told her!’ said Mrs Merryweather.

‘How could you, when she thought she had done so well?’

‘But with him up there paying her no-never-mind and her sisters being such cats to her, she needed to turn to us for some little affection.’

‘Now, now, Mrs Tansy,’ said Jenkins a little sternly, ‘we must not chatter about the Family.’

‘Well, he’s dead and they’ve all gone so we may say what we like for the present,’ said Mrs Tansy, rousing herself to rebellion, ‘And I say they gave her nothing, poor little mite.’

Sally said, ‘She always thought her father cared for her. She used to say she had to go and keep him company in the library.’

‘When the truth is, if he noticed her at all, it’s more than I can believe.’

Merryweather, finished distributing the tea, said with a laugh, ‘But she is hardly little these days. A tall girl. And we must trust that we prepared her for her position a little.’

Cook looked up at the butler. ‘Has she got any funds with her, Mr Jenkins, to tide her on her way? Surely she won’t receive her inheritance until quarter day?’

‘That’s not your business,’ said Jenkins, even more severely.

Cook looked a trifle abashed. Merryweather relented. ‘Indeed, I sewed a sovereign into her coat, so she has some emergency funds.’ The cook breathed.

Jim said, ‘Cor!’ at the stratospheric sum. Farley cuffed him once more. Naturally, Jim was not permitted to sit at the big pine table where the other servants gathered, but Merryweather nudged the plate of tiny rolls towards him and he took one gratefully — and another when her back was turned. 

‘And where did that coin come from, I wonder?’ said Cook. ‘Not from the nipcheese lawyer, I’ll be bound.’

‘It was a sum I happened to have about me,’ said Jenkins, grandly.

The cook smiled. ‘Like you that was, Mr Jenkins, and I bet she doesn’t know, for she would not have consented to take it.’ She sighed, looking into the fire in an affecting way. ‘I can see her now, sitting on that table, swinging her legs and stealing a little tartlet that I had made for dinner, or maybe just telling me a story from one of the books she was always reading.’

‘Or listening to your tales, Mrs Tansy.’

‘She did like to hear of life on the farm.’

‘She was interested in everything!’

‘Ladies, we speak of Miss Felicity as though she were dead, not merely setting off on her new life.’ Mr Jenkins said in a rallying spirit.

‘She always rode too fast,’ said Farley. ‘I’m a-worritting she’ll ride too fast.’

This metaphor was understood by everyone but Jim, but he said nothing.

‘God bless her,’ said Merryweather. There were murmurs all around.

The servants lingered in the kitchen a while more, doleful at the light that had just left the house, before they all rose to continue the preparations for the new Family, the Lawsons.

‘I will not!’ Felicity heard the lady’s cry in the inn yard, but it sounded petulant rather than urgent, so she turned her head towards the scene without haste. ‘You there!’ the lady was now saying to someone in the inn doorway, ‘Conduct me to a bed chamber at once!’

Felicity saw the green velvet pelisse and the high-poked bonnet disappear inside, whilst the gentleman she had been speaking to, a London smart in a well cut riding coat and startlingly shiny topboots, put his crop to his leg in frustration.

‘Tish!’ he called after the lady. There was much threat in that voice and Felicity turned away, taking a cup of punch from a tap boy with a large tray, holding the necessary for the stagecoach passengers.

She had barely stepped down from the stagecoach and shaken out her pelisse to dislodge crumbs from the fat lady’s lunch and now could not help staring. They were allowed the briefest of stops for refreshment on the long journey to London and this was one, so she sipped the punch gratefully, feeling the blood flow back into all of her pinched extremities. She turned her head again towards the smart gentleman who was pacing up and down in anger or frustration and looking about the yard, Felicity thought, for something to kill. The brim of his beaver obscured his face, but Felicity was glad of the crowd in the busy inn yard, for he seemed ill-humoured and dangerous, like a villain in one of the novels she had read. But suddenly he stopped, his head turned her way, and she knew he was looking at her.

‘You’ll do!’ he said briskly. He marched towards her and Felicity backed up towards the horse-smelling man, who spilt his punch and cursed. The London swell grasped her hand, the one not holding the punch, and pulled her out of the small clutch of stage passengers.

‘Now see here!’ said the father of the small children.

‘Out of my way!’ retorted the angry gentleman, and the man backed away fast.

‘Your name is Lady Letitia Fortescue,’ he was saying to her.

Felicity gasped, ‘No sir, I assure you — I am only Miss Oldfield, I—’

He’d stopped by the inn door and was looking at her sourly with the darkest eyes she had ever seen, his brows pulled down, as he took in her figure. ‘Not good enough. Take off your bonnet!’

‘My b—?’ squeaked Felicity.

‘Come with me!’ There seemed little else to do as this man of energy had not let go his fierce grasp on her hand and dragged her into the inn in front of a team of watchful strangers. Felicity attempted several protests that came out as squeaks, hardly able to grasp what had happened in a mere three seconds. ‘Where is she?’ her captor was barking at someone, who raised an arm towards the narrow staircase. ‘Take this!’ he instructed, relieving Felicity of the punch cup and thrusting it into the lackey’s hand. They climbed the stairs, Felicity stumbling as she was pulled. There was a door opened at the top and they burst into the room where a young, and very lovely lady, lay on a bed, being tended by a chambermaid in the brown wool dress and apron of a simple countrywoman. The maid was pressing a compress to the lady’s head.

‘Sebastian! How dare you?’ cried the woman on the bed, sitting up.

But the gentleman showed no interest in her as she rose, instead looked about the room. He picked up the bonnet that was set on a chair, and the green velvet pelisse laid on the foot of the bed and turned to Felicity. ‘Put these on!’ he ordered.

There seemed less danger in the putting on rather than the taking off that he had been demanding before, so Felicity, hardly knowing what she did, obliged. The lady in the bed, who as Felicity had intuited was not at all afraid, merely petulantly angry in the way of her sister Amity when she did not get her way, shouting, ‘You are a beast Sebastian. I shall tell Aunt Charlotte what you have put me through this day. Who is this girl? What are you doing?’

‘Foiling you, Tish. You should know better than to play your starts with me.’

There was a glass in the room, and Felicity caught a glance of herself in the bonnet, whose high poke was lined in pleated silk that matched the pelisse and had, moreover, some red roses to one side. She could hardly believe it was she.

But her captor, Sebastian it seemed, was dragging her away and she looked over her shoulder at the angry young lady, mouthing “sorry” as she did so. Whatever he had planned for her, the man was at least not doing so in secrecy. They reached the inn door just as the stagecoach left.

‘Oh, my bag!’ Felicity stopped dead, even though the man was still pulling her forward.

‘What?’ he said impatiently.

‘My bag! It was on the coach. And I should be on it too.’

He frowned. ‘We don’t have time — come!’ he was dragging her to a curricle, with pale blue leather seats and body of the same shade, and wheels picked out in gold. She stopped, resisting him once more, looking astounded. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘it’s Letitia’s. Ridiculous isn’t it?’

‘It’s a carriage for a princess!’ said Felicity.

‘She certainly tools the thing around the park as though she were one,’ the gentleman named Sebastian said dryly.

Felicity’s woes came upon her again. ‘I cannot get in with you.’ She was almost crying. ‘I’ve lost the stage and my bag and there is a servant waiting for me in London to take me to my position.’

‘Governess?’ he ventured.

‘Yes.’

‘Look, I’ve behaved badly, but I will see you get back to your coach and your bag. Or at least the staging inn in London. But I really need you to be my cousin for five minutes. That’s all.’

She moved forward at these words, hardly believing him, but following her only chance.

‘How can you be sure we’ll catch the stage?’

‘Because as awful as Tish’s taste in carriages may be, she leaves it to me to buy her horses.’ He took the reins and slapped the team as he spoke, heading for the broad yard gates.

In the next ten minutes, he said little, but told her about the swift meeting that she was assisting at. Somehow, when he described her role to her, that of the cousin in the inn chamber, she understood that she was not helping a young lady to be tied by male decisions. It was simply that Lady Letitia was buying a house, the perfect house that it had taken him a long time to find, and owned by an eccentric gentleman who had an unbreakable rule about punctuality. Lady Letitia was happy with his choice (for she had been sent drawings of the house and grounds) and it was really necessary to give their mutual aunt (Lady Letitia’s guardian) a place of repose in the country during her bouts of illness. But Letitia, used to being able to order others, had heard of the eccentric gentleman’s punctuality rule (‘which I was a fool to have mentioned,’ added her captor) and was angered by it as an affront to her dignity, had decided, the gentleman said, to have a headache and be unable to go on. Felicity was too struck by the resemblance to something Amity might do not accept his account.

‘She believes that to Lady Letitia Fortescue the gentleman’s rules do not apply—’ he said, his strong jaw still working to digest his anger, ‘— she is wrong. I have spent the best part of six months searching for houses for that spoilt brat. And I have done with it. It ends today.’

‘Will not the gentleman know I am not her ladyship?’

‘Why should he? He never goes to London, and even if she has been described to him, you are her height and colouring.’

‘But she is a beauty!’ objected Felicity.

He looked down at her sardonically, seeing properly for the first time. ‘The change of bonnet has worked wonders.’ Felicity smiled, despite herself.

‘What must I do?’

‘Simply be charmed by everything, in a superior way.’ He was silent for the next minutes.

The rest happened fast. They stopped at a gentleman’s country house, which she saw only as a blur of well-kept gardens, white stone, and numerous windows. As she was handed from the curricle, Sebastian took one gloved finger and tipped her chin up a little higher , which caused her to shiver a little, and finally she walked ahead, in as lofty a manner as she could. The business took ten minutes. She had hardly sat down in the library opposite the eccentric gentleman and his official who had bowed low over her hand, when Sebastian, (whom the other gentleman called “Durant” and the official called “my lord”) was leading her once more to the carriage, having given the excuse of a pressing engagement. He drove silently, but with a lazy smile on his face, which suddenly looked handsome. They came back to the inn, where she once more went to the chamber where a furious Lady Letitia, her glossy brown ringlets dancing in her fury, her beautiful face with its tiny rosebud mouth tight and that face all large blue eyes, was awaiting them. She was hardly older than herself, Felicity supposed, but of a spirit resembling her elder sister Amity’s.

‘You—!’ she threw the water jug at the Duke’s head and caught, instead, Felicity’s arm.

Durant threw the deeds at her. ‘Your house, my dear.’

Felicity retrieved her pelisse and bonnet while the other two had a hissed conversation outside the chamber. There was a slap. Lady Letitia came in the door in a more subdued manner and put on her lovely pelisse and hat. She hardly looked at Felicity.

Soon all three were bowling along at a frightening pace in the curricle, a little cramped on a seat made for two, but not nearly so uncomfortably than in the crush of the stagecoach. Lady Letitia seemed unaffected by the pace, merely gazing away from her companions. Felicity held onto the seat as for life itself. The tension between the cousins was palpable.

‘Who are you, anyway?’ her ladyship said eventually, addressing Felicity.

‘Oh, I am—’

‘A young lady going to London as a governess,’ interrupted Durant, throwing the comment at her as he kept his eyes on his task. ‘You will never see her again.’

‘What address?’

‘Hans Place,’ Felicity answered automatically.

‘Oh, never!’ said her ladyship, satisfied.

Felicity thought this sudden lurch into conversation needed a reply. ‘I think your bonnet is quite lovely,’ she ventured. Silence reigned for twenty minutes until the coach caught up with the stage, which Durant halted by means of overtaking it. The coachman screamed about waybills and lawful rights, but Felicity was handed back by Durant his fingers squeezed hers, ‘Farewell and thank you!’ They exchanged a direct look, and Felicity thought she divined a hint of an apology. She smiled at him reassuringly. ‘You are a funny little thing,’ he said, as though surprised by something. Then he was gone and the curricle and coach drove on. The occupants of the coach looked at her, even the lady with the large basket seemed interested in her fate.

‘I met with friends,’ was all she offered, and the horse-smelling man set to grumbling about Quality, thinking they could upset the plans of respectable working people, stopping coaches and the like. In this, her supporter of earlier, the father of the two famished children agreed, and Felicity had to sit quietly as the opinion of the coach turned against her. She thought of the pair in the curricle, going towards London silently resentful at each other, and preferred the stage. She was glad of the adventure, for it would give her something to put down in her journal, and she spared a last thought for the unknown Aunt Charlotte, whose bouts of illness might now be assuaged in the charming country house, and she was glad to have been of use to her. She resolved to think of the smart London couple as little as they would think of her. Neither of them had asked a single question about her circumstances, beyond what Durant guessed. She therefore asked none of them.

As the city came nearer, Felicity looked further out from the carriage window, which involved leaning over the horse-smelling fellow, wishing to see the wonders her sisters had fed her with, in their superior knowledge.

What she saw shocked Felicity very much. No poor cottage on the estate or in their village could have prepared her for the rickety abodes cheek-by-jowl, which looked as though a strong wind might fell them. The piles of ordure on the streets, whose stink effectively blocked the carriage smells, were disgusting, even for a girl raised in the country with the fertilised fields all around her at certain times of the year. This ordure was somehow less healthy than that of the country, and the clumps of people, lounging on the street, seemed to underline this. They all, to one with her rosy country cheeks, looked pallid and thin and near to death.

There was one woman in quite a respectable bonnet, clutching a baby to her bosom, who concerned her greatly. On the desperate face, Felicity may have seen the meaning of ruination, and she had a mad desire to jump from the carriage and offer her some aid. Absurd, of course. Her reticule contained only three shillings and sixpence, with another sovereign sewn by Merryweather, her family’s sainted housekeeper, into the hem of her pelisse (so that no London footpad could rob her of it).  And of course, the servant from Mrs Hennessey would be awaiting her, ready to take her to her new abode — she could not miss the appointment.

A little shaken, Felicity saw the city streets widen and become cleaner, the houses ahead increasingly respectable. They stopped soon at a city inn, where she was to disembark at last, to start her new life.

Within half an hour, Felicity found herself on the London streets, with no idea what to do next.

Her interview with Mrs Hennessey of Hans Place had not gone well. She had looked her up and downs she had entered, as though she had been an intruder. The lady wore a lacy cap over very red curls with a high colour in her cheeks, and she had wrinkled her nose when she had briefly looked at Felicity, as though there was a bad smell in the vicinity. She had said only, as though to another inhabitant of the otherwise empty room, ‘This will never do—’ (which reminded Felicity of the man from the inn yard saying quite the opposite) and rang the bell.

Felicity was too shocked to speak, and when the butler entered, Mrs Hennessey said, ‘Show this young person out.’

‘You will not employ me madam?’ Felicity throat finally opened. Silence greeted her remark.

The butler coughed. ‘This way, Miss.’

Felicity turned to follow and then fear got the better of her dignity. She turned and looked piteously at the stone face of Mrs Hennessey. ‘But I have come all the way from Shropshire. Where shall I go?’

That dame merely picked up her work and commenced to sew, regarding Felicity not at all.

On the street, Felicity blinked away tears for the second time that day. She was rather disappointed in herself. She’d thought that she’d make a wonderful heroine, but so far she’d been little more than biddable when she’d been coerced by the angry gentleman, and now was overcome at her first taste of trial. Heroines were made of hardier stuff. But though this was a respectable area, she knew that not far from here was a hell she had spied from the carriage and that she did not wish to revisit, save with a stout protector and some money to help. So she began to walk towards another, more fashionable street. It might have been nice, surely, if something today had happened as planned. Aware that night was nigh she clutched her bag and bandbox to her, afraid of footpads who were supposed to haunt every London Street.

Just as soon as this thought occurred, she heard some steps running towards her from behind and rushed on a trifle more quickly. But suddenly a hand grasped at her arm. Without her volition, her carpet bag swung violently round and knocked over her pursuer, who fell to the ground. It was a young gentleman, who with his startling red hair and snub nose bore a striking resemblance to the horrible Mrs Hennessey.

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Felicity contritely. ‘You startled me.’

‘What did you do that for?’ a whining voice demanded. ‘I came to help you after Mama threw you out. It was only because I saw from the window before you came in and said to her that you were pr— oh, never mind.’ He got up and looked at her sulkily, rubbing the arm that the heavy carpet bag had connected with. ‘I do not wish to help you anymore. You are a most disagreeable girl. Go to the devil for all I care.’ He walked away from her, looking back at her, still sulky.

Felicity looked at the carpet bag, surprised. She was sorry to have hit the young gentleman, but not very. She supposed he had been prompted by a kind motive, but he had an unpleasant face and his hand had felt rather grasping on her arm. But as she regarded the carpet bag, Felicity was a little proud of herself. If he had been a footpad, after all, she would have protected herself very well. Just as a heroine should. Perhaps if she’d had the bag in her hand at the inn, Sebastian, Lord of Durant or Somewhere-or-Other, might not have fared so well with her. She grinned, imagining him in the dirt. But one must look to the good. At least she had helped his aunt. Her head cleared a little from the despair and confusion of her rejection by Mrs Hennessey and she walked on, at last able to think a little.

Suddenly she stopped. She did know someone in London. Mad Aunt Ellingham had had the twins for a season. Surely she would welcome Felicity when all she wanted was a few nights shelter while she found another position?

A man stepped out towards her from between two houses, it seemed, and said, ‘Can I help you miss? You seem a little lost.’

Felicity regarded him hopefully. He was about thirty and wearing the apparel of a respectable, if not fashionable, man. Perhaps a lawyer, or an apothecary, she thought. ‘It is very kind of you, sir. Perhaps you could direct me to Half Moon Street where my aunt resides?’

The man smiled pleasantly, showing well maintained teeth. ‘Certainly I can. Perhaps you would let me walk along with you. It is not safe for a young lady on the streets of London at night. Did your aunt not send a man for you?’

Felicity was flustered, she did not want to walk with a man she did not know, but hardly saw how she could avoid it. Without the use of the carpet bag that was, and of course this kind man did not deserve that fate. ‘She isn’t expecting me,’ she said confidingly. ‘I came here to be a governess — but it turned out I did not suit.’

The man smiled a little wider and said, ‘Half Moon Street is this way, my dear.’

Lady Aurora Fenton, the Countess of Overton as was, surprised her sleeping husband by banging on the roof of the carriage and shouting ‘Stop!’ in a dragon voice he had never before heard. He was at alert at once though, saying ‘My dear — what is it?’

But the carriage had halted and his wife had opened the door and leapt onto the street without awaiting the groom’s tender care.

He followed her with the lazy gait that was his signature, but anyone near enough to read his expression would not have doubted the quality of his attention.

‘Dearest!’ she was saying to a young girl wearing a dreadful stuff dress under a dull pelisse and carrying an ancient carpet bag, ‘Your mama has bade me fetch you.’

The man beside the girl was touching his hat. ‘Countess Overton!’ he said, smoothly.

‘Driscoll.’ She replied with little attention.

Felicity, shocked and confused, was looking between the two, and her eyes met those of the Countess and read a message in them. ‘So kind!’ she just managed to say. The lady grasped her arm and drew her to the carriage, where a small young man, had sprung from the back stand and now held the horses heads. The groom remained on the box, his eyes towards his master.

‘Let me take these, my dear,’ said the lady’s companion, a handsome gentleman of middle age who had a great air of fashion in his dress. He relieved her of her baggage and handed Felicity into the carriage, and then his wife. He threw a look behind him, but Driscoll, as his wife had called the man, was gone. The fashionable gentleman nodded to the small servant who leapt back on his perch and soon the coach wove its way through the streets.

‘Countess?’ ventured Felicity.

It was the gentleman who answered, ‘It is no longer Countess. She has fallen in the world to become a mere Mrs Fenton,’ his voice was wryly amused. ‘I should say, as a daughter of a peer, Lady Aurora Fenton.

‘I declare I like to be Lady Aurora again,’ she smiled fondly at her husband. The lady looked like Felicity’s idea of a countess, she thought.  Very grand and glamorous, wearing the most wonderful bonnet she had ever seen (even rivalling Lady Letitia’s), her scent filling the carriage. And better that that, unlike the other ladyship she had met today, she smiled kindly.

‘Let us go to my house and we will talk there soon enough, my dear. I should just say, in case you failed to guess, I do not know your mother and she did not send me.’

‘I did guess that, Mrs Fenton, for my mama has been dead these many years.’ Felicity smiled at the great lady. ‘I suppose this means that I am being abducted!’

‘You do not seem afraid, my dear,’ said the amused tones of Mr Fenton.

Felicity’s eyes danced merrily. ‘Oh, I have been abducted once already today!’

‘Intriguing!’ his eyes laughed back at her.

‘I fear you might not have been so amused had you become further acquainted with Mr Driscoll,’ remarked Mrs Fenton, dryly.

Felicity looked a little graver, but she still could not ignore her inner excitement. Never had she driven in such a carriage. She was quite happy to sit against the rose velvet squabs and look out of the carriage windows, a little shy and wondering how to explain her predicament to the most magnificently fashionable pair she had ever met. It did not occur to her to be worried about being driven away who knows where with strangers. She knew they were kind, and really she had nothing better to do this evening.

It was only a few streets further, but the difference in the respectable houses like the horrible Mrs Hennessey’s to the grand London Squares was marked. The carriage stopped outside a large house, with stairs leading to an imposing door.

She was aware that Mr Fenton, he of the drawling voice, was looking at her profile. She looked over at him and found his eye intelligent, and perhaps a little kind. He too, was very grand. He wore a dark cutaway coat over crisp white linen and a rather startling brocade waistcoat whose high neck supported higher shirt points. His cravat seemed to be tied in an impossibly complicated knot.

She was staring like some gawk-pot, next she’d be saying, ‘What a swell!’ just like their groom used to say of any visitors from London. She hadn’t found her voice yet, so she looked her apology and a lazy smile told her that the swell Mr Fenton completely understood.

‘Come my dear,’ said Mrs Fenton, ‘let us have some refreshment.’

Felicity could not but think, despite all the awkwardness of her situation, that she was having a more exciting adventure than she might have had, if she was only now meeting the horrible Mrs Hennessey’s children.

Chapter 2

Lady Aurora Listens

‘Well my dear, now that we are a little more comfortable, I beg you will tell me how you came to be walking the streets of London on your own.’ Her ladyship was looking even more beautiful now that she had removed the wonderful bonnet and had shown her hair, so cunningly confected as to make Felicity die with envy. She wore a gown of chartreuse silk with a daringly low neckline and a cut becoming to her slender, energetic figure. Felicity was entranced by her every move, so graceful and sophisticated was she.

‘Well, I came from Shropshire to London to be a governess to the Hennessey family, but I did not suit.’

Mr Fenton, sitting with crossed legs on a chair, sipping something of a different colour than the ratafia she had been offered, looked interested in this.

‘Why ever not?’ he asked innocently. His wife caught his eye and frowned.

‘I really do not know,’ answered Felicity honestly. ‘She did not tell me. I did not get a chance to say that my own dear governess complimented me on my understanding of the globe, my grasp of Latin, and said that I was truly gifted at needlepoint.’

‘What about drawing and music - are not all young ladies in need of those accomplishments, too?’ asked Mr Fenton, avoiding his wife’s eye.

Felicity blushed. ‘Well, yes. But I could never sketch convincingly. And I play appallingly,’ she confided. ‘But she cannot have objected to that, since I had not yet told her.’

Mr Fenton laughed. ‘Very true!’

‘She sent you out onto the street with no aid at all?’ said Lady Aurora in a cold tone.

‘No, she seemed very annoyed and simply had me escorted out.’

‘What is her address?’

Felicity recited it to her.

Lady Aurora walked to a little table beside one window where she extracted some paper, took up a plume and wrote a few lines. Her husband joined her at the table and took it from her hand before she sealed it.

‘Ha!’ he laughed. And he read:

Dear Mrs Hennessey,

I’m sure that you will be relieved to learn that the young lady you caused to come from Shropshire as a governess, but whom you found did not suit, was found by myself and my husband this day and is now safe. Did you know that she was quite without resources? I’m persuaded that it must have been an oversight as no lady would leave another female, who was in some way her responsibility, to find her own way in a strange and dangerous city.

Lady Aurora Fenton.

Her ladyship rang a bell and the sealed missive was sent to Mrs Hennessey. She then turned towards Felicity. ‘And now my dear, you must tell me your story.’ The cold look had quite gone from her eyes and Felicity managed to say, ‘With pleasure, your ladyship, but I’m a trifle worried about the time. The only acquaintance I have is my aunt, Lady Ellingham, in Half Moon Street. It might soon be too late to visit her.’

‘Ellingham — Nell, I think, though I have not heard of her in an age. Does she expect you? I think it rather late now.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Felicity.

‘Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here for the night and went to see your aunt after breakfast. Unless that also suggests abduction?’ said the lazy tones of her host.

‘Oh, sir, if it is abduction it must be the loveliest abduction ever. Thank you — it would be so kind. And,’ she said obscurely, ‘I have been abducted today already.’

An altercation could be heard from the hallway, but Lady Ellingham had no fear of being interrupted at her breakfast, for the butler knew she did not choose to be disturbed before it was consumed, even if it were now twelve of the clock. There were three other occupants of the room, a tiny lady sitting to one side of the table disconsolately sticking a needle into a piece of work, a footman who served at the table and a dark tall maid, standing behind her ladyship with a resigned look on her face, ready to deliver herself of any of the medications her ladyship might demand.

Her ladyship’s most startling item of attire was her bonnet. It was because of this bonnet that her ladyship was generally known by the epithet ‘mad’. Lady Ellingham’s bonnet was a large brimmed flat affair from another era. It sat upon her wig at a forward tilt with a broad scarlet ribbon round the brim tied behind the head. It was her favourite bonnet, worn over a cap of Brussels’ lace, but not generally the customary wear for breakfast in one’s own home. It might then be speculated that her ladyship was about to go out and had just sat down to a mouthful in her rush to go — but no. There was no rush in her ladyship’s consumption of her very lavish breakfast, and moreover, her ladyship was otherwise dressed in nightwear. A copious lace peignoir of a yellowing shade (which pained her ladyship’s personal maid every time she looked at it, since she could not get her hands on it for long enough to re-establish the colour) and a nightdress of the same bountiful source as the peignoir and the same ageing hue.

To her shock and disapprobation, the butler entered. ‘Excuse me, your ladyship, there is a lady here to see you, along with a Miss Oldfield.’

‘What! Go away Beatty! Shoo!’ she made an angry motion with her hands, ‘Send them off — my nieces are not in town.’

‘It is not Miss Amity or Miss Charity I speak of, your ladyship, but a Miss Felicity Oldfield.’

‘What! Still here? Go, man I—’

An elegant lady, wearing a velvet pelisse, over a froth of French muslin and carrying a sunshade with long ribbons, pushed the door open and strode into the room a little way, followed by a tall but shrinking girl in dull attire. ‘Lady Ellingham,’ she was saying as she walked in, I am sorry to—’ she stopped dead, before she had gone four paces and added, as if awestruck, ‘What a stunning bonnet!’

The older woman, who had been flushed with rage and about to issue an edict, answered instead, ‘I had it from France on my wedding trip. It was much admired.’

‘It would be. I am Lady Aurora Fenton,’ she said holding out a hand that the elder took automatically, pressing a smear of butter onto Lady Aurora’s new kid gloves. ‘I must introduce your niece to you, I understand. Miss Felicity Oldfield.’

Felicity stepped forward a pace and bobbed a curtsy.

‘Nonsense — there were only two. And I sent them back after one of them had made a match —’ she gave a crack of laughter, ‘to a pinch-paring clergyman, curse her. And after the chances I gave her! There is no third.’

‘My sisters’ must have talked of me, aunt,’ protested Felicity.

Her aunt’s dead eye was upon her again, ‘No.’ she said determinedly. Felicity stepped back. Her aunt turned again to Lady Aurora, who was now holding out her hand to the small figure who had been sewing, saying, ‘How do you do?’ causing her so much shock that she stood up and knocked over a table with silken threads upon it to the floor. She took the hand however, curtsied, and squeaked, ‘Miss Fleet!’

‘Oh, that’s just Fleet,’ said Lady Ellingham, ‘Nobody talks to Fleet.’ Felicity shot a glance at this lady and smiled pityingly. As Lady Aurora took up another seat and sat down, gracefully disposing her skirts, the old lady frowned. ‘What are you—?’ she began, but Lady Aurora leaned forward and grasped her arm confidentially.

‘It is a cruel world, your ladyship.’ Despite herself her ladyship nodded and Lady Aurora continued. ‘Only yesterday, your niece arrived in London, and was cast out on to the streets, with no resources, by a woman who calls herself a lady. An Oldfield of Oldfield. What an insult to you my lady.’

‘Nonsense. I didn’t know there was a third — why should she, whoever she is?’

‘Well, the resemblance for a good beginning —for to see Felicity is to see again your youthful beauty.’

Lady Ellingham, who had thus far spared Felicity only two frightful glances now gestured her forward and regarded her closely. ‘My build, perhaps, but who can say under those awful clothes.’

‘And the eyes, your ladyship. My husband was just saying, when we fortunately saw Felicity in the street, and recognised her as dear Oldfield’s child, that he had only ever remarked that beautiful colour once before — your own.’

The old lady’s eyes filled. ‘Cinnamon, my lord called it!’

But Felicity was looking at the peignoir. Unconsciously taking a leaf from Lady Aurora’s book, she said, ‘Aunt, is your nightdress made entirely of lace?’

‘Brussels’,’ said her ladyship proudly, looking down and touching it. ‘Bought for me as a present for my wedding trip by Lord Ellingham.’ She focused from her reverie, ‘It has turned sadly yellow. Maria!’ she said, turning to her maid, ‘I should turn you off to let it get into this state.’

The maid’s face betrayed no reaction. Lady Aurora guessed that she was “turned off” twice a day, but no one bothered to pack a valise.

‘What am I supposed to do with her?’ said Lady Ellingham to Lady Aurora. ‘I have done my duty by the other two. You really cannot expect me to give another one a season. And those clothes! At least those other little dabs were dressed. I cannot be seen with a beanpole with no more style than a chambermaid.’

Lady Aurora turned to smile at a shaking Felicity. ‘My dear, could you let my husband know that I will not be many minutes? And keep him company in the carriage for a while until I return.’

Felicity bobbed another curtsy and said, ‘Aunt!’ leaving the oppressive presence of Lady Ellingham as soon as she could.

While Felicity was handed into the carriage to sit with Mr Fenton, she explained her mission to him.

‘I suspect that her ladyship is trying to persuade my aunt to have me stay. There was even mention of a season, but I don’t at all expect that. If she could just let me stay until I find another situation—,’ she confided to him.

Mr Fenton looked at her fabulous eyes and reflected that any male from fourteen to eighty, if even a little unhappy with his situation, was bound to find solace there, and might be a threat to that innocence. Besides being ill qualified, Felicity was too lovely to set loose anywhere but a convent.

‘I’m sure Aunt Ellingham will deny me. I didn’t think it possible, but she did not even know I existed…’

‘There is a great deal in life that Nell Ellingham does not trouble to know- or pretends not to. ‘

Felicity giggled, looking at Mr Fenton a little shyly. ‘She is most fearfully rude. I think she has a talent for it.’

‘I’m glad you found it amusing.’

‘Oh, no, inside her house I was quaking in my shoes, but here with you, sir, I feel quite safe.’

Assuredly she must never be let out on her own, thought Mr Fenton, looking into her trusting eyes. But he merely said, ‘My wife is very persuasive. We shall have confidence in her.’

It was indeed so. Lady Aurora arrived in but a few more minutes, smoothing her gloves with a satisfied smile.

‘Your aunt awaits you my dear.’

‘Oh Lady Aurora! Thank you so much, and Mr Fenton too. You have been so kind. I shall be so sorry — that is, I hope —’

‘I shall see you tomorrow, my dear. We ride to the park,’ said her ladyship.

Felicity smile was radiant. ‘Thank you!’ she said again.

As Felicity left, Lady Aurora sat back in the squabs.

‘And you decided what?’

‘She has agreed to house her once she knew that the cost of her wardrobe would not fall on her. She does not want to attend parties or give one, she does not wish to house her either, but she does not wish it to be known that she turned away her brother’s child. I suggested that while I would never say anything, it was amazing how these things become known.’ Her husband smiled. ‘I told her that her house is so large she would barely have to see her, and that I would arrange for her to go out suitably chaperoned. She is not quite out of the world for she told me that she did not think me a fitting chaperon, what with my dangerous past.’

‘The old trout!’ said Wilbert and held her hand.

‘She is quite right, my dear. I am well enough in society now to gain entry almost everywhere, but a young girl under my aegis would be tarnished by my slightly unsavoury reputation. If she was an heiress it might not matter, but a girl without a portion…,’ she smiled sadly. ‘If I had not thought so myself, I should have kept her with me. I would have loved to bring out a daughter.’ She shook herself.

‘And who shall you find to chaperon?’

‘Well, I would ask Honoria if she was not on her belated wedding trip. And Serena, though an old married lady of two months, while she would oblige in a pinch, is hardly—’

‘—someone who could be trusted to keep any young lady in line, given her own propensity for crossing it.’ He smiled at this summation of his younger niece, who had recently married Mr Allison, a leader of fashion.

‘So I’ve had a thought — I’m going to invite Lady Sumner back to London.’ Genevieve, Lady Sumner was a close family friend of the Fentons, who was recently widowed.

‘She won’t come. She is happy amongst her horses. And to come all the way from—‘

‘I happen to know she is planning on visiting the city soon.’

‘Perhaps. But, my darling, Lady Sumner is not fond of balls.’

‘Oh, under the horrible eye of her husband, of course not. But she will be saved from dancing — I expect she is still wearing black gloves for her lord. She merely has to sit and watch her charge, and prevent any interference with her. I think she would enjoy that!’

‘So would you, my lady. Aurora, my dear, — the girl did not expect to be given a season at all — you would be an admirable duenna.’

‘And so I will be. With the widowed Lady Sumner for respectability. And as she is lodging with her aunt, Felicity will be set up with not a stain on her character. If only I can persuade her not to ask every matron she meets if she is in need of a governess. It is quite impossible to explain to her that besides the fact that she is hardly qualified, no mother would take such a luscious beauty into her home while her husband still lives.’

‘And I suppose you mean to make Miss Oldfield believe that her aunt is paying for all?’

‘Of course. I believe Genevieve will stay with us if you have no objection.’

‘None in the world,’ he said. But he remained puzzled. How would the plain, down to earth Genevieve Sumner fare with his sophisticated wife? There could be no two creatures so different.

‘I know what you think, my dear. But Genevieve and I have something in common. We are women who have had to make our own way in the world, without support of family or society. That is a deeper bond than you may think.’

Lord Oswald Frederick Sumner, was perturbed. He did not seem to be able to gain the attention of Genevieve, Lady Sumner, even by dint of a projectile. It was a direct hit, but after a brief smiling glance his way, she continued to look at a letter. Lord Oswald, unimpressed, screamed. This caused him to be airborne in a trice, thrown up towards the shoulder of a nanny, who seemed to be carrying him away from the object of his desire.

  Another young girl has found herself displaced from her home and position by inheritance. We may be her only chance to have a season

(Genevieve was a little put out by this — women everywhere paraded in the marriage mart! —but she was not fool enough to be insensitive to the need.)

I can provide much for her, but you could lend your respectability

(Lady Aurora needing her respectability? How delicate was the web protecting a girl’s fair name. But Genevieve could see she was right. For the high sticklers to good form, there may be a question over a protégé of her ladyship.)

I pray you, give us a few weeks to launch her. Serena and Honoria might be back in town before the season ends, and I know you would like to see them again. London will be a different experience for you now that you are neither a debutante or under that other sort of cloud, I assure you. You may even like it.

Genevieve doubted it, but Aurora’s appeal had reached its mark, she feared. She sighed.

Felicity, having spent a strange evening with her aunt, who chose to ignore her presence in the blue sitting room, eventually sought the library, seeking a book to immerse herself in. Miss Fleet, who looked more fearful than even Felicity herself did, came in to inform her, in an embarrassed tone that the library was denied to anyone but her ladyship.

‘Am I forbidden books — is her ladyship worried that I will take them?’

Miss Fleet looked pained, ‘This was Lord Ellingham’s refuge and she says none but she can enter.’

‘Well, and a legion of staff, if I’m not mistaken. There is not a speck of dust anywhere, and I hardly think my aunt cleans it herself.’

Miss Fleet, who had looked close to tears delivering the unpleasant message, gave a stifled giggle at this and Felicity smiled and walked forward to her. ‘Never mind,’ she said confidentially, ‘I cannot find a single novel. There are only the dustiest of old tomes.’

‘Oh, do you like novels? I admit they are my only—’ she stopped herself abruptly.

‘Solace?’ smiled Felicity, whilst Miss Fleet blushed and avoided her eye. ‘Please don’t worry about saying so to me, Miss Fleet. I can see that your situation is not happy-’

‘Oh, do not think me deficient in gratitude. Lady Ellingham has given me a home and I am very h-h-happy—’

Felicity walked forward briskly. ‘Of course you are grateful. I was too, when I received just such an offer after my father died. But I came to London to avoid it nevertheless.’

Miss Fleet met her eyes a little timidly.

Felicity moved towards the hall. ‘What time is breakfast Miss Fleet?’

‘Oh, your aunt breakfasts at just before noon, generally. But Beatty sets something up for me in the morning room at seven. I shall move to the small salon, if you wish. Your sisters preferred to breakfast alone.’

‘Oh, that would be Amity!’ Felicity leaned forward confidingly, ‘I am afraid she is a cat. Well, I shall join you, if you do not mind, at seven for breakfast.’

Miss Fleet smiled, but it wavered, and Felicity thought she would have her work cut out to make her smile genuinely.

But an hour later, when Felicity was tucked up between freezing sheets, Miss Fleet, wearing a thick cotton nightdress and an old fashioned mob cap came in hesitantly, then she rushed forward and laid a book on her night table.

‘I obtain these when I attend the subscription library for Lady Ellingham. I’m afraid it is rather thrilling!’ she whispered and disappeared as quick as a mouse.

‘Tha—’ Felicity said to the locked door. She picked up the volume. The Italian, or The Confessional of the Black Penitents, by Ann Radcliffe. She shivered in delicious anticipation. Soon she was in Naples, in the company of the noble Vicentio, his love Ellena, and watching, in fearful dread, the machinations of the wicked priest, Father Schedoni.

At breakfast, Felicity was rather heavy-eyed, having read for the entire length of her candle. She expressed her gratitude to Miss Fleet, and said that she was already completely enmeshed in the tale. She was surprised that little Miss Fleet, roused, chattered like parrot about the book, ‘Schedoni is such a villain, he stoops to such dreadful tricks to separate the lovers, but later—’

‘Oh, pray do not tell me, Miss Fleet. I shall relish the rest better if I cannot guess.’

As Beatty, the long-of-face butler, was serving the chocolate, Felicity saw his brows raise just a moment at the animation of the usually terrified little lady. His eyes met hers, and Felicity thought she saw the ghost of a smile. She returned it with a broader one and he dropped his eyes again, but Felicity saw a twitch on his lips that betrayed him.

‘Beatty,’ she said before he left the room, ‘Thank you so much for this early breakfast. As it is in addition to her ladyship’s, it makes more work for you and cook. Do thank her.’

Beatty paused and bowed slightly saying, ‘Miss.’

‘Lady Aurora is coming for me this morning to take me for a drive in the park, I believe. Should you like to come, Miss Fleet? I think we might return before my aunt has breakfasted.’

Miss Fleet started, ‘How very kind of you, Miss Oldfield. I cannot, I’m afraid.  Her ladyship gives me leave to visit my sister today, as long as I am back before her breakfast finishes, of course.’

‘Of course. You have family?’ Felicity heard some commotion in the hall and leapt up. ‘It is Lady Aurora! I must go, dear lady. But you shall tell me all about your family when I return.’

It was a rather different expedition with her ladyship than Felicity foresaw — much longer, as she only just returned before dinner, and utterly enjoyable.

She knew precisely how many dresses were de rigueur for a season. Her sisters had carefully shown her each garment that they had purchased in London and told her where they had worn them. It was a perfectly wonderful amount and Felicity had been justifiably a little envious. As she was a foot taller than her siblings, there was not even the opportunity to borrow the finery. But after all, her time would come, she’d thought, with only a daily nudging reminder to Papa necessary. She’d been unaware that fate would steal it and him from her.

But the twins had never had such clothes as these. Or so many. Lady Aurora had said that Aunt Ellingham was the source of this munificence, but Felicity, blushingly grateful, could see no reason why her aunt would sanction at least twice the wardrobe as was given to the twins.

‘Oh, perhaps she is generous since she knows that your papa cannot be. She is such a vague old dear that she probably remembers the sum he allotted for the twins and has matched it, quite forgetting that you are only one!’

Felicity smiled at this, but still frowned a little. The quality of the clothes had accompanied them home today seemed to outrun her sisters’ too, and she shyly said so to Lady Aurora.

‘Perhaps,’ her lady ship ventured, ‘as I am a little younger than your aunt, I know the most fashionable and economical of the dress makers.’

Felicity had surrendered to being deliciously spoilt. She knew that Lady Aurora’s taste was infallible, and that she was directing and improving the designs shown to them. Felicity was tall, though not, thankfully, a beanpole. But the dresses must therefore be slim of line, especially around the shoulders, with no extra width, so as not to suggest pugilist. Felicity giggled at this and Lady Aurora apologised. ‘I am afraid on the subject of dress I am thoroughly blunt, my dear — and a little insulting, says my Mr Fenton. I once told him a waistcoat made him look like a French king’s mistress. He pretended to be very offended. I cannot seem to help it.’

Felicity gurgled. ‘Papa called me the maypole, so do not fear for my sensibilities.’

‘I do not much comment on how people look, you know,’ said her companion, nibbling on a French tart that had been brought in from a neighbouring baker to sustain the ladies in their labours. ‘It is only that clothes can do so much to hide deficiencies of form — or to exaggerate them. It is a very serious matter.’ 

‘Yes, your ladyship,’ twinkled Felicity in response.

‘Yes, that model is a very handsome colour for her,’ her ladyship was saying to the dressmaker, ‘if only you can reduce the puff at the shoulder. Yes, I know that it is more fashionable now, but it would not become Miss Oldfield, broad as her shoulders already are. No, last year’s sleeves are better, and will complement the drape. I wish we could get that green silk, it would become you so well, my dear. But it is a trifle sophisticated for a debutante.’

‘And a trifle dear, I think!’

‘Oh, let’s spend Lady Ellingham’s wealth with gusto, my dear. She is a very rich old lady.’ 

After quite an exhausting time, walking between establishments beside Lady Aurora’s energetic figure, and eating sweetmeats at every stop, the carriage was so replete with packages that there was hardly room for the ladies. There were very many more models to arrive. The hats that had to be trimmed with ribbons to match her four pelisses and six spencers, the gowns that were being made from fabric samples Lady Aurora approved, and the gloves, muffs, sunshades, and delicate under apparel that her ladyship declared herself too fatigued to see, leaving it to the discretion of the merchant.

They were about to return to Half Moon Street, when Lady Aurora, seeing Felicity step aboard the carriage, said, ‘Oh, the boot maker! We must go! It is of no use saying that we can leave that to chance, for uncomfortable boots or slippers are not to be borne.’ She turned to the groom who was assisting Felicity to mount. ‘Run ahead to Mount Street and tell them not to close — that we shall arrive shortly.’

It was just a matter of minutes before they had arrived at the bootmakers. They had found some slippers, suitable for dyeing by Madame Hortense or Madame Godot, the dressmakers, to match the colour of the gowns. And in the meantime she had purchased some blue slippers to match a pelisse, and some comfortable boots suitable for longer walks.

As Lady Aurora’s carriage finally pulled up at her aunt’s, she drew Felicity into her arms and said, ‘I had such pleasure today! I have long wished for a daughter and I hope that she would have been just like you.’

Felicity returned the embrace warmly. She had not been hugged so since childhood. ‘And you would have been the best mother a young lady could dream of. Not that you are old enough to—’ she was confused and a little tearful.

Lady Aurora laughed a little hoarsely. ‘Oh, my dear. I fear I am too selfish to be a mama.’

‘Oh, no—’ Felicity was confused. ‘I shall have to tell my aunt to expect so many parcels!’ she said, turning the subject while they both recovered a little.

Lady Aurora seemed to have to find something in her reticule as Felicity dismounted. ‘Oh, as to that, my dear, I have caused them to be sent to my home for the moment. So that I can — make sure of the quality!’

‘Of course. Thank you so much for the wonderful day.’ She turned to look at Mrs Fenton who was smiling down at her.

‘Thank you, my sweet Felicity. You have a very cheerful disposition. You seem to increase the happiness of those around you.’

Chapter 3

The Viscount and a Lady

After Durant delivered his annoyance at her guardian’s house in Kent, and received the joyous exclamations of his aunt Charlotte on the successful purchase of the new house much nearer to town, he retrieved his horse and did his duty to his friend Anne Clarence. This was a woman he had known since childhood, now attendant on her dying mother at their home, Little Clarence, on the other side of the village from Chester House.. The house called Little Clarence may once have been little indeed, but the old Elizabethan building had been added to by any number of Clarences to make the handsome stately home of today. Anne was a friend, a delightful person whose mother’s infirmity had kept him from town, except for short visits. He had thought of her a good deal for a few weeks now, since the death of a friend had caused him to face his own mortality. And the continuation of his name.

She was crossing the grand hall of Little Clarence as he was admitted, and went forward to him with both hands extended. He clasped them and looked down at her, smiling. She was a tallish girl with merry green eyes, and she was wearing a mustard coloured muslin gown with long tight sleeves, with a fetching purple striped bodice, like a sleeveless spencer, over it. Her brown hair was arranged tall on her head, with ringlets escaping at the back and a purple striped ribbon woven through. ‘My dear Anne, how do you always contrive to look so up-to-the-mark when you hardly visit town?’

‘I am interested in the latest fashions you know, and I have La Belle Assemblée delivered monthly — I’m afraid I seldom read the more worthy articles and only pour over the fashion plates. And I have a very clever sister, too, who sends me wonderful lengths of muslin and silk, and a genius of a maid who can interpret the patterns. You too, my lord, look at the apex of style, if I am not mistaken.’

Durant smiled. ‘Ah, you are out there. I can move quite freely in this coat and if I were to be a real leader of fashion, I should be unable to breathe.’

‘Then I am quite glad you do not seek to be a dandy,’ she said, laughing. ‘What brings you, Sebastian? Is everyone at Chester House well? Come into the parlour and I’ll send for some refreshments. Mama is sleeping.’

He put her hand through his arm and they walked companionably to the pink salon, not as hard on the eyes as other such places, just delicately feminine and bright, overlooking the large lawn. The sun streamed in at this time of day and Durant said, ‘So pretty!’

‘Careful. If I were a woman given to romantical notions, I could have taken that as a very interesting compliment to myself and not the room. When you left I would think on it too much and then when you forgot to write to me for three months, as you have done recently, I would finish by going into a decline.’

He laughed, but regarded her carefully. ‘Are you not romantic then?’

She turned her fine profile away from him. ‘How can I know? If I had had time to flirt, I might have been wonderful at it. But instead I have been here, and have had no practice.’

Durant took a turn around the room. ‘How is your mother?’ he said at last.

‘The doctor said that she has not long now. Perhaps weeks only. I’m afraid that she hardly knows me.’

‘I’m so sorry, my dear.’ He held her hands again, and her eyes watered a little, then she tilted her chin and smiled at him. ‘What do you intend to do, Anne, when—?’

‘I have hardly thought of that. I suppose I must hire a companion, like the other old tabbies. Perhaps I might visit town, or Bath perhaps, to start with. London might be a little too exciting.’

‘You are seven and twenty years old. Hardly an old tabby yet, my dear. I have a proposition for you.’

Anne lifted her eyes. ‘Do you know of someone then?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘A gently bred female who may need employment?’

Durant thought of the governess he had selfishly importuned. Gently bred, certainly, but hardly suitable. For a job as a governess, too, he thought. Such a young and pretty piece... This line of thought was not furthering his cause.

‘No. I’m asking you to marry me, Anne,’ he said gently.

Something passed across her face, something that Durant, who knew her well, did not recognise.

‘What madness is this?’

‘I have been on the town for ten years, my dear. And I have never found a woman I liked as much as you. It is time to set up my future, and I thought that this is the same time in your life.’ Anne Clarence lowered her eyes so that he could not read their expression. ‘We deal well together, don’t we? We have the same background—’

‘I fear I must be more romantic than I thought. I wished for more in a husband than convenience.’ Durant could think of nothing to say. She looked at him gravely. ‘But there could be worse fates than to marry a handsome viscount who is also your dear friend.’ Durant leaned forward, caught her hand, and kissed it.

‘Your enthusiasm overwhelms me, dearest.’

She laughed. ‘I have not yet said yes, Sebastian. There are certain traits I cannot tolerate in a husband.’ She looked at him from beneath her lashes.

‘My days as a rake would be over I assure you, my dear. I always felt my reputation was exaggerated in that regard.’

‘That is not what concerns me. You are something of a curmudgeon when you don’t get your way, Bastian. I need a more uplifting atmosphere at breakfast.’

‘A curmudgeon?’ said his lordship, shocked. ‘Have I been with you my dear?’

‘No, but I have seen it in your dealings with others, none the less. You do not always see the joy in the world.’

‘Ah, it is true. But I should have you to change my mood, Anne.’

‘A heavy responsibility.’ She looked at him quizzically. ‘But I suppose I might do it.’

He bowed heavily and possessed himself of her hand. ‘You do me a great honour.’

She smiled, then rang for some celebratory wine.

Mr Wilbert Fenton, who after his marriage, had begun to think of himself (privately) as the most fortunate man in the world, was amused by his wife’s interest in Felicity, and somewhat amused by the girl herself. In his former life as debt-ridden gambler, hedonist, and promiscuous bachelor — and therefore, inevitably, an intimate of the Prince Regent — he leaned heavily on the support of his slightly elder brother and happy family man Sir Ranalph Fenton. He had never thought to escape the eventual consequences of his own folly as a young man, of choosing, in his anger at his father, a life of dissipation. He had long been bored with that life by the time that his young nephew Benedict had been attacked, in part because of him. It had sobered him completely (for a time) and he’d decided to ask his old friend Countess Overton to be his wife, intending that he would help her in her gambling establishment and thus earn his living, stepping away from fashionable life, and hang on his brother’s sleeve no more.

The Countess, like he himself, had let gambling be her folly after the death of her husband and her losses had driven her to open her fashionable address as a gambling hell. This put her outside of society, naturally, so when Wilbert proposed, she shut it down and began to be accepted once more by the Beau Monde. The gambling house had been madly profitable, however, and thus Fenton had found himself with a beautiful, rich wife. There was no need to change much in his lifestyle (though for both of them gambling had palled) and unexpectedly, he had also found himself deeply in love.

It was evident to all that his wife, though past forty, was one of the most beautiful women in London. She was also elegant, intelligent, and vastly amusing. But more than all of that, more than the heat that was between them — both finding again the passion of their youth — she was so loving in her nature that her rescuing of Felicity was totally in character. And why not?  She had certainly rescued him.

The girl was like a lovely young colt, hardly put through her paces yet, a little clumsy in her body which was all legs and arms, that she did not yet have under control. But her rosy cheeked face, fresh from country living, could not fail to delight. She had large, velvet tawny eyes fringed by dark lashes which regarded the world with unusual attention and delight, her lips were plump and well formed, always smiling, and she was altogether like a just-ripened peach — desirable and easily bruised. Ripe pickings for the likes of Driscoll. His wife had delayed in the hall long enough to tell him of her previous dealings with the man, which had prompted her desperate jump from the carriage. She had met Driscoll in the street with Hetty, a young girl who attended her gambling den with one of the gentleman who frequented the establishment. Driscoll had been introduced as Hetty’s uncle. Later she had seen him with other young women, and one night a tearful Hetty had explained that she had been tricked by Driscoll into the life she now lived, and that he picked up young women who were alone on the streets of London and ‘helped’ them into the life of a concubine, taking money from them for the rest of their lives.

Felicity had had a narrow escape. Even had she not fallen under Driscoll’s influence, being seen with him would have been enough to destroy her reputation.

Lady Nell Ellingham was famous as a near recluse and an eccentric. There were a pack of old cats with whom she dined and played cards. Beyond that she had left her large house last season on perhaps three occasions and had given a very strange party of her own, with no refreshments, a maid who played the piano and a number of gloomy churchmen invited in case the other guests had too pleasant a time. Those who had been there told the tale in great disgust or great hilarity as was their disposition, and the evening had become justly famous. In this way she had launched two nieces to the ton. Fenton had not attended, but he had seen the twins at a party elsewhere, reasonably dressed, but quiet and out of place, moving in unison in a strangely disturbing manner. These must have been Felicity’s sisters. They had not much resembled her.

His wife entered his chamber wearing a frothy nightgown that she had bought on their wedding trip to Europe. He held out his arms and she came to him, giving him that feeling of completeness that he had lacked all his life. He held her against his hard body. Since their engagement, his Aurora had warned him that she would put his corpulent frame on a reducing diet, and he had laughed. He still remembered her shock when he came to her bed on their wedding night naked to the waist, holding aloft the little cushion he’d worn for some years to give himself a corpulent shape. ‘But why?’ she had laughed. ‘Oh, I know — Prinny!’ and she threw herself back on the bed and laughed and laughed. He had indeed worn the pillow so as to identify with the Prince Regent’s struggle with his weight. Prinny became jealous of those around him who were slim, and sometimes cast them out from his intimates. Wilbert had ensured he would not be one such.

Their wedding trip lasted six weeks. When Lady Aurora returned with such a fine figure of a husband, many ladies had begged her to reveal the secret of the reducing diet. She had attributed it all to regular exercise and countryside living.

Sebastian Fortescue, the Viscount Durant, was back in London with his cousin, who was staying with him for some days while her guardian was indisposed. Lady Letitia had resumed being civil, after a dire warning from her cousin, whom she knew to be dangerous. Durant was not fooled by her sweetened demeanour, he deduced that she was looking for some opportunity to pay him back. At least it provided some respite from the shrill reproaches. But he preferred the sullens that had followed. These had affected him not at all, and had the benefit of silence over breakfast. Now though, she was all smiles.

‘Dear Cuz, you will take me to the Telford’s Ball next Friday, will you not?’

‘I might, if you allow me to finish this article in peace.’

‘Oh, you gentlemen and your sporting journals! Is it a horrid prize fight that is described?’ she answered brightly.

‘If you do not know the definition of peace, Letitia, I might remember a prior engagement that evening.’

‘Devil!’ she laughed unconvincingly. ‘Very well!’

As she silently fumed at the other side of the table, Durant ignored her. He wished, passionately, that she had a healthier guardian than Aunt Charlotte — though living full time with Letitia would weaken the constitution of an ox. He remembered her as a spirited young child, in and out of scrapes, but part of a mutually loving family. The death of her parents had made her wealthy but left her in the charge of weaker minds. It had been disastrous for her personality. It was only the memory of the loving child she had once been that allowed him to tolerate her selfishness now.

He had, at any rate, decided to visit the Telford’s Ball. He himself had made up part of the court around the beautiful Duchess of Telford for some time now, and he feared the time to part had come. The Duke, seventeen years his wife’s senior, had a nod for the gentlemen who thronged around his lovely wife. In the Duke’s youth, the suggestion that a married lady had a number of lovers was not completely to a gentleman’s disgrace — if discreetly conducted. Others coveting a prize that one owned, whilst one was also bedding any number of females (of different classes) one’s self was almost the done thing — after his wife had borne the heir of course. But time had moved on, and if an affair could be confirmed these days, scandal would erupt. The Duchess was becoming rather infatuated with him, and in this climate it could lead to a noise about his affairs that he could not support. And now of course, there was his engagement to Anne Clarence. He could not mention this as yet, but still, tonight he would tell Lady Telford that their affair, certainly the clandestine visits, must end. Surely she wouldn’t make a scene at her own ball, she had too much good sense.

Talking to the Duchess and looking after the wayward Letitia might prove a challenge, but no doubt that another mutual aunt, Augusta (a tartar of the first water) would delight in keep her terrifying eye on Letitia for a spell.

Chapter 4

Felicity’s First Ball

Felicity’s excitement at her first ball, was only a little dampened by her Aunt Ellingham’s martyred demeanour on the evening. A whispered demand to Miss Fleet if her aunt had always despised parties reassured her.

‘Goodness no, Lady Ellingham attends several balls every season, as well as card parties with her friends.’

‘Oh, it just a display of spirits, then. How entertaining!’ Felicity whispered back. Miss Fleet quaked.

There was no possibility of feeling sad when one was wearing a dashing green muslin dress, sprigged with pink roses on the bodice with the slenderest of skirts given a flourish with short train at the back. The cut and drape of the gown became her well, a pink diaphanous shawl trailed from her shoulders, and she carried a pink silk fan, a gift sent round by Mr Fenton that afternoon. This and green silk slippers decorated with a pink ribbon rosette made up her ensemble. And her hair was becoming too. Lady Aurora had offered her own maid to dress it, but Lady Ellingham had flicked her off. Her Maria would do it.

When Maria had come to Felicity’s room, the woman had a gleam in her eye as she took Felicity’s tresses from the pins.

‘I hardly recognised the twins when they came home, Maria. Was it you who styled their hair?’

‘It was miss.’

‘Then I am happily in your hands,’ Felicity had smiled.

Maria smiled too, and it was such a difference to her usual indifferent demeanour that Felicity almost jumped.

‘What colour would you say your hair was, Miss?’

‘Why, brown, to be sure!’ the young girl said, amused.

‘No, no it isn’t miss,’ said Maria wonderingly touching the tresses. ‘It is every colour from red to palest blond with every warm tone between. I have never seen so many colours in one head of hair.’

‘Oh!’ said Felicity, with little shock. ‘I have not noticed.’

‘No miss, but tonight, the world will notice,’ said Maria with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

For the next few hours a strange ritual had played out around her. Her hair was twisted and held over a candle flame — to kill the dead ends said Maria — then trimmed, and styled at the front so that some curls could be allowed to escape. Free of the weight, her hair made curls quite naturally but the fanatical-eyed Maria encouraged some reluctant strands with a curling iron. Tiny little plaited strands wove up to the high coils, a light pomade made her hair take on a hundred hues under the candlelight, and some ringlets were confected to dance from the coils.

‘Maria, you are a genius. If I had ever any pretentions to prettiness, this coiffure has realised them, I think.’

Maria gasped, meeting Felicity’s eyes in the mirror. ‘But Miss Felicity, you are beautiful.’

‘How kind you are, Maria,’ said Felicity. ‘It is not true, but I certainly have the smartest coiffure.’

Maria shook her head and stepped back. ‘I must attend to her ladyship’s wig.’

After listening to a great deal of complaining from her aunt regarding the many inconveniences of leaving the house, Felicity was at last in a glittering ballroom, surrounded by the great and the good in their finest. Her aunt, dressed in an old-fashioned but well-made gown and still sporting her wig and ancient bonnet, had taken a seat on a bench to talk to cronies, and preceded to ignore her. One of the ladies bade her ladyship to introduce her companion, which she did with bad grace, ‘Oh, another of Roland’s girls. Just out. Felicity is the name. Felicity, make your curtsy to Lady Brock, Mrs Frampton and Viscountess Swanson.’ Felicity did so.

‘Dress becomes her,’ said Lady Brock, only vaguely interested.

‘Has a look of you, Nell,’ added Mrs Swanson, the compliment directed at her companion and not her niece.

Lady Ellingham regarded her niece through a lorgnette.  ‘Yes, I suppose so. But girls nowadays…’ she added in vague complaint.

‘Indeed!’ said the Viscountess in dismissive tones. The ladies turned from her, done.

‘Lady Ellingham, your servant. Captain Fox, at your service. Might I have this dance with your niece?’ asked a military gentleman with a booming voice.

It was usual for partners to be introduced by a third party before dancing. So Felicity gave a start and looked to her aunt, who asked ‘Can you dance?’ in a bored tone. At a nod from Felicity she waved her away.

‘The Marchmont’s ball was rather better attended, what?’  said the Captain as they moved to the floor.

‘I did not attend—’ began Felicity politely.

‘The silken drapes in the ballroom was a nice touch, I thought. Bigger ballroom too, wasn’t it?’

‘Well, I—’ said Felicity.

‘Of course this is adequate, quite adequate, eh?’

‘Yes—’

‘Lady Ellingham didn’t introduce you.’

‘I’m her niece, Felicity Oldfield.’

‘Enchanted.’

‘The set—’

The movements of the dance did not permit much talking, for which Felicity could only be profoundly grateful. The Captain continued with his remarks assuming Felicity’s knowledge of every event and person he mentioned. At first, she tried to disabuse him of this, but as he never let her finish a sentence, she gave up. Eventually, she began to enjoy the moments when the figures of the dance brought them together, and the Captain, at least fifteen years her senior and losing some of his fine blond hair already, issued his conversational titbits. ‘An unusual squeeze at Almacks on Thursday, what?’ ‘Thought I saw you ride in the park on Friday.’ ‘Word is, the great Mr Allison returns to town next month. Married, you know — gives the rest of us a chance with the ladies.’ He was so cheerfully self-absorbed that she found it amusing. She lost her nervousness, for there was no need to reply. He would not have noticed. Finally, the dance ended and the Captain punctiliously returned her to her ladyship, who paid no attention. Felicity could not stop smiling.

A vivacious redhead in a becoming yellow muslin was standing with the woman from whose pattern she had been cut, quite near to the bench where her aunt sat. Lady Darlington was alternatively chatting and looking through her lorgnette at others on the dance floor, these individuals obviously fodder for the old ladies’ gossip. The redhead whispered to Felicity, ‘Hello! I’m Vivien Althorpe, so sorry we haven’t been introduced. Mama’s rather afraid of Lady Ellingham.’

‘Oh, I am too!’ whispered Felicity back. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t have said that! Please forget it.’

Vivien, eyes dancing, made a gesture with her hand to her lips, ‘Always true and shall never die!’

Felicity smiled back, her dimples showing. ‘It’s just that I am new in town and have only just met my aunt. But she has been so kind to me.’

Vivien’s brows rose in a naughty look. ‘Kind? Of course!’ she said.

‘But she truly has been. My father has died, you see, and I have no portion at all, yet my aunt has given me this season — even though great parties are not at all what she enjoys.’

‘You are new in town aren’t you? On no account must you talk about having no portion.’

Felicity’s eyes widened. ‘But I have not!’

Vivien sighed, ‘Think of it as a forbidden subject. Any discussion of money is dreadfully vulgar and is only therefore discussed by everyone, but one’s own money must never be mentioned. I can see you need a little tutoring in how to carry on in town and I can help you with that for I have been out for six weeks now!’

‘Oh, thank you. Indeed, I confess I have no notion how to behave.’

Vivien turned away, to the woman beside her. ‘Mama, pray introduce me to Lady Ellingham, so that Felicity and I may take a tour around the ballroom.’

Reluctantly that lady did so, and her Ladyship once more was barely cordial, but thankfully disinterested enough to wave the girls away.

‘The reason I wanted to talk to you is — what on earth can you have found to make you smile when dancing with Captain Fox? He is acquainted with my family and I am obliged to dance with him, but he is such a bore that I once hid behind a pillar when I saw him approach. I cannot believe he uttered any witticisms.’

Felicity gurgled. She had never had a friend of her own age, yet she was already more completely at ease with Vivien Althorpe than with her own sisters. ‘Oh, but it was because he chattered along and did not listen to me at all, but only kept his own conversation going that amused me so. I wondered what next he would say. It was too ridiculous.’

Vivien stopped for a second, turning to look at Felicity fully. ‘You are a most unusual specimen, Felicity — may I call you so? I feel sure we will be fast friends. You take an unpleasantness and turn it into an amusement. You have the most happy of spirits. My mother says I have a temper to match her own. I do not suffer fools, I’m afraid. My red hair will not allow it. I have such a temper that we are both, mother and I, afraid that I will one day lose it publicly and disgrace us all. You shall be a steadying influence on me, I’m sure.’ She started walking again and saw an elegant sofa up ahead, which contained a little dark beauty wearing a yellow gown of the same hue as Vivien’s. ‘Come, I’ll introduce you to Althea Carter-Phipps. She’s a friend of mine.’

She approached the seat and Miss Carter-Phipps frowned a little. ‘Do not on any account sit down, Vivien. Mr Quincy has just gone to fetch me some punch and will return at any moment! I finally managed to steal a march on Miss Friel. And we would look like twins with these dresses,’ she added.

‘I would not on any account interfere, Althea, but I can see the supper room from here and I assure you Mr Quincy is not yet in sight. I just wanted to introduce you to Miss Oldfield, who is a niece of Lady Ellingham, you know. Just arrived in town and already my fast friend.’

Miss Carter-Phipps looked Felicity over critically. ‘Yes, we shall look very well together, I think,’ she said, ‘One dark, one redhead and one between. If only Miss Friel were not a complete cat, her blond head could round us off nicely as the prettiest group of friends in town.’ Felicity blushed, but smiled too. ‘I am happy to meet you, but please go away now. Mr Quincy must return soon. I have not yet determined if I shall marry him, but make him propose, I shall. And Vivien, it is unfortunate that the same colours become us. You must write to me before every engagement so that this disaster does not occur again. Meet me in the park at ten on the morrow and I shall tell you what has occurred with Mr Quincy.’

The two young ladies moved away, Felicity laughing internally at the thought footman tearing around London with notes that read “Blue. Straw bonnet” or “pink with green scarf”. She and Vivien made the circuit of the large ballroom and Felicity was introduced to a few more of Miss Althorpe’s acquaintance, including the blond haired, pretty Miss Friel, who regarded Felicity with cold eyes and extended just her fingers to her. Felicity could not know that Miss Friel’s last partner for the boulangère had said to her, “I say, who is the new beauty with Miss Althorpe?” The resultant piece of humiliation she laid at the girl’s door instead of at the careless gentleman’s. Felicity smiled again, to encourage a warmer response, but happily moved on when Miss Althorpe obliged her to.

A few young gentlemen also approached them in order to secure a future dance with Miss Althorpe, who introduced Felicity, ‘Lady Ellingham’s niece, newly arrived in town.’ They variously bowed and several stared very hard at Miss Althorpe’s companion, which caused Vivien to remark. ‘Why do you have to be so very beautiful? I declare you will cut me out with some of my admirers.’ But this was said so lightly that Felicity was able to return just a deprecating laugh. Felicity learnt a great deal from Vivien’s demeanour — with the gentlemen in particular. The way she issued the vaguest of promises, or was occasionally unsure of her ability to grant a gentleman’s request, with a just a soupcon of regret, seemed masterly to Felicity. This must be flirting.

By the time she returned to her aunt’s side, she felt very much more comfortable, now knowing many people in the room. As soon as they were at their respective chaperone’s sides, gentlemen arrived to whisk them off to the next country dance, with only the reluctant introductions of her Aunt to slow the process down for Felicity, causing her to miss the forming of the set on one occasion and promising a Mr Boston, a rather jolly young gentleman, a later dance instead.

When she returned to her aunt after this, it was to see that Lady Aurora and Mr Fenton had joined them, along with a lady wearing a simple silk gown in dark grey, with a lace cap (though she did not look very old) and black gloves, perhaps indicating mourning. She was introduced as Lady Sumner. She had a long nose and sharp smiling eyes, and she gave Felicity’s hand a decisive shake, making the girl decide that she liked her already.

‘My dear!’ said Lady Aurora, with great affection, ‘I can see that you are an instant success!’ she turned on a round gentleman with an extraordinary bouffant hairdo who was approaching, ‘Not now, Sir Ralph, we ladies are chattering at the moment. The next cotillion.’ Sir Ralph looked rather put out, but bowed and moved away.

‘I am not! It is just that my new friend Miss Althorpe has introduced me to so many people! Everyone is very kind.’

‘Vivien Althorpe. Wonderful, she has the largest acquaintance, and her mama keeps a strict eye on those to whom she is introduced. Has your aunt introduced you much?’ Felicity gave her no more than a look. ‘No, I quite see not. You look lovely tonight, my dear.’

‘My wife says it for me!’ Mr Fenton bowed over her hand. ‘Shall we annoy Sir Ralph Walters and dance? He likes to think he makes a debutante’s reputation, but he does not. Unless you refuse to dance with so aged a partner?’

Felicity smiled. ‘I could never refuse to dance with my wicked abductor.’

He laughed and led her into a set who were dancing already, but a couple short. This caused a little stumbling for a second or two, but Felicity laughed it off and the other dancers smiled with her, excepting the serious Miss Friel.

‘I do not think Miss Friel likes me,’ confessed Felicity, when the figures permitted, ‘But I cannot understand why.’

Mr Fenton turned his elegant head in Miss Friel’s direction, but it was some moments before the dance permitted him to whisper into her ear, ‘Too much starch in her petticoat!’ which caused Felicity to explode with a laugh and then quench it quickly.

‘You are a rogue sir!’

‘But only your second abductor! You did not say who the first was.’

Felicity danced on and considered. ‘I do not think I can say, sir. He did me no harm after all, and only wished a service from me.’

‘Ah, an intrigue! I am famous for ferreting out intrigues.’

‘Are you sir? I fear you will never know this one.’

‘A challenge, my dear. Accepted.’

As Mr Fenton had intended, by the time Felicity had left the dance floor, he had displayed her happy nature to the ton, and he had shown her at her shining best.

‘You are a genius, my love!’ his wife whispered when he returned, ‘Every man in the room, except for the constitutionally dead, looked at our dear girl! She will be a hit!’

‘I think she was doing very nicely on her own.’

His wife regarded the bench of old biddies. ‘With no help from her aunt. What a fortunate occurrence that Vivien Althorpe should take her up. That girl knows everyone in town.’

‘Isn’t she a little fast for Felicity?’ said Mr Fenton with some regret.

‘You are sentimental about our dear girl, my love. Who would have thought it of the cynical Mr Fenton? You are too attached to her country girl innocence, which might, you know, be taken advantage of. No, Vivien Althorpe is just the girl to bring her up to scratch!’

‘My years of cynicism ended when I married you, my dear,’ he said, making his wife glow. ‘It is but a face for the world these days. But I suppose you are correct, my love.’

Felicity was fatigued but happy as she entered her chamber that night. A chambermaid undressed her, a task that she could very well have managed on her own, but she was very grateful when Maria, who had seen her aunt to her bed, came to take apart her coiffure and brush her hair. While this was happening, Miss Fleet stole into the room, first putting her head around the door and saying, ‘May I?’ She carried a tray with a wine glass upon it. ‘Beatty wonders if you would care for some wine. He says it calms the head after excitement and may help you sleep.’

‘How kind!’

‘I shall leave it on the night table, for you.’ She looked a little conscious, ‘Did you have an enjoyable evening, my dear?’

Felicity smiled into the mirror, meeting the eye of the timid lady. ‘Oh yes, pray sit down and I’ll tell all!’

Miss Fleet was riveted by the tale of the evening, Felicity describing the glittering occasion with all the skill of a novelist. From her first dance with the Captain who failed to listen, which made the maid Maria betray herself with twitch of her lips, to the dresses of the great ladies and the wonderful gaining of two new friends, she told all. Maria slowed down her work unbraiding the hair, perhaps so that she could hear the tale too. She was rewarded by Felicity saying that her friends Miss Althorpe and Carter-Phipps had spent ages studying her coiffure, both declaring themselves to be jealous. Maria smiled, though it looked a trifle sour from limited usage.

Miss Fleet gurgled when she told her that she had called Mr Fenton her wicked abductor, ‘Oh yes, my dear, just like Schedoni! And Lady Aurora shall be your …’

‘Angel of light!’ said Felicity, ‘And I fear Aunt Ellingham must be my fiendish guardian.’ She looked aghast. ‘I should not say so. If she has not been kind to me, my aunt has been extremely generous.’

Miss Fleet said, with a frown, ‘Yes, indeed she has. She must like you, beneath her, well—‘

‘Crotchets?’ laughed Felicity. ’Yes, I know. It is hard to thank her, but I assure you I did kiss her once more this evening to thank her for all my finery.’

Miss Fleet sighed in satisfaction and curled herself on the bed while Felicity ran on. ‘Oh, but you must have danced every dance,’ she said, breathlessly.

‘I suppose I did, except the one where I missed the forming of a set.’

‘Some young ladies spend the evening only watching,’ the little lady said, in a reminiscent tone

‘I did not see any who sat all evening, the hostess ensured that girls were introduced to suitable partners. But I suppose I did receive more than my share of invitations because of the good fortune in meeting Miss Althorpe. She knows everyone.’

‘It may be a little to do with your beauty, my dear,’ suggested Miss Fleet with the hint of a smile.

‘I don’t think so, I am still Papa’s maypole, I fear — but perhaps my elegant attire helped,’ Miss Fleet looked down at this moment playing with the folds of the bed cover. ‘But I thanked Lady Aurora too, for her sense of taste is exquisite. Left to my own devices I should probably have chosen quite the wrong things.’

Finally Maria was finished with her hair, letting it fall on her shoulders. She was surprised by a light touch from Felicity’s hand in thanks, and she bobbed a curtsy and said, ‘Good night, miss.’

Felicity smiled, tying on her night cap. ‘Good night and thank you, Maria.’

There was such feeling in Felicity’s voice that Maria smiled again, then repressed it firmly, and left.

‘You were not overcome by the exalted company, my dear? I was once at an Assembly in Bath that almost overset me. A baronet asked me to dance, and I could say not one word to him and ended by stumbling in the figures.’

Felicity gurgled, pulling her legs beneath her on the bed. ‘Oh, I know that certain aristocrats are supposed to behave loftily — indeed some of them may,’ she said, thinking of the arrogant lord whom she had met at the inn, ‘but everyone tonight was very kind indeed. I danced with a baron and a viscount, among others, and they were much less tyrannical than Lord D— well, another man of rank I have met. Indeed Viscount Hargreaves was fine old gentleman, and a trifle shy.’

‘Oh. Old,’ said Miss Fleet with a disappointed sigh.

‘Oh, yes. He was forty if he was a day.’

Miss Fleet swallowed.

‘He confessed that his cravat was a trifle tight, and I recommended the withdrawing rooms, where a footman might be sure to help him.’

This was not the romantic tryst that Miss Fleet had hoped for the young girl, but even after some time, she could elicit not much in romance from the evening. She could not guess that all the compliments that Felicity received she thought of as absurd, and mere London manners, and therefore failed to mention. But the little lady was charmed by the description of the ballroom, and the fashions, and by Felicity’s portrayal of some of the most absurd creatures, such as Sir Ralph Bosco, with the most enormous bouffant hairdo and the extreme air of importance.

‘I think Mr Fenton is far more elegant and impressive than he,’ she confessed.

‘How kind Mr and Mrs Fenton are, my dear. You have true friends there, I feel.’

‘And another here,’ said Felicity, hugging her briefly, which caused Miss Fleet to cry a silent tear. ‘But we must continue this in the morning, for I am not used to such dissipation!’

And so they parted for the night, Felicity eventually drinking down the dose of wine to settle her excitement and allow herself repose. How kind of the long-faced Beatty to think of her. Thanking him would upset his sense of decorum, she would just smile teasingly.

In the past, Felicity had received the most affection in her life from the servants at Oldfield. When she was young, she had begun by stealing tartlets from Cook, and ended by coming down at least some part of her day sitting on the kitchen table and swinging her legs, being scolded and given treats in turn. Excluded by the twins from the nursery, she had spent many happy hours in the housekeeper’s room, learning to set stitches and mend linen. She was permitted since the servants, with whom she was a great favourite, knew that she was not wanted elsewhere. And now Beatty and Maria were so kind to her too. She was fortunate indeed. There was always, with servants, the problem of how to thank them. To offer to share their duties was such an insult, giving a vial was not possible for her since she had no money. She would have to just look her thanks. Lady Crosswell, from her county, had told her to avoid being friendly with servants, since it made them lazy, and lowered oneself in their eyes. But how could she fail to be grateful for such things as the glass of wine, which was indeed making her sleepy?

She could hardly believe the difference between the position she was supposed to be in and her present state of happiness. Of course, she could not expect to stay with her aunt beyond this season, the old lady had made that clear. Felicity would soon work for her living, and make a joy of it. She hoped her aunt might help her find a position, or dear Mrs Fenton. But for now, she would pretend that she was just another young girl here to enjoy her first season, and think of her eventual fate only when it was sensible to do so.  

Genevieve, Lady Sumner, drove Felicity and Lady Aurora to the park the next day and listened as the young girl told of her wonderful evening with open frankness to her ladyship.

‘Well, an excellent start!  And did you enjoy it my dear?’

‘I did! It was quite wonderful. But I fear my aunt did not.’

‘Nonsense, she and her set had a wonderful time sniping about young people’s manners.’

‘Oh, goodness!’ Felicity sounded aghast. ‘Look on the path there, it is Mrs Hennessey and her son, the young man that I hit with my portmanteau!’

‘Sit straight and do not look at them. Well, of all the brass! She has raised her hand to catch your attention. Give her the cut direct — the park authorities let anyone in these days. Slow down a little as we drive past, Genevieve. Is it that woman in the ridiculous yellow hat and the puny looking boy? I wish to enact a little scene for her.’ As they passed, Felicity, looking ahead and not in Mrs Hennessey’s direction, heard herself hailed. She obeyed the pressure on her arm, however, and affected not to hear. Lady Aurora raised her voice and gave it the drawling note she used to some when she wished to keep people at a distance, ‘All London is at your feet, my dear Felicity, delighting in your company.’ They passed the humiliated woman, and Felicity breathed a sigh, unable to repress a frisson of satisfaction, which she instantly felt guilty for.

‘Did you really have to quote Greensleeves?’ asked Lady Sumner in her brusque manner, unimpressed. Felicity giggled.

Lady Aurora smiled, then said to her young charge, ‘Who was the gentleman who was turned away from the door of your aunt’s house as we fetched you, my dear?’

‘Oh, I believe a number of gentlemen have paid calls, but all have been refused entry.’

‘Because her ladyship breakfasts late, I suppose,’ said Lady Sumner practically. ‘They will attend the afternoon hour.’

‘They will be denied. My aunt has given orders. She said that last night was already a trial, her conversation being constantly interrupted with applications to be introduced to me. It is quite true, I’m afraid,’ Felicity added when she saw a darkened look on Lady Aurora’s face. ‘She declares she will not attend another ball with me.’ Felicity tried not to sound worried at the prospect.

‘Well as to that, Genevieve and I are massively fond of balls and will be happy to accompany you.’ She ignored an unladylike snort from her companion, merely saying. ‘Here is Miss Althorpe, driving a smart phaeton, we shall set you down here. No doubt she will drive you home. Vivien is with Miss Carter-Phipps, I see.’

‘A very good novice driver!’ approved Lady Sumner, ‘Not too harsh on the ribbons. You need fear no hurt, Miss Oldfield.’

Felicity, who had feared nothing, was handed down, and then up to the phaeton, all three young ladies sat on the seat meant for only two together, immediately chattering.

Miss Althorpe was wearing a dark green spencer, of the colour that looked so well on redheads, over a white muslin dress.  They had obviously coordinated, for dark haired Miss Carter-Phipps was in gold, with quite a charming bonnet in straw, which framed her delicate, but determined features. The roses under the brim were the same dark red as her plump lips.

‘Oh, Felicity, Althea would not tell me if Mr Quincy was brought to the point last night. She said we must await you.’

‘Oooooh,’ said Felicity with a thrill, ‘do tell.’

Miss Carter-Phipps smiled.

‘And what did you say?’ asked Vivien breathlessly.

‘I said that I would consider the matter,’ said Althea, ‘I won’t, of course. Any man that needed quite so many hints to say his piece would make an annoying husband. One doesn’t want an autocrat, to be sure, but a man who cannot decide for himself would be an intolerable bore.’

‘Poor Mr Quincy!’ said Felicity.

‘Nonsense! I would make him a very uncomfortable wife.’

‘That makes three offers. I wish you would tell me how you did it, how you encourage them to speak. Young men are such slow tops at times. Mr Jeffries has had two dances at three balls with me and just swallows his adam’s apple a great deal when we are at leave to talk privately.’

‘I am sorry, Vivien, but you cannot be trusted with this information. Your impulsive nature is such that you are liable to say yes in the heat of the moment to some unsuitable man like Mr Jeffries.’ Vivien sat back, disheartened.

‘I danced last night with Mr Jeffries and found him to be very, eh, pleasant,’ Felicity said, in his defence.

‘Perhaps, but Vivien does not really want to marry him.’

‘Oh no, but it just so mortifying when a gentleman does not “come up to scratch” as I have heard my brother say, after he has publicly paid one so much attention.’

‘Quite!’

‘You ladies seem to know so much,’ said Felicity. ‘But I think I would be most upset to refuse a gentleman.’

‘Then you might marry anybody,’ said Vivien with wide eyes, ‘that would be fatal!’

‘Vivien and I have discussed it fully, Felicity, and we have decided to share with you our list.’ Althea opened her reticule and produced a small silver backed note book.

Felicity took it respectfully, her friends glancing at her with large eyes. They had pulled over at a handy gazebo, and from time to time a gentleman on the trot approached them, but Miss Carter-Phipps shook her head at them, and they skewed away.

‘It is a list,’ said Vivien with pride, ‘of all the eligible men in London.’

‘Yes,’ said Althea. ‘We thought it the practical approach. There may be, of course, some country gentlemen who only visit town occasionally, quite eligible. But Vivien and I have decided that a gentleman without a London abode is not for us.’

‘We shall be leaders of fashion!’ said Vivien, with almost mystical verve.

‘Oh, yes!’ said Felicity, she was looking through the list as the eyes seemed to prompt her to do. ‘Colonel Drake is rather old, is he not?’

‘Only forty,’ said Althea. ‘Still a man in his prime. However he does have those extraordinary wooden teeth, so we really should put a line through him.’

Felicity saw another name she knew. ‘Viscount Durant!’ she said. ‘I do not think I know—‘

‘Oh, he is from town. He seldom attends balls, and dances rarely.’

‘He is quite the most handsome man I have seen, but his expression is often so dark, that I fear he unsettles me. I hardly spoke to him during my first waltz, it was as though I had no conversation at all. And that you know, is quite untrue!’

‘Yes I fear that being a viscountess, though a lofty ambition, would not be so easy, especially as he is spotted so little at social gatherings and can be very cutting to debutantes.’

‘It comes of being so sought after I suppose.’

‘And Mr Endicott,’ said Felicity, changing the subject, ‘who is he?’

‘The man who danced with Althea last night. The one in the gaudy cravat.’

Felicity’s heart was beating faster. Somehow, she had never considered meeting Lord Durant, the Viscount as she now knew, in London. He was part of an account in her journal. A tale of a man with dark eyes that compelled obedience, who used her terribly, but who she had somehow liked a little. His cousin was no doubt a trial. Sometimes he appeared in her dreams, but that was all.

‘Good!’ said Lady Aurora smoothing her gloves — which her husband would have recognised as a gesture of decision. ‘Genevieve, if you have no objection, we shall retire to a coffee house for a little. It is of no use driving straight to Lady Ellingham’s at this hour. I suspected it would come to this, but I did not think so soon.’ There was silence for some minutes as Lady Sumner drove towards the park gates.

‘You shall have to tell me more, my dear Aurora. What has it come to?’

‘Felicity’s aunt will obviously not lift a finger to help her. What does it matter if she takes at balls if all gentlemen are forbidden to call, or to do anything else to further her acquaintance? No, she will have to come and live at Grosvenor Square with us. You being there will make it perfectly respectable.’

‘I’m very glad that my dullness adds some respectability to the endeavour, but I really did not expect to stay for the season. And what pretext could we give to the world to explain such a move?’

‘Leave that to me. Will you not stay for the season? Little Lord Sumner is having a splendid time, and staying is in the interest of female independence.’

‘The only form of such being marriage? You do not convince me.’

‘But such a marriage as we shall oversee, my dear Genevieve, with all our determination to steer her to a decent suitor.’

‘If only all the guardians of young girls had the same intent.’

‘Yes, but we do. Shall you be included in our scheme? Think of the alternative.’

‘I believe you are a bully, Aurora, under all your worldly charm. Very well.’

When first the Viscount of Durant had met the young girl of inn yard, she had been nothing but a tool of his defeat over Tish’s wilfulness. The right age and height, and able to pass for his cousin. But along the drive he had seen how naive she was when she called his cousin a beauty, hardly knowing how completely charming she looked in the borrowed bonnet. He’d thought about the young girl a surprising amount since that time, even once wondering if she had mentioned the name of her household in Hans Place. Another time he found himself tooling his phaeton up that thoroughfare for no reason at all. He’d told himself it was simply a case of checking that she was settled. He knew that some households treated their governesses with a shocking lack of respect, and he wished to ensure that she was quite safe. He’d had an absurd desire to have his groom knock on doors to discover where she was, but that would have been unpardonable as well as unexplainable. He seldom had charitable inclinations, but the blooming young girl had aroused something of a — a parental concern in him, though at thirty he was hardly old enough to be her father. He worried that she was far too young and beautiful not to arouse jealousy in most matrons — for who but the most secure of mamas could let appear such a vision of loveliness in her drawing room, no doubt fielding compliments to the governess’s beauty from her guests.

She was none of his business, and he almost wished he hadn’t met her at all, and now was spared the wondering what had happened to her. He looked up at a small window under the eaves of one of the houses in Hans Place. What was most likely was that she, at this moment, was reading from a primer to some children in a room such as that. But he should have seen her safely disposed, and it bothered him.

Chapter 5

Anne Clarence

It had been three weeks since Anne Clarence had seen Durant, and true to form, he had not written to her in the interim. And so, when her mother had died, one week after he had left to return to town, Anne had not written either. He would no doubt have thought it seemly to attend her in her grief, but Anne’s grief had been such a long drawn out affair, losing another part of her mother regularly over these four years, that she did not wish him to come right now. No one knew of their engagement after all, so there would be no one to judge his behaviour, or hers. And for the moment Anne needed to think.

Occasionally these thoughts strayed into what it would be like to be Durant’s wife, Viscountess Durant, to live in town during the season, as she had longed to do, visiting Almacks and the theatre, and have all those diversions that made part of her sister’s life. Preside over his home, his estates, be his friend, and his love. Somehow she could not picture the last part.

Her sister and husband had come for the quiet funeral, of course, and Susan, unaware of her engagement, had begged her to return to London. There was the other anxiety about her having no chaperon, but the housekeeper was a respectable woman who might be considered so, until some relative or other suitable person could be found. This was, of course, the height of folly in Anne’s particular case. Whilst her mother lived, Anne had been said to live under her protection — while any actual protection was impossible from a woman of poor health and scattered wits.  During her long captivity in this house she had thought, if ever relieved of her duty to a mother who latterly did not even recognise her, she would bolt to the city. Even if all that was possible, in her mourning months, would be trips to the museum, or to dinner with her sister’s friends, it would surely be more exciting than her life in the country. But as it was, she preferred to stay here after all. The small company of the countryside paid her visits, and were unabashed if she were denied by the butler on her more difficult days. The curate rode over every day, to provide spiritual comfort, she supposed, but really to laugh her out of the sullens by pretending to be giving her godly advice.

‘My dear Miss Clarence,’ Mr Joyce began on this occasion, once they had reached the stone bench which measured the break in their customary garden walk. He had thrust out his chest, put his hands in his waistcoat and adopted in the portentous tones of his superior, the Reverend Mr Bigelow, ‘Your youth may have withered under the harsh sun of servitude, but remember duty has its reward in heaven.’

She grinned. She replied in a faint voice, ‘You comfort me, Mr Joyce. I suppose that, withered as I am, my reward may not be long in coming.’

‘I fear not.’ He said, in the same tone.

‘You need not tell me I looked hagged to death,’ Anne said, reverting back to her real voice, blushing just a little. ‘I know it!’

He joined her on the bench. ‘Yes, you told me so yesterday,’ he replied in his normal tone. ‘And, of all the most absurd things—’

‘Remember, sir, that I have a looking glass in my chamber. And curates should be above telling untruths.’

‘I’m afraid that the occasional untruth is part of the duty of compassion. “No, Mistress Penn, I do not fancy the ham at all, but might you spare some of that bread and butter?” We curates speak compassionate lies all day.’

‘Just think of all the genteel old ladies that you could condemn to bread and butter for supper.’

‘The Misses Coleridge believe I am averse to meat.’

‘When you are nobly saving them their poor supper.’

‘Their compassion and pride must offer me their only meat of the day, the good creatures. But never mind. Whenever I’m invited here, I do not scruple to eat enough for twelve suppers from your beneficence.’

‘It has been remarked,’ she said wryly. ‘But you fool the ladies of the parish just as you have attempted to fool me now.’

He put an impulsive hand on her shoulder, his eyes candidly searching her face, and as briefly pulled it away. ‘You look a little pale, a little wan, as well you might,’ he said, more seriously. ‘However prepared you have always told me you were, death is always a shock. Otherwise you look as lo—,’ he hesitated, ‘You look as you ever were.’

She screwed her eyes. ‘And that is—?’

He considered his words, looking at her frankly with his warm grey eyes. ‘Intelligent, energetic, good-hearted.’

Anne dropped her head for a moment, then stood, effectively ending their visit for today. ‘Thank you Mr Joyce. You always contrive to make me laugh.’

‘I fear it is sometimes at my expense, Miss Clarence.’

‘Not always!’ She held her hand out and he took it briefly, laughing.

‘Til tomorrow then,’ he said.

‘Yes, perhaps I shall ride with you.’

‘Good. It is time you swept the cobwebs away.’ He smiled down at her in the manner of a father or an uncle, which was undoubtedly how he saw himself. Then he turned and left.

She was glad when he left. He saw her too well. Knew if she was troubled and if she was honest with him. He was a younger son of a fine family who might have been expected to provide him with some more comforts, and sometimes, because of his lack of religious platitudes, she’d thought that he was like a great many of his kind. Tied, like them, to the only occupation he could find, whether they were fitted for it or not. But there was something in him more genuinely good than in all the vicar’s religious piety. More useful in the parish. He was thin (lack of ham, she feared) and balding at the crown, and had no more in the way of resources than a church mouse. She had bethought herself of using her brother-in-law or Durant’s, influence to procure him his own living. But somehow she had not. With Durant an infrequent visitor, Mr Joyce was her most attentive friend, someone who had prayed with her when her mother died, who walked with her around the grounds, or sometimes rode his dusty old nag around with her fine mare. She was ashamed, at times, that she had kept him from preferment by her own need for a friend. But as the new Viscountess, she thought, she would use her influence and contacts to help his career. Possibly he could aim higher eventually, for he was educated and competent. But she knew he did not seek a Bishopric, he liked the humbler duties of the parish, just as Reverend Bigelow did not.

She had told him many things from her heart, in their jesting way. The days when she used to want to throw her Mama’s soup over her, rather than hear her deluded accusatory ranting (a symptom of her wandering mind), any longer. It had been a relief to say it, and she wondered if he might judge her lack of compassion harshly. But he had merely wondered that if they were to have a soup throwing competition (for he had been sorely tempted to throw some at Mrs Petty in the village, he confided, after she had sought to use him as her unpaid footman yet again), which one of them would win? They agreed that while he might have the better arm, she had the better eye. He’d made her feel less like the ungrateful, unloving child she feared she was, and more like someone a little irritated by an ordinarily irritating situation.

Yet, for all her openness with him, she had not yet told him about Durant’s offer. And why she had not, she did not wish to guess.

In a very few days, to Miss Fleet’s dismay and sad looks from Beatty and Maria, Felicity was kissing her aunt’s cheek goodbye.

‘I shall visit, aunt.’

‘Do not put yourself to the trouble. Enjoy your fleeting season in London. Without a dowry, I fear it will be your last.’ Lady Ellingham drank a glass of vinegar, as sour as her face, the nod to health in her copious breakfast. ‘Unless as a governess of course. Several good families are in need of one: I shall mention your name.’

Mrs Fenton, waiting in the room for the goodbyes to be finished, said rather acidly, ‘Very kind, your ladyship. But not quite yet. Let the season be finished before we find your niece a new situation.’

‘Oh, very well. You shall remind me, Fleet. It is fortunate, Felicity, that in view of my, um, malady, my friends Mrs Fenton and Lady Sumner are able to chaperon you.’

Felicity bobbed a curtsy, repressing a joyful smile.

Soon she was in her own bedchamber in Mr Fenton’s house, next door to Lady Sumner’s. It was an elegant apartment, with a fire already lit to warm her as she and a maid unpacked, flowers to welcome her, and the softest bed she had ever known. She sat and bounced on it, amusing the maid who was to be her own. In one of the handsome armoires were dresses newly arrived from the dressmaker, neatly folded in tissue paper and lavender. Felicity wondered whether Lady Aurora had planned this all along. She and Mr Fenton were so utterly kind that it made her want to weep. What on earth had she ever done to deserve this? There was only time for a few tears, however, for Felicity was a young lady with a heavy social calendar.

Before breakfast, she rode with Lady Sumner, taking pointers from her on every ride, so that she soon rode with almost the facility of her ladyship. To see Genevieve on a horse, with her wild hair escaping its pins, was to see her at her most natural and most joyous, and Felicity was drawn to her anew. When they were interrupted to be hailed by acquaintances, Lady Sumner was irritated, but covered it better than her aunt had. ‘To further your acquaintance with the world is our object, after all,’ she said. But the early hour made the interruptions few and both enjoyed a canter and their growing closeness.

After breakfast there were morning callers. Mr Fenton was frequently present at these, giving certain gentlemen an acid remark or the loftiest of bows which was taken as every hint not to come back again. Felicity was a little thrown by this behaviour, venturing to ask Lady Aurora once why Mr Fenton did not appear to like Lord Stanford, a handsome young buck, with an easy line in compliments that did, in fact, make Felicity feel uncomfortable.

‘Mr Fenton is very knowledgeable about the world, my dear. You can be assured that the gentlemen he discourages are men whom he knows are not quite genteel in their character, or pure in their motives. My husband was once a rake himself, my dear,’ she added confidentially. Not really understanding this remark, Felicity nevertheless nodded sagely, quite happy to trust her host’s judgement. ‘It might be better if you refuse to dance with these gentlemen,’ added Lady Aurora. This Felicity did not feel she could do, not wishing to wound them, but settled with her ladyship that she should give them no more than a single dance, should they ask. ‘Which I do not think many will do. My husband has a ruthless reputation in dealing with his enemies.’

Felicity was looking for her reticule at that moment, and as Lord Oswald Sumner had shown a distinct penchant for chewing on the cords, she lifted him up distractedly, holding him away from her and looking beneath him. ‘Ah hah!’ she said with satisfaction finding the little silk purse that had been concealed.

‘Felicity!’ Genevieve said in a mock complaining voice, ‘recollect that you are holding a peer of the realm.’

Felicity looked at Lord Sumner, as though surprised she held him, ‘and a little thief!’ she said and pulled him to her, kissing him.

‘Do not let him dribble upon the new satin!’ shrieked Lady Aurora, referring to the stylish long scarf that trailed almost as long as her dress.

Felicity took the scarf off, and gave his lordship another hug while he reached for her reticule once more with grasping hands. She put him down, saying, ‘I shall not encourage your lawlessness.’

Lord Sumner, unhappy at being robbed of the reticule prepared his face to cry, but as Felicity offered him a spoon to chew, he deferred until another time. ‘Durdle-durdle-durdle-de,’ he informed her.

Life in Grosvenor Square was altogether lovely. Felicity was becoming close to them all, so much so that she was taken to task by Lady Aurora for the way she had fallen into, of kissing Mr Fenton on the cheek before bedtime. Since this was said with her charming smile, and since she was given an extra kiss by Mr Fenton, she paid no heed, and continued her custom. Lady Sumner, who was always polite, but had seemed a little withdrawn after the enthusiasms and compliments of Lady Aurora, had reminded Felicity of the groom at her old home who had complained all the time about not having time to ‘deal with her starts,’ but who nevertheless threw her up on any horse she chose, and let her follow him around for hours. To see Genevieve with her child was to know her, and Felicity took her straight to her heart.

There might be a drive out with her friends, visits to small afternoon parties, the play, Vauxhall Gardens, and any number of the season’s many amusements. And every evening there was a party or a dinner, large or small. Having met the terrifying Mrs Drummond-Burrell, one of the patronesses of Almacks Assembly Rooms, whose hallowed halls could only be entered by showing vouchers sanctioned by the powerful ladies in charge, Felicity was amazed to receive some. It seemed her aunt had been useful.

Once a week, she met Miss Fleet, as arranged, in the reading room of the circulating library, where the little lady could be relied upon, due to her intimacy with the clerk, to know about the newest novels. Thus, too, she was able to hear news of her aunt and her household. She had written to her aunt, to once more give thanks for the lavish amount of clothes and the allowance she had sent her via Mrs Fenton. It was ten pounds, enough to give vails to the servants, and to buy some fripperies, but Felicity was keeping the majority for her future life. Her gratitude spilt over on the paper, and Miss Fleet agreed to take it. The response was swift and brief. You need not thank me. Her aunt had a hidden kindness in her, Felicity concluded.

One thing that affected her a little was the absolute animosity of Miss Jane Friel. If there was a way that that young lady could create trouble for her, she did.  Miss Friel extracted from a servant at Ellingham House the information that Felicity was dowerless. It was around London in a minute. There was a rather dispiriting falling off of morning visits, but at balls, Felicity was pretty and charming enough seldom to have her hand unclaimed.

So though Felicity knew that her adventure would soon be at an end, she was quite content. Until, that is, her fortunes took her once more into the orbit of Sebastian, Viscount of Durant and his cousin, Lady Letitia Fortescue.

Felicity missed an early ride one day, and Genevieve was able to ride on her own, with a groom behind her on a job horse. If it was her stable, this groom would be able to ride no other, for in Genevieve’s opinion he was not fitted for his position. When she visited the stables, she had noticed this. Nepotism was probably at fault as his uncle, Jobson, was head groom. She had almost mentioned his lack to Mr Fenton for the sake of the animals. However Jobson was excellent and she trusted that he would oversee his nephew until, perhaps, he was adequate. She was loath to lose any man his position, but if he pulled too sharply on the girth when saddling once more… At any rate, he offered the respectability necessary for her lone ride, which was as much as she could say of him.

She was about to break into a canter when she saw a gentleman on foot hail her, and pulled up sharply.

‘Dickie!’ she said joyously.

Looking up at her was a gentleman with dark eyes and copious chestnut hair, smiling a crooked smile which looked rather unused. He raised a hand and she took it gladly, her brows contracting as she looked at him.

‘Jenny!’ he said, warmly. That was more like him. ‘Your hat’s on squint and your hair is like a bird’s nest. Oh, it’s good to see you.’ They stayed like that for a moment, and Genevieve squeezed his hand. ‘I forget myself,’ he said, with an assumption of the old gay manner, ‘Let me introduce you to my friend, Lieutenant Samuel Sloane, of the 7th.’

Genevieve had recognised the exquisite uniform of the Hussars, with the dashing Shako hat that the Duke had despised as being too like the French to make them distinct in the thick of battle. The cost of the fine outfit had, by rumour, almost bankrupted some young officers. He was an attractive young man of middling height and colouration and as he came forward to shake her hand, she saw that he limped slightly.

Here were two heroes of Wellington’s great victory, and like all English women, she was proud. Her friend Benedict Fenton, nephew of Mr Wilbert Fenton, wore a plain blue coat and buff pantalons, his cravat negligently tied. He was as handsome as his famously beautiful sisters Serena and Honoria, now temporarily absent from town with their new husbands. She remembered when, as a green young buck, he had been punctilious about such things as cravats, anxious to be as fashionable as he could. But a stint in the Hussars had given him a new maturity, perhaps. Genevieve’s father’s estate in Yorkshire marched on the Fenton’s, and they had grown up together, she the eldest of the group. More recently, over a year ago in fact, Benedict had performed a particular service for her, risking himself in the same reckless way that he rode his horses. She would never forget it.

‘How come you to town?’ she asked, after exchanging pleasantries with his rather serious young friend.

‘To see you. I went first to Sumner Hall only to be told that you were in town at my uncle’s.’

‘Have you been home to Yorkshire? How are your dear mama and papa?’

‘Not yet. I thought I would come to see you first.’ He smiled that unfamiliar crooked smile. ‘I am not quite ready to be interrogated by Mama.’

She smiled. ‘Well, if you wrote rather more often … She was most put out, when I saw her at the wedding, that I had received more recent news than she.’

‘Oh, the post was not to be depended on …’ he said vaguely.

‘What is your direction in town? Do you stay with us at Grosvenor Square?’

‘I’m bunking with Sloane for the moment.’

‘Two lieutenants together. You’ll be catching up with Lord Carstairs again, I suppose, and carousing shamefully.’

The crooked smile again, and Sloan clapped his shoulder in what Genevieve suspected was a supportive gesture. ‘Oh, not two lieutenants, my lady — you are looking at a superior officer. Benedict is now Captain Fenton, don’t ye know?’

‘You didn’t mention it…’

The park was becoming more crowded and her horse was restive standing still. ‘Can’t keep Caesar standing, Dickie,’ she said brusquely. ‘It’s the most absurd start, but Lady Aurora invited me here to help chaperon a friend of hers. I am kept busy gadding about town, I assure you.’

‘You? A social butterfly?  Benedict laughed.

‘Come to the Telford’s ball tonight and you shall meet the reason. You will like her, I am sure.’

‘Oh, I don’t know…’

‘Lord Telford is an intimate of your papa. There can be no problem procuring invitations for you — and Lieutenant Sloane, of course.’

‘Very well. If only to see you dance again. Do you still have the dreadful peach satin gown?’

‘If I had, Lady Aurora would have the good taste to prevent me wearing it. Don’t be later than eight, Benedict, I depend on it.’

She rode off, a frown between her brows. Something was wrong with Benedict. Tonight she would find out what.

At a later hour, Lady Letitia Fortescue and Miss Friel were being driven in the startling pale blue curricle that had been the instrument of Felicity’s first abduction. Across the park, Miss Carter-Phipps was driving, with two other young ladies seated beside her.

‘Who is that with Miss Carter-Phipps?’ enquired her ladyship of her friend.

‘Miss Vivien Althorpe, I suppose. They are always together.’

‘No, the other one.’

Miss Friel glanced over briefly, with a fair assumption of her friend’s superior manner, but the carriage was now too far off. ‘Probably the nobody that Miss Althorpe has taken up. Lady Ellingham’s niece.’

Lady Letitia relaxed. It could not then be Durant’s accomplice of Hans Place, as the fleeting glance had suggested. Of course not.

Lady Telford’s Ball was a brilliant affair, as befitted the Duke’s position. The street was blocked off to traffic not attending and lit up by fifty men bearing flambeaux, twenty-five on each side. Carriages arrived and dropped off their charges, who were then aided by a phalanx of scarlet and gold garbed footmen to enter the building. It was a house more like a little palace, Felicity thought, taking up the entire street with a private park beyond the road.

The Duke was an amiable man of about fifty, who was in the process of abandoning his lovely Duchess on the presentation line for the more amusing card room, when the Grosvenor Square party arrived. He stayed to see Lady Aurora however, and his roué’s eye watered appreciatively. Felicity noticed and was not surprised. His Grace was a known gambler, the all-knowing Vivien had told her, and so possibly had known Lady Aurora in the days of her gaming establishment. Moreover, thought Felicity, regarding the lovely Duchess, his wife was rather in Lady Aurora’s style. She was somewhere between her ladyship’s age and Felicity’s, a handsome women with that indefinable touch of style. Her grace’s blond head was complexly coiffured, as Felicity could nowadays discern, her dress simple satin, but shimmering with tiny stones that reflected the light in a dazzling way. She wore a high, broad collar of diamonds, which Althea had told her were the family stones, reset to her own design. With her upturned lips, like a cat’s and her green slanted eyes, she was remarkably beautiful.

Lady Aurora was in cream satin with a band of flowers richly embroidered on the hem then climbing a little on the front of her dress. She wore a simple pearl collar of four strands around her delicate throat, which had surprised Felicity.

‘Do you not wear your rubies, or the diamonds?’ she had asked.

Lady Aurora had twinkled at her. ‘Never try to rival one’s hostess in the matter of jewels. My diamonds, though inferior to the Telford set, might be thought presumptuous.’

Felicity bobbed a curtsy to the Duke and Duchess and was soon inside the ballroom, seeking her friends. Lady Sumner was also seeking someone, and before Felicity had located her friends, she had found him.

‘Lady Sumner!’ a young man was bowing over her hand. ‘It is half past eight of the clock and you have left me here with nothing to do this half hour.’ He spoke with the intimacy of a friend and his companion, a young military gentleman, also bowed to Lady Sumner briefly.

‘Benedict!’ Mr Fenton clapped his hand on the young man’s shoulder, his usual mask of suave indifference swept away by apparent joy.

‘Uncle! And my beautiful new Aunt. But I really cannot call you so. You are by far too young.’

The nonsense continued throughout the greetings and introductions. Felicity felt rather shy at meeting this handsome young man, who smiled at her with great appreciation. ‘This year’s belle, I’ll be bound!’ he remarked. Felicity blushed.

‘Forgive my friend, Miss Oldfield,’ said Lieutenant Sloane, ‘He has no manners to speak of and has forgotten how to behave in an English ballroom.’ He said it gravely, but there was a hint of laughter in his eyes that allowed her to smile.

Lady Aurora looked at her step-nephew and seemed to perceive something. ‘Why don’t you four young people,’ Genevieve started at being so included, ‘make it your business to find the refreshment rooms. It is an excellent beginning to a ball to know where they are located. And in this rabbit warren we may all be parched to death before we find them, no matter how many footmen are about. I—’ she added, ‘must dance with my husband before he disappears from my side.’

Captain Benedict Fenton laid Lady Sumner’s hand on his arm and Lt Sloane and Felicity followed suit. They soon located the various rooms set aside for drooping guests, plus several card rooms and withdrawing rooms for ladies taking the faint, or needing to pin a flounce, or even wishing to chatter — away from the hot ballroom. It was the largest ball that she had yet attended, and the magnificence of the space hardly needed the garlands of fresh flowers that festooned the walls in swags. Everyone who was anyone in the Beau Monde was here, the ladies’ jewels and spangled shawls glittering; the gentlemen, in knee breeches and well cut evening coats, their perfect foil.

Felicity looked around her, capturing the memories to put in a glass jar, rather as she had caught beautiful butterflies as a child. This was all a temporary dream, and she knew it. When it was over, she would resist any pity that her wonderful host and hostess might show her, and find herself that position which was the only way she could hope for independence. The hope of achieving more, like a proposal, was not in her mind. For all her joyful optimism, Felicity was a practical girl. The success that was assured for her friends Vivien and Althea, both with family and wealth, would not be for her.

Althea was even now planning her revenge on Miss Friel for the general knowledge of Felicity’s lack of a portion, but it would not help.

The friends had discussed this in the park, on a day when Althea had let them know that Mr Quincy had indeed proposed.

‘Miss Friel has gone too far this time, she has always been set against you, for you receive too much attention. It was perfectly foul of her.’

‘Do not be silly, Vivien, any gentleman would be bound to find out that I was portionless before he offered. Miss Friel has simply saved time by setting it about.’

‘She may be caught out by it. There are many men of property that will be undeterred. But she must be made to pay.’ Althea’s determined little person made Felicity amused and afraid for Miss Friel.

‘Let it be, Althea, I beg you,’ she’d laughed.

But she knew that while popular amongst the young set, she was unlikely to receive an offer. The morning calls and particular attentions had dropped off. In fact, Felicity had received a proposal by a drunk Lord Stanford, when he had caught her in an antechamber alone, but she had politely declined. Even for a position as a baron’s wife and the tempting thought of returning to London next year and staying in touch with her dear friends, she could not reconcile herself to such a marriage as that. He slurred his words, breathed fumes on her and squeezed her to him. Rather like the occasion with the carpet bag, her foot had risen quite on its own and stamped hard on his until he let her go. As well return to Oldfield and the dreadful Mr Lawson as be the wife of such a man.

For the moment though, she had this wonderful time, with friends and balls and beautiful clothes just as though she deserved it. And she would ring every ounce of joy from it, for she would need to remember it in the years to come.

Genevieve and Benedict had now exited the ballroom to a large balcony over the back garden, with four or five stone benches around it. Due to Lt Sloane’s limp, they were rather behind and Felicity saw her friend sitting with the Captain talking rather seriously. Lt. Sloane also saw the position and gestured her to a bench two spaces over from them and out of earshot of their low voices.

 ‘Very well, Benedict, now you must tell me why you did not go home to Yorkshire. Dear Lady Fenton and Sir Ranalph worry about you, you know.’

‘Yes.’ He sighed. ‘I just hoped I could belay the questions for the moment. Except yours of course. I knew I could not escape that fate.’ There was a pause while they both smiled wanly, Genevieve rather depressed by Benedict’s unaccustomed dark mood.

‘A Captain now — are you not very young for that rank?’ asked Genevieve, still very conscious of a false note between them, usually the very best of friends.

‘It was a battlefield commission. It makes no odds.’

‘I expect it does to your pay, my dear.’

‘The dashed new uniform eats it up, I assure you. My friends wear their regimentals in town to save money, but I’m dashed if I will be seen in a damned Shako hat in Brooke Street.’

‘Your language—’ began Genevieve dryly.

‘Sorry, Jenny, I’ve lived too long in barracks. But since when were you such a high stickler, my Lady Sumner?’

‘Since I play the role of duenna.’ She looked across at Felicity, who was talking with Lt Sloane ‘Isn’t she charming?’

Benedict glanced over. ‘She is. A very friendly girl.’

Genevieve was a little surprised at his tepid admiration, but she supposed that having two beautiful sisters inured him. ‘And so true, I assure you! And she’s beginning to ride rather well.’

‘Trust you to count that as one of the womanly virtues. Can she play the pianoforte as well as you?’ Lady Sumner, who was excessively inept on the instrument, hit him with her fan. ‘I do like your dress tonight, Jenny,’ he said of the brown silk with one fawn ribbon sash beneath her bosom. It was fashionable, but understated, ‘But,’ continued he, ‘A fan and a cap? It is though you were quite an antidote.’

‘I am three years older than you, Benedict Fenton, and a widow.’

He looked at her gravely for a moment, she had expressed herself to him about Lord Frederick Sumner’s death, in her letters. She had been estranged from him, but she still was sad to see any young man lose his life to his own debauchery. ‘How fares his young lordship — and the horses?’

‘All thriving! For which I give thanks daily. We shall soon drag the estate out of debt, I assure you. We sell at Tattersall’s. I send my groom, Rooney, since the presence of a female trader would cause revulsion.  What I need is another young gentlemen who can ride a horse well, or drive a pair in town and then recommend them. It would certainly pay better.’

‘I know just the young buck for that,’ said Benedict.

‘You? With my horses?’ she laughed, ‘certainly not.’

‘Rude! No not me. I don’t go about much these days. I only came to town to see you, Jenny.’

She reached and took his hand, grasping it. ‘What troubles you, Benedict?’

He looked straight at her, and did not dissemble, ‘So many friends gone, Jenny. I saw them fall. Even my promotion — every time I am called Captain Fenton, I see poor Boffy Sutliffe, whose captaincy I inherited, dead on the battle ground.’ He grasped her hand more tightly and released it. ‘Not the topic for a ballroom.’

‘You can always speak to me, Dickie,’ she said in a low voice, ‘Ride with me tomorrow.’

‘I will, Jenny. I won’t repeat my sad tale. There are any number of soldiers back from the war who are showing a happy face to the world. I must do better. But I cannot return to Mama until I do. It would break her heart. So I come to you and burden a poor widow with my megrims.’

‘I am very glad you did. You know that I have no sensibility.’ She said calmly.

Benedict looked deep into her eyes, his incredibly handsome face grave, a curl falling over his brow, ‘That is what I do not know. You have the truest feelings of any woman I know. But you seldom betray them.’ Genevieve dropped her eyes. ‘Well, brave girl, will you at last let me give you the money to repair your fortunes the quicker?’ He was referring to the money he had recovered for her from the gamesters who cheated her feckless husband — nearly two years ago now, when Benedict had been a reckless youth.

Something trembled inside her. He was calling her “brave girl” as though he were the elder, yet what he had gone through in these past two years had made it so, she felt.  She tried for a light tone. ‘Do you still have it, Benedict? I felt sure that you had spent it in gambling, carousing and bribing Spanish duennas.’

‘Of course I still have it!’ said Benedict, offended. ‘It is yours. And a Captain’s pay leaves quite enough to carouse. Spanish duennas are unbribe-able, I’m afraid, but they are trick-able.’ He grinned, so much like his old, boyish self that Genevieve grinned back. ‘I did borrow a hundred, which I shall repay next quarter day,’ he said, more seriously. ‘The situation of many army brides is shocking. If they are not English, they are not permitted to follow their husbands here, and they are left with children — sometimes quite unsupported. I am ashamed to say that some husbands seem to forget their very existence once they have returned home. There was a widow of a friend, Boffy’s actually. I wrote to his family of their situation but they repudiate her and their grandchildren entirely.’

‘Oh! How shocking, Dickie. We women are never told of such things. Of course, there must be many such marriages during the years of the wars. It is quite dreadful.’

‘It is. Women can go from perfect respectability to starvation in a month. I used some of your money to buy the cottage Boffy’s wife lived in. And gave her some more that will keep her for some years, I hope.’

‘I have none of Frederick’s drains on the estate now. I have the additional income from the stud too, and we are very comfortable, I assure you. Next year I will be free of any debt, I hope. I could never accept that money, though it gave me strength to know it was there at a very difficult time. ‘She leaned forward and clasped his hand once more. ‘We know what to do with it now, do we not, my friend? We shall start a fund for those soldiers’ wives. And perhaps we could raise more in London.’

‘Stay that, Jenny. There is no desire in the Beau Monde to see the pain Wellington’s heroes leave behind. We shall have to do so quietly, or we shall be ostracised before we start.’

Genevieve perceived her young friend was looking brighter at the thought of action and she was glad.

‘Have you seen my sisters? How does married life suit them? I cannot imagine them apart from each other.’

Genevieve laughed. ‘But to be sure, they are not. They dine as a four every night as far as I can see, it hardly mattering if in Bassington or at Upton Manor, Scribster’s house. On one evening, a particularly difficult game of billiards seemed in dispute between Allison and Scribster and as we ladies joined them, Serena urged them to resolution by duel, using boots for swords. I had to declare the winner, as the most impartial of the observers, and from the whole tone of the evening, I gathered such romping around the hallowed halls of the great house was quite the done thing. The change in Gus Scribster is remarkable. He smiles all the time, and he looks really very handsome.’

‘The romping will be Serena’s influence,’ said Benedict Fenton knowledgeably.

‘I do not know — amongst outside company, Honoria is still the well-mannered and even-tempered girl she always was. But among the four, I am sure she is just as pert and naughty as her sister.’

‘I could tell from their letters that they were both very happy. I am delighted to hear you confirm it. I hope to see them both soon. I rather miss them and the rest of my annoying little brothers and sisters.’

It was at this point that Felicity called on them, and Benedict, a trifle reluctant to end this comfortable conversation, whispered, ‘Tomorrow in the Park!’ to Jenny who nodded.

Lt Sloane smiled at Felicity, who was by now quite comfortable in his presence. ‘This could be construed as taking a young lady aside in a most improper way — if I were a gallant young suitor.’

‘Oh, no,’ smiled Felicity, ‘I am within sight of my duenna, as you see. I have made a careful study of such things, for I would never like to disappoint my dear Mr and Mrs Fenton.’

He smiled. ‘I am not to be feared, I assure you.’

‘No indeed,’ said Felicity. She paused, then asked, ‘Are you one of Wellington’s heroes? Were you at the great battle?’ he nodded, but grimly, ‘it must have been so excit—’ she stopped as she realised how his demeanour had changed. ‘I am so very sorry, that was thoughtless. Is that how your leg—?’

He was surprised at this, for well brought up young ladies affected not to notice his lameness, even while their eyes sought his leg. ‘Yes, my horse crushed it. But he was the more unfortunate, for he did not survive.’ He was amazed at himself, but there was something so open about this shining young girl, so unaffected, that he found himself confiding in her. He changed the subject, however, and looked over at the others. ‘Your chaperon does not seem quite old enough for that cap.’

‘So I tell her, but she has the most troublesome hair, and I can see the argument that it saves it escaping from the pins. And she says it gives her some dignity.’

‘She is in mourning for her husband, I hear.’

‘Yes. I believe so. She does not dance.’ Felicity had a fair idea that Lady Sumner had already been living separately from her husband when he died and that her husband had been something just short of a villain from one of her novels, by the tones her host and hostess used whenever his name came up. ‘She is quite beautiful, but has no opinion of her own virtues, you know.’

The lieutenant looked at Lady Sumner in surprise. She was a slender, wiry woman with a long face and nose, certainly not the usual pattern of feminine beauty. But as she sat talking with his friend, her face as open as his own companion’s, he could understand Miss Oldfield’s opinion. She was rather beautiful, though he would never have thought so before. There was something about war that reduced the glitter and glamour of the ballroom they had just left to its proper place in the world and allowed one to see things — like the steady regard in Lady Sumner’s eye as she strove not to show her concern for his friend Benedict too obviously. She was listening intently, and in just that, he saw her beauty.

He looked back at his companion, absolutely the epitome of the world’s idea of beauty, with her gold flecked dark eyes and ripe lips. But it was in her openness that he saw her beauty.

‘Have you danced much since you arrived?’ she asked him.

He looked at her, his mouth dropping, feeling wounded but knowing that was not her intent. ‘I cannot now dance, of course. I would not make my partner such a figure as to try, only to have all the world gawp at us.’

Felicity frowned. ‘Are you in pain, then, Lt Sloane?’

‘I am not.’

‘Then of course you can dance the country dances at least. I have regarded your gait closely as we walked and you do not drag the leg. There is no paralysis?’

‘No. I merely lost some bone that means one leg is now shorter by some portion of an inch.’

‘Oh then that is no impediment to a country dance! Whoever looked elegant dancing a reel?’ She leapt up and held her hand out gaily. ‘Listen, a Scotch Reel is playing now. We shall practice! Lady Sumner! Mr Fenton! Come and join us! We are practising the Scotch Reel with Lt Sloane.’

Seeming to shake off a mood, Mr Fenton got up gaily and led Lady Sumner towards them, Sloane now standing, but continuing to complain.

‘Give in, Sam, I see Miss Oldfield is a force to be reckoned with.’

There was some giggling as they arranged themselves, Lady Sumner also complaining that she did not dance, but Mr Fenton was ranged on the side of Felicity. ‘Now Jenny, you can romp with the best of them.  I know you are in mourning, but no one can see us, after all.’

The four made up their small set and got into a laughing tangle at the lack of other partners.

‘I know! Lord and Lady Sparkle are beside Lady Sumner and Mr Fenton,’ said Felicity waving at the air beyond them, ‘and we are beside Mr and Mrs Markle.’ Thus they continued, doing figures with the imaginary Markles and Sparkles and kicking their heels in joy. Lt Sloane did stumble on one or two occasions, and his serious face looked conscious, but as they all laughed at him unaffectedly, and each made their own blunders, he soon lost his self-consciousness and they continued in their set.

‘I am very admiring of Lady Sparkle’s grace, though she is as wide as she is long,’ said Captain Fenton.

Felicity gurgled. ‘And Mr Markle has the most elegant bow!’

The silliness continued, and the dance was ending when they heard a high feminine voice say, ‘My dear Jane, did you see Miss Gosford’s ankles? As thick as her father’s.’ A trilling laugh replied.

Felicity gave a start, she did not know why. The four stopped the dance as two young ladies entered the terrace. Miss Jane Friel and a tall beauty in a pale blue silk gown the same colour as her large eyes, open at the front to reveal an underdress trimmed richly in Valenciennes lace, a delicate diamond tiara atop her shining chestnut hair. 

‘You!’ said Lady Letitia, ‘Hans Place.’

Felicity gasped and reached for Lady Sumner’s hand, finding instead Lt. Sloane’s.

‘You know Miss Oldfield?’ asked Jane Friel, relishing the tone in her friend’s voice that bode no good for her enemy.

‘Lady Letitia—’ croaked Felicity, hardly able to breathe at the animosity beneath that young lady’s superior air.

‘Hardly at all. I certainly did not expect to see her here. She came to London to reside in Hans Place, you know. As a governess.’ Her sharp eye had caught the hand clasp, which Felicity had dropped as soon as she realised her mistake. ‘I see her behaviour is no better than the last time I met her; on that occasion she drove off on her own with my cousin Durant.’

Miss Friel gasped — in delight, Felicity was sure.

Lady Sumner’s brain was working fast. ‘Lieutenant, find Lady Aurora!’ she whispered, and Lt Sloane, coming to from the shock, disappeared through another set of French windows.

Lady Letitia’s eyes took in Felicity’s finery. ‘I did not know her name of course, Durant never introduces me to that sort of women.’ She laughed. ‘But she is rather better dressed than the last time we met when my cousin had to borrow my hat and pelisse to make her respectable enough even to drive off with.’

Miss Friel, not wishing to stem the flood of reputation-destroying allegations, merely said, ‘I always thought she lacked refinement. I scarcely knew how far from that state she had fallen.’

‘Stop!’ Lady Sumner ordered, in a tone she might use to a runaway horse. This horse had run far too far already, and in her shock, she had not found her voice soon enough. ‘You will take your ill-natured falsehoods and go, Lady Letitia and Miss Friel. No one who could hear your remarks could think that either of you deserve the name lady at all.’

Humiliation and shock was writ large on Lady Letitia’s face. No one, save Durant, had ever addressed her so before.

‘Hear, hear!’ said Benedict Fenton.

‘You should be ash—’ continued Lady Sumner wrathfully.

Felicity grasped Lady Sumner’s arm. ‘No. She does not lie, not—’ but she had pulled away, and ran from the terrace and into the ballroom.

At the same moment Lady Aurora and Lt Sloane arrived through the other doors to the terrace.

‘Where is Felicity?’ She asked Genevieve and Benedict.

‘Mrs Fenton, I believe,’ said the cold tone of Lady Letitia. ‘And you claim friendship with that young lady?’ Lady Letitia, still flushed and enraged by Lady Sumner’s impertinence, had a voice that dripped venom.

Miss Friel was ever helpful. ‘That young person,’ both Genevieve and Aurora stiffened at this description of Felicity, ‘resides with Mrs Fenton, I believe.’

‘Fine protection!’ Lady Letitia spat the insult towards Lady Aurora but was quick enough to turn her heel and leave before a riposte, a triumphant Miss Friel trailing behind her.

‘We must find Felicity, but leave the ballroom as discreetly as possible. We will not give faggots to the fire,’ said Genevieve, close to tears herself. She looked at the confusion on her beautiful friend’s face. ‘It is bad, Aurora. Very bad.’

Chapter 6

Disaster

The sight of a young girl running through the long room, brushing past dancers as she did so, naturally excited attention of the worst kind. As she pushed past the throng, Viscount# Durant looked up and spotted her. The little girl from the stagecoach, surely. But no! It couldn’t be. He followed her, inviting gentle speculation which, when tonight’s news was circulated, would elevate to red hot scandal.

As he left, his hostess’s eyes followed him, saying to her companion. ‘Who is the child who ran from the ballroom? Wasn’t she with the Fenton’s party?’

‘A Miss Oldfield, I believe. Niece of old Lady Ellingham,’ said Mrs Jensen.

‘Try to find out what occurred, will you?’

‘These young girls—,’ began Mrs Jensen. Then, when she remarked her grace’s expression, she added, ‘Certainly!’

The Duchess raised her head and continued to glide around the room, with a smile for everyone, but rather colder than usual. The Viscount of Durant had just seen fit to end their affair, and chosen tonight to inform her, a humiliation she had swallowed with ill will. Now she suspected that the distressed young beauty was the reason for her lover’s defection.

Durant caught up with Felicity and grasped her arm just as she had achieved the grand marble hall before the front exit.

‘Miss —? It is you isn’t it? — I don’t remember your name.’

‘You! You never asked it,’ she said distracted enough to be blunt.

‘I beg your pardon, but leave that aside. Whatever distresses you?’

‘I must leave, ‘said Felicity with desperation, ‘Let me go, you are making things worse, I assure you.’

‘You cannot run out in the street without your cloak at least. There is a niche over there.’ He nodded to a footman, leading her to it and pressing her to sit down.

‘Bring Miss — Miss’s cloak.’ The footman disappeared.

There were others milling in the hall — most arriving, but late enough to have missed the reception line. He gestured to another lackey. ‘Fetch Miss — the lady’s party from the ballroom, she is clearly unwell.’ One could trust the servants to know the parties who had entered together, even as he did not.

There were tears coursing down the young girl’s face and her nose was red and possibly running. Durant inserted his bulk between her and the late arrivals to disguise her tears.

‘Don’t you even have a handkerchief?’ He chided gently, which drew a small smile from her, offering her a large square of silk. He was uncomfortable, aware of eyes on him, but he did not think he could, in conscience, leave her.

Felicity was shaking now and one noisy sob escaped her, causing the glances to become more fixed.

‘Oh, please leave me, sir,’ she begged, ‘you can have no notion of how much worse you are making it.’

He wanted to escape with a will. He should never have followed her. This was just the sort of speculation he detested. But he was duty bound to stay until some friend of hers was brought back by the footman. And he wished to know her name.

He had not long to wait. A phalanx of people came towards him, some of whom he knew intimately, one being Lady Aurora Fenton, previously Countess Overton when he had frequented her gambling establishment. Also her husband Wilbert Fenton, intimate of the Prince Regent. Mr Benedict Fenton was there too, he remembered him because of his resemblance to his beautiful sisters, as well as another young buck, and a woman he vaguely recognised as Frederick Sumner’s widow.

‘Mrs Fenton, Lady Sumner.’ He bowed.

‘It’s you is it? Go away at once, do,’ said Lady Aurora, with none of her usual social charm.

Durant stiffened. ‘I found Miss — Miss in distress and I-’

‘Good God. This isn’t Durant is it?’ said the widow in the cap, ‘It could not be more unfortunate.’

‘What on earth—?’  Objected Durant.

Wilbert Fenton stepped forward with a grave look on his face. ‘Take yourself off now Bastion. I’ll call on you tomorrow morning.’

‘I leave for Newmarket at dawn—’

Lady Aurora had now wrapped her cloak around Felicity’s shoulders, and drew her upright and the party moved off towards the door.

‘Be there.’ Fenton said shortly.

‘I might pay a visit to my Lord Durant,’ said his handsome nephew, significantly.

‘Stay the heroics until we know what has occurred…’ his uncle advised.

With a hard look from the other young man, whom he had never even met, the doors were open and they were gone.

Durant stood stock still for a moment, wondering what had just happened. His night had not gone well. Her Grace had taken his defection from their arrangement more badly than he had expected. His visits had become so few, surely she had guessed? But she affected not. And now this, whatever it was.

Suddenly he thought, ‘Letitia!’

Mr Fenton let drop the blinds on the closed carriage where the three ladies were aghast and silent, and turned. Felicity was seated between his wife and himself, and had hidden her head on his lady’s shoulder.

‘So Sebastian Durant was your first abductor, my dear?’ he said, with gentle humour.

Felicity turned to him, throwing herself in to his embrace, weeping.

‘There, there, my dear, I’m not sure what has occurred, but I am sure it will not be as bad as you feared.’ Genevieve was seated opposite and she met his eye, her expression grim. ‘I told you I would fathom the mystery,’ he said into Felicity’s hair.

His tone was so smug that she gurgled, but then a wave of wracking sobs hit and Mr Fenton was left to grasp her closer.

‘You need not talk now, my dear. Wait until we are home,’ soothed Lady Aurora.

Genevieve looked at her. ‘If I were a man I would shoot him. And his vile cousin.’

‘I blame myself!’ said Samuel Sloane to Benedict as they walked the dark street back to Sloane’s lodging. ‘I was nearest and should have prevented Miss Oldfield from leaving the terrace before she had composed herself.’

‘Well, as to that, I think we might have had to wait out the ball, for the state she was in when we handed her into the carriage was pitiful. I doubt she has stopped yet.’ Said Benedict with an attempt at levity. ‘It’s the most damnable thing. Everything has converged to make the worst situation possible. Her refusal to deny, her extreme reaction, the rank of her accuser, at the largest ball of the season, and then Durant giving the vague claim solidity by following her and letting the whole world know there was a previous connection.’

‘You must know that I at least will believe no evil of such an innocent as Miss Oldfield.’

‘Of course not! I have reason to know how rumour can spread like wildfire, destroying a girl’s reputation! And Jenny told me a little of her tale — she has no family in town except old Lady Ellingham. She reminds me a little of my sister Serena, whose ability to get into scrapes was legendary. I dreaded her first season and what damage her impulsiveness could land her in, but fortunately she was engaged to Rowley Allison by then and his reputation saved hers.’

‘I met your sister once, she rejected a royal duke for a dance, saying she had just accepted me.’

‘That sounds like her. A faradiddle?’

‘Yes, we were only chatting before a supper table. And that dance was a cotillion which I had already promised to Miss Timponey. She has cut me dead ever since.’

‘I acquit Miss Oldfield of Serena’s manipulative powers.’

‘Yes, but I can quite see that her open nature could get her into some scrapes. Our dancing set on the balcony with the Sparkles and Markles was not quite the thing. It was only made decent in that Lady Sumner was chaperon.’

‘Isn’t that ridiculous?’ said Benedict. ‘As ridiculous as the cap to make her look older.’

‘Miss Oldfield said it was to keep her hair neat.’

Benedict smiled reminiscently. ‘Her hair does have a mind of its own. It even ejects her bonnets sometimes when she rides. The number of times I have had to ride back in search of a bonnet—’

Lt Sloane was surprised to see his friend smile quite genuinely. For a long time now, Benedict’s bright smile had been gone with those they had lost on the battlefield. He smiled in politeness of course, but it was not the smile of the merry new officer Sloane had once known. He, Sloane, might have the obvious wound in his leg, but Benedict’s scars ran just as deep.

‘But Sam, whatever happens, we must not abandon Miss Oldfield to her fate at the hands of those two spiteful cats tonight.’

‘If there is anything to be done, we shall do it.’

‘We’ll take direction from my Uncle Wilbert, once all is known — and we can trust Lady Aurora to get the tale from the girl. And my uncle is a knowing ‘un. He’ll know what to do.’

Lieutenant Sloane and the young Captain Fenton talked of this most serious situation into the night. Benedict Fenton had the happy idea of summoning his mother to town, as part of an attempt to give Miss Oldfield some countenance, but that lady was coping with a break out of influenza amongst the youngest children and could not well leave them. It had been a good idea, though, said Sloane, for perhaps if enough well-placed members of society could be seen to befriend and support Miss Oldfield, the rumour mill might be turned on someone else. It could never erase the shadow of a stain, of course, but it would ease the situation.

Benedict asked if Sloane’s mother might be enlisted but he said no, his mother was one of the highest sticklers in the ton, intimate of crotchety old Viscountess Swanson, and would be more likely to tar and feather any young lady who even granted a third dance to a suitor never mind supporting a girl she did not know who had been accused of such indiscretion. ‘Even if she were in town at present, which she is not.’

Sloane suggested a list of friends and intimates who could be depended on for support. But it was tricky. It may spread the story even further, and young men raising the idea of saving a young lady’s reputation could be suggestive of itself.

‘Damn rumours. It upset everyone. Did you see Lady Sumner’s face? I know she somehow blames herself for the occurrence. I would not see her so hurt for the world.’

Sloane thought this a strange diversion from the point, but as the port was finished and nothing more sensible was likely to come from either of them tonight, they agreed to sleep.

‘For we will know more in the morning. I would not ask Miss Oldfield, of course, but she will have told my uncle all by morning. Then we will know better what we deal with.’

‘If it is as it sounds, I might pay a visit to Lord Durant,’ said Benedict fiercely.

‘And get yourself killed in a duel?’ Sloane protested. ‘I have seen him shoot.’

‘It is strange, is it not, that we only just met Miss Oldfield hours ago, and yet it seems like a long time.’

‘Yes, but she and Lady Sumner are such game girls, are they not?’

‘They are. Let’s sleep on it.’

But Lt Sloane did not sleep right away. Perhaps there was a way to help the nicest young lady he had met in a twelvemonth. He could not tell Benedict, for fear of being dissuaded, but he would leave a note explaining himself in the morning.

In another coach, with a handsome crest on the side, Sebastian Durant was looking at the beautiful profile of his cousin, the curled plume on her coiffure dancing with the motion of the coach. She was affecting superior indifference, but beneath it, Durant could see the fear. This worried him as an accustomed grand sulk could not. He had removed her from the ballroom by whispering in her ear that he would drag her from it.

‘What have you done?’

‘I do not know—’ she said, in an assumed tone of outrage, still turned from him.

‘Yes you do Letitia, and if you do not tell me, I swear I will do what I should have done sooner and take my crop to your rear.’

‘If you are going to use such cant expressions—’

‘I can see that you have awakened from whatever evil self-interest has led you to do, I can see that you might even regret it.’

Letitia’s eyes dropped and she rung her hands.

‘I have nothing to regret—’

‘I’m warning you—’

She cringed. ‘Well, I was so shocked to see that girl tonight — the Hans Place girl that you, you, Durant, assured me I would never see again — and at the Duchess of Telford’s Ball of all places, that I may have been surprised into letting slip something—’

‘What?’

‘—something injurious to her good character.’ She met his eye for a terrible moment while his jaw worked grimly. ‘She may have made me look ridiculous, if she were to tell the tale of that day — I could not allow—’

‘Stop. What did you say?’

‘I found her clasping the hand of some young gentlemen on the terrace,’ Durant frowned, ‘and I said — I said—’

‘What?’

‘I said that such behaviour was consistent with what I knew about her. That the last time I saw her she drove away with — with you on her own.’

There was a dreadful pause. Durant’s face of stunned fury could not be endured, so Letitia looked away.

‘So, because she might — might I say — make you look ridiculous for a moment or two, you destroy her.’

Lady Letitia took recourse in tears. ‘It was true after all, I uttered no falsehood.’

Durant leaned forward and pulled her hands from her face brusquely. The tears stopped abruptly.

‘And you repeated this slur—’ Letitia started at the word, ‘in the ballroom?’

‘I did not. Only on the terrace.’ She tipped her chin. ‘Miss Oldfield is beneath my notice.’

‘On the terrace. Who was present?’

‘I have no idea…,’ she began. Durant’s eyes drove her forward. ‘Not many people. There were three others with her.’

‘Knowing you, you would not have had the courage to speak whilst she was with friends if you were not also accompanied by someone.’

She rouged, and made a small sound, but ended by saying only, ‘My friend, Miss Jane Friel.’

‘I am not acquainted with her, but if she is an intimate of yours that speaks volumes.’

His usual contempt was replaced by an acidic disgust that started silent tears in her eyes.

‘Who else?’

‘I believe the lady in the cap was Lord Sumner’s widow.’

‘So Miss Oldfield was, in fact, chaperoned? You even told me a tale of hand-clasping to blight that young lady’s name.’

‘I did not lie. I saw it.’

‘Who else?’

‘Two young gentlemen. I believe Lady Sumner named one Sloane and the other, Miss Friel informed me, is a nephew of Mr Fenton.’

The coach stopped, but Durant waved away the groom who came to open the door. ‘They at least will not talk. No one else?’

‘No. At least, Lady Aurora Fenton arrived before I left the terrace.’ She blushed, and Durant noticed, but put it aside until later. He was focused on the story of Miss Oldfield. ‘When Miss Oldfield left the ball, did anyone remark it to you?’

‘Yes, but I said nothing.’

‘Of course, and I can imagine your manner as you did so, only fuelling the fire.’

‘You following her was not my fault.’

‘I would not, if I had any notion I was making things worse.’ Durant looked at her with such contempt that she could hardly meet his gaze. ‘You left your friend to spread your evil.’

‘Bastian!’ she cried, using her childhood name for him and weeping once more.

‘Stop. I am uninterested in either your grief or remorse, if you have any beyond your shamming ways. I am only interested in you doing your level best to end this dreadful wrong you have done a girl with no family to protect her. You will write to your — friend — Miss Friel and instruct her to close her mouth on the subject of Miss Oldfield. You will let her know that if she does not do so, she will be made very sorry. By me. You will explain to her that your words gave the wrong impression of an innocent event and that you deeply regret them. And henceforth, if anyone should quiz you on the subject of Miss Oldfield, you will comment on how charming she is how much you wish to be her friend. I had determined to keep you in the house—’

‘You could not! You have no right!’

‘Rights or not, you must know I could. But now, I have a better notion. You will do everything to give lie to the rumours of what you said.’

‘I cannot! Jane would look a fool—’

‘I am quite able to sacrifice your friend. Indeed I relish it.’

‘—and anyway, it would not work.’

‘Because?’

‘Because of what else I said,’ she wept.

Durant jumped from the coach and dragged his cousin unceremoniously behind him. ‘I cannot listen to more without the fortification of brandy. Get inside. And don’t squeak or I may murder you.’

Chapter 7

The Aftermath

In Grosvenor Square, Lady Aurora would have sent Felicity to bed with a sleeping draught, so shaken and distressed was she, but Mr Fenton stopped her. ‘I’m sorry my dear, but things are apt to go so quickly that we must find out what happened.’

‘Let her go, do,’ said Lady Sumner, drawing off her gloves. ‘I can let you know what vile words were spoken, Felicity is too exhausted.’

‘Yes, Genevieve, you can talk to tonight’s scandal, but not of what is behind it.’ He moved forward to take Felicity’s shoulders in his hands. ‘My dear, we must act swiftly if we are to quell this thing.’

She looked at him, ‘I’m afraid there is no quelling. Even I know it is too late.’

Wilbert Fenton, took a step nearer still. He put a finger beneath Felicity’s chin and raised it again, ‘Genevieve will relate Lady Letitia’s part but I wish you to stay and to tell me — you know what.’

‘The first abduction sir? I suppose there is no dishonour in telling you now.’

It was swiftly done and further enraged Lady Sumner. ‘If that isn’t just like a man, using a young girl with no thought of her reputation, only for a purpose of his own.’

‘At least we can acquit him of the worst of purposes,’ said Mr Wilbert Fenton cynically.

‘Oh yes!’ said Felicity, not pretending to misunderstand, ‘I don’t suppose he looked at me at all. I was surprised that he remembered me this evening, though he did not know my name, even.’

‘What made you admit to it? Why not stay silent?’ said Genevieve, bemused.

‘I wanted to be fair to Lady Letitia; she was not lying, after all.’

Lady Aurora had tears in her eyes. ‘You did not wish to be unfair to her…’

‘We should get her to bed,’ said Genevieve, ‘she is near to falling down.’

‘Administer her a draught, will you? She may otherwise awake in the night.’

The two younger ladies left the room, Lady Sumner supporting her friend.

Aurora went into her husband’s open arms, her face hidden in his coat. If his valet, Pierre, could see the ladies’ ill-usage of the cloth this evening, he would curse in French for a week.

‘We must help her, but how?’ she said, ‘First she must go back to her aunt’s.’

‘Why on earth—?’

‘Lady Letitia used my past too, it only serves to make my dear girl’s reputation even shadier to be staying with me.’

‘What did that young witch say to you, my love?’

‘It is all one. It was true. I cannot add to Felicity’s respectability at this time. I must lose her for her own good.’

‘To make any changes can only give validation to the nonsense. We must carry on as near to normal as is possible. Chin up, my one love, it is not like you to give way to bullies.’

‘I know. It means nothing to me. But, oh Wilbert, I did so want to do the girl good, and now I am part of her problem.’

He clasped her to him, thinking that if Lady Letitia Fortescue were here at the moment, he would shake her until she begged his wonderful wife’s forgiveness. On her knees. He took his lady’s arm and led her upstairs. When they had reached almost to the top she said, ‘The Prince! Surely you, who know him so well, could get the Regent to ride with Felicity in the park or dance with her—?  Royal approval—’

‘If Felicity is seen riding in the park with Prinny, we seal her fate. If anyone can destroy a woman’s reputation in an instant, it is our future king.’

She laughed a little at her own absurdity, and let him lead her to bed.

Felicity’s tears were copious, but as silent as she could manage. She tried hard to be practical. This horrendous evening was at an end, of course. Everything had changed drastically, there was nothing to be done about that, though she knew her kind Lady Aurora and Mr Fenton would be hard at work trying. Lady Sumner, too. How lucky she was to have had such friends, who had never once questioned her morality even though she had admitted that Lady Letitia did not lie. This had been such a wonderful time and she would have done anything to stop any distress or shame that had come the way of the Fentons through her.

She could hardly have accepted such generosity if she had not known that she gave pleasure too. Lady Aurora had most definitely enjoyed extending her genius for style to the wardrobes of her and Lady Sumner. And Felicity knew that the bills at least fell to her aunt. Beneath the ancient bonnet and the dismissive manner, her Aunt Ellingham hid generosity which Felicity was truly grateful for, even while her aunt ignored her. It allowed her to stay here and be spoilt by the loveliest couple in the world who she was undutiful to wish really had been her parents.

She thought of the concern that Lord Durant had shown for her, and could not even blame him for this. She could and should have resisted him at the inn, though it was difficult to have seen how at the time. But there was in her that spirit of adventure that had precluded her from shouting for the landlord and re-joining the stagecoach. She could have, and another girl such as Amity or Charity, for example, would have. She was weak, and she prayed for forgiveness. As a regular of balls and dancing parties now, where she’d had to escape a gentleman’s desire for a hidden nook, or a too firm hand at her waist in the waltz, besides having the frank discourse of the Misses Althorpe and Carter-Phipps, she had a fair idea of what might have happened by driving off with a man alone. Perhaps she had even been attracted to Durant, and that had weakened her sense of right and wrong. He was certainly the best specimen of manliness she had ever met. And remained so. She even admired his resourcefulness in achieving his desire to buy the house and outwit his spoilt cousin.

He’d had no thought of her reputation, it was true, but he could have had no idea he would meet her again in the exalted circles he himself inhabited. When she thought of her old hat and pelisse, in comparison to her new wardrobe, then if he’d thought she was a serving wench travelling to a new position, Felicity would not have been surprised. But no, he had expected her to assume the air of Lady Letitia, and he could not have expected that of a maidservant. Indeed, he’d guessed her as a governess — no one his cousin or he were likely to be troubled with again.

And yet, when he had unexpectedly encountered her in distress, he was gentleman enough to recognise her, to want to help her. That this helped his cousin’s insinuations, he could not know. He’d looked more handsome in his evening dress, and he had regarded her so kindly with his dark eyes, that she had been moved.

Durant should not be what she thought of now, but her friends. She would simply get dressed and leave, seeking her fortune elsewhere. But of course she could not. Lady Aurora would suffer not to know where she was, and Mr Fenton, too, perhaps. She would not be so ungrateful.

She supposed that the hideous falling feeling in the pit of her stomach would end along with the hot fire of humiliation. But she had the advantage of the others in this house. They had expected a result from this season, but she never had. They wanted a happy marriage for her, but she had never aimed so high. This season was but an idyll before reality. A reality that many a young gentlewoman shared with her, like poor Miss Fleet. She must earn her way. She swallowed hard to realise that she could not now hope for a position in London, by referral from Lady Aurora, as had been her best outcome. No one would employ a governess whose reputation was not stainless. And however ill-qualified she was for that, there was no other occupation available to a women of her class. But she had to find something. She knew Lady Aurora’s large spirit too well to suppose she could support the thought of Felicity hungry and afraid, at loose in the world. So strange to think that her own sisters would hardly spare her a thought in a similar situation. So she must think and plan and find work — in a distant school for middle class young ladies perhaps, somewhere that the rumour of her disgrace had not reached.

Perhaps she could give herself a new name, like Miss Smith or Miss Flint. For a moment she saw a chink of light in the tale. Perhaps she could remain here (for she knew Lady Aurora’s warm heart would never turn from her) and be a Miss Fleet for her ladyship. A companion who kept her company, who fetched her reticule and found her threads. Who could take some organisational chores from her care. She could leave the room when visitors arrived, she could wear plain clothes and a large poked bonnet so that if she walked at unfashionable hours, she would not be recognised. Almost had Felicity got out of bed, to beg this bounty of her ladyship immediately, but she had not. The disgrace around her would be like a yoke around her wonderful friend’s neck.  The reputation of the family, which Felicity could not help knowing was blighted a little by the previous occupation of Mrs Fenton, would be further plunged into disgrace. No, a small school faraway with a new name was the best she could hope for and she would begin by reading the advertisements in the London Post. She would say nothing to the Fentons as yet, but only once she had the position. Then they could breathe a sigh of relief, and let her go.

It was only that the idyll was ended rather sooner than was expected, that was all. She had been so lucky that she could not repine. Only a few more tears fought the effects of the sleeping draught and soon they were done.

Felicity was so early awake the next morning that she had to ring for her maid. When that young girl arrived, it was evident that the servants had an intimation of trouble in the house. Susan was so gentle that Felicity, who had thought that all her tears were cried out, nearly became overset again at her kindness.

‘I told Mr Ransom before I came up that you had rung and you can be sure that however early, you will find some rolls and chocolate when you go downstairs. I laid out the moss green morning dress with the yellow ribbons, if that pleases you Miss.’ She chattered, not fooled by her young lady’s bright smile, and helped her into her slip and short corset, ‘and shall I awaken Lady Sumner? She is always up in half an hour or so, and I am sure she would not mind—’

‘No, no. But I shall be very glad of the breakfast, thank you.’

‘I will heat some irons to restore the curl—’

‘No really, Susan, I shall wear my hair simply today, if you please.’

It was evident that the cause of the ructions had not reached below stairs as yet, for Susan said, ‘Oh, but we want you to be at your best for all the young gentlemen who will come calling after the ball.’

Felicity, who was determined not to further distress her friends with a display of her misery, almost let a tear fall at this. ‘Oh, I doubt there will be so many morning callers this morning.’

She stood and unexpectedly hugged the maid briefly, leaving the room.

‘There’s something up there and no mistake, Mr Ransom,’ said Susan to the butler.

‘What happens within the family is no business of yours, Susan.’

‘I know sir, but Miss Felicity has been so kind to me, sir. Helping me with my letters and such so that I may become a lady’s maid proper, like I told her I wanted to. And how she lit her own fire sir, when Albert’s back were bad. I just hope that she’s got no trouble about her sir.’ Since Susan’s eyes held tears, and since he really had a soft spot for her, Ransom dropped his height of manner and said, ‘Go off with you girl. I’ve been with Mr Fenton for two years now, and he can deal with trouble, no fear.’ Susan smiled and scuttled away, mopping her eyes.

Felicity had been quite wrong about the morning callers, however. In the moments after her rolls were consumed, misery having given her an appetite she had not expected, the bell rang in the hall. She jumped, dropping her cup and saucer on the Aubusson carpet, which thankfully did not shatter, but assured herself that Ransom the butler would deny anyone at this hour.

She heard a raised voice in the hallway, and the more sombre tones of Ransom, and suddenly a young man burst into the room.

‘I heard the noise, I hoped it was you—’

Felicity stood up. ‘Lieutenant Sloane!’

‘I’m sorry miss, the gentleman burst in — I can remove him—’

‘I must speak to you, Miss Oldfield,’ begged the young man.

The butler had been joined by a tall and burly footman, advancing slowly into the room, but Felicity said, ‘It is quite all right, Ransom. This is Lieutenant Sloane, who is a friend of Mr Benedict Fenton’s. You and Joseph may go, but you may leave the door ajar, if you please.’

Ransom pulled himself up, sniffing his displeasure. ‘Meg is in the hall, Miss. Shall I send her in?’

‘Eh—? Yes, thank you, Ransom.’

Lt Sloane, once in, seemed hard put to begin. Meg, an upstairs maid, came in and stood in a corner, bobbing a curtsy as she did so. ‘Mr Ransom says he’s sending word to her ladyship.’

Felicity walked past her and Lt Sloane, and talked to the butler. ‘Please do not, Ransom, I do not wish her ladyship disturbed.’

The butler regarded her solemnly. ‘Very well miss. Joseph, stop James from knocking on her ladyship’s door.’

Felicity re-entered the breakfast room, and Lieutenant Sloane, his long serious face without the smile she had encouraged last night, began, ‘My dear Miss Oldfield, as badly as last evening ended, I want to say that for me it contained much pleasure, for it gave me the privilege of meeting you.’

‘You are so kind, Lieutenant Sloane, and I cannot thank you enough for not asking the questions you are bound to want to ask. You show faith in me that I hardly deserve. I quite see that you had to call early, so as not to be seen on a visit, and I assure you that—’

‘No! I beg your pardon, but you have that quite wrong, Miss Oldfield. I am early for the chance to speak to you alone. Had you not been awake, I would have had servants summon you from your bed.’

‘Lieuten—’

‘Please, let me finish. The words that Lady Letitia Fortescue uttered last night in front of Miss — Miss—’

‘Friel,’ said Felicity automatically, wishing he had not brought up last night’s disaster while she still had a full stomach. He was a very nice, very intense young man, but what he was doing here was beyond her. Her head hurt and she wished he would leave her alone.

‘Yes. Those words have damaged your fair name, and I am here to redress this calumny.’ There was another altercation at the entry and Lieutenant Sloane, afraid that he would be disturbed before he had time to achieve his neat answer to Miss Oldfield’s problem, rushed his fence. He knelt and grasped her hand, and said simply, ‘Miss Oldfield, will you be my wife?’

Felicity, who had one ear on the noise in the hall — for some other had managed past Ransom’s usually impregnable defences, suddenly realised what he had said, and in her mounting hysteria, she laughed. Quite uproariously. She sat as she gave way to giggles, whilst the shocked Lt Sloane remained frozen, still kneeling, with his hand in the air where hers had been a second ago.

Two young ladies, with heavily veiled bonnets, had entered the room and one exclaimed. ‘Felicity! We expected to find you distraught. What is this?’ with a terrible arm pointing to the young man.

‘Oh, Vivien, Althea, I thought never to speak to you again!’ for the veils had not disguised the very stylish pelisses that Felicity knew well. Althea pushed back the veil to show her face frowning terribly. Then she raised her brows in question at Felicity. ‘That is only Lieutenant Sloane, whom I met last night, who has very kindly been offering for me to save my reputation. I’m afraid I laughed, for which I apologise, sir.’ Sloane stood, red and stunned being regarded by two lovely young ladies with interest.

‘Sloane is it?’ uttered Althea, consideringly, ‘I know your mama, and it would not answer sir, though I am loath to say it. Lady Sloane would never accept such a match and would see to it that my friend would be a greater social pariah than now.’ Sloane looked pale but could give no reply to what he now saw was a masterly summation on an angle that he had only vaguely considered. He’d imagined that Felicity’s beauty and openness would win Lady Sloane around, but now he understood that these were not characteristics his mother in any way admired. Hence her forcing onto his notice several dull plain girls of steady character. He began to feel relieved.

Benedict Fenton burst in, hardly looking at any other but his friend when he said, ‘Sloane, what are you about? Did you do it?’

‘Yes, if you are referring to making my friend an offer,’ answered Althea Carter-Phipps calmly. ‘But Felicity refused — did you not?’

‘I hadn’t quite gotten that far,’ said Felicity, ‘but I might assume he knows so. How kind you are Lieutenant Sloane, but—’

‘It hasn’t come to that quite yet—’ said Benedict, summing it up brutally.

Althea turned to him with all her regal calm. ‘It is bad as it can be, Captain Fenton — isn’t it? — if what we heard in the ballroom last night begins to generally be put about. But we now wish to speak to our friend and you may take yourself off.’

She held out a determined hand, which Benedict shook automatically. ‘I wish to talk to my uncle,’ he protested.

‘Well, I must suppose he is still abed, for he is not here. You may come back in an hour, when you may hope the household has arisen.’ She turned to Lt Sloane and held out her little hand once more which he too grasped and she shook it warmly. ‘You are a man of unusual gallantry and morality, Lieutenant Sloane. Of good manners and good heart. I admire those qualities very much. Miss Althorpe and I shall be at Almacks Assembly Rooms this evening and shall be pleased to dance with you and Captain Benedict Fenton where we shall further discuss with you what is best to be done. For the moment, leave us.’

Felicity was amused to see the two gentlemen devoid of speech in face of the regal determination of her friend. They bowed.

Vivien and she curtsied to the gentlemen, who left in order, Samuel Sloane having to be dragged by Benedict to release himself from Miss Carter-Phipps extraordinary eyes. That young lady moreover shooed away the very interested maid.

‘Now!’ she said turning them to a wide-eyed Felicity, ‘You know that you must not waste time denying allegations or telling us more than you wish to of the circumstances. Vivien and I are sure that you are the most naive girl we have ever met, and that such charges as were made against you are nothing less than lies. Would that our mothers agreed. But we are here in spite of being forbidden, to assure you that we remain your friends, and will do all in our power — clandestinely of course — to help.’

Felicity hugged her impulsively, and Althea quickly responded then returned to her dignified posture.

‘There is nothing to be done,’ sighed Felicity, ‘— but it is so nice to see you one more time, my true friends.’

Vivien could at last speak and she drew her friend down to the sofa. ‘But you must tell us everything you can, my dear.’

Another girl might be afraid to give yet more fodder to the rumour mill, but Felicity’s big heart knew not a second’s hesitation. ‘There is no need for concealment any longer, but I pray you will never mention Lord Durant’s role in this. It was innocent enough, and he would not like the purpose to be known. It was like this…’

Chapter 8

Making the Plan

Whatever Lady Aurora meant to do about uprooting Felicity to her Aunt Ellingham’s was a moot point. For even as Cécile, her maid, was dressing her hair, Ransom knocked and entered her dressing room with a letter bearing the Ellingham seal in the wax.

‘This arrived with instructions to be placed into your own hand, my lady,’ said Ransom, grimly. He, along with the entire household had a rather better idea of events of last night, due to Meg’s presence in the morning room, and now the Ellingham’s footman, James, who had listened to his mistress’s shrieks when she read the Viscountess Swanson’s letter, detailing the rumours raging about her niece. Felicity’s aunt had also received a preternaturally early visit from Mrs Frampton, all commiseration at the dreadful scandal to befall her niece, and to seek, of course, further details. Her impertinence almost caused an apoplexy in Lady Ellingham, so much so that she threw a roll at her, causing a rift in their years’ long friendship (which was primarily based on their judgement of others) that would be hard to repair.

In the kitchen, over some chocolate, some hot rolls and no more than five slices of bacon, the tall footman relayed the story with glee. No one in Lady Ellingham’s household was especially loyal to the “ol’ devil” as James the footman called her.

While deprecating such a household where servants spoke of their Family — he himself guarding the secrets of the Fentons with an iron will — Ransom was happy to encourage the whole tale. Their young Miss Felicity had been denounced as fast, and moreover was accused of a liaison with Lord Durant. Her reputation was in ruins. And the “ol’ devil” was “mad as hell”.

Now Lady Aurora, with her hair half in pins, and her gauze robe tumbling from her shoulders, took the letter and opened it eagerly. She had a fair idea of the contents, but still she had hoped for a different outcome.

Mrs Fenton,

I cannot write. Miss Fleet pens this for me since the shocking news that I have received of my niece’s conduct has sent me to bed, where I may be at last brought to the place where I join my poor husband in the grave. I should have known that when you foisted that girl on me unheralded, that something was deeply wrong. You brought me — me! — a creature so steeped in vice, hiding so dark a secret, that by association with her, my husband’s ancient name is tainted. I might have known, by the source of such an introduction, the kind of person I was harbouring within these walls.

My generous spirit responded to your pleas on her behalf, though it was a hardship to me, and only see how I am paid. Viscountess Swanson has told me all. She was under your protection — could you not at least have stopped her making a scene at a ball? Your laxity is unpardonable. I might have known it, for your reputation and that of your rake of a husband goes before you. I thought at least Lady Sumner could be depended upon. But even had you stopped her wicked display of evil temperament at the ball, you could never have erased the blackness of her soul.

You need not write to me of pardon — I could never consent to give her depravity countenance, it is an affront enough that I suffer so much from her disgrace already. And you may not think to foist her upon me once more, now that she brings such shame to your door, for I never shall see her again. I insist she be sent back to Oldfield, or to work in some charity school in a distant place. I hear most young persons who take up such places succumb to the consumption and die within a year. This fate would be too good for her. If she stays here, she will undoubtedly be bandied about as Stanford or Durant’s mistress, then later end up on the streets plying her wicked trade, and my torture will continue. I will not allow it!

And as for you, madam, I shall never again turn my head to you or acknowledge you in any way.

You receive no compliments from me,

Lady Ellingham

Lady Aurora threw a crystal rouge pot at a wall. There was a tiny piece of paper tucked into the letter, which her ladyship nearly let fall. She opened it, however. It read thus.

Dear Mrs Fenton,

I have no time, but I must apologise for the evil words I had to pen, and please to tell Miss Oldfield that I and all her friends at Ellingham House believe nothing of any accusation made against her and never could.

Euphemia Fleet

Her friends at Ellingham House? thought her ladyship. But then she understood. Felicity had endeared herself to the household of course, as she had here. Servants had been Felicity’s only friends and support during her strange childhood with her distant father, and she still wrote a letter once a week to her old housekeeper, Merryweather. She noticed the services that the servants performed in this house too, and was at once ladylike and appreciative. She had ventured to the kitchens and told Lady Aurora how well the new range was working for Hervé (the chef) in the kitchen, and how proud Daniel the groom was of Mr Fenton’s new greys. Lady Aurora, who had no idea what her own kitchens looked like, and had never considered whether a groom should be proud of his master’s horses or not, had been surprised. Not, however, shocked. Her own maid Cécile had been her firm friend during her days when she was cast out from society and her butler Ransom her protector. But she understood that Felicity had made them all love her, as she no doubt had in her short stay at Ellingham House.

Her husband arrived from his dressing room, alerted by the noise of the crystal projectile.

‘My lady?’ she held the letter out to him and he read it, raising an eyebrow. ‘A vile old battle-axe.’ He said calmly. ‘How have you permitted yourself to be upset by such a witch? It is exactly as I predicted.’

‘I know, Wilbert. But how could I expect she would say such things of our dear girl? She might have closed many mouths just by having her live at Darlington House again. It would not have saved the day, but it might have helped. And there is no thought of Felicity, only of herself.’

‘We knew all this, my dear. Can it be that you are concerned by what she says of you?’

Lady Aurora waved that away. ‘It is just that I was going to beg her to have Felicity, despite what we agreed last night, to slow the dreadful rumours. A high stickler such as she being seen to support her niece would call it into question—’

‘She’s a fool. If she dreads the scandal, she could have helped herself and Felicity by denying it. But as for me, I think that to send our young friend into that poisonous atmosphere would have been cruel.’ He pulled her near him, and the maid left the room quietly. ‘We have wit and the will, my dear, we will come about yet.’ His wife burrowed her head into his arms.

‘Marrying you was by far the cleverest notion of my life, my darling.’ She said at last. ‘You are right, of course.’

‘I must go down. I must call on Durant — or he may shy off if he has heard the rumours. I may have been hasty when I warned him I was coming.’

‘He cannot be such a coward. Can it be worse?’ sighed Lady Aurora, releasing him. But she rang for her maid Cécile when he went. It would not do to show such a dismal face to Felicity. She must assume a confidence in the future that she did not feel.

Mr Fenton, finding that his guest was in conference with two young friends, went to the library to write his own letter before he left on his call. However calmly he had taken the vituperative lines of Lady Ellingham, they contained a threat to his wife that he would not endure.

Lady Ellingham,

You saw fit to write to my wife today in such terms that I cannot excuse. Such lies as you choose to believe of the innocent Miss Felicity Oldfield was expected of a character such as yours, although I should think that even a brain as addled as your own would see the sense in denying her guilt, even if you did not believe it.

Be that as it may, I write to you on one topic only. You have threatened to cut my wife if you should meet. This you will not do. I imagine that since you refer to my rakish past, you must know of my intimates. These gentlemen of high rank, including the Prince himself, do not tolerate disloyalty.

You will therefore behave with dignity in the presence of my wife at all times. Anything less than genteel civility in that lady’s august presence and the consequences for you will be eternal.

Wilbert Fenton Esq

Before Mr Fenton’s letter had been sealed, Lord Durant walked into the library, finding himself unable to await Mr Fenton’s call. He had almost met two young ladies in the hall, but had thankfully come in from the stables and via the kitchens. This had put the kitchen maid into such a flutter that she had dropped a pot of calf’s head broth, meant for the servant’s dinner, and received a thick ear from cook for her carelessness. Durant hung back whilst Ransom showed the ladies out, skulking like a villain in the back hall. He had lost his famous autocracy as he entered the library and held out his hand to Wilbert Fenton as though unsure if it would be accepted.

It was shaken, and Fenton stood, gravely regarding him.

‘I came in through the kitchen. I know that I must explain myself, sir. But first I ask if Miss Oldfield is quite recovered.’

‘Hardly that, my boy.’ Durant found himself, for the first time since his boyhood, blushing. ‘I suppose it is to your credit that you learnt her name at least between last night and now.’

This was not going to be easy, Durant realised. ‘I must explain to you, as Miss Oldfield’s host—,’ he began.

‘Yes, yes, you know her name at last,’ uttered Mr Fenton testily.

‘—of the circumstances in which Miss Oldfield—’ Fenton’s eyebrow rose ‘—encountered my cousin and I at the Black Horse Inn.’

‘I have had a fair account of this from Felicity. But what I do not understand is why your cousin should be such a viper as to repeat the incident to the world at large. She knew the truth of it, and yet she told it in such a way as to destroy a young girl’s character. What had she against her?’

‘Oh, only that she was my instrument. And that Miss Oldfield had the power, had she chosen to tell the story, of making her look ridiculous.’

‘A wilful and spoilt child then. God give me strength.’

Fenton walked to the small table that always bore some brandy, poured two glasses, and handed one to the viscount. Without a word, Durant took it and swiftly quaffed it, putting down the glass.

‘Well, my lord, and what is now to be done?’

‘I have set my cousin to deny the tale. She will not disobey me.’

‘Horses and stable doors comes to mind, my lord. The damage is done. I understand Lady Letitia’s friend is an enemy of Felicity’s and will do her best to spread the tale.’

‘Letitia has already written to halt that.’ Fenton’s brows rose, ‘Some threats of mine were included in the letter.’

‘That is something, but hardly enough.’

Durant bowed. ‘I would ask for a few moments to speak to the young lady were it not — frankly, Mr Fenton, I am already in some way promised.’

‘I was not about to ask the ultimate sacrifice of you, Durant. Not, at least, until we have exhausted every other avenue. I wish, you see, that Miss Oldfield marries to please herself.’ Durant looked surprised and relieved at once. ‘It was a damnable, stupid thing—!’

‘Selfish and stupid. I did not stop to consider the young lady at all. I know it and if there is another way to pay than marriage, I should be glad to find it.’

‘She’s already had one gallant proposal this morning, which she had the good character to refuse.’ Fenton was surprised to see a fleeting glance of emotion on Durant’s face, which he would think about later.

‘Any provision I can make beyond that which my previous promise precludes, then I shall.’

‘I’m planning on nothing less than the restoration of Miss Oldfield’s good name.’

‘I have been up all night cogitating on that. I cannot see how it is to be achieved.’

‘Neither can I, but by God, we shall try.’ He looked at Durant. ‘Am I to wish you joy? I have not heard of an engagement.’

‘It is of only a few weeks standing, and it is to a lady who lives in the country. An old friend in fact. Her mother is gravely ill at the moment. And such an announcement would be inappropriate.’

‘I understand. But it makes things worse for Felicity. Perhaps the knowledge of your engagement might have added to the doubt as to the basis of this story.’

‘I doubt it sir. Even engaged, a man with my youthful peccadilloes might still be thought a danger to a young lady’s honour — much as I resent it.’

‘Yes, the indiscretions of one’s youth do hang over one rather. Though in my case…’ no more need be said. Mr Fenton, as the Prince’s crony, had a long history of indiscretions that lasted until his marriage, in middle age, to Lady Aurora.

‘Miss Oldfield’s natural distress at the ball is particularly harmful—’

‘Do not turn to blaming Felicity—’

‘No, I simply meant that my concern gave credence to a connection—’

‘Yes, I could have flayed you for that last evening-. But perhaps we can use that to our advantage.’

Durant frowned. ‘How?’

‘Perhaps we can high-hand this affair.’ Durant was listening intently, frowning. ‘Your cousin never said the words of last night. Miss Friel misunderstood her entirely. Felicity is an old friend of the family whom you naturally helped when you realised she was ill, and you called for us quite properly.’

‘It is a lofty intention — but will it serve?’

‘We are helped by one thing. Felicity’s own nature. Her acquaintance is large, thanks to being intimate with two of the knowingest young debutantes the town has seen, and no one who has ever met her could believe her less than an innocent. She is the most delightful girl.’

‘But is it enough? Perhaps with her aunt’s help—? I learnt that she is Lady Ellingham’s niece.’

‘We can expect no help from that quarter.’ Mr Fenton had taken a turn about the room, ‘It is time to learn what our elevated friends in town are made of, Durant. Will they stand beside our cause?’

‘Let us make plans. But first, might I see Miss Oldfield to express my deep regret…’

Fenton looked at him. ‘I don’t see what harm it could do — no one knows you’re here. And it might make meeting you in public next a little easier for her.’

Felicity was still in the breakfast room with Lady Aurora and Lady Sumner, both chiding her to take some more chocolate, to eat a little more, to be cheerful and to trust that all would be alright. Both ladies found her kind, but saddened looks disturbing — it was rather as though Felicity pitied them in their unlikely optimism. “Poor dears,” she seemed to say, “thank you so much for your kindness, but it is past all hope and you must accept it.”

‘Vivien and Althea are determined to help me, but you know, there is little they can do. Their mothers have forbidden them to see me even, yet they wish to intercede in my behalf—’

‘Well, they are good girls and clever too,’ said Genevieve with determination, ‘and will very likely be of untold help.’

Felicity once more gave her kindly look. ‘Perhaps,’ she said, but her tone belied even that slight hope.

‘You know, my dear Felicity, that I was once in a most dreadful position that there seemed no way to escape from, when a single friend noticed and tried to help me. His faith was enough to make me find my own way through the darkness. And you, my dear, because of your lovely nature, have many, many friends.’

“We will see how many,” thought Lady Aurora. But she too, smiled brightly. ‘We cannot see our path quite yet my dear, but we will find it,’ she said.

Felicity looked at them. How sad for her friends this was. They had wished so much for her, so much more than she had let herself wish for. She must do all she could to comfort them while she sought a position.

The door opened and Mr Fenton entered, along with another gentleman. For the second time this morning, Felicity dropped a cup, but this time her dress did not escape, for she spilt chocolate on it. She stood awkwardly. ‘Lord Durant.’

Lady Aurora and Lady Sumner stood too. And as Durant met the latter’s eye he reflected that it was as well she was not in possession of the whip she was so famously good at wielding.

‘Miss Oldfield,’ Durant said at once, ‘Might I beg a word with you?’

Lady Aurora met her husband’s eye, then said. ‘Felicity, take Lord Durant to the window seat. James, set a chair for Miss Felicity. And then you may go.’

James’ face showed none of his joy of being released to be able tell the next part of the tale to Ransom and the upper servants.

The window was almost far enough away from the breakfast table to avoid being overheard. Felicity could think of nothing to say and so sat nervously on the window seat, whilst Durant, looking concerned, regarded her.

‘I need hardly say how sorry I am that my cousin spoke so to you last night!’

‘Yes,’ said Felicity looking down for a second. She appeared to collect herself, and looked up once more, only the tight clasping of her hands divining away how hard she was working to seem unconcerned.

‘It is not all my cousin’s fault, however, for I behaved—’

‘Oh, no,’ said Felicity, concerned for him, ‘you were very kind last night and I was my own undoing. You could not know that when you helped it was worse—’

Durant found himself deep in her russet eyes, unable to believe that instead of berating him she was comforting him. He gave himself a shake however, and continued, ‘I meant my behaviour at the inn. It showed no regard for you—’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Felicity, ‘But I have explained all that to my friends. You meant no ill to me at all and thought you would never see me again. And then, if I were a girl of strong enough principles, I would not have gone with you.’ He blinked but before he could say anything, she continued. ‘Genevieve, for example, would not.’

He looked across at that dame eyeing him with a coldness he could feel to his bones. ‘I should think not. She would have taken a crop to me.’

She laughed a little. ‘Then you do see? I am also at fault, though I could never make my dear friends own it.’

‘You were not at fault. I little examined myself at the time. But now I see that I picked the youngest and most inexperienced girl in that yard so that she could not argue with me.’

‘Absurd. No one else was the height and colouring of Lady Letitia. And you had an elevated motive.’

‘To flout Tish? Very elevated!’ Said he with self-disgust.

‘No, perhaps not that one. But to help your aunt … Charlotte, was it? Your cousin’s guardian? I thought that a very nice thing to do.’

He gasped. ‘Miss Oldfield! Please let me apologise. I did very wrong.’

‘Perhaps. At any rate, I accept your apology. You could not foresee the consequences.’

‘I must tell you that I am engaged, or I would today have offered you the protection of my name.’

Felicity looked astonished, and then could not help but laugh, if a little ironically. ‘It seems to be the day for gallant, self-sacrificing offers of marriage. I wish your affianced wife well of you. I am sure you will make a splendid husband, for at least you regret your impulsive acts, which not all do…,’ she added, thinking of her father.

‘You are very brave. I expected that you would ring curses upon my head!’

‘Of what use is that? It is done, and no one, save your cousin, meant any ill. I do not understand her, I fear.’

‘She will deny her remarks.’

‘Tell her I am grateful for that.’ Durant searched Felicity’s lovely face for a hint of irony. But there was none.

‘If there is ever anything I can do for you, then—’

‘Well, there may be. Can you keep a secret?’ He nodded solemnly. She lowered her tone. ‘I mean to search for a position.’ She saw his expression and added, ‘I know I cannot gain a governess position in our world. But perhaps in a middle class household or a boarding school — perhaps your mama could write a recommendation for me?’

‘Alas, my mother is dead.’

‘Then your affianced wife? If you explained all to her?’

He wondered how Anne would greet this request. His head could not imagine making it. ‘Your friends here will not permit such a thing—’

‘Oh, I know. That is why it is secret. They are too good to me, but they are not family, you know. Only my hosts. I must make my way in the world now as best I can. Don’t you see? And I always knew this season was just a lovely adventure from my real life and at the end it would be the same as now — without means or family it must always have been so. So you must not repine.’

Durant fell into those eyes once more. He could think of little to say. An even deeper shame claimed him. Why could she not be angry with him? It would make it easier to bear. He said, ‘Let me know, at least, before you seek a position.’ He continued mendaciously, ‘Perhaps I can find a way to help you.’

As he was shown back down to the kitchen and out to the stables once more by Wilbert Fenton, he said, still shocked, ‘Miss Oldfield is a remarkably fine young lady.’

Although there was a rejoinder there, Fenton, seeing the look in Durant’s eye, contented himself by saying. ‘Remarkable indeed.’

Chapter 9

Carrying it off

Lady Aurora, after a conversation with her husband, joined Genevieve and Benedict in the green salon, where they were both trying to talk consolingly to Felicity but being consoled in return. At this rate, the poor girl would be stretched to her limit comforting the comforters and it was time for some action.

‘How brave are you, my dear?’ she smiled, touching Felicity’s cheek. ‘We have decided that apart from your feeling faint, the events of last night did not occur.’

‘Oh! If only.’

‘And we shall start as we mean to finish. Change your dress and let Genevieve drive you to the park in the tilbury.’ The thought made Felicity’s head swim. Every feeling of last night swept upon her and she could hardly speak, but just looked at her heroine. ‘Benedict will accompany you on horseback. My husband is already riding there and will meet you.’ She saw Felicity’s eyes fill, and tilted her chin, as once Durant had done. ‘This is our course now, all of you. We do not know of any trouble, you are well enough to take the air today and you will attend Almacks Assembly Rooms tonight as intended. It is all and everything with this track, we must not flinch!’ Felicity swallowed. ‘It cannot make anything worse, you know, and we may yet turn things around.’

Felicity thought it could make a great many things worse. She would see her friends turn from her and hear all the things that haunted her night said to her. ‘Almacks? We will be turned from the door.’

‘I think not.’

‘Then no one will dance with me.’

‘We will see. I know that it takes a deal of courage. Start with the drive to the park.’

‘Now, Felicity! I may even let you take the reins today. Don’t delay in changing your dress, I am calling for the tilbury now and I won’t keep the horses waiting.’

Genevieve’s matter of fact tone had a good effect. She smiled a little watery smile, and went to change her soiled dress for a carriage dress. She had seen Lord Durant in a stained dress, she just realised. But she didn’t suppose it mattered. He was engaged after all. She wondered what lady he was engaged to. Was it someone she had seen at the many entertainments she had enjoyed? Surely it would be the most beautiful of women. As she dressed, Felicity reviewed the unmarried beauties in her head. He was too discerning to want a very young wife, she felt, so the candidates were Lady Susan Slater, Lady Rosalind Saith or Georgiana Wendall. She plumped for Miss Wendall, the most brilliant of all, who played piano passionately, painted beautiful watercolours and engaged in educated conversation and was in her third season, despite being offered for many times, it was said. Her temper was a little uneven, it was rumoured. But Durant was the man to tame her. Look how he had dealt with Lady Letitia.

But even he hadn’t stopped her acid tongue. If Lady Letitia Fortescue was here now, and she had a carpet bag in her hand—! Felicity quite shocked herself.

Lady Aurora gained access to Lady Jersey’s inner sanctum in the most unscrupulous way, entering from the kitchen entrance by way of the mews, and greeting her servants in a familiar manner, ‘No, no Thornton, is she still at breakfast? No need to announce me.’

‘Sally, dear one,’ said Aurora, laying off her gloves and sitting down at the table opposite Lady Jersey who was eyeing her aghast, ‘You look ravishing today. Where did you get that bronze gauze? So sophisticated a colour!’

‘It’s no use Aurora, there is nothing I can do. Whatever the truth of last night’s debacle, I have already received letters from shocked mamas begging that I will not taint Almacks’ fair halls with Miss Oldfield’s presence. I like the girl, but it makes no odds, I cannot issue any more vouchers. You know our rules!’

‘I am not asking for more vouchers, dear Sally. I have some for tonight already, you know!’

‘You cannot mean to throw that young girl to the wolves! It would be too cruel!’ she ate a piece of a sweet tart, ‘Anyway, she would be denied entry which would be embarrassing for you all.’

‘Sally, if you knew the truth—’ said Aurora calmly.

‘It makes no odds, I tell you. She will be shunned whatever. It went too far when Durant went after her.’

‘It is only that Durant is a concerned friend of our family that made him do so.’

‘I don’t remember that Wilbert Fenton has ever been particularly intimate with Durant.’

‘Don’t you? And normally, you know everything…’

‘If asked, I might remember their friendship,’ said Lady Jersey. ‘But that is all I can do.’

‘There is another thing. Ensure that we do not get turned away at the door tonight.’

‘Of what good will that be if we never issue vouchers again?’

‘It will be a start.’ Lady Aurora abandoned her teasing and became serious. ‘Consider the source of the rumour—’

‘Lady Letitia is much too pert, but her background is—’

‘I know, I know. But Durant has informed us this morning that it was all because Felicity was enlisted to stop one of Lady Letitia’s peevish starts that she bears her a grudge. It is more to do with her resentment at Durant seeking to curb her excesses than any other thing—’

‘Do not tell me, Aurora, it will do no good. Lady Letitia is a spoilt child, I will own, but what difference can it make if I understand? There is a shade about Miss Oldfield’s name now that even I cannot dispel. Something occurred, it is plain.’

‘Merely that she accompanied him in an open carriage. It is done all the time.’

‘In the park, in town, yes. But not in quiet country lanes.’

There was a pause and Lady Aurora sighed.

‘Make sure we are not turned away at the door. I ask no more than this, Sally.’

Lady Jersey sniffed. ‘Even that will be practically impossible. The other patronesses might have left instructions already.’

‘Then you must rescind them. Please, Sally.’

‘Well, if you wish to subject that young girl to the cold shoulder of the World, you are more heartless than I thought.’

‘Then you will?’

‘Very well. But don’t come crying to me when Miss Oldfield suffers a decline.’

‘Not she. She is the bravest and best girl I know.’

‘You sound as though she were your daughter, not just a friend.’

‘I would be so proud if she were.’ Lady Aurora got up and went around to kiss her friend resoundingly on the cheek. ‘Goodbye, Sally. And thank you.’ She drew on her gloves. ‘I must go. I have a great deal to accomplish this morning.’

What Lady Aurora accomplished and what she did not, left her with a smaller list of friends than she thought she had. But this was good knowledge, she thought, not bad.

As the tilbury travelled at a sedate pace around the park, Captain Benedict Fenton rode beside it, keeping the ladies amused. The pace was slow enough to give people a chance to approach the carriage, but humiliatingly, few people did. Mrs Drummond-Burrell, in a passing phaeton, obviously intended to give Felicity the cut direct, driving past with her face forward. This was somewhat mitigated by Benedict, whose excellent eye had seen the tilting of that ladies head from a distance, and who quickly drew Felicity’s attention to himself as the Burrell’s carriage passed. The drive for Felicity was horrid.

Two persons who had obviously not heard the gossip did stop and talk, Mr Simon Rush begging to take Felicity for a spin in his new gig, but as Mr Rush, who might have been granted such a boon on the day before, had a reputation with the ladies, Lady Sumner excused her charge. ‘I’m afraid that we have errands to attend to today, Mr Rush.’

Felicity surprised him with a rather sad smile, and Rush took himself off, determined to go to Almacks tonight to try his luck with the beauty.

Her delicate feelings had noted Miss Althorpe’s mama, who had previously been negligently kind to Felicity, move her daughter to another path, so as to avoid the tilbury. She saw a group of gentlemen turn their backs so as to effect not to see them. Not quite a cut, but still a wound. Genevieve hissed, ‘Hold up your head and smile at me.’ And Felicity did so, by rote. Then Genevieve groaned, ‘Oh, drat it!’

Benedict, hearing said, ‘What on earth—?’ Then he looked ahead at a rather old fashioned but grand equipage approaching them. ‘Oh, no! Not old Lady Harrington.’

‘I have to stop!’ said Genevieve to Felicity. ‘It is an aunt of my husband’s.’

The two equipages stopped abreast of each other, and Felicity saw that the landaulet had a handsome crest on the side and that a plump old lady, richly dressed in a mustard velvet pelisse with a high crowned bonnet lined with the same shade of ruched silk, was regarding her curiously.

‘Lady Sumner! I did not know you were in town,’ she said to Genevieve, formally. ‘And my beloved great-nephew?’

‘Lady Harrington!’ Genevieve bowed her head. ‘Lord Sumner is with me, also. I thought your ladyship in Somerset or we would have called.’

‘I passed Sumner House, it is closed.’ The old lady reminded Felicity vaguely of her own aunt, but as the lady’s attention was all on Genevieve, she was able to relax somewhat. The high purple plumes in Lady Harrington’s hat amused her and she smiled.

‘And who, pray, is this?’ the tone told Felicity that she already knew, and she flushed.

‘Hold fast!’ whispered Benedict, beside her on his horse.

‘May I present my friend Miss Felicity Oldfield, niece of Lady Ellingham? We are both residing with Mrs Fenton at the moment, while Miss Oldfield makes her debut.’

The old woman’s eyes swept Felicity over, and though Felicity managed not to drop her chin, she flushed even more.

‘Stop it!’ said Genevieve, and Lady Harrington’s eyes went swiftly to hers. ‘You obviously have heard the rumours from last night, and I tell you there is no truth to the vile implications.’ Lady Harrington’s eyes were hard. ‘For once in your life you might be of use, if only you would take Felicity in your carriage round the park, showing that you give the rumours no credence.’

‘And you will hold back visits from Lord Sumner if I do not, I suppose?’ the old woman said resentfully.

‘Oswald is attached to your ladyship. Why would I wish to do anything so harmful to him?’ said Genevieve directly.

The old lady’s eyes glittered. ‘I find I do not have the time to take Miss Oldfied with me today.’ Genevieve tightened her mouth. ‘Perhaps on another occasion.’ She smiled and knocked on the floor of her carriage as a sign that she would drive on.

‘At least she made no scene.’

‘She reminds me a little of my Aunt Ellingham, though with a newer bonnet.’

Genevieve laughed, and Mr Fenton said, ‘Yes, they are both selfish martinets!’

Felicity gave a genuine gurgle of mirth, and Mr James Temple, seeing her thus, raised a hand in greeting and bowed to her as she passed, thus annoying his mama whom he was accompanying that morning.

Durant walked in on Letitia and said, ‘We shall attend Almacks this evening, cousin.’

‘We shall? I thought you said there would be no further entertainments—’ she looked at his cold face. ‘Anyway, I don’t think I quite feel up to Almacks this evening. After last night, everyone will ask me—’

‘I do not care what you wish, cousin. Tell your maid.’

Benedict took another pass around the park. ‘Fluff!’ he called, at a young man riding towards him.

The man, who could be seen to a fair young man in a tall hat and elegant riding coat whose face seemed to be missing the whole idea of a chin, pulled up his black hunter and grinned. ‘Dickie! By all that’s holy!’ said Lord Carstairs — Fluff to his friends.

‘I did call, but they said you were out of town.’

‘Just got back. The truth is, my mother’s not well.’

‘Oh, sorry to hear that, Fluff!’

‘She was looking a bit more the thing by the time I left, so I suppose she’ll outlive me. Come over tonight, Dickie. We can get some others for cards, if you promise not to cheat.’

Benedict grinned. ‘Not me!’ he said, remembering the simpler days when he had learnt (for the purest of motives) how to fuzz the cards and driven his friend crazy with his skill. Benedict had been almost glad when he’d called and found Fluff from home when he’d arrived in town this time. He didn’t feel comfortable these days away from his military friends who knew what he knew about death. But now, Fluff was the very man to help him.

‘Let’s go to the club, Fluff. We have to write a list.’

‘I’m game! A list of what?’

‘Friends who are in town. Then we have to go to Almacks tonight.’

‘Nothing short of my mother could get me into that house of horrors, Dickie — and you know it.’

‘Is it still torture?’

‘Worse than. Won’t go.’ Said his friend shuddering at the thought.

‘Thing is, Fluff — I need you.’ He leaned forward and placed his hand on his lordship’s shoulder.

Lord Carstairs looked at his friend’s face. ‘Oh, well then—’ he said resignedly.

Chapter 10

Almacks Once More

After the drive, Felicity had been allowed to sleep for an hour before she had been expected to go shopping with Lady Aurora. Miss Fleet met them at the circulating library, not their usual day. Felicity understood that this was in response to a note from Lady Aurora, but she met her friend with a hug.

‘Now, now, ladies — this is a usual meeting to gossip and discuss books, no tears or sentimentality, please.’

The ladies sat, Felicity smiling as gamely as she could at the little lady and clasping her hand briefly in response to her evident concern. Miss Fleet followed suit and the company were served some refreshments while her ladyship asked the attendant for the latest novels. Lady Aurora nodded vaguely at an acquaintance and turned back to her companions before that lady could show her disdain or not. Miss Fleet stood up after her allotted fifteen minutes and said, in a much louder tone than her usual mousy squeak, ‘Lady Ellingham may not see you tonight at Almacks, my dear Miss Oldfield, but looks to see you soon.’ She blushed at this near falsehood. Lady Ellingham had indeed wanted to see Felicity, but only to tell her what she thought of her.

When Miss Fleet left, Lady Aurora was heartened to see a few tables with some ladies discussing this start with frowns on their faces. One lady even went so far as to bow to Lady Aurora and her companion as they left.

‘That was well done. Miss Fleet was quite a champion today.’

Felicity smiled. She knew though that one change of heart was hardly enough.

She thought of the ordeals to come and could only bear them for Lady Aurora. That lady was tarnished by her stand for Felicity, and the least Felicity could do was to help by keeping her chin up. But she did not for a moment think it would work. They went from shop to shop buying ribbons and gloves and a new gauze shawl for Felicity to wear tonight, and everywhere they went Felicity was conscious of eyes on her, as she tried to join in with Lady Aurora’s constant chatter. ‘This pink gauze will suit, my dear girl. Lady Jersey said to me only this morning how well you look in pink.’

Felicity smiled and chattered on, too. And other ladies looked on, some bowing and some turning a shoulder at her in a most deliberate way. The shop keepers, aware of Lady Aurora’s deep purse, were very attentive at least, and the shopping trip was declared a triumph. Felicity, back in her room, thought that if it wasn’t so very ungrateful to her wonderful hosts, she would pack her carpet bag and go, even though she had no position as yet. But courage is what they required of her now and though she had no hope of success as they did, and every turned shoulder or cold look was a torture to her, Felicity would carry out their plan. The words of last night had never happened, she had only felt ill and been taken home. She was fully recovered now and ready for another evening of dancing. That was all.

No one would dance with her tonight she was sure, where before every dance had been taken. Now she fully understood the less fortunate ladies who sat with their mamas with frozen smiles in place. Sometimes she had urged a partner to dance with one of them, hardly able to bear their brave misery.

Almacks! She would dress and smile as best she could until they relented and took her home.

Durant arrived early with his cousin and their Aunt Augusta, whose sharp eye was on Letitia tonight like a steel trap, ready to squeeze if she deviated from Durant’s instructions.

Half an hour later he was glad to see the Fenton party arrive, Felicity pretty in a pale pink silk gown with only a simple flounce at the bottom, and a pink gauze shawl on her arms. As per the plan, he wandered across to greet them, bowing over the hands of all three ladies casually, slapping Benedict on the back in a friendly fashion and bearing Mr Wilbert Fenton off to the card room, his hand draped on one shoulder. They chatted as they left the room, conscious of many eyes upon them, then laughed. ‘Do you think it served?’

Fenton smiled back, lazily, but his serious tone belied it, ‘Perhaps. Let’s have a game and keep it up. Nothing too forced.’

They sat with Alvanley and the Duke of Clarence, a brother of the Prince Regent, neither of whom raised Felicity’s name at all. Merely dealt the cards.

Felicity’s first dance was claimed by Lt Sloane, a trifle embarrassed by this morning’s interview, but Felicity got rid of her own nerves by comforting his and soon they were on easier terms. Some of the others in the set were a trifle stiff, but Felicity found herself able to bear it.

The second country dance was squired by Captain Fenton, and she had the humiliation of two couples leaving the dance floor before the air started, and the only other couple looking uncomfortably on. Felicity was about to beg the Captain to take her back to her party, when she heard a squawk of ‘Felicity, my dear!’ She saw that Miss Althorpe was dragging her partner from another set into hers and soon Miss Carter-Phipps did likewise. The music started, Felicity smiled on them and then saw Miss Althorpe’s mama at some benches at the side of the floor, looking grim. Her dear friends would pay for this, she feared. But with Benedict’s nonsense and the girls’ high spirits, she could not be other than grateful, so she smiled and danced, for all the world like a girl with no thought in her head but pleasure.

Lady Sumner and her friend looked on. ‘It might work.’

‘Too early to say. There are a lot of turned heads. I heard Miss Friel’s mama say to Lady Ashbourne that she was shocked that the patronesses had let her in.’

‘Benedict has a number of military men lined up to dance with her, and then there might be others not scared away.’

Lt Sloane was talking to two of his friends. ‘Is it true,’ said one Captain Wallace, ‘that you danced with the Oldfield girl?’

‘I did, a very lovely girl. And Bishop is booked to dance with her next. Do you wish for an introduction?’

‘Certainly not. Have you no notion what people are saying of her? I’m surprised that you are to dance with her, Bishop.’

‘Well,’ said Bishop, lazily, ‘I’m not proposing you know, just standing up for the waltz. May as well see if she’s the racy filly they say she is.’

‘I will trouble you, Wallace, and you Bishop, not to speak so about Miss Oldfield. Or you will answer to me!’ Sloane turned on his heels, then turned back. ‘And you will dance the waltz as planned, Bishop, or I shall take it very ill indeed.’

‘What will you do, Sloane,’ said Bishop, laughing, ‘call the whole ballroom out?’

Sloan strode off, but was surprised by a small hand halting his progress. Miss Carter-Phipps, the pocket Venus of this morning, blocked his way. ‘I think, sir, that your character is the most splendid I have yet encountered.’ Sloane blinked. ‘Mr Lawson approaches to claim me for the waltz, but I beg you to take me away. We must talk.’

Lt Sloane, quite bemused, put a hand around her waist, and led her into the waltz.

‘My mother saw me converse with Felicity and she is not pleased — indeed, she is threatening to restrict my movements if I do so again.’ They twirled in response to the music. ‘You are a quite wonderful dancer, sir.’

‘As are you.’ The lieutenant was picking up on Miss Carter-Phipps’ verbal rhythm. ‘And by the way, I think that your character is splendid too.’

She smiled, nodding at him as though he had solved an interesting puzzle. ‘I have had a thought, lieutenant. It is all in aid of Miss Oldfield, of course.’ Sloane stared down at her fascinating brown eyes in her little determined face, and was entranced. ‘I think that, as you failed in your noble proposal to Felicity, you should propose to me.’ He blinked again, then grinned, and she frowned a little, to depress his flirtatious eyes. ‘Our mothers are friends, you know, and you are the elder son,’ she explained, ‘so I can see no objection from the family. And as an engaged lady, I shall have much more freedom.’ Lieutenant Sloane kept his countenance, but his eyes danced. She went on in an instructive mode, a trifle put off by the expression in the Lieutenant’s flirtatious eyes, ‘If my affianced husband is on friendly terms with the Fentons, then so will I be, naturally. You will become the arbiter of my behaviour, not my mama, you see? She cannot object.’

‘I will propose at once,’ said Sloane, suspiciously swiftly. She had expected to wield a little persuasion. ‘I shall seek an audience with your father directly.’

Miss Carter-Phipps regarded him closely. Her schemes generally produced more resistance, or at least surprise. ‘You understand that this is only for a time, until we restore dear Felicity’s good name? And I would not attempt it, if I were at all determined on any of my suitors, I cannot seem to decide to marry anyone, although four gentlemen have asked me.’ Lt Sloane was regarding her with a strange look in his eye. ‘At the end of this season I shall simply say we do not suit. Mama will consider that fast, of course, but it will do me no harm to begin my second season with a broken engagement. Gentlemen prefer ladies whom other gentlemen desire, I find. Miss Sutcliffe was all the rage the first week of the season, though she broke her engagement to handsome Lord Stanford last season, having seen him with some dashing piece at a masquerade. And Miss Sutcliffe was engaged to Mr Fredericks after only one week. I have considered this carefully, as you see.’

‘Oh, then it is not self-sacrifice, only a good plan for your own betterment?’ said the lieutenant with a wisp of humour.

‘Certainly!’ agreed Miss Carter-Phipps seriously.

The lieutenant regarded her just as seriously and was overcome by his admiration. She did not even know how fine her little person was. He grasped her a little more closely around her tiny waist and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I have little fault to find with your plan, Miss Carter-Phipps. Except in one instance.’ Her eyebrows raised, but she continued to mind her steps, dancing quite instinctively with the Lieutenant. ‘I shall seek your father’s permission, propose — and then we shall set our wedding date.’

‘But of course, that is usual.’ But her breath was a little laboured, he thought, and her cheeks a little flushed.

‘And then, you shall marry me.’

Her brows raised themselves even further. ‘What an original idea.’ She answered calmly — but he was not deceived, for she trembled in his arms. ‘We shall have to see about that.’

He looked at her, trying to gauge her mood more exactly. ‘Then my amendment to your plan is not repellent to you?’

‘Not at all repellent.’ She blushed, but retained her matter-of-fact tone. ‘I shall consider it intently. However, the world might call you rash, for we are so newly acquainted.’ He smiled down at her in a very disturbing way. ‘And bold too.’

‘I assure you, I have never before been accounted rash. I am only certain, you see. You are the most beautiful, determined and perfect young lady that I have ever met. Think of that as you consider.’

‘I shall,’ he found that Miss Carter-Phipps could grin wickedly. ‘And any other similar sentiments you wish to add. But Lieutenant, perhaps two proposals in one day might sap your strength?’

‘My dear girl—’ he started, drawing her even closer, but she pulled away.

‘Not until you have spoken to my papa!’

‘My dear Miss Carter-Phipps, meeting you has been the most energising experience of my life.’

‘As well as good character, I find your discerning taste in women quite unerring, Lieutenant.’

And so ended the most significant dance of his life. As the lieutenant led his partner in the direction of her parents, he realised that he had not noticed his leg limp once.

Felicity danced with Mr Bishop — hardly listened to his prattle, just glad to be dancing, to be twirling and unable to see the faces around her, to escape the constant guessing of who would turn away and who would not, and the worse dread of someone saying something about the affair directly to her. Mr Bishop returned her to Lady Sumner just as Benedict joined her with another gentlemen. He was introduced to her as Lord Carstairs, and his blushes and stammers and the chin lost in the high collar made her pity his predicament greatly. When he asked her to dance, Felicity said in a low voice, ‘Oh you need not be so kind sir, I can see that certain, well — rumours, have made you uncomfortable.’

‘No. Assure you, I’m always like this talking to a lady!’ Then he blushed some more at his unaccustomed outburst and Felicity laughed. Her delight made them all laugh, and Lady Aurora noticed that the girl’s natural warmth was having an effect on the room. Could such a young lady be guilty of immoral behaviour? She took the floor with Carstairs and the world looked on as he blossomed under her warmth and beauty.

Felicity’s next dance was not so successful. As she joined a set with Mr Rush, the other partners left, abandoning them on the floor. Mr Rush blushed and tried to lead her to another set that was forming, but another couple sheared off from this one, and Felicity begged Mr Rush to take her back to her friends. But at that moment, a couple joined them. It was Lord Durant and his cousin. Felicity thought that she would sink, but then Genevieve and Benedict joined them too, and Vivien Althorpe arrived, dragging Lord Crewe. The dance began, Felicity hardly knew how she got through it. Lady Letitia was focused on her partner and hardly looked her way. Durant’s kind looks, when the dance brought them together, had nearly slain her. Only Benedict was a salve to her spirit. Her own partner, Rush, was embarrassed and seeking to be far from there. Benedict whispered anecdotes about Cumberland splitting his breeches, and she laughed. Mr Rush looked more comfortable and she could bear Durant’s hand on her (though it made her tremble) and ignored Lady Letitia.

Durant ended the dance and led his cousin off the floor. ‘There — I danced with her — will that suffice?’ said she with a high colour.

‘No.’ Durant decided. ‘You will invite her to supper. You and she will laugh together. You will let it be seen that you like her. That any idea that you blackened her character is absurd.’

‘It will never be believed.’

‘You had better make it believable, my dear. Or it will be the worse for you.’

‘I will try. I hate this evening. You are too cruel, Bastian.’

‘If you cannot see, after watching what Miss Oldfield has had to endure this evening, that those words apply to yourself, Letitia, then you have no soul.’

‘I will do it! Do not be horrid to me, or I will cry…’

Lord Stanford, who had been standing nearby, came to claim Lady Letitia for the next dance, and she moved off, lifting her head. But Durant knew she would obey him.

Vivien followed Felicity to the ladies withdrawing room, where she cast herself into her arms with a squeak. ‘It is going splendidly, is it not?’ she said to her friend. ‘We are routing your enemies! They are on the run.’

Felicity, who was barely dealing with the cold shoulders of her former friends, was not so sanguine, but she did not say so. She smiled.

‘Even my mama is doubting the story now. Since Lady Letitia has denied the story and even been dancing in a set with you, she said that the account of Miss Jane Friel is hardly credible. Her friend, Mrs Temple, went so far as to say that Miss Friel had had a wicked disposition as a young child, once hitting her music master with his timing stick.’

‘It is hardly fair if Miss Friel is branded a liar. She has only repeated Lady Letitia, after all.’

‘Felicity! It is not the time to be thinking of the reputation of that cat, but your own.’

Felicity returned to the ballroom, to be claimed by another of Benedict’s friends for the Boulangère. As she passed the set that Jane Friel and her partner Captain Wallace had formed, that young lady turned a haughty shoulder, two pink spots on her cheeks. Somehow, Felicity remembered that Miss Friel had not been dancing so much this evening and she wondered if her own success was that young lady’s downfall. She could not like her, but Felicity wished this dreadful fate on no one.

Lady Letitia was standing by the Fentons upon her return, accompanied by her friend whom Felicity remembered was called Lady Beatrice Fox.

‘Miss Oldfield,’ said Lady Letitia in a slightly strained voice, ‘My friend and I are going for some supper and I wondered if you would care to join us.’

Felicity strove to keep her smile in place. ‘Why certainly!’ she replied.

The young ladies walked together to the supper room, Felicity in the middle, and Lady Letitia smiled and hissed, ‘Do smile. You make us both ridiculous!’

Felicity wished she had a handy carpet bag, but she smiled, nevertheless. ‘How do you enjoy the ball, Lady Beatrice?’ she enquired of Letitia’s friend.

‘No, no! Speak to me! Durant insists.’

Felicity, who was slow to ire, felt the smile freeze on her face. ‘If only you were so obedient to Durant’s wishes two months ago—’

‘Insolent!’ said Lady Letitia, but still she smiled. There was a pause. ‘What do you think of Miss Michael’s dress, my dear?’ she said, as they approached the supper table, where a milling crowd might overhear them.

‘The blue sarcenet? It is elegant, I think.’

Lady Letitia tittered and Lady Beatrice joined her. ‘Elegance is simplicity - Miss Michael’s gown has rather too many trimmings.’

‘And the surfeit of braid!’ agreed Lady Beatrice. ‘A complete quiz!’

‘I am no judge of such things.’

‘Evidently!’ said Lady Beatrice.

‘Smile, my dear! You promised.’ Instructed Lady Letitia.

All three ladies smiled.

‘Perhaps I will join my friend Captain Fenton,’ said Felicity desperately. ‘I see him there.’

‘We shall all go. Captain Fenton, will you make a plate for Lady Beatrice, Miss Oldfield and I?’

‘If I must.’ Benedict’s tone as he bent over her ladyship’s hand belied his smile.

Felicity found herself amused at last. It was too ridiculous — an entire company whose faces expressed the exact opposite of their feelings. ‘Thank you, Benedict.’

He smiled more genuinely. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his tone meant to reach Felicity only.

‘Their ladyships are just discussing fashions with me. I’m hoping I can change the topic from what they do not like to what they like. But I fear that is not what their dispositions enjoy.’

They enjoyed a complicit smile before she turned back to her captors, and Genevieve Sumner, entering the supper room, saw it and was glad. Benedict was at last able to see Felicity’s charms, that was good. One day (though hopefully a far off one) Benedict would come into a tidy estate in Yorkshire. Which, now free from the drain of Mr Wilbert Fenton’s debts, was a comfortable living. Felicity might make, Genevieve thought, a very good mistress of same. Maybe she, Genevieve, could teach Felicity how to listen to him without sensibility, which was necessary to release his tongue, to help him share his troubles. It was a delicate task, Genevieve knew. Otherwise he would be brave, but keep his feelings locked, and that was not good for him. However, he must marry one day, and Felicity’s joyous nature would make a good wife for him, perhaps.

Since Benedict had arrived in town his devastating good looks — no longer boyish, but dark and daring like Lord Byron’s — had had the predictable effect on young unmarried ladies (and even the married ones). Genevieve had seen this in every social situation. Maybe Benedict noticed, but he did not appear to. Admiration was perhaps so usual to him. She could only imagine the females he had met when stationed abroad. At first, his letters to her had been amusingly sprinkled with references to pretty females, but after the great battle, his tone had changed. He was more sombre, though he strove to hide it. Genevieve was worried. Perhaps Felicity’s plight was just the diversion he needed. He was, after all, always a rescuer. Of everything from birds with broken wings to family friends trapped in a destructive marriage.*

Durant, too, was watching his cousin’s conduct from a distance, as he walked towards Lady Jersey, and saw Benedict Fenton’s exchange of smiles with Felicity, which jolted him somewhat. This was genuine feeling, not social exchange, and they looked like an impossibly beautiful couple, her eyes shining into Fenton’s with amused intimacy. She put all others to shame, he thought. Even Letitia’s polished surface dimmed in her presence.

‘That match might work to save the girl,’ came Lady Jersey’s voice beside him. ‘You should encourage it. But not for this season, it is too late for that. But if she returns to town as Mrs Benedict Fenton, no doubt the talk might die down,’ said Lady Jersey, adjusting her shawl, but talking a little less stridently than was her wont.

‘You could save her, Sally. If you were to go and greet her, offer new vouchers?’

‘I’m afraid the patronesses have voted and we feel that the whole sorry tale leaves us with little option but to blackball her, as they say into your nasty gambling clubs. We cannot afford to let the standards slip and I have had various representations even this evening, relating to our permitting the entrance of a fast girl. So do not ask me, Bastian. It is already decided.’

‘Sally — the whole tale is something in nothing—’

‘The report is false then? She did not drive off with you unchaperoned?’

He hesitated. ‘Sally—’

‘No, Bastian. You have the means to secure her reputation if you so wish so. Do not blame me—’

‘I cannot. There is something no one knows — Anne said yes, but we can’t announce it until her mother’s demise. It would not be seemly.’

‘Dear Anne? Oh, how wonderful, Bastian! She has been tied to that house so long. I hear her mother’s death is nigh.’

‘Weeks, perhaps days only, the doctors say, but obviously we cannot wed at once. You won’t mention it Sally?’

‘Yes, but Bastian, it makes it even worse for your little Miss Oldfield. For those who know you, know that you would save her reputation if there was no truth to the rumour—’

‘I know. I am caught in a quandary. I can’t say why I don’t just offer for her. You could save her, Sally.’

Lady Jersey adjusted her spangled shawl again. ‘You know I cannot. You cannot even deny the offence.’

‘There was nothing in it, Sally, I swear. I bullied the poor girl into doing a practical task for my own ends.’

‘She should not have gone with you.’

‘In an open carriage, Sally. Hardly best placed for an illicit liaison. And she had little choice, my dear. Think what I bullied you into when we were that age!’

Lady Jersey smiled, remembering escaping her bedroom to join him on night-time badger hunts as a child, but said, ‘It is not just my decision, Bastian. I cannot help you.’

Durant watched her go and looked over to Felicity, who was still smiling with Benedict Fenton in that intimate way. He surprised the eye of Viscountess Swanson, who looked at Felicity too, and he read in her eyes how Benedict’s easy confiding smile in Miss Oldfield’s direction was now given a new interpretation. She was fast, not just friendly, as might have been supposed before the dreadful accusations. One eyebrow raised in the old Viscountesses face. You know who she is, the witch was saying. And there was nothing, nothing he could say or do to make it right.

Lady Jersey seldom questioned her own judgement on social matters. The way of the world was the way of the world and everyone, including even herself, must abide by the rules. She just happened to be in a position to enforce them. But her old playmate’s appeal had affected her and she followed Miss Oldfield to a room set aside for the comfort of ladies, which adjoined the supper room. She saw Felicity’s progress, and how she raised her chin a little as she passed a turned shoulder. She was a brave girl. This evening must be a trial for her. Her ladyship had no notion what she wished to say to the girl, only that she wished to observe her more closely.

There was someone else in the room before them, besides the couple of attendants ready to pin a curl or stitch a ribbon, or move a screen for more intimate arrangements. A young lady whose blond head was sunk a little as she rung her lace handkerchief. Lady Jersey hung back in the doorway, which had swung to a little, and wondered what would happen as Miss Oldfield now came into an intimate space with her nemesis, Miss Jane Friel — for it was she. She just caught Felicity Oldfield’s low tone and could not believe her ears, ‘I am so sorry . . .’

The blond head raised. ‘You!’ Lady Jersey saw tears in the young girl’s eyes. ‘It is all your fault! How dare you pity me?’

‘I cannot help it. I could see that you have suffered this evening. Many people have shunned me tonight, but I cannot help but see that those who have not, blame you. It must be dreadful for you.’

‘I did not behave like a slut. I did not disgrace myself, yet such persons as Mr Rush have turned their back on me. Only because I said—’

Felicity sat on the next chair and held Miss Friel’s hand. Miss Friel pulled away abruptly. ‘And now even my friend virtually accuses me of lies. Lady Letitia — as if she had not said—’

Felicity took her hands again. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Why are you being kind to me?’ Miss Friel’s expression had softened and she looked like the frightened girl she was.

‘I would never have anyone’s reputation, even for truthfulness, questioned. You do not deserve it, and I wish I could aid you.’

Miss Friel stopped crying and pulled her hands, which had begun to grasp Felicity Oldfield’s back, free. ‘I see what it is — you wish me to leave this room with you and make myself look foolish and false. Well, I will not do it! You are a hateful, fast female and I will not—’ she choked. Then stood up, and walked off. Passing Lady Jersey at the door, she gave a start and continued on, her face a flame. Lady Jersey looked through the doorway, but stood so the door still obscured her presence. Miss Oldfield still sat, looking after Miss Friel, sadly shaking her head.

The girl was quite genuine. And just that compassionate, so that in the midst of her own troubles, she could feel for another who had meant her no good whatsoever.

How sad that there was nothing to be done. Lady Jersey turned on her heel and went back to the ballroom, shaking off her sadness with each step she took.

On her carriage ride home the scene in the withdrawing room played once more in her head. So much so, that when she had returned to her house and discarded her gloves and cloak, she sat down at her writing desk to write to her old friend, Anne Clarence.

It was little enough to do. But her conscience was salved.

Chapter 11

Romantic Disaster

Her dear friends, both in the carriage ride home and at breakfast the next morning, told her what a triumph the Almacks ball had been, but Felicity could only think that she never ever wanted to have such another evening. For all the small victories, it had been truly horrific. Looking on the bright side, which her friends insisted she did, and which was Felicity’s usual habit, she now knew who was likely to support her (a goodly number) and who was determined to turn from her (the majority, it seemed to Felicity, even given the gentlemen that the lieutenant and the captain had forced to dance with her. If these gentlemen had attending family, she could see the disapproval in the eyes of their mamas.) However, she listened to all the reassurances as best she could, and smiled and agreed. She would rather run than run the gauntlet once more, but everyone was full of plans for the new day. Lord Carswell was going to drive her, Lady Sumner and young Mr Fenton out today, and they would accidentally meet with Lord Durant, who would take her and Lady Sumner up in his carriage. This was fraught with irregularity. Normally, Lord Durant would drive a sporting vehicle in the park, and take a lady up on her own, with no sense of impropriety attached. But in this case, extra precaution was needed, so Durant would be driven in a landau, and there would thus be room for all three. Felicity could only hope he did not include Lady Letitia in the expedition, as her head, now throbbing, might just split apart.

The morning drive went as anticipated, Lord Durant himself handed the ladies into his carriage and held Felicity a back for a second.  ‘You look pale - are you quite alright?’

‘Of course, my lord.’ She made to step forward, but he held her back. ‘Please, sir, someone may remark—’ panicked eyes looked around and then up at him. He grasped her hand more tightly.

‘I cannot forgive myself. What a trial all this is for you. Only because of a selfish moment of mine.’

Her eyes lost their panicked look and replaced it with a kind one. She returned his hand squeeze. ‘No, no. Pray do not refine too much upon it.’ He was once more aware, that in apologising he was receiving comfort. He even wondered if he was seeking it. Lady Sumner bent to take her hand and she released his and climbed into the carriage.

Durant joined, them, sitting opposite, determined to make Felicity’s strained smile into a real one. ‘I must say, ladies, that you both look surprisingly energetic the morning after so much dancing.’

‘We are neither of us slouchers,’ said Lady Sumner, after leaving a little gap in case Felicity wished to speak. She did not. ‘Miss Oldfield and I rise early for our ride most mornings. Sometimes we drive. She is becoming a capital whip.’

Felicity smiled at this. ‘It is unlike you to flatter, dear Lady Sumner,’ she said, her smile more mischievous.

‘Then you know I do not. You are not first-class as yet, but by the end of the season—’ This effectively wiped the smile from Felicity’s face, which she replaced with the false one in a mere half-second.

‘And I must admire your bonnet, Miss Oldfield. From Madame Celeste’s?’ asked Durant, into the breach.

‘You are perfectly right. How clever of you,’ she said seriously. ‘How could you know that?’

Lady Sumner, not quite liking the tone of this conversation (flirting with Felicity was not the purpose of this ride — quite the opposite) said dryly, ‘Yes indeed. How on earth—?’

Durant, meeting Lady Sumner’s eye, said, ‘My cousin is a client.’

Again it was the wrong thing. Lady Sumner rolled her eyes as Felicity, despite trying not to, stiffened for a second. ‘The horses are well-matched sir. Almost the equal of a pair I have at home.’

Durant raised an eyebrow. ‘Almost?’

‘I never lie about horses sir. A pair of greys.’

‘It sounds like I should visit your estate, Lady Sumner.’

‘You could sir, but I could send for the horses and you could view them in town, should you wish it.’

‘Perhaps I should just buy them. You never lie about horses, as you say. And Langford bought that chestnut from you, did he not?’

‘Yes. I bought that one from an idiot who was about to ruin his mouth. I watched Lord Langford ride before I let him have it.’

Durant laughed. ‘He didn’t tell me that detail.’

‘Well, would you sell a horse to any dullard that wished to buy?’

‘I would not. But then it is not my business. Horse-trader is a pseudonym for criminal in some instances.’ This was an improper exchange, but it was allowing Felicity to relax and stopping him from any further compliments. These fell easily from his lips, but normally he was careful with debutantes who might be too quick to attach importance to them. But Felicity’s blue taffeta pelisse and the round bonnet that framed her curls so well and made a picture of her enchanting face, seemed to require complimenting. ‘Lady Sumner, I see that your bonnet too is from Madame Celeste. There is a je ne sais quoi about her designs.’ Indeed, Genevieve’s bonnet was simpler than Felicity’s, being of a dark colour to match her pelisse, but with a white striped ribbon, broad and eye-catching beneath her strong chin. It matched some white frogging on her pelisse and suited her plain, serious face very well.

‘Yes, I must admit I am much improved now that Lady Aurora has charge of my wardrobe. I declare that woman is a genius of taste. She has even made this sow’s ear into a silk purse.’ She held up her hand. ‘Do not refute me, your lordship. I know very well what I am.’

Durant wondered if she did. There was an intelligence and humour in Lady Sumner’s eyes, and an eccentricity in her speech (comprising of the honesty that was sadly lacking in fashionable circles) that made her a companion he would wish to seek out. And when she was talking to Felicity, or to Benedict Fenton whom she’d known since childhood, the warmth in her character, normally concealed behind her no-nonsense demeanour, shone through. Her smarter clothes, with none of the flounces or trim that young women adorned themselves with, were now perfectly suited to her — but gave her a dash of sophistication she had not had when he remembered her in town as an awkward debutante or an even more awkward wife. The bad taste of her mother and her husband had insisted that Genevieve adorn herself with flowers and furbelows which had only thrown her plain face into high relief. And her unhappiness had shown itself as coldness. The change Lady Aurora had wrought on Genevieve Sumner was really quite remarkable.

‘Stylish, I heard Mrs Preston say of you last night,’ said Lord Durant with a smile.

Lady Sumner looked surprised but said nothing.

‘Miss Oldfield, what has been the best part of your season, do you think?’

‘Meeting all my dear friends, sir. Mr and Mrs Fenton and Lady Sumner and Miss Carter-Phipps and Miss Althorpe. Miss Fleet, and my aunt, of course,’ she added guiltily. ‘She has paid for all my finery, you know, and been so very generous.’

Durant exchanged yet another look with Lady Sumner. ‘Of course. But who is Miss Fleet? I do not think I know—?’

‘Oh, she is my Aunt Ellingham’s companion.’

‘Ah—’ Durant said, regarding her anew. Her eyes were shining and she looked absurdly young and enthusiastic.

‘We meet in the circulating library each week,’ she confided, ‘We share a love of novels. She introduced me to Miss Radcliffe’s work.’

‘Yes?’ he said, he had vaguely heard of them as improbable melodramas, his own taste being for Homer or other classical tales.

‘Quite terrifying, I assure you.’

‘And you like to be terrified, Miss Oldfield?’

‘Oh, yes, sir.’ She shuddered. ‘Wonderful! My Mama had a taste for novels too. I never knew her, but through reading the books she owned, I feel that I understood her a little.’

‘What is your favourite novel?’

‘Well, I was enjoying a story called Clarissa, or the History of a Young Lady, when my papa removed it as being unsuitable.’

Durant gave a crack of laughter, ‘Very unsuitable!’

‘Really? Oh well, then. I suppose my favourite must be Mr Marshall’s The Castle of Otranto.’

‘Ah, Mr Walpole’s famous castle,’ said Durant with a smile.

‘No, I assure you, it was translated by a Mr William Marshall.’

‘Yes, but later editions admitted that Mr Walpole had adopted that pseudonym.’

‘Truly? I must ask the circulating library for more of Mr Walpole’s novels.’

‘I do not think that there is much more of interest for a young lady in Mr Walpole’s works.’

‘It was wonderful, I do assure you.’ She looked at him. ‘You are teasing me sir, you do not like novels, do you?’

‘Not usually. There is so much else to read of, I suppose.’ Durant admitted.

‘Not for young ladies. We are frequently told that this or that is forbidden to us or “not of interest”,’ she added naughtily. ‘How are we to know if it is of interest or not if we are not permitted to read it?’

‘Well—’

Lady Sumner smiled at him. ‘Hah! She leaves you standing, sir. Gentlemen do not give the intelligence of women any credence at all.’

‘And shall you limit your wife’s choice of books from your library, sir?’ asked Felicity with a little naughtiness in her voice.

Durant thought with a dart of shock about his “wife” to be. Then he considered sensible Anne, free to make use of her own father’s library for many a year and concluded that if he wished to do so it would be a vain exercise. ‘No. My affianced wife is a sensible woman.’

‘And I am not. Yes, you have ample evidence of that, I know.’ She said it sadly and Durant kicked himself.

‘No, it is I who lack all sense. You are simply young. You must forgive your father and others for seeking to preserve that innocence.’

Felicity’s bosom heaved. ‘The world seeks to preserve it, and the world judges us anyway.’ She looked at him guiltily ‘I am so sorry—’

‘Don’t be. You are right.’ He was moved and leaned forward, possibly to take her hand.

‘Durant!’ Genevieve Sumner’s voice halted him. ‘Is that not your friend Mr Carter approaching?’

It was. Durant recollected himself, indicated a halt and Mr Carter made his bow to the ladies and chatted horses with his lordship.

Felicity whispered to Genevieve, ‘Why are you frowning?’

And Genevieve whispered back, ‘Mr Carter talks nonsense — he knows nothing of horseflesh at all.’

This was true as far as it went, but returning to the house after the drive, Genevieve found Lady Aurora and Mr Wilbert Fenton in the green salon and began in her blunt fashion.  ‘It is imperative that Durant is not alone with Felicity!’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘He is well on the way to being charmed by her. He does not mean it, I know, but the warmth in his manner would only serve to give fuel to these damnable rumours!’ She saw Lady Aurora raise an eyebrow, and apologised. ‘Excuse my language, I spend too much time in the stables. But Durant almost touched her in the carriage today — this is not the action of the family friend we seek to portray him as.’

‘What was he about?’ said Mr Fenton, putting down his journal in an annoyed manner.

‘He was acting, I believe, outside of his own volition.’

‘You don’t mean he has fallen for her?’ said Lady Aurora. ‘Oh, doesn’t he see how dangerous—?’

I assure you, he looked his apologies at me. He was mortified. But as I say, he cannot help himself.’

‘This would be good news, if only he were not an engaged man. Oh, what a ridiculous fix.’

‘And she?’

‘I have no idea. She likes him, I’m sure. But she is obviously more aware of the situation than he. Whenever she remembers, she is terrified of giving the world more reason to talk—’

‘We need Durant to help solve our problem, and now he has made himself useless.’ Mr Wilbert Fenton said, disgusted.

‘And there has been talk, too, of Felicity and Benedict. Such is the dangerous reputation she has attained, that her friendly nature is now mistaken for flirtation. I suppose we must warn her to be more subdued.’

Lady Aurora whirled around, having reached a wall with her pacing. ‘On no account must we do so. Her own nature will ultimately be her saviour, I am sure. And we shall drive her into a decline. She is very brave, our little girl, but she is only just managing not to run from any and all social situations.’

Lady Sumner sat down, finally free of her pelisse and bonnet. ‘Perhaps we ask too much of the girl. I would be happy to retire with her to the country.’

‘No,’ said Wilbert Fenton with decision, ‘That will not do. Felicity was enjoying her first visit to town immensely. To go home with you would be to acquiesce to the rumours. She could never show her face in town again. We must prevail, and Durant is a large part of our plan. I shall speak with him.’

‘Yes, dear,’ said Lady Aurora sarcastically. ‘You must order him not to fall for Felicity.’

Wilbert groaned. ‘If only my nieces were in town. I’m beginning to think that Benedict’s line of military dance partners might have done damage, too.’

‘My friend Mrs Rush heard Viscountess Swanson say that Miss Oldfield would dance with any scarlet coat in the land.’

Mr Fenton took a breath and displayed his temper a little. ‘A little poison is all that would be required—’

‘It is not only she. Her Grace of Telford has been busy wondering how Lady Ellingham can bear the disgrace Felicity has brought upon her.’

‘A woman scorned is a dangerous thing.’

‘Oh, yes, Durant made one of the Duchess’s court ‘til lately, did he not?’

‘Well, it may have been rather more than that, I think,’ said her shrewd husband. ‘While the Duke may share his toys, I believe Durant does not. If the Duchess was mistress of Durant, then be assured he was her only lover, excepting only her husband, one supposes. Whatever the court of young bucks around her desired.’

‘I see. And perhaps Durant finished with her on the occasion of his engagement. The duchess, seeing what transpired that night blames Felicity… Oh, my darling, perhaps we cannot save her!’

Mr Fenton, with an armful of sobbing wife to comfort, thought he heard the soft closure of a door. But perhaps he was mistaken.

Anne Clarence received her letter in Lady Jersey’s elegant hand at the breakfast table. She received it with delight, but before she had finished it, her brows drew down a little. Her ladyship was so pleased at the engagement, which Bastian had told her of under strange circumstances. Then she related the results of Lady Letitia’s bad humour and Durant’s impulsive act on a debutante called Felicity Oldfield. Anne put the letter down for a second and thought. No, she did not recall an Oldfield family, but they came from another county and were little in town, said Sally, so she supposed that was not surprising. She read on. Mrs Clarence’s illness had caused the delay in making her announcement, Sally understood. But Anne could surely see that the ton could only reach one conclusion when Durant, who was affecting to be on friendly terms with the family, appeared free of attachment and yet did not offer the protection of his name: that the girl was not fit to be offered for. If the engagement between Anne and Durant could be suggested by Sally — not announced, of course — it would not solve the problem, but it might make one thing clear.

Really, Anne, I would not disturb you with this, but it is only that the girl is so very innocent. I saw her commiserate with her mortal enemy, the young lady who helped spread Tish’s words. She was genuinely concerned only because the members of the Beau Monde who believe in Miss Oldfield’s innocence (and there a number) naturally now believe that Miss Friel is of a dubious character herself. That young lady herself has suffered some consequence, not nearly so drastically as Miss Oldfield, but still significant. However, to witness Miss Oldfield have sympathy for Miss Friel showed good nature of an uncommon order.  That is why I have written to you, Anne, as I know Durant will not. He would not bring his own folly to your door, but I trust that you are too practical and compassionate to mind my interference. If you give me leave to suggest Durant’s engagement, it would stifle some tongues at least.

Well, my dear, you must answer as you wish, and I shall await your response. I do not apologise for my vulgar interference, you have known me too long not to know how I seek to rule the world.

Kiss your mama for me,

Sally.

This last brought a tear to Anne’s eye. Her sister, Susan, had agreed to delay the announcement of death to spare Anne too many commiserations just yet. It was unusual of course, to delay. But Susan, dreadfully aware of how little help she had been to her Mama and sister these last years was happy to agree to anything that furthered Anne’s peace. Anne must, however, allow Susan to make the death announcement now. Her sister had not been about in town, so had not yet had to explain her black gloves and ribbons, but it was not conceivable that that could continue.

Anne jumped up and paced, wondering what best to do. She was wearing her new riding habit, in dark green velvet that set off the gold frogging admirably. For many reasons, not least that Mr Joyce was due, her brain was in a turmoil. She must act now, but she knew that the cocoon of peace that she had inhabited lately would now be exploded. Mr Joyce was announced. Anne looked up at his lazy smile. ‘I must go to town!’

Mr Joyce stopped smiling. ‘Indeed, Miss Clarence? When do you leave?’

‘Now!’

‘I do not wish to intrude, but may I ask what has occurred?’

‘It is to do with my engagement—’

‘Your— you have some engagement in town that you did not mention. Had you forgotten?’ 

‘No. Not a social engagement. My alliance with the Viscount of Durant. You remember I said Bastion visited? Well, he asked me to be his wife.’

‘Oh—’ said Mr Joyce, striving for a more formal tone. ‘My compliments. I hope you will be very—’

She rushed forward and impetuously took one of his hands which he looked at, dully. ‘Don’t! I need to go now. Please do not refine too much upon it. I will explain when I return. Could you ask Bowman to bring round the landau? I must leave within the half-hour if we are to reach town before dark.’ With that she left him, some pleading look in her eyes, and he stood, stiff and still. She turned at the door. ‘Really!’ she said, pleading again. What on earth he was to take from all of that, Anne did not know. Which was just as well, for what she meant by any of it she could not, if asked, explain.

Chapter 12

Lady Jersey’s Interference

Felicity enlisted the help of Miss Fleet in collecting the journals who may be relied upon to advertise for school mistresses and governesses, for Lady Ellingham received all the most interesting journals to her table. She glossed over the state of the world, or any talk of parliament, to reach the society pages.  It was the allotted day for the circulating library, and the ladies were able to pour over the pages to find some suitable advertisements without the presence of Lady Sumner or Mrs Fenton.  

While his intended was in an old fashioned travelling carriage, bowling her way to London, Sebastian Fortescue, Viscount of Durant, was getting dressed. As he was not one of the dandy set, or in any way interested in being a leader of fashion, this did not take the customary hours allotted by some such gentlemen. It did, however, take some time. His valet was of course concerned about the arrangement of his full head of dark hair and the attention his master paid to the intricacies of his cravat. Unlike the valets to the pinks of fashion, Walters was not required to stand with a dozen white starched muslin cravats while his master arranged one after another to achieve that day’s genius. All that was allowed Walters was to stand behind Durant while he arranged one and then meet his master’s eye in the mirror. Then the valet gave the faintest of nods or head shakes to indicate if the result was at least tolerable. It was maybe the first, or at the latest the third cravat of the day. After that the Viscount got bored and whatever the result, it would have to suffice. This was able to be borne by the valet, as was the coat that might have been more tightly fitting, or the boots that might have benefited by a deeper white top, because the result was always the same. Durant’s tall athletic frame made every coat sit well, and the cravat under his darkly handsome face was all the better for its casual appearance. All this, though he knew it not, gave Walters prestige both below stairs and in the taverns frequented by servants on their free evenings. His lordship, though he never sought it, had style.

While aiding his lordship into his coat of blue superfine, the valet coughed. ‘Since you did not need me last evening, sir, I met with some friends,’ he began. Since the valet’s social life was not on the Viscount’s range of interest, he waited until his master said, ‘Go on.’

‘I learnt about the predicament that a certain young lady is in sir, and of course of your desire to quash the results of Lady L—’ he stopped, checking Durant’s face for signs of shock at his impertinence, ‘excuse me sir, but I thought I should mention—’

‘Yes, Walters, get on with it…’

‘But it seems that Her Grace the Duchess of T—’

‘I know to whom you refer. What is it?’

‘Well, sir. I am afraid Her Grace seems to doubt the young ladies character. It is quite an on dit with her, sir.’

‘Damn and blast the woman!’

‘Yes sir. I believe she has also sent some letters mentioning the incident to a few of her most favoured intimates.’

‘The devil take her! She must have seen me follow Miss Oldfield from her ballroom straight after I—’ he recollected himself. ‘In general I do not approve of gossiping among the servants, but in this case—’

‘Quite, my lord.’

‘And Walters, if you or Coates can do anything to carry your knowledge of the young lady’s innocence to other households, I will be grateful.’

Walters eyebrows rode up at this, but he said, ‘Certainly, your lordship.’ He coughed. ‘Ah, I believe Clem has been quizzed by other grooms about the carriage incident, my lord. He said nothing, of course.’

Durant, usually intensely private, frowned. ‘By all means have Clem open his mouth about the truth of the matter. He was behind the carriage the whole time Miss Oldfield was driving with me. But let him not mention Lady Letitia. It is complicated enough.’

‘Clem will say whatever you wish, sir.’

Durant gave Walters a sharper glance than he normally received. ‘The truth is quite sufficient. Miss Oldfield—’ he recollected he was explaining himself to his valet and stopped. He supposed it was because he wished someone who doubted Miss Oldfield’s virtue would ask him so that he could take care of the situation, verbally or otherwise. But of course he would never be asked and never be given the opportunity to champion her. That was to be left to his servants, apparently, he thought bitterly. Well, if giving his household privacy over to help her would aid the situation, he would.

His desire to help her was so intense it almost hurt. The joy mixed in with the concern that he had felt when he saw her again he had to acknowledge. But then he’d already admitted to himself, after the number of times he had thought of her in the interim, that the innocent face he had looked down on had charmed him. When once committed, she’d thrown herself into the part of Lady Letitia Fortescue and her laughing look at him when they had achieved their goal had delighted him.

And that was before Lady Aurora had gotten hold of her. With the help of a coiffeuse and some stylish clothes, Felicity had become the unquestioned belle of the season. She would no doubt be engaged soon enough to some crowing young pup if he had not used her so shamefully for his own ends, and if he had kept Tish in better check. He’d left that to Aunt Charlotte, reneging his duty to take the girl’s worst traits in hand — and only see what had occurred. A sweet young girl destroyed.

If only he hadn’t been so quick to form the engagement to Anne. She had made it clear that she had never thought of it before he’d done so. Why would she? They were simply good friends. It is just that he could not abide the idea of marriage to someone he could not share a thought with, which described many of the lovely debutantes he’d met since he’d come to town. Then too, Anne would be in an odd situation once her mother died. Heir to the small estate, with enough money to provide for herself, but a little old to have her debut. He’d believed it was a sensible solution for both of them.

Now, he only saw it as a barrier to stopping Miss Oldfield’s suffering. If he offered for her, the carriage ride would become no more than the prelude to the engagement. It may raise an eyebrow with high sticklers, but the world would happily embrace the new Viscountess Durant. It would have been the least he could do for her. She would not be the sensible choice perhaps, and he might have had to reassure Miss Oldfield on his ability to move only as fast as he desired — she was not an experienced girl. He knew that of her. She would be, he was sure, a wonderful mother. But before that she would have to be a wife and he was too mature for such a young girl. Better by far that she married some young blade such as Benedict Fenton.

If she did he would be free of this dreadful feeling of guilt and responsibility. He hoped someone would be good enough for her. With her sparkling laugh and her gentle spirit, it would be hard to find a man to merit her.

On the journey to her sister’s house in London, Anne Clarence concluded very little else than that she wished very much to meet Miss Oldfield. Any other thoughts concerning Durant or other persons that must be taken into consideration left her head buzzing. She wasn’t quite ready to be plunged into London once more, even if only to receive condolences from her many friends. But she could not, in all conscience, leave Durant and Miss Oldfield in such a situation. She wondered if she freed Durant altogether from his engagement, would it be the right thing? After all, Durant had never favoured young debutantes. His dalliances, to which he had sometimes obliquely referred, being of the more worldly and sophisticated type. She knew many things about his life in London from her sister and other friends passing on the on dits that might enliven her country existence. For Anne had had two seasons in London before her mother’s illness, had been very popular and had received no less than six proposals, not one of which had tempted her in the least. But then, Anne Clarence was her father’s heiress and had no need to take a husband that did not ‘meet her rigorous standards’ as Bastian had teased her. She did not think them so rigorous, she just wanted a husband she could laugh with.

She laughed with Bastian, of course, but in those days she had spent all her time with him advising him about the characters of the girls of her presentation set, many of whom were desirous of meeting him.

‘Miss Heston seems delightful’

‘She looks delightful,’ had said Anne, ‘but her conversation over the breakfast table would be limited to the latest fashions — of which she knows nothing, but is only saved by the good taste of her mama — and the people she met yesterday, of whom she says nothing of interest, being without any insight into character at all.’

‘You are harsh, my dear Anne. If I did not know better, I would suspect you of trying to land me for yourself.’

‘Yes, you might think that, if you were set up in your own esteem.’

Durant had laughed, but here she was three years later, having “landed him”. Only she hadn’t gone fishing for him at all. Maybe their friendship would be a good basis for matrimony. She hardly knew now. She knew he was handsome and confident and good. It was just like him to use another for his own purposes without thought of consequences, however. Having a grand position all one’s life entitled one. But she knew, too, that he would be humiliated at being the cause of a young girl’s downfall. Why on earth had he not written to her?

She was travelling to London much earlier than she had intended. She’d needed some quiet time. But as she thought back to the last days and months she wondered if she would ever have left her home. There was a comfort and excitement to her day there that made up her peace.

Was she coming to London to help Durant and the unknown Miss Oldfield, or to save herself from something else?

Mr Joyce rode away from Little Clarence with his heart in his boots. He’d not thought of what he was doing to himself while visiting Miss Clarence. He’d thought only of the brave girl in a difficult situation, uncomplaining, but underneath it all, distressed. It was his duty to relieve her suffering as best he might. So he visited her and gave her Christian succour, as his superior, the Reverend Mr Bigelow would have it. He laughed as he remembered how he had told her so, and how he had realised that when she grinned at him in that delightful way she had, he was in receipt of that succour himself.

His early years had been in a house such as Little Clarence, he would still be there if he had listened to his family. He did not inherit, there were two brothers ahead of him for that, and he understood that his annual allowance, once his father died, would be small. Not as small as his present stipend as a curate he knew, as he now looked down at his sadly fraying cuffs. But his father had seen it as his son’s job, whilst in town, to marry well. This did not encompass character or affection, but mostly money. His father picked a young debutante to throw his way. She was the daughter of an East India Company trader, and heiress to vast wealth. His elder brother Thomas would not have been allowed to wed her, of course, her birth being no more than respectable, but her money could be used to bolster the estate, and his birth, her consequence. But Mallory Joyce did not choose this life, but sought an independent life in the church, which his father had been furious about. For a younger son to join the church was usual, of course, but not when he could do the family more good by marriage. And the lady had been well disposed to him, too — he having rather more hair at that time than now — and yet he could not bring himself to do it. He had been twenty-two and had asked himself — after this, what more would be required from him by his parent? That his existence would be circumscribed, even in marriage, he did not doubt. So he found himself a job as a curate, which Oxford had prepared him for, and ended up under the thumb of another such pompous martinet, which served him right for parental disobedience. He had not recited this story to Miss Clarence, but he believed she had intuited much of it. And then again, though country bound, Anne Clarence was up to date on every piece of London gossip, with a hoard of correspondents keeping her informed until she returned to the metropolis. And now she had. And suddenly he realised (like Durant before him) that the comforting he’d been dispensing to her was not entirely altruistic.

The Reverend Mr Bigelow met him as he returned to Rectory. ‘And how is Miss Clarence today, Mr Joyce?’

‘She is called away to London, sir.’

‘Ah, one does not wonder that the temptations of London call Miss Clarence to them once again, given how turned her head has always been by the hollowness of worldly life. Her clothes alone, my dear wife informs me, show a need for display of superiority which is quite uncalled for in this country haven.’

Mr Joyce, who knew that Mrs Bigelow would give her eyeteeth plus, perhaps, the least cherished of her five children for just one of Miss Clarence’s stylish gowns, smiled inwardly at this ill-natured account. He imagined taking the tale to Miss Clarence tomorrow, and almost heard her speculating about which ill-favoured child might be sacrificed on such an occasion, and laughing with her. But now she would do her laughing with the Viscount Durant, that rippling-muscled, handsome, tall man with the full head of hair that she was promised to marry. He did not believe that such a man would permit his wife to roam the grounds of Little Clarence with an impecunious skinny curate. Or that she would ever wish to do so more. It was as it should be, of course. She was too wonderful a woman to be kept locked up at Little Clarence. She deserved a broader stage, a fuller life, a husband. He just wished he’d had some more warning, to accustom himself.

Her words ran in his mind, but he could make nothing of them.

‘My engagement’ ‘He asked me to be his wife.’ ‘Don’t refine to much upon it’ ‘Really’ ‘I will explain when I return’ Her eyes, her hands, he remembered too. And he was certainly refining much too much upon a little hand in his, or pleading eyes. She knew it would wound him, though he had not. He had never allowed himself to think that what they were doing was flirting. But now he did, and he saw the evil in it. Because she had kept her engagement from him, guessing, as she would, some of his feelings. And she had tried to save him from pain for the longest time.

There was nothing to be done. Nothing at all. Yet he found himself saying to Mr Bigelow, ‘I’m afraid, sir, that I must leave for town tomorrow. I have a personal matter to deal with.’

The vicar pulled himself up. This was the kind of thing that annoyed him about his otherwise biddable curate. He should be begging for permission to absent himself, which might be graciously given or coldly refused as the vicar saw fit. But in the habit of his class (for the vicar, while of respectable birth, was not, of course, part of the ton) Mr Joyce was informing him, not asking. Even at this moment, Mr Bigelow had no power to argue. If he forbade Mr Joyce, then his instinct was that the young man would do it anyway. He could threaten or chastise as he chose, he knew he had little effect on his curate. And he was, in general, a most useful man who performed the vast majority of the parish duties without demur. He could easily get another more biddable, but he was less sure of getting another as capable. He sufficed himself by emitting an ‘Hrumph!’ and adding, ‘I trust you will not be long gone, sir. There are duties to attend to. Duties that the Lord has seen to fall upon us.’

Mr Joyce longed to feed this titbit to Anne Clarence and see her laugh, but he merely replied, ‘I cannot say, sir. I will be no longer than is necessary.’

With this, the pious Mr Bigelow had to be satisfied.

Chapter 13

The New Arrivals

‘It seems that if I had a home, everything could be organised. Only look, my dear Miss Fleet, “A lady and her sister who have resided some time in Paris and are accustomed to tuition, are desirous of receiving a few young Ladies as Morning Pupils at their home, the number limited to eight. The terms are 12 guineas per annum, exclusive of accomplishments.’ Does that not sound wonderful? 12 guineas was all Mrs Hennessey was offering me, and if these ladies find eight pupils it will be eight times what my wages would have been.’

‘Yes, my dear. But you do not have a house, or a sister resident in London to assist you.’

‘I suppose I might send for Charity, but she would not be parted from Amity. But only imagine, it would only be for mornings and then one would be free to do whatever one wished. One could keep a horse and gig at that rate, I suppose. And my lack of playing or sketching skills need not be an issue, for it is obvious that the parents are supposed to employ masters for the young ladies accomplishments. It would be quite a wonderful solution.’

‘Well dear, yes. If you had a house, and a companion to provide respectability. But you do not,’ reminded Miss Fleet again.

Felicity’s face fell. ‘Yes, I know. The lowering thing is, most of the adverts are from young ladies desirous of positions, not from families looking for governesses. Or schools looking for teachers.’ She shook off her depression. ‘Perhaps the best thing is to make a list of all the schools for young ladies mentioned in the advertisements. I could simply apply in the hope that they are in need of more school mistresses. Especially those outside London, in Brighton or York perhaps.’

‘Are you sure my dear, that you are not seeking a position you do not need? I know how you are adored by Mrs Fenton, I cannot believe that she or Mr Fenton would send you away at the end of the season.’

‘Oh, of course they would not. And I did consider whether I might beg that boon. Just to stay and be of use to her as a companion, as you are to my aunt. But she is so generous, I believe she would never give up trying to restore my reputation, even at the loss of her own. She has been so good to me, I could never thank her. Lady Aurora bought me gloves the other day, and I do not believe my Aunt Ellingham will foot the bill for them any longer. My aunt has been most unexpectedly generous in paying for my wardrobe, but she surely will not pay now. So Lady Aurora will be left with the bill, which is a humiliation, I assure you. I have no claim on Mrs Fenton, after all. I am literally a young girl she rescued from the street!’

Mrs Fleet looked away. ‘I think Lady Aurora’s affection for you knows no bounds.’ The little lady leaned forward and took Miss Oldfield’s hands impulsively. ‘I have not known whether to tell you my dear. Only now, you should see how much Mr and Mrs Fenton are truly attached to you, so that you might see that you can stay. That you ought to stay, for only true affection could have caused them to—’

‘To—? Continue, I pray you—’ gasped Felicity.

‘It is I who am entrusted to pay all the household accounts for Lady Ellingham, you know. I mean those of a personal nature. Not the housekeeping, but the milliner’s bill, the modistes’, and so on, all fall upon my desk.’

‘Yes?’

‘And there has not been one from Madame Godot. Or Madame Celeste. Or any of the other modistes that you have told me of.’

‘I don’t understand. Did my Aunt Ellingham give Lady Aurora a sum of money? Or a banker’s draft?’

‘Lady Ellingham does not have such sums in the house, in case of thieves. And I write out all her banker’s drafts — all she must do is sign them.’

‘But in this case — surely she wrote it herself?’

‘I do not believe so.’

Felicity looked down at the enormous muff she carried, which matched a trim on her pelisse. ‘Then all this — it is Mr and Mrs Fenton?’ Felicity shook away tears, ‘But of course it is! Why did I ever think other?’

‘So you see, my dear Miss Oldfield, do you not?’ said Miss Fleet grasping her hands more tightly, ‘Her ladyship and Mr Fenton have had such affection for you — from the first. And now that you know that, you need not leave them!’

Felicity’s eyes filled up. She tried to talk, but could not. Only she could know that this only made things worse. She had seen with her own eyes, even in this circulation library, the shoulders that had turned from her dear friend Mrs Fenton, all because of her. She could hardly bare it. She would not say so however, for now Miss Fleet, who had not given up her discretion lightly, was looking so hopefully at her that she had not the heart to explain.

‘Perhaps you are right, my dear Miss Fleet. Thank you for telling me.’

As the ladies came out of the circulating library, they were rather later than usual and no hackney carriage was to be seen. They could have walked, but Felicity had sent off her maid, and their destinations were in opposite directions. A smart barouche, with its hood pulled up to keep out a light rain pulled up, and Felicity heard herself hailed. ‘Miss Oldfield, well met. May I take you and your companion up?’ Merry blue eyes in a handsome face looked down at her, but somehow too intimately for their slight acquaintance.

‘Lord Stanford. No, I assure you, I am awaiting a carriage as we speak.’ She turned her head a little to Miss Fleet who was looking very worried, as she was now late for Lady Ellingham. ‘Perhaps you could take my companion to Half Moon Street? She lives with my aunt, Lady Ellingham.’

Lord Stanford pulled a face. ‘Of course, I would be glad to convey both of you home.’

‘I am awaiting my coach sir, as I told you,’ said Felicity briskly.

Lord Stanford had jumped from the carriage, ‘My dear Miss Oldfield,’ he said, standing too near to her and bowing over her hand, ‘You must know that I am your devoted servant. You know I hold you in regard. And even in your present trouble, I wish to discuss with you a solution to your problem.’

‘I’m afraid, sir,’ said Miss Fleet placing herself in front of him, causing him to drop Felicity’s hand, ‘that I — I have remembered an errand that we must run. Do continue on your drive.’ She was shaking a great deal at her own temerity, but she could not allow this to continue.

Lord Stanford sneered at her from his superior height and little Miss Fleet was sure he was going to remove her. Felicity was too shocked and humiliated to move herself. Whatever his solution his lordship was insinuating, it made her flesh creep and her face flame.

Another voice interrupted them. ‘Miss Oldfield! Miss — eh — Fleet. I am come to collect you!’ It was Durant. Felicity grasped her companions arm and bobbed a curtsy at Lord Stanford. Both ladies joined the Viscount on the narrow seat of the phaeton, rather crushed. ‘Stanford!’ nodded Durant with a steel cold voice. It was two streets before he said angrily, ‘What were you doing with Stanford?’

Miss Fleet, who was generally so very timid, was livid at the disrespect from Stanford and did not like the Viscount’s cool tone either, ‘It is what Lord Stanford was doing with Miss Oldfield that is the question, my lord,’ Durant looked down at the little woman with shock, and Felicity did the same, but raising her brows in amusement, ‘and the answer is, being prodigiously disrespectful! I fear his lordship does not deserve the name gentleman. He is, and this is not a word I have ever thought to use - a cad.’ She recollected herself and said, collapsed into her usual tone, ‘I am sorry if that offends you sir.’

‘No, Miss Fleet, it does not. I think you have adequately described him.’ He exchanged a smile with Felicity briefly before he had to watch the road. He pulled up at Lady Ellingham’s house. ‘Can you hold the reins, Miss Oldfield, while I help Miss Fleet—’ but Miss Fleet had already jumped, surprisingly nimbly, from the perch.

Felicity said her goodbyes and soon they were bowling around the streets, but a little more slowly now, and the silence was even more deafening. ‘I wish to say agai—’

‘Pray do not sir, I know it.’

‘But when you are subjected to the likes of Stanford — what did he say to you?’

‘I have been subjected to Lord Stanford before now. He once asked me to marry him.’

‘But you have no — I am sorry, but he generally has the reputation of a fortune hunter.’

‘I believe so. But I said no on quite other grounds.’

‘Yes?’

‘He is very … he makes me feel … rather sick. I do not know why, but I hardly think it a sound foundation for marriage,’ she added with a smile.

He laughed. ‘You would, however, be Lady Stanford and I believe he has a rather large property in Kent.’

Felicity was silent. ‘Well, today he was about to offer me something less than marriage, I fear. Now that I am ruined.’ She laughed. ‘Oh, do not look so sir, I am merely jesting. He is just so…’ her voice dwindled, and Durant saw that though she was trying to pass off the incident, she was clearly shaken.

‘Disgusting? Repulsive? Abhorrent?’ He offered.

She laughed. ‘You cannot say such things. I only mean, well — less than gentlemanly.’

‘An understatement I fear. You must do better. Stanford is a well-known toad, a crawling snake, a vulgar snipejaw.’

‘You made the latter word up. But he is, perhaps…’ she looked at him naughtily, ‘rather obnoxious?’

‘Shameless. Repellent.’

She was laughing freely now. ‘No, no, simply a little offensive.’

‘Detestable. Nauseating. Disgusting.’ He was making her laugh and the humiliation of Stanford’s behaviour was losing its grip on her. Stanford he would deal with later, but for the moment this was little enough to do for her. ‘Let me say it again. I am so very sorry for the disgrace I have brought upon you. I—’

‘Please do not say so again.’ She touched his hand and he almost jerked the reins. ‘It was Lady Letitia’s hastily said words that brought this upon us all. And no doubt she is very sorry now.’ His brows rose. ‘She may not show it of course, but there is shame in her eyes.’

‘If only I could think it, I could hold out some hope for her future. But as it is—’ he frowned, manoeuvring the horses outside the Fenton’s house.

‘I’m sure of it.’ Felicity looked at him with her kind smile. ‘I have a twin sisters, you know. And my sister Amity is quite capable of making mischief. But there is never any sign of shame in her eyes afterwards. Lady Letitia is quite another matter.’

The horses had stopped and his groom was had jumped down from behind and was now holding their heads. Durant turned to her fully and looking as though mesmerised into her eyes. ‘How is it, Miss Oldfield, than whenever I seek to apologise to you, you end by comforting me?’ His voice was deep, intimate and warm. She felt some response in herself, but was unable to know what it was. Her lips parted and his breath came rather faster. She shook off what she had been going to say, she hardly knew what it was. She turned from him a little flushed, and jumped from the high perch.

‘Come in, won’t you?’ She said, hoping to avoid meeting Mr and Mrs Fenton alone for the first time since she had learnt the truth, in case she betrayed her knowledge.

‘Very well.’ He jumped down and joined her, and she remembered that inviting the object of the rumours of her disgrace might not be the sensible thing to do.

She need not have been so concerned with meeting the Fentons alone. For in the salon, along with a smartly dressed young lady in a heavenly blue muslin, was Lady Jersey, and close as he was standing to Felicity, Durant felt her tremble. But then, he almost trembled himself.

Anne Clarence looked at the beautiful, tall girl before her, a little shocked. The epithet used to describe her by both Sally Jersey and Lady Aurora was “kind”, and for that to be the first thing that came to mind in describing her must make her kind indeed, for her beauty was truly remarkable. Her lips were like a flower, her eyes a beautiful and unusual russet, her hair a riot of autumn colours. She was perfect and yet, for Sally Jersey and for Mrs Fenton, they first described her good nature and her kindness. Durant was frozen for a second, and could that be a little flush? It amused her to see him bereft of his usual aplomb. Perhaps she could guess why.

‘Durant!’ she said, amiably. ‘I am come to London, as you see.’

He took her hand and bowed over it. ‘Anne.’ He said, finding his voice.

Mrs Fenton smiled at him, ‘We were not expecting you, my lord.’

‘I came upon Miss Fleet and Miss Oldfield at the lending library, and brought them home.’

Anne saw at once that the lovely Mrs Fenton was calculating the distance from the library, and whether the drive might have added to the scandal. In normal circumstances, it was unexceptional to be in an open carriage with a gentleman, but it was clear that everyone was more careful. Anne was aware of some undercurrent. Mr Fenton, who Anne had recognised as one of the Prince Regent’s cronies (although rather slimmer and less floridly dressed than when she’d known him) raised an eyebrow at Durant. ‘Indeed?’

Miss Oldfield seemed sensitive to a note of censure in their host’s tone.  ‘Oh, yes, Mr Fenton, the Viscount rescued us from an encounter with Lord Stanford.’ She said this lightly.

The brow came down and the other met it. ‘Stanford? I shall have a word—’

‘Let me,’ said Durant shortly.

‘I think not.’ Said Mr Fenton, grimly. ‘Felicity, Lady Jersey and her friend have been so kind as to visit us today. Miss Anne Clarence!’

Felicity bobbed curtsies of the same degree to each of the ladies, and Anne realised, with a shock, that she must seem to the young girl to be the same age as her ladyship. She was twenty-seven and the magnificent Lady Jersey, now sporting an enormous round Scotch bonnet trimmed with a feather so long that it trailed on her shoulder, was thirty-one, a year younger than Durant. She had spoken to Sally earlier, and had afterwards sought out Felicity to get her measure, and to make some sort of decision before she talked with the Viscount.

Sally, so pleased to see her, had also been a little shocked when she realised that Anne’s mother was indeed dead.

‘I would never have burdened you with this business had I known, my dear.’

‘I’m glad then, that you did not know. I’m come to town to see if I can help.’

‘Then you will let me make some suggestions to particular friends guaranteed to spread the word of the engagement, unofficial as it must be at your time of mourning?’

‘As to that, Sally, it is rather more complicated. I need your help.’

‘What now?’ said Lady Jersey, petulantly, ‘I declare I’m tired of the whole affair. Had I not seen the girl with Miss Friel, I would never have lifted a finger.’ She adjusted her silk shawl and held her nose in the air, but presently looked around to meet Anne Clarence’s patient eye. ‘Oh, tell me at least. But I will not get further involved.’

‘The thing is, if you tell people about the engagement, you may not be telling the truth,’ said Anne, candidly.

‘You are not engaged to Durant? He was lying?’

‘Of course not. At the moment, I suppose I am engaged. I mean to say, I said yes.’

‘At the moment?’

‘I am not sure that — that—’

‘It is a perfect match! You and Durant have always been friends. Whatever can be holding you back? Think of it, Anne. To be Viscountess Durant and take your place again in society. You have been gone too long. It is where you belong. Why, which other country maiden in the world but you is there that could arrive in town and wearing a gown that I could so envy. Where did you have it?’

‘Oh, I designed it!’ said Anne brightly. ‘I’m glad you like it, Sally, I must say, Kate, my maid, did a wonderful job interpreting the drape I designed—’

‘Yes, my dear. And I would never have thought that green could have been so becoming, but that is not the point. Why are you only engaged to Durant at the moment?’

‘I think that the Viscount and I will always be friends, but I am not at all sure that we should be more. Now that I am free, I find that I am rather enjoying it.’

Sally Jersey’s eyes narrowed. ‘There is more to this than meets the eye.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘So, are you here to release him?’

‘I’m not quite sure. Of course I’m concerned for the young lady, but I have been thinking on the journey, Sally, and I am not sure it is right to release Bastian yet.’

‘But why—?’

‘Don’t you see, Sally? If I release Durant, he is honour-bound to marry the girl and such a forced arrangement might be dreadful for them both. I have never known Durant to be interested in girls so much younger.’

‘He is hardly in his dotage.’

‘No, but who was his last flirt? The Duchess of Telford, Susan informed me. Someone he can talk to, someone who is experienced — and beautiful, of course. I cannot be sure if releasing him is the right thing, and I won’t know until I meet her. For perhaps there is more we can do without marriage.’

‘Do not ask again for vouchers. You know I cannot. I even banned my own sister-in-law, so no appeal to my good-nature will work.’

‘Will you not lift the ban on Lady Caroline?’ asked Anne with a smile.

‘If you had read that dreadful book, you would not ask.’ Anne had received her own copy of Glenarvon which was runaway bestseller, from her sister. Lady Caroline Lamb, though not the admitted author, had depicted many of the fashionable world in an unfavourable light. It was shocking, horrendous, yet everyone had a copy. Her target was her ex-lover, the poet Lord Byron, but her clever pen had sketched others too. ‘And she has been behaving shockingly. Byron has taken himself off to the continent.’

‘I fear that she is pilloried less for her sins than her indiscretion.’

‘We are not here to discuss Caroline Lamb, but Durant. Bastian has made his own bed, let him lie on it. And let us be done with it, if you are really determined not to marry him. Anyway, Wilbert Fenton is taking a high stance, pretending that nothing was said in that fateful night. It may suffice. A number of people have doubted the accounts and distrusted the gossip. Especially since Fenton and Durant are posing as friends. If only some young man would offer for her, I feel no stain would remain. Throughout the whole she has behaved with dignity.’ 

‘I long to meet her, Sally, and before I decide. I pity her plight, I do.’

‘Well, marry Durant and make a friend of her. The story will disappear overnight. Or reject him, and let him marry her.’

‘Very practical advice. But I know my own mother’s life in a loveless marriage, and my father’s too. They had not a thought between them and made each other very unhappy until his death. I could not wish that on Durant. Or on her. Please, my dear, take me to the Fentons’ house.’

‘Oh, very well! But it upsets my day cruelly.’

Having decided, Lady Jersey was quick and dynamic as was her wont, and she kept up a gaggle of town gossip for the entire carriage ride to the Fentons’.

And now Anne was looking at this lovely young girl, and wondering what the viscount’s loss of aplomb might signify.

The Reverend Mr Mallory Joyce, when he had conceived of this expedition to London, had banked on the probability that his papa, Sir Royston Joyce, Baronet, would not be in town. He was fortunately correct, and he walked into the library of the house in Eaton Square, to find his elder brother Godfrey, forty-two, with his feet stretched out towards the fire, reading The Sporting Times. The butler, who had known him since the cradle, had not felt the need to announce him, so Godfrey, whose fair hair was further on the road to total disappearance than his own, looked up, mildly inquisitive.

‘Hello, Almighty,’ said the curate.

‘Mallory!’ said his brother, without bothering to get up. ‘How goes the life of the spirit, old fellow? Whatever are you doing in town? And what are you wearing?’ He was genuinely, but lazily, pleased to see his brother, but his eye was offended by the fraying cuffs.

‘The same suit as I wore the day papa threw me out. Not changing it for five years makes it pretty disreputable, you know.’

‘But you have other coats—’

‘I sent for them but papa was so furious he wouldn’t release them. So here I stand. My stipend allows me to have a change of linen, but…’ his brother’s mouth was agape. ‘How is the old gentleman?’

‘Much as ever. You should have learnt from my way of going on with him. Just say yes and do nothing. It works for me.’

‘Well, yes, God. But marriage is a rather serious business to say yes to. And there was the young lady to be considered. I couldn’t have just put off the event indefinitely.’

‘I don’t see why,’ said his brother negligently, ‘I would have. Especially as it would have saved me being tossed out with only the shirt on my back. I did not know of that, Mallory. I would have sent your baggage on to you.’

‘And have you in the suds with the old gentleman?’ smiled Mallory. ‘Not for the world.’

‘Oh, I’m the heir, he doesn’t bother me much. Except making me ride the estate and meet the dashed tenants and so on. I just hide in London as often as.’

‘You say that, but I am sure you will make a wonderful master when the time comes.’

His brother laughed. ‘Perhaps. But for the moment it is another’s responsibility.’

‘Is Herriot in town?’ Mallory asked, referring to the brother between them both in age.

‘No. He’s in Yorkshire with his affianced. Miss Henrietta Stavely.’ Royston Joyce looked a little carefully at his brother, for any sign of annoyance.

Mallory raised an eyebrow, in recognition of the lady whom his father had picked out for himself. ‘Really? I am very pleased.’

‘Pour us a brandy, old fellow.’ When his brother had so done, he looked him over once more as he sat on the opposite chair by the fire and said. ‘It is wonderful to have you, of course, my boy, but what has winkled you out of your safe parish life to this den of iniquity?’

‘Do you mind if I do not say quite yet, Godfrey? I’m not sure of my mission exactly. Only that the conveyance cost me all but my last sou and I’m hopeful of leeching off you if you’ll have me.’

‘While Papa is not here, this is your home, old fellow. But you really cannot be seen around town in that coat—’ The curate opened his mouth to argue, and his brother said, with a bit of a miff, ‘Don’t bother arguing, Mall. You look too much like me for my reputation not to be tainted by the disgrace. You can make do by borrowing one of my coats for now, although you are so thin, they’ll hang. But your pantalons are hopeless, because you have five inches on me.’

‘None of that matters, God. I am not about to be attending balls.’

‘Well,’ said his brother, as close to anger as his apathy allowed, ‘it matters to me. What will you be doing in town, anyway?’

‘I’m not sure. First, I suppose, I want to know about the Viscount of Durant.’

‘Sebastian Fortescue? You knew him, surely?’

‘A little, to nod to in a club or so on. But we were both very young then. I want to know what he has become now—’

‘There’s a woman in this,’ said Mallory. When his brother frowned, he sighed. ‘Well, Durant, eh? Let’s see what I can tell you…’

As they walked to Lady Jersey’s coach, Durant was keen to talk to Anne — but she brushed him off, saying she had business with her sister.

‘Your mother is dead, then?’ he whispered.

‘Two months ago.’

‘You did not tell me.’

‘And you did not enquire.’ He frowned, and she added, with a smile. ‘Do not think I blame you. I just mean that it is our custom to communicate intermittently.’

‘I should have written.’ He said, with guilt.

‘Bastian. We need to talk, perhaps, but not today.’

‘Anne—’ he called, but she had turned from him and went into the coach.

Mr Mallory Joyce, wearing a coat of his brother’s that was a trifle too large around the chest for him, regarded himself in the mirror. It would have been foolish to have objected to it, or even to the presence of a tailor, who was at present measuring him for some pantalons, his own being a trifle worn at the knee, which he had scarcely noted before. But, he thought resignedly, one day in the evil metropolis had him once more caught up in the vanities. He could blame Godfrey all he wanted, he knew that slightly as it had bothered him at Little Clarence, he did not choose to meet with Miss Clarence in town (and he was not sure that he was resolved to do so yet) wearing such disreputable clothes. To his earlier objections, his brother had told him not to be an insufferable prig. So here he was looking at himself in a long glass for the first time in years.

His brother’s valet had brushed his hair forward from the crown to frame his face, a slight change, but a powerful one. He honestly looked like a fashionable man, his broad shoulders and good figure more evident than usual. The sturdy linen shirt had been replaced by a fine one too, and a snowy white starched muslin cravat held his shirt points at the correct angle. His humorous grey eyes looked back at himself ironically. Vanity? At least he would not wear his poverty for all to see.

What was he doing here? He had discovered that Durant’s latest intrigue was with the Duchess of Telford, a beautiful woman that Mallory remembered as a debutante, somehow always looking sophisticated even as a young girl. He was doing his best not to judge his lordship for this and the other liaisons his brother had alleged, but he was not doing a very good job of it. He realised that, though he might say to himself that he was here to ensure himself that his friend was committing herself to a good man, he had no rights in this regard and that maybe that his intentions were not at all clear to him. He had merely followed her, as though she held a string wrapped around some part of him, a string he swore he would cut, must cut, as soon as ever he knew she was safe in the life she had chosen.

He had no intention, as yet, of visiting her. But perhaps he would seek out Durant. He hardly knew him well enough to visit the viscount, but his brother had agreed to take him to White’s this afternoon, a club in Brooke Street where his lordship might be sought in the afternoons.

Godfrey Joyce had asked him what business he had with the Viscount, but was too lazy to pursue the subject when Mallory had fobbed him off.

Mallory Joyce was surprised how natural all this felt to him, though so far away from his life in Little Clarence village. He worried a little about his duties in the parish, but reflected that it would do the Reverend Bigelow good to become reacquainted with his own parishioners.

Off to White’s with his brother.

The Duchess of Telford was asked by her friend, Lady Devlin, about the intrigue surrounding the Viscount. After the ball, the Duchess had let it be understood to a few fast friends, Lady Devlin included, that she had cast off her lover some weeks ago. Fortunately, she had been pursued for some time by young Mr Chalmondey, and she suggested that their present relationship was rather closer than she had actually thus far permitted. She had sealed the deal two nights ago, allowing the handsome, rich young man entry to her bedchamber when her husband was away, knowing that Chalmondey’s new demeanour would let the world know that he had replaced the Viscount. It was too humiliating to have anyone suggest that Durant had been the one to walk away. As well as the humiliation, she was angrier than she had been in years. She had cared for Bastian, and thought he had cared for her. They had been seen together, shared a love of music and horses and the theatre. He was witty and amusing, and he had declared himself struck by her beauty. He had certainly desired her, though he had never said anything more tender, as others did.  Had he married, she would have understood and continued the liaison, for one must think of the family. But he had simply tired of her, and this was hardly to be borne. She was the most ravishing and fascinating woman in town — was she not? 

She did not seek out Miss Oldfield. The world might then put two and two together and see the duchess as a woman scorned, set aside for a green girl. No, she did not attend Almacks on the night after her ball, did not see the shoulders turn from the little strumpet, but she had made mischief from a distance, and had struck up a friendship with Miss Jane Friel, taking her up in the park, and inviting her to Telford House, so that the girl’s story of what had occurred at the ball was given more credence.

The Fenton’s method of dealing with the scandal was novel. And Durant’s support, stopping short of an offer of marriage, was still placing doubt on the tale. But the Duchess mentioned to one or two friends that someone from Shropshire had said Miss Oldfield had come to London to be a governess, so how she had arrived so well dressed was a mystery — and in mentioning this, the Duchess shook her head.  She would not stoop to lie, but there was a great deal she could do with innuendo.

Felicity, meanwhile, had taken her list of schools, added some from today’s periodicals, and begun to write letters to those establishments situated far from town. Surely her disgrace could not have spread beyond London? The difficulty was in providing references. Previously, she’d enclosed a letter from Lady Crosswell of her own district, which had been instrumental in obtaining the position with Mrs Hennessey. Could she go and ask Mrs Hennessey for the letter to be given back to her? Lady Crosswell might furnish another, if only her disgrace had not reached home, for her ladyship, though kind, had been full of the dangers of London. Felicity could not face that lady’s disappointment in her. She shook to think of it. Asking Mrs Hennessey for the letter back did not seem to be an option. Not after the park incident. And anyway, it seemed likely that she would have destroyed it. For the moment, she would offer no references. Lady Aurora, or even Lady Sumner would have supplied a recommendation, but she was sure that neither would consent at first, since they would have wished to dissuade her. How had she gotten herself into this situation? Hanging off the sleeve of complete strangers, who had not only welcomed her into their home but had festooned her with gifts. It was only because she thought her legendarily rich aunt, Lady Ellingham, was footing the bill that she had embarked on this lovely season.

There were many tears shed over these letters. As she was addressing a third, Lady Aurora entered her room and she thrust the letters beneath a sheet of blotting paper.

‘Darling girl, are you crying?’ she said running to her. She took her to sit on the elegant sofa, putting an arm around her. ‘I know that being in society just now requires such courage of you. But it is working, Felicity. I am sure of it!’

‘I know. I am just so very sorry about the trouble I have brought to your door.’ Felicity, burdened with the knowledge of how indebted to this lady she was, and yet still wishing to cast a head upon her shoulder.

‘But what you cannot know my dear, is how much joy you have brought with you. We have had a late but very happy marriage, my dear, but thus have had no children. As I had no children from my first marriage, I believe it is some lack in me. But since you came here, Mr Fenton and I have had a space in our hearts filled.’ Felicity gave in and threw herself into her ladyship’s perfumed embrace. ‘As for the trouble as you call it, it is hardly anything, Mr Fenton and I have swum through many worse scandals in our lives, you know. He was saying just the other day that it is quite like old times, negotiating the tides once more. It simply makes me angry, for you do not deserve it, and it makes one reflect on all the other young ladies who have been treated so by society for as false a reason as this. Promise, my dear, that you won’t let it beat you.’

That, at least, Felicity could promise.

Durant stopped by the gracious home of Lord Stanford. The address was so good that the Viscount knew it must be part of an entail, for it was well known that his lordship was ducking the duns on a regular basis. This thought was confirmed by looking at the individual who let him in, a stooped old man wearing  ancient brown livery with an unpleasant demeanour who croaked, ‘What do you want?’ Not an old family retainer then.

‘Stanford.’ Said Durant walking in without awaiting an invitation, and handing his hat to the old man with hardly a glance.

‘He’s in there. Don’t suppose you’re a dun.’

Durant didn’t spare this piece of impertinence so much as a look, but walked across the dusty hall to the room indicated and opened the door without being announced.

It was a library. More dust was everywhere, as well as other signs of disorder, including plates with the remains of meat and cheese, perhaps days or weeks old. One plate, with some rotting piece of peach, was surrounded by flies. By a small fire sat Lord Stanford, a table with wine on it at his elbow. Over the fire, Durant noted a lighter square on the wallpaper over the mantle where once a painting had hung. Since he had been here before, Durant knew it had been a handsome portrait of the previous Lord Stanford on his favourite hunter. Such paintings were in demand these days by rich cits or nabobs, who used them to decorate their large homes, suggesting a rather finer family history than they had. Things must be bad. But looking at his lordship, Durant felt that getting rid of his father’s eye on him might also have been a motive. The old man, friend of Durant’s father, would be turning in his grave.

‘Durant. You here,’ said Stanford, helping himself to another glass of wine.

‘I suppose you were expecting me.’

‘I was not. Always welcome,’ he added with bravado.

‘You know why I am here?’ Durant moved a pile of dusty periodicals from a seat at the other side of the fire, and sat. He thought he saw a little panic in Stanford’s eyes.

‘Haven’t the foggiest.’ Stanford’s long legs crossed to indicate his ease.

‘Your behaviour with Miss Oldfield at the library.’

He thought he saw something like relief pass over Stanford’s face, but he would think about that later. His lordship, affecting even more boredom said, ‘What — offering a lady and her companion a lift? Are you here to thank me?’

‘What I am here to say to you, Stanford, is to leave Miss Oldfield alone. She can be of no good to you in repairing your fortunes.’

Stanford flushed. ‘I was merely standing her friend. Or would you rather I turn a shoulder from her like others in the ton?

Durant grasped the arm of his chair. ‘Your attentions can give her no countenance.’

‘No, only you can do that, Durant. You have the remedy to her problem, and you have the gall to come here and upbraid me for standing her friend.’

The justice of this, warped though it was, inflamed Durant’s already heightened temper. He rose. ‘I wish to be clear. Do not seek to be alone with Miss Oldfield again, do not mention her name. Or you will answer to me.’

Stanford met his cold eye for a brief second, then curled his lip. ‘Yes, my lord Durant. And do you have any other orders for me?’

Durant opened his purse and flipped a coin onto the table beside Stanford, which clinked against the decanter. ‘Yes. Use this to pay a girl to at least dust this place.’ He turned and walked to the library door.

Stanford had jumped up, all suavity gone. ‘You’ll rue this day, my lord.’

Durant did not bother to reply.

He found the retainer lurking near the door on his way out. It did not surprise Durant that the man may have been eavesdropping.

He took his hat and left.

The next morning, Stanford’s barouche was halted by a gentleman on horseback, which his lordship recognised, too late, as Mr Wilbert Fenton.

‘I wanted a word, Stanford.’

The young man, whose manner had always aped the leisurely drawl of Fenton, tried it now. ‘Don’t bother, Fenton. Durant has already been to see me.’ He saw Mr Fenton’s brows cross briefly, ‘I have engaged to stay away from Miss Oldfield, since my friendly attempt to aid her has been so misinterpreted.’ He laughed harshly. ‘I am to expect dire consequences if I do not.’ His lordship looked at Mr Fenton, attempting humour. ‘I’m surprised that you do not understand me, Fenton. You were once a ladies’ man yourself.’

‘Oh, but I do understand you, Stanford.’ Fenton countered smoothly, ‘That is why you must understand that Lord Durant’s consequences are not the only ones you face if you approach Miss Oldfied again. And the difference between the viscount and I is that he has rather more scruples in dealing with his enemies than I do.’

Stanford paled. There were rumours from Wilbert Fenton’s past about people who had crossed him. Rumours about illegal duels and worse. He tried for a laugh, ‘I meant no harm.’

‘And no harm done. Yet.’ Fenton did not smile, just rode on.

Stanford slapped the reins, furious at the threats and at his own fear. Both Miss Oldfield’s charms and her lack of interest had inflamed his passions, and she had, moreover, seemed reasonably easy prey. She was staying with the Fentons, but they were well known as not the strictest household. She had an aristocratic aunt, but she showed little to no interest in her, and her reputation was damaged. He had offered for her at one point, drunk and overcome by that innocent beauty — so far from his usual flirts — in the vague hope that she might be her aunt’s heir. At least he could convince his creditors of that. He’d been relieved when she had refused, cooler head prevailing. He needed a dead cert. But when an opportunity to have her was offered by her disgrace, he’d taken his chance. He might even have been able to keep her for a while, if his plan for his future came off. But his habit of drinking in the morning was fugging his brain and he knew it. He couldn’t afford to let his lust for a deliciously reluctant young girl upset his plans.

He’d keep his distance for the moment. Soon he would know how to answer them all. Durant would pay, of course. And he would see about Wilbert Fenton, though he shuddered at that thought. There was something about Fenton…

Genevieve looked down from the window of her bedchamber, at the gardens facing the Fenton’s house, to see Benedict clomping around like a horse, with her son crying out with delight on his shoulders. Tears came to her eyes, Benedict was such a boy at heart. It made her remember when they ran like this together around the woods and parks of Fenton and Ottershaw, her old home, with one of his little brothers, or perhaps his tiny sister Angelica riding his shoulders. It was good to see him like that again. When he had come back from the war he had seemed so troubled, so burdened. He had hinted at the horrors in his letters, but only just. She had known from Lady Fenton that his missives home had been neither so frequent, nor so frank. She had been glad to be his confidant.

The truth was, Genevieve, whilst happy in her world of little Oswald and horses, and building up her husband’s estate once more, had looked each day for his posts. Benedict could make her laugh better than anyone. And in his letters, she knew she was of help to him, that he needed her to confide in. Someone who would not be so hurt as his mother by his honesty about war. The reality of death and dying, though the business of army life, had hit him hard. Benedict was a saviour, after all. It was no use telling him that he was saving all of Europe from Napoleon, as others had said. For Benedict, describing to her how he had shot and killed a marksman who had trapped them, and killed two of his men, the story was about the body of that young French soldier, perhaps his own age, who had carried on him a miniature of his mother and some letters from home. Maybe Genevieve was not as tender as Benedict’s mother, but still, she had cried when she read it. For the French soldier and his mother, but also for Benedict, who even then had bent down to see if he could mend the fatal wound. Benedict, whose beauty she had been, of course, aware of, but who now caused her some tumultuous feelings, probably because the way he looked at her now was so much deeper than before. But with their correspondence this year, it was to be expected. They were dearer friends than ever. She, too, had described her days, and her fears, to him. He had advised her on a lawyer to consult, after he had asked counsel of a senior officer that was a “doughty one” as he informed her. He had put her in touch with a member of The Four Horse Club “he has a sister as able a judge of horseflesh as you, my dear, and will be quite able to understand how a woman comes to be breeding and training. He always takes his sister with him to judge a horse, though it is not generally known.” This contact, Sir Reginald Dewsbury, had been a godsend to her business, recommending many a horse for purchase to his intimates, though only after his sister had paid her stables a visit. Heloise Dewsbury was now her dear friend.

Even amidst the carnage of war, Benedict had thought of her small concerns, and made such a difference to her life. She’d shared the growth of Lord Oswald and he had never failed to ask of him.

But he was an amazingly handsome young man, who would find himself a beautiful young bride…

She had been staring down at the gardens for a long time now, no longer seeing them as she was lost in her thoughts, and just noticed they were empty. Benedict entered her chamber, carrying little Lord Sumner.

‘Felicity is gone!’ he said. ‘I’m going to look for her.’ He handed her his lordship and saw the tears in her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Jenny, I’ll find her.’

She smiled, unable to say what the tears were. ‘Of course you will!’ She smiled and with a touch of her cheek, which made her shake to her core, he was gone. ‘So it is Felicity,’ she informed his lordship, who was complaining about Benedict leaving. ‘I know, my dear. We love them both.’

‘Durdle-durdle,’ commiserated his lordship.

She went to find Lady Aurora.

Lady Aurora had found Felicity’s letter on her pillow, for she had instructed the maids to let the young girl lie, since there had been a late night last evening. It was a party where a friend of Miss Friel’s had been so incredibly insulting, refusing to hear Felicity at the dinner table. This might have been passed off, for the table had seated forty, and many either did not notice, or had pretended such, and everyone else had greeted Felicity politely. This had included old Lady Harrington, Genevieve’s erstwhile aunt-in-law, whose fortune had kept her late husband in constant attendance, whilst he lived. Genevieve had visited the old lady on two occasions and had received her at Grosvenor Square on one, and she had spent her time with his little lordship, the continuance of her beloved father’s name. Genevieve had each time suggested that she take Felicity in the carriage along with Lord Oswald Sumner, and she had coolly refused. Thus it was with a mixture of relief and exasperation that Lady Aurora watched Lady Harrington ask in a stentorian voice, to the lady who had turned her back on Felicity, if she were deaf.  This brought the attention of the room to the insult and made Felicity redden, but on the other hand her championing of the girl was a mark in her favour. Known as an old stiff-rump, Lady Harrington was unlikely to champion a girl of low morals.

‘For although deafness is frequent at my time of life, even I heard Miss Oldfield address you from the other side of the table.’ This too, was a departure from normal behaviour, since guests at formal dinners usually spoke to those on either side of themselves.

The young girl blanched and looked at her mama, who frowned. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Oldfield, what did you say to me?’ she asked, turning to Felicity, hoping she was not to be further humiliated by that lady spurning her belated apology.

‘Oh, nothing of consequence,’ said Felicity, ‘merely a remark on the beauty of the flowers.’

‘They are indeed beautiful’ said Miss Thomas. Then, under Lady Harrington’s gaze, she added, ‘Do you drive yourself in the park?’

‘I’m afraid not, I have been practising the skill with Lady Sumner, but I do not yet have the facility to drive in London traffic.’

Miss Thomas was relieved to see Lady Harrington turn from her, but said, in a low voice to Felicity.’ I am sorry to have — have —’

‘I know. Really, it does not matter.’

Miss Thomas rouged. ‘You are very kind. You could have made it worse for me. You are a different sort of young lady than I supposed.’

Felicity smiled slightly and turned to her other companion. But she had seen the face of Lady Aurora, so full of rage and anxiety, and knew she could not subject her to much more of this.

That evening, she packed her carpet bag. She put some mementos of her wonderful London adventure inside. There were the flowers from her hair at her first ball, which she had pressed into her journal. There were a pair of pearl drop earrings that Mr Fenton had given her. She took one of her simplest, but lovely muslins. She could take the lace trim from it so that it would be suitable for her new position. She left the brilliant cashmere shawl that Lady Aurora had so cleverly teamed it with, the dark blue of the muslin being a foil for the wonderful shawl. She knew that refusing to take at least some of her beautiful clothes would distress Lady Aurora very much, but she could not, of course, take it all.

Very, very early in the morning she put her hair up herself, but she could not help that she did so with a new flair. She put on a simple straw bonnet, but the long trailing ribbons would have to be cut, they were too fashionable. But not today.

She put on her simplest pelisse, but regarded herself in the mirror and knew that it would not do. The cut and drape was wonderful. More of Lady Aurora’s taste and money. Not at all the thing for a school mistress. For in the bag, too, was an invitation to a school for young ladies in Brighton. She had cried when she received it, but last night had fully decided her. What was she do for a pelisse? She had cheerfully agreed when Lady Aurora had disposed of her old clothes, agreeing they could go and make the poor depressed, instead of her. Well, she supposed that her fashionable attire must do. She would wear the blue wool pelisse and unpick the frogging after she arrived. She could make a more simple dress when she got the position. Brighton was not as far away as she might wish, but it would save Lady Aurora worrying about her being driven into the ground in some Academy in the North. Why the North should seem so very much more likely to have a school where the staff were kept cold, starved and tortured than the south, she did not know, but she laughed. Surely nothing really horrible could happen to one in Brighton?

In her best handwriting, she began her letter.

In the blue salon, Lady Aurora still held Felicity’s letter in her hand. She sat holding it, her eyes distant. At a call from Genevieve, she looked vaguely towards her, ‘Wilbert is out riding,’ she said. A large tear fell down her cheek and her large eyes attempted, with no success, to focus.

With typical efficiency, Genevieve set Oswald on her lap, and Lady Aurora dropped the letter she was clutching and held him. Her eyes focused on him. She smiled as a grubby little hand reached for her earring. There was nothing like a baby to reassert reality.

‘My lord,’ Lady Aurora was saying, ‘mind the manners of your high office and do not assault my ears,’ but she smiled, as Genevieve hoped she would.

Genevieve sat beside her and said, in a calmer voice than expressed her fears, ‘Benedict will find Mr Fenton and they will also find Felicity. Did she say why—?’

‘She has found out that her dragon of an aunt does not foot the bill for her season. She is overwhelmed, but assures me that she will always treasure the memory of it, and will let me know her direction once enough time has passed for us to realise she has done “what must always have been the end of this heavenly diversion” — finding her own position.’

‘Well, at least we know she is safe,’ Genevieve said with a practicality she was far from feeling.

‘Do we? With the shock of finding that what she sees as being indebted to us, I fear she has left the house with no preparation.’

‘I have always found Felicity to be a very truthful girl. If she says she has a position, then she does. And this gives us all the time in the world to find her, for she is safely tucked away in some girl’s school, perhaps, and not in any trouble at all.’

The tears still coursed down Lady Aurora’s cheeks. ‘She apologises for bringing such disgrace to our door, only because we were generous.’ Lady Aurora stood and held Oswald to her cheek, ‘As though Wilbert and I had not committed every social solecism known to man in our separate, ruinous careers.’

Genevieve was silent. Polite denial of this fact was not, at the moment, applicable.

‘And it was not generous to fund her season. It was an indulgence. I enjoyed buying and coordinating every ribbon and scrap of lace. I did it for myself, and not she!’

‘Well—’ began Genevieve. ‘At all odds, we must trust to the Fenton men to find her. And perhaps you might remove your hair shirt while we await the results.’

This stopped her ladyship in her tracks. Her jaw dropped. She looked at Genevieve sitting so still and calm on the sofa and laughed. Eventually, she was able to say, ‘You are quite right, my dear Genevieve, I must not indulge in hysterics. I apologise. The Fenton men are sure to succeed.’

Durant had at last been granted an interview with his betrothed, which they agreed should take place in the park, the Viscount bays being driven by his groom in a new landau.

They had exchanged pleasantries, and the Viscount expressed his condolences, as a true friend should. ‘What a dreadful show, my dear. But perhaps also a relief?’ Anne Clarence inclined her head in agreement. ‘I am glad to see you in town.’

She arched an ironic eyebrow, ‘Really, my dear Bastian? At this precise moment?’

‘I take it Sally Jersey has left no scandal unturned?’ sighed Durant, ‘It is Letitia’s doing.’

‘Oh, yes? That girl ought to have been better schooled to hold her tongue. If my mama had heard of me behaving in such a way, I think she might have forbidden me any society at all.’

‘It is also mine,’ he said ruefully. ‘I accosted her in an inn yard and made her to come to help me finish the purchase of Tish’s new home. Tish was acting a headache just to be difficult, and I was tired of her behaviour. I almost forced this poor child, on her way to a position as a governess, to help me.’

‘Ah! That sounds like you when your will is thwarted, and she is Letitia’s height and colouring.’

‘I thought never to see her again. But then she was at the Telford’s ball, and upset, and I unknowingly added fuel to Tish’s fire by following her.’

‘Most unfortunate,’ said Anne lightly.

‘You must not think that I had any intentions…’ he said, regarding her carefully.

Anne smiled that rather distant smile once more, ‘Oh I do not. Not then. But now—’ Durant gasped, words choked in his throat as her humorous eye was upon him. He did not quite know his next move, but suddenly her eyes were not on him, but past him and she called to the groom, ‘Stop, if you please!’ The horses pulled up. ‘Mr Joyce!’ she called and a rather tall gentleman, whom Durant did not think he knew, turned from his walk down the park path. He saw who had hailed him and flushed a little, Durant believed, but only for a second. He walked forward towards the coach and smiled broadly. She held out her hand and he took it, bowing over it in perfect form, then looking back at Anne with merry eyes.

‘Miss Clarence!’ he said.

‘But how come you to London, Mr Joyce? You cannot have left Little Clarence in the hands of Mr Bigelow.’ She turned to Durant and said, ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Bastian. This is the Reverend Mr Joyce who is curate at Little Clarence, you know. And this is Viscount Durant.’

Mr Joyce’s slim figure and nearly handsome face was vaguely familiar, and not Durant’s idea of a curate, but he inclined his head. ‘Happy to meet you, Mr Joyce.’

‘I have looked forward to meeting you, my lord,’ said Joyce and from the edge of his eye, Durant saw Anne open her eyes wide.

‘You must tell me more about your rare visit to town, Mr Joyce,’ said Anne. ‘May we take him up, Durant, while I interrogate him?’ she said teasingly. Taking his silence for assent, Mr Joyce opened the carriage door with alacrity and sat opposite, inclining himself to Miss Clarence.

Durant, saved from answering a question he had not asked himself, was still less than pleased. There was something a little coming in a curate, wearing fashionable clothes and an intimate smile, joining the carriage with so little reserve. What did it mean? Anne was flushed. Surely concerned about the situation with Miss Fenton. But just when Durant began to doubt this, he too was hailed. It was Wilbert Fenton on his magnificent chestnut, stopping for an exchange of pleasantries, for the whole world to witness their easy friendship and further doubt the awful rumours about Miss Oldfield.

‘Durant!’ said Wilbert when at last he could.

‘Fenton! Let me present Miss Anne Clarence and the Reverend Mr Joyce from her home parish.’

Mr Fenton made the correct responses, then added, ‘I have known Miss Clarence from the past. I believe I danced with her on her debut…’

‘Oh, before Mama’s illness. I do remember now, sir. You were very grand and wore a red silk waistcoat that I thought quite magnificent.’

‘Ah! A woman of style and taste!’ he looked at Mr Joyce. ‘And you sir, you are in town to see Miss Clarence? It seems a long way for a parish visit.’

Joyce laughed. ‘I visit my brother, sir.’

‘Not the Almighty Joyce? Ah, you must be the youngest son. I don’t remember meeting you, but I heard of you.’

‘I beg you not to mention in front of my parishioner any stories from my misspent youth. I must also add that my brother is not a reliable witness.’

‘It is amusing that you left one God to serve another.’

He saw that Anne was confused so Joyce told her, ‘My brother’s name is Godfrey. Hence the Almighty!’

‘I should like to—’ Fenton began to say, but they were interrupted once more, this time by a young gentleman coming at a fast canter, and calling, ‘Uncle!’

Wilbert Fenton turned his head. Benedict bent over and spoke in his ear for a tense moment. Mr Fenton looked back, ‘Sorry Durant. I must go.’

‘Hold, Fenton!’ said Durant, ‘Does this concern Miss Oldfield?’

Fenton turned his horse and said. ‘She’s gone.’ Though his face was calm, Durant saw that his lips were quite white.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To find her.’

‘Let me help!’ said Durant urgently.

‘Meet us in Grosvenor Square,’ said Mr Fenton.

‘Wait for me for ten minutes. I am going to drive around to Lady Ellingham’s house.’

‘She will not go there,’ said Fenton, irritated.

‘Of course not. But if there is someone who knows where she is, it is liable to be Miss Fleet.’

‘You’re right, of course. I will discover what I can at the house. I’ll await you there.’

‘On the same errand, I shall try to find Miss Althorpe and Miss Carter-Phipps, they are bound to know something,’ said Benedict.

‘Is there anything we can do?’ asked Anne, unconsciously including Mr Joyce, ‘I feel there must be something.’

Durant turned to her, surprised. ‘I don’t have time to change the carriage. ‘You two will have to come with me. Unless you wish to get out sir,’ he suggested to the curate.

‘Not for the world. Perhaps I can help. Let us go!’

‘I’ll tell you the story as we go,’ said Anne.

Durant climbed onto the box and his groom jumped up behind, just as his master slapped the reins, driving far too quickly for the park.

Felicity, was wondering how she would appear to the owner of Mrs Jessop’s Academy for Young Ladies in Brighton. Her interview with Mrs Hennessey was uppermost in her mind, and she was not sure that she would not be ejected from the place before Mrs Jessop could be encouraged to listen to the rather meagre accomplishments she might offer to the young ladies.

She had rescued the sovereign from her old pelisse before Lady Aurora had declared its fate, and she had also five of the ten pounds and some shillings that she had been given by her aunt. No, not by her aunt, but by her dear friends. The tears that had been washing her face all morning, came once more. She had not left the money behind. She knew, and had stated in her letter, that Lady Aurora would be much more content if she knew that Felicity did not want for money. She could thus accept her departure and know that she was safe from starvation or any of the other horrid fates Lady Aurora would be bound to fear for her. And she would know too, that she was no longer an innocent who could be taken in by such as Mr Driscoll or Lord Stanford. A large square of blue cotton was thrust at her by the only other occupant of this early mail coach, and she smiled hazily at him. She was an experienced woman of the world now, and her dear Lady Aurora would know and trust that no thrusting villain could lead her into conversation. The man grinned at her, one of his teeth missing at the side. And soon, very soon, when Felicity could write glad tidings of her new position, the Fentons would relax and know that what she had done was the very best for all of them and that she was not a victim for any passing crook.

The little man whose handkerchief she was ruining ventured a remark. ‘Leaving home, miss?’

Felicity looked at him, ‘No — oh, yes, yes! My dear home!’ she said, remembering the comforting welcome of Grosvenor Square and realising that Oldfield was not nearly as dear. The little man with the moleskin waistcoat had his sparrow’s eyes upon her and offered her something from a stained cone of brown paper. She gazed inside and took out a chestnut, still warm. She ate it absently.

‘We have a way to go ‘til the next stop, miss. I ‘ave always found it to be a relief to get things off me chest, as they say. You might do worse than tell them to me, you know. I’m as tight as a—’he coughed and rethought his simile, ‘well, as the lock box of a miser. It might do you good, miss.’

She looked at him dubiously. He was undoubtedly of another class entirely, but his inquisitive eye was intelligent, and he was of such a cheery disposition, as well as being kind enough to share his handkerchief and his chestnuts, that she thought she could trust him.

As she smiled weakly, she began to tell her tale.

If Durant had been able to see her respond so easily to the insinuating little stranger, he would surely have exploded.

Chapter 14

The Search

The lugubrious butler at Lady Ellingham’s was surprised to see Lord Durant arrive at this hour, or at any. He coughed and said deprecatingly, ‘Her ladyship has only just commenced breakfast, my lord, she is not available for visitors, alas.’

‘I wish to see Miss Fleet, not her ladyship. I trust she has breakfasted?’ he asked sardonically, it being twelve of the clock.

‘I will bring her, my lord. Please wait in the library, if you will.’ He opened the door and then turned towards the breakfast room to fetch Miss Fleet.

Durant had only time to march two lengths of the room before Fleet appeared, a frown on her face and her body trembling. ‘Viscount! I hardly though it possible that you wished to see me—’

‘Miss Oldfield is missing. Do you know where she has gone?’ he asked without preamble.

Miss Fleet sat as though her legs had failed her.

‘I do not know — she was looking for a position, my lord. I thought after our last day at the library, that she had given up her desire to go. I told her—’

‘What did you tell her?’

‘Oh, my lord, I told her that the Fentons had paid for her season, not her aunt. I thought it would make her realise how much they held her in affection and let her decide to stay—’

‘Instead it has made her feel so overwhelmed that she has left.’ He concluded harshly.

‘Oh, my lord, I did not mean—’

‘No, this is not your fault, but mine. Do you know of any positions that she was hoping to achieve? Quick!’ he added as she began to cry.

She stopped and said, ‘There is a list in my reticule. Let me fetch it!’ She returned in a minute and Durant took the list, barely looking at it and headed for the door.

He was interrupted in his passage by the form of Lady Ellingham. ‘What—’ she demanded, ‘is the meeting of this. You! I do not give men of your stamp leave to enter my home.’

‘And I,’ said Durant with a look at her bizarre appearance (wig, bonnet and yellow lace) ‘Do not discuss my business with cruel old lunatics who do not know what is due to their family.’

Miss Fleet ran forward before Lady Ellingham, never before spoken to thus, collapsed from shock.

‘Find her, my lord!’ Miss Fleet cried after the vanishing form of Lord Durant.

Beatty, the long-faced butler made a noise, ‘Miss Felicity? Is she all right, my lord?’

Durant looked down at the hand on his arm, a liberty that no servant, save his valet, had ever dared make. He looked into the old man’s eyes, which surprised him by glistening, and did not say the words of rebuke that sprang to his lips. ‘She will be,’ he assured him.

The party in the landau, who had been given the bare fact of Durant’s mission on the way, were alone, and a little less relaxed with each other than usual. ‘You are very fine in your new clothes, Mr Joyce,’ said Anne teasingly, ‘But, I miss your blue coat — even though I often wanted to offer to mend it. It fits you rather better.’

‘This is my brother’s coat. He rather felt that my other one might damage his reputation in society.’

They exchanged their old smiles, but Anne Clarence still was unusually unsure of how to continue. After a pause Mr Joyce said, ‘Lord Durant is handsome, I’d forgotten how handsome. And he dresses well.’

This made Anne smile. ‘I shall tell him your good opinion of his charms.’

‘I only meant—’

‘Yes?’

‘You have chosen well.’

‘Well, he rather chose me.’ She looked at him. ‘And do you expect me to marry for such a reason as a handsome face? If that were true, I should like your new coat a good deal better than I do.’

‘I say,’ said Mr Joyce in the manner of old, ‘what on earth have you got against my brother’s coat?’

‘Nothing at all. It is a very fine coat and you look rather impressive in it. In fact, I am rather shy of my smart friend.’ He looked as though he was going to reply but she continued, ‘It is just that I and the blue coat have many happy memories together. I thought of it often since I have been in town.’

‘Anne, Miss Clarence, I mean—’. He leaned towards her, his handsome head very near hers, when she heard a cry from a passing carriage. ‘Stop!’ She gazed over and saw a lady looking at her from a carriage. ‘Anne, is it really you?’ It was her neighbour, Miss Charlotte Fortescue, in a travelling carriage, looking rather distracted. The old lady blinked. ‘And is that — it cannot be Mr Joyce?’

‘Miss Fortescue,’ said the curate with aplomb, ‘It is indeed. You look rather—’

‘She’s done it this time!’ said the old lady to Anne, clutching at her reticule. ‘I told her that one day her folly would lead her to perdition, and so it is!’

‘Lady Letitia?’

Still ringing Letitia’s metaphorical neck with the reticule, the old lady said, ‘I cannot wait, my dear, I have to go to the park where I believe Durant is driving. I must find him.’

Before she could give the knock to the coachman, Anne said soothingly, ‘This is Durant’s carriage. He’s on an errand at the moment, but will return tout suite, I assure you.’

Mr Joyce leapt down and opened the travelling carriage, helping the lady down and then into the landau.

‘Have you your medicine?’ he asked, seeing her face was pale as stone.

Miss Fortescue took her drops out of her bag and put a little on her tongue, breathing heavily and shutting her eyes as she lay back on the squabs. ‘Durant will know what to do.’

‘To be sure he will, my dear lady,’ soothed Anne with a look of concern shot at Joyce, ‘You try to be calm, and you can tell him all about it presently.’

‘She has eloped with Lord Stanford!’

‘On his last legs—’ said Joyce distractedly.

‘Pardon?’ asked Anne.

‘Stanford went to school with me. Godfrey told me last night that he’s on his last legs—’

‘If that cant phrase means what I think it does,’ said Miss Fortescue, ‘your brother is quite right. But Letitia has been turned by his handsome face. Oh, Anne, that girl has been such a trial to me.’

‘Letitia comes into her fortune fully when she marries, I suppose,’ said Anne. ‘The silly young girl.’

Mr Joyce muttered something and Anne looked her inquiry. ‘It’s just,’ he said in her ear, ‘that he was always an ugly customer.’

‘I should think so, to be after an heiress’s money.’

‘If only that were all…’

Durant came down the steps of Ellingham House. ‘Aunt Charlotte,’ he said as he got into the landau, ‘I did not think to see you until tomorrow.’

‘I came early, but still too late!’ she flung herself onto his chest.

Anne told him baldly. ‘Lady Letitia has eloped with Lord Stanford.’

Benedict went to call on Miss Carter-Phipps first, since her home was rather nearer than Miss Althorpe’s. However this only took him back to the park again, bristling with impatience. He asked himself why Felicity had sought a position. She was safe, surely? Only, she was such a young woman, and rather like the kittens, the name he called his beautiful sisters. She was built on sturdier lines than Honoria or Serena, but her face was a bloom of innocence and gullibility that Serena, for one, had never possessed. Something childlike was upon her, and like a baby she trusted and moved along, relying on hands to swipe her up before the table she shook dropped the pot on her head. He suspected she had gone on this way all her life. The last time she’d been saved was by his uncle and aunt. Now they were all in on it. Sloane, him, his uncle and aunt, her two best friends and now Durant, whose guilt leaked out of him like from a broken pot. Even Lady Jersey had been moved to lend some limited aid, and when had that august personage ever lowered herself to help a disgraced debutante? Add to that, before he left this morning, the entire staff of Grosvenor Square seemed to be worried and upset. Her maid had even shed a tear.

Contrast with Jenny. No one makes allowances for Lady Sumner’s feelings, for she pretends not to have them. Her widowhood had been comforted only by some visits from his own mother (few because of the distance) and one commiserating letter from her sister. He himself had been too far away, but at least she had been able to express her mixed feelings to Benedict on paper. She had been glad to have separated from Frederick Sumner, and dreaded his occasional visits to his son (always with his aunt, Lady Harrington as was their agreement) but still so sad for his loss, for all the lost hope of repairing a life ill-spent. But no one swooped in to save Jenny, though he had once tried. No, Jenny saved herself.

But however it was, Benedict could not help worrying about Felicity. She had once confessed to him that she knew she would have to accept a position at the end of the season, but Benedict had seen the male admirers queuing and had supposed one of them would be content to make a beauty of fine family and a happy disposition his wife, and had smiled at her indulgently. It would be a good life with such a girl. Perhaps he should not have tried to stop Samuel Stone after all. Perhaps he should have offered for her himself. But he could not offer for anyone…

He spotted Miss Althorpe, Vivien, and she pointed out Miss Carter-Phipps who was driving in a hired phaeton with Sloane. Benedict narrowed his eyes at this, obviously significant, but he had no time to consider that now. Neither Miss Carter-Phipps, nor Miss Althorpe, had any idea of Felicity’s whereabouts. Their shock and fear made it evident that their accounts were genuine. He let them all know what steps they had taken in as few words as possible.

‘We should all drive to Grosvenor Square for news!’ said the Lieutenant.

‘Of course, my dear Lieutenant, we shall if you think so. I’m sure your judgement is best, and intentions always correct. But I cannot help feel that Lady Aurora might wish us otherwhere at the moment,’ said Miss Carter-Phipps, with her fine eyes upon Benedict’s friend.

‘I believe you are correct, my love—’

Vivien Althorpe squealed. ‘Then it is quite decided?’

‘Quite!’ said Althea with a look of satisfaction. ‘The lieutenant spoke to my father this morning.’

‘Sloane! You old dog!’ shouted Benedict. And held his hand up to shake his friend’s. The Lieutenant was unable to stop his grin from expressing his happiness. ‘Mind you, it was entirely uncertain for a time. Mr Carter-Phipps had a conversation with Althea after my interview with him and I’m sure he told her she might marry a man much richer or of a more elevated position.’ He looked askance at his love.

Althea smiled at him, then said calmly to them all. ‘Oh yes, but I told him that my mind was quite made up. And my papa understands what that signifies. I never change it.’

‘Oh, Althea, I am so pleased!’ Vivienne smiled. ‘But now what shall we do for Felicity?’

Even Benedict found himself hanging on Miss Carter-Phipps words. ‘We, Vivien, shall drive to Mama’s and await news from the gentlemen. The lieutenant shall naturally go with his friend to see what aid he can give in finding Felicity.’

The Lieutenant took her small gloved hand and kissed it. ‘Naturally,’ he said and leapt down.

‘They must find Felicity. She was my good luck charm in meeting my Lieutenant,’ said Althea as they watched the men stride off.

‘You are normally so careful in these matters, Althea. You bring your suitors to the point, of course—’

‘Well… that was for practice,’ said Althea placidly.

‘But you always consider every possibility before you act.’

‘I know. For me it was a coup de foudre,’ said Althea, in a dreamier voice than Vivien had ever heard her use. ‘And usually, you know, I detest such claims in others.’ She added in her normal placid tone. ‘It was the same for him. Love at first sight. I did not bring him to the point at all, he claimed me as his own in one dance.’

‘Oh, my dear! But you did not tell me…’

‘I awaited Papa’s consent of course,’ she said severely.

‘Oh, of course. You are too sensible to disoblige your parents.’

‘I have always thought so. But I was merely waiting for Papa’s decision to tell you whether you would be my maid of honour in April, at a formal event, or at a runaway match with a special licence.’

‘You are under age. You would not!’

‘To be with my Lieutenant, I certainly should. Once the deed was done, my papa would concede. It is not as though the Lieutenant is penniless, and we have known the family forever, yet we never met before this season.’

‘Well, I shall be delighted to stand beside you when you wed.’

‘And so too will Felicity. I am resolved upon it.’

‘It will be most frustrating just to wait to hear what has happened to her.’

‘Of course we will not just wait. We know her better than anyone. We,’ she said significantly, ‘shall investigate.’

Wilbert Fenton had made short work of upending Felicity’s chamber to look for anything that might help in identifying where she had gone. There were no letters in her bureau, no conveniently-ringed adverts in any journal. She had taken her jewellery, the small sum of money that he knew she kept in a net purse, which his lady had given her for the purpose, and some clothes. His wife had come in, and despite her red-rimmed eyes, had identified, after looking into two lofty armoires in the chamber, that Felicity was wearing a straw bonnet with long ribbons and a dark blue pelisse. ‘They are her plainest, but still far too fashionable for a school teacher. She will be remarked if she travelled by coach.’ She has taken three dresses also, the yellow muslin, the dark blue which went so well with her cashmere shawl, but she has left that behind, and the sprigged white one that made Mr Rush say she looked like an angel from heaven.’ She put herself into her husband’s arms and cried, ‘Oh, my dear, please find her.’ She cried once more. ‘What if it is not a position? What if it is a man? She is so innocent, she might believe anyone.’

Wilbert Fenton did not think so, but a terrible thought, of the man he recently made an enemy from, pulled up him short. He kissed his lady’s head and said, ‘My dear, I must go out for a moment, I have someone to see.’

At Stanford’s lodgings, he found Durant’s landau, with Miss Anne Clarence and an unknown man sitting in it. 

Fenton raised his brows and his habitual lazy gait climbed the stairs to the door. It was still ajar, and in the hall he found the Viscount with his hands on the lapels of a greasy attendant, whose feet were now almost airborne. ‘You will tell me where your master has gone.’

‘Master, master?’ Spluttered the old man, ‘he’s no more my master than you are, damn your hide. He has to pay servants before they be mastered, I haven’t had a groat these six months.

‘I am not concerned with your complaints. Where did Stanford take my cousin?’

‘Your cousin?’ cried Wilbert Fenton. ‘I was afraid Stanford might be behind Felicity’s disappearance.’

‘He’s run off with Tish. She did not have the sense to take her maid with her! But if I do not find her quickly…’

‘He left for the border. He hired a coach, and if I knew where he’d hid the money he paid for the hire, I would have had it before now.’ Squeaked the retainer.

Durant seemed to remember he was clutching the man and let him go violently so that he tumbled backwards and only with difficulty stayed on his feet. ‘Phaw! Get gone with you, villain.’ As the man slunk away, he turned to Fenton, ‘I suppose I must go after them. They have a couple of hours start, but with hired cattle, I shall probably catch them before the border. But perhaps not before tonight. What news of Miss Oldfield?’

‘Nothing final. Did Miss Fleet have any more to say?’

‘Only that Miss Oldfield has been looking for a position since the Telford’s ball. And that in order to make her stay, Miss Fleet suggested that it was not her aunt who paid for her finery.’

‘But instead it overwhelmed her with too much gratitude. She has my wife and I painted as saints. My wife may be, but you can imagine how ill that sits on me.’ He gave a deprecating laugh.

‘You were, it must be said, very generous to a child you hardly knew.’

‘Pah!’ Fenton shook his head. ‘She was a joy to us from the first moment. The money was as nothing. To give her what her old, rich aunt would not, was at first an amusement for my wife, but became more. She is a lovely girl, quite lovely. She has given us more—’ Durant was shocked to see a glaze on the eye of Fenton, but he shook it away. ‘I must return to Grosvenor Square. Benedict may have found something.’

‘I suppose I must go after Tish—’ Durant muttered. ‘She’s self-centred and autocratic, but underneath all…’

‘She’s a child in the hands of a beast.’

‘I’ll kill him!’ said Durant, as they both hurried towards the landau.  As Fenton automatically made his bow to the ladies, Durant said briefly. ‘Mr Joyce, a curate from Miss Clarence’s parish.’ He jumped onto the box and said to his groom, ‘Greg, I’ll take the reins. I want you to go to the stables and ride on the North Road. Check the coaching inns around about where a hired coach might stop for refreshments. I cannot see that Tish will go without her breakfast. When you pick up her direction, ride back to me. I may meet you on the road.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said the nimble Greg and was already disappearing down the road on foot.

‘Why do you send him ahead, Sebastian?’ asked Anne, on hearing this.

‘I don’t know,’ Durant said ruminatively. ‘ I think that old devil gave up the plan too easily. And, after Tish’s note, he must have known I would follow.’ He climbed on the box of the landau. ‘Can we go with Mr Fenton to Grosvenor Square before I set out? I want to know the progress on Miss Oldfield. I’m sorry, Anne, aunt.’

‘It makes no odds, my boy. But will you take me to your home to rest before you do so?’ said his aunt, faintly.

Durant looked impatient and guilty at once. ‘Of course.’

‘May I suggest you drive to Grosvenor Square and then I take the landau to Durant House and install Miss Fortescue? I will return with the carriage to Grosvenor Square promptly.’

Durant looked at him. A curate. ‘Can you drive these horses?’

‘I believe so,’ said Mr Joyce.

‘Oh wait, Joyce is it?’ said Wilbert Fenton, who had joined them in the landau having tied his horse behind, ‘you are the little brother of the Almighty who shamed him by getting into The Four Horse Club when he was blackballed.’

‘I am. He was furious.’

‘And rather proud of you, I think,’ said Fenton. ‘Let him drive, Durant. The horses will come to no harm.’

‘Mr Joyce is full of surprises,’ said Anne Clarence, a little archly.

Joyce reddened slightly, Fenton noticed, with the tiny part of his brain that was not focused on Felicity and the way to ease the distress of his wife.

They put this plan into fruition and soon were all ensconced in the Fenton’s elegant drawing room, Mr Joyce arriving just after Lady Aurora joined them from her chamber. No one could guess, thought Anne, except by the surfeit of powder around her eyes, that she had surely been crying her eyes out on her bed. Her face brightened when she saw her husband, ‘Wilbert—’

‘I had an idea that I had to attend to. That perhaps Lord Stanford had a hand in this.’

‘Oh, sir, you know she would not look at him…’ said Lady Aurora.

‘But she might have been fooled by him otherwise. The offer of a ride to her position?’

Durant was very still, but the shadow of a smile crossed his face as he stood by the handsome mantelpiece, ‘No sir, she confessed to me that Lord Stanford had always made her feel bilious.’ His voice changed, ‘No, he has eloped with my cousin.’

‘Lady Letitia missing too? It is quite unbelievable,’ said Lady Aurora. She turned to her husband, ‘What is the matter with today, my love? Cannot we just return to yesterday?’ Her voice broke, and her husband put an arm around her and caused her head to rest on his shoulder.

‘Should you not be on the Great North Road, my lord?’ Fenton said to Durant.

‘I am awaiting Mr Benedict Fenton’s findings first.’ He strode the length of the room, ‘Though why I should go and save a selfish minx from the consequences of her own folly, rather than bring an innocent home where she belongs—’

‘Yes, but there are many of us to look for Felicity, and only one to save Lady Letitia,’ said Wilbert Fenton, gently.

‘The list!’ said Durant suddenly. ‘Miss Fleet was able to give me a list some of the positions that Miss Oldfield applied to.’

‘Better than we found,’ said Benedict, entering the drawing room with his hands in his pockets and a defeated look on his face. Lt Sloane followed.

‘It may not help. I had a glance. There is a school in Yorkshire, another in Bath and a third in Brighton. And this may not be all. How can we know?’

‘Well, we can all ride out in the different directions. Wilbert might take Brighton, Benedict, his home county of Yorkshire and Lt Sloane, if he would consent to do so, Bath.’

‘And you must take carriages, in case it is too difficult to hire one to bring her home,’ said Genevieve.

‘In Brighton or Bath?’ said Benedict, ‘you must be tumbled in the head, Jenny.’

‘Genevieve is right — all the quicker to bring her back to us. And mind, Wilbert, do not take no for an answer. Tell her she must come home. Tell her I am ill,’ her voice broke once more. ‘It will not be untrue if I cannot see her safe home soon.’

Genevieve went to her side and made her sit down. Her head came up almost at once, though. ‘You—’

The butler announced Miss Althorpe and Miss Carter-Phipps.

Miss Carter-Phipps had a piece of blotting paper smeared with a dark substance.

‘We have a list!’ said Miss Althorpe excitedly.

‘I went to the library. I wondered if they just turned the blotting paper on the writing desk instead of disposing of it. And I was quite right. I could not read enough of the blottings to have an address,’ she said.

‘Well, yes—’ began the Lieutenant.

‘But then, I used a trick of my brother and I when we wanted to connect to each other by secret message. You can write on paper and the impressions are on the blotting paper beneath! And then guess what next one can do—’

‘I’m afraid—,’ said the viscount.

‘Use charcoal to run over it lightly and one can read the whole thing. Thankfully few people use that desk, so there was nothing but a few book titles and this — it is a list of three schools. One is in Yorkshire—’

‘One in Bath,’ said Durant

‘And one in Brighton, ‘added Benedict.

‘Oh, how did you know?’

‘We got the list from Miss Fleet.’

Miss Althorpe sat down with a jolt, her red curls jumping, ‘Well, how completely rum. And I thought us so perfectly brilliant.’

‘Thank you girls. But the gentlemen must set off now. Felicity was out of the house before the servants this morning, she had several hours on us.’

‘Excuse me,’ said Anne Clarence quietly. ‘Is there any real need for these heroic rescue attempts? Would not a letter to the various schools suffice? And then, by breakfast tomorrow, you might know at least if Bath or Brighton can be ruled out.’

The company looked at her, shocked. ‘But anything might happen to her in the meantime,’ said Lady Aurora. ‘What if she is rejected for being too pretty as she was in London? Where would she go?’

‘Well I expect she would find a room at an inn for the night, and one could pick up her trail easily.’

‘You don’t understand, ma’am,’ said Benedict. ‘Felicity is so gullible that anyone might trick her.’

‘Yes. She thinks the best of people. Even Sir Ralph Gordon, after he pinched her…’ said Althea.

‘And she believed that Miss Friel, who has said vile things about her all season deserves to be pitied,’ added Vivien.

‘Well that just shows you!’ said Benedict.

‘I mean, she went off with Lord Durant,’ said Lady Sumner.

‘He can be very persuasive,’ said Anne Clarence with a smile.

Durant laughed.

‘Well,’ said Mr Carter-Phipps, to Lt Sloane’s pride, ‘If he had done so to me I should have poked him in the eye with my parasol. But when I said this to Felicity, she just said that she was glad to help his old aunt find a home more suited to her, and closer to London so that her doctors might be called out if need be.’

‘And she didn’t even know the woman.’

‘She sounds like a very fine girl,’ remarked Mr Joyce.

‘Oh she is,’ murmured Durant, ‘wherever she goes, even the servants love her. The butler at Lady Ellingham’s damn near cried on my shoulder when he knew she was gone. And I’ve never seen his face even move before.’

‘And she’s a beauty, too. All on her own with not even a maid…’ Lady Aurora sobbed

Benedict frowned. ‘My sisters could take better care of themselves than she.’

‘My goodness, I understand. You must all leave immediately to search for her,’ said Anne Clarence.

‘Not I— I must find Tish.’ The viscount stood irresolutely, not quite able to leave the room. ‘When I come back, Anne, we must talk.’

‘Yes, we must.’

‘I, too, would like a word with you when you return, my lord,’ said Mr Joyce.

Durant looked at him. ‘Mr Joyce?’ he supposed Joyce must be seeking preferment, but he had little attention to give to such things and considered the curate a horse’s ass for bring it up at a time like this. ‘Very well, I’ll try to find time for you when I return.’

Benedict had turned to Genevieve, whose eyes were exceedingly bright and whose smile was very fixed and very wide. ‘Do not worry, my dear. I shall bring her home.’

‘I know you will, Dickie. I can see how you care for her.’

‘Of course I do. Everyone loves Felicity.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I’ll bring her back.’ She grasped his hand, hardly able to speak.

Lady Aurora, meanwhile, was talking lowly to her husband, and he replied, grasping her to him and kissing the top of her head. The lieutenant in regimentals was saying farewell to the young lady, Miss Carter-Phipps was it? — she who had the very determined face.

As she watched all this, Miss Clarence found Mr Joyce at her shoulder. ‘I feel we have wandered into a heroic melodrama.’

‘It would seem so.’

‘The young lady is much cared for.’

‘Yes. I met her, she is quite charming. A beauty of course.’

‘Oh. And she seems to have affected everyone.’

‘Yes. Lieutenant Sloane asked for her hand. I think Mr Benedict Fenton admires her greatly, and all this running away has been brought on by a great scandal about her going off with a man without a chaperon.’

‘Oh, the poor girl. And which of the two young man is at the heart of the rumour?’ he said dubiously regarding the Lieutenant taking the hand of Miss Carter-Phipps and kissing it.

‘Oh, neither. That was Viscount Durant!’

They looked at each other, his shocked look shook her and she lost her composure. They giggled and he spun her around quickly so that they could not be seen. Durant’s back had mercifully been to them, he was saying his farewells to the Fentons, and was about to go.

‘Oh, stop me, dash it!’ said Mr Joyce.

‘I c-can’t. You’ve sent me off. This is a tragedy to these people. Even the thought of Letitia in trouble can’t seem to make me stop.’

‘Why has she run away?’ asked Joyce, his voice still shaky.

‘I think it might be because Bastian was being beastly to her about telling the world about Felicity driving off with him.’

‘When he didn’t?’

‘Oh, but he did!’

‘Surely he must—’ said Joyce, still laughing under his breath.

‘But he cannot because he is m-m-marrying me!’

For some reason, this seemed utterly hilarious, and Joyce gave a small squeal as he sought to keep from exploding with laughter.

A finger touched her back she straightened, but sent her large eyes rolling for help in the direction of Mr Joyce, as though for aid.

‘Are you quite well, Anne?’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She said with difficulty.

‘I must go. I shall send word when I have found Tish.’

She gathered herself.

‘Good luck, Bastian.’

‘Anne, I—’ he started.

But Anne Clarence had only so much control. ‘Yes, my dear friend. But not now. For heaven’s sake, GO!’

But at that exact moment, anther voice form the doorway called, ‘Bastian!’ the door burst open, and in ran Lady Letitia Fortescue, straight into her cousin’s arms, ‘Do not be cross with me, Bastian, I know I did wrong. I know it.’

‘Tish!’ he said, clasping her in his arms. But as another figure entered the room shyly behind, the whole room, apart from Anne Clarence and Mallory Joyce, rushed forward.

‘Felicity!’ the cry rang out and Lady Aurora reached her first, telling her she would never be forgiven, never, but clasping her so hard to her that her bonnet went awry and hung down her back by its long ribbons, and she began to laugh.

Chapter 15

The Return

The little man in the strange waistcoat had been a very good listener, it turned out. And he had to be for Felicity’s tale of two abductions and a black-hearted lady who had caused a scandal, and the kindness of the wicked abductors (all three of them) and the handsomeness of one, and the fact that though she had had much attention since she came to London, she had already met her own idea of magnificence on the road, and he turned out to be a viscount, who was willing to take responsibility for the trouble that resulted in his abducting her, but could not marry her because he was already promised. But the Beau Monde did not know of the engagement, because of illness in the lady’s family. So they wondered if Lord Durant would not marry her because she was indeed a fallen woman.

‘Sir, what precisely is a fallen woman? Don’t you have to run off with someone, or at least kiss them to be one?’

‘I should thinks so, miss.’

‘Well then I assure you, I am not. I merely went in a carriage to pretend to be a lady because the gentleman needed to buy a house. It could have happened to anyone.’

‘Uh-huh. So everyone tried to make it clear you were a good girl, I have that. So what happened then?’

‘Well, even old Lady Harrington, who is a very great moral stickler, supported me at a dinner when a young lady turned her back on me, and I might actually have been saved. But then two things happened in the same day. I found out that my dear friends had paid for my season, and not my aunt who wears an ancient bonnet and a wig even at breakfast, and I got a letter to say I might attend for the position of junior mistress at this school.’ She dabbed her eyes. ‘Well three things really. I was also accosted by a horrid rake, and rescued by the wicked abductor. But he isn’t really. And I can see how much it troubles him, my being insulted. For the rake had once before offered me marriage, but this time I am not sure what he was offering, but I am very sure it was an insult. And it made my rescuer—’

‘The wicked abductor?’

‘Well, yes. It made him so very angry and he said he’d deal with him and he apologised again. And I can’t help but see that I am becoming such a trial to all of them. Having to defend me and come up with schemes to make the black-hearted lady my friend so as to deny any reports about me.’

‘The black-hearted lady?’

‘I daresay she isn’t. That’s just what my friends Miss Althorpe and Miss Carter-Phipps call her, oh, and Miss Fleet, of course. Because we found one in a book.’

He shook his head in trying to decipher this. ‘And who is the black-hearted lady?’

‘She is the cousin—’ Felicity sobbed, and then, pointing, ‘It’s her.’ A coach was passing and Felicity glanced inside to see a beautiful bonnet that she recognised on the inside passenger. She hung out the window to see the driver and started.

‘What—?’ said the little man grasping her pelisse, lest she tumble out.

‘Oh!’ said Felicity, ‘it is the rake and the black-hearted lady.’

‘Do you mean to tell me that two people from your story are in that there coach right now?’

‘Yes!’ said Felicity. ‘Whatever can it mean? Can they have followed me? But why would they know I was here? If it was anyone, I would think it would be one of my wicked abductors—’

‘The viscount? Why would he follow you? I thought you said ‘e’d be glad to be rid o’ you?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Felicity in a small voice. Then she frowned. ‘No, that is not it. When I told my dearest friend Vivien that Lord Stanford had proposed to me, she said it was unheard of, for Stanford only pursued heiresses. I cannot understand why he would offer for me.’

Her companion looking at her large eyes and ripe mouth might have an idea, but he said only, ‘No. And is the black-hearted lady—?’

‘An heiress. She is very rich indeed, says my best friend. Oh, goodness, we must stop this.’

The little man cocked his head on one side, ‘Don’t she deserve ‘er fate?’

‘Oh, no! It is too awful. And it would hurt the viscount so very much. He hates that man.’

‘The wicked abductor? And you wish to help ‘im as well?’

‘But I assure you, I do not think of him in that way at all. It was just that Miss Fleet and I cast him in the role of the villain in the novels we were reading.’ She ring her hands. ‘Oh sir. What can we do?’

For answer the little man looked at his pocket watch, a fine brass specimen, and then stuck his head out of the window and called to the coach man. ‘Where are we now?’ he shouted, Felicity thought, though she could not be certain, as the wind took his words with it. He put his head inside again after a few more words with the mail coachman, and he said, ‘Now it is my thoughts, miss, that they will want to rest the ‘orses or even change ‘em. But he won’t want to use any of the big coaching inns, not for ‘is business. There’s too many a jack who could know ‘im and know what ‘e’s about and maybes interfere.’

‘Oh yes! I daresay anyone could come in.’

‘We’ll be stopping in an hour, but to my mind he’ll want a quieter place such as the Cat and Mouse just two miles ahead.’

‘We must go there! But the mail coach won’t stop. Not for anything.’

‘‘E’ll stop for me,’ said the little man. With that he hoisted himself out through the window and onto the roof with remarkable strength and dexterity. Felicity heard the coachman protest in the strongest terms, some altercation, and then she supposed that the little man had joined him on the box. She ran through what she would do or say to Lady Letitia when she saw her, and only foresaw rejection and danger from Stanford. She was very afraid, but still she must try.

A head appeared upside down in the window, it was the little man’s and he was holding onto his disreputable hat. ‘If we stop—,’ he said.

‘We ain’t a-stoppin’’ said the loud voice of the driver.

The little man paid no heed. ‘It might take us time to find another conveyance, and you will once more miss an appointment. Also, you could be left without any chaperon at an insalubrious inn.’

‘I know. But I must try. No doubt she’ll think me terribly interfering, but I cannot go on—’

‘All righty then miss,’ said the cheerful little person. ‘It’s coming up. ‘Old tight.’ The head disappeared. ‘Stop in the name of the law!’ The little fellow’s voice was suddenly full of force, and Felicity was not surprised when the coach halted violently and the little man opened the door. She got out, with inn gates before her. The little man walked towards the back of the coach saying, ‘I’ll just get our bags,’ but the coachman drove on shouting, ‘Pick ‘em up in the  Mail  office in Brighton, if you can!’ and they heard him laugh as he drove away.

‘Jarvey!’ shouted Mr Mosely, demeaning the coachman’s rank to a mere hackney coach driver.

Beyond the gates, they saw a dusty travelling coach, with steaming horses being seen to by ostlers, and Felicity breathed a sigh of relief.’

‘I knew it!’ said the little man with a grin.

‘Sir, what is your name? And are you indeed a Bow Street Runner?’

‘Name of Mosley, miss. And just between us, miss, I’m not a Runner any more, more of a private man these days. Just worked for a very rich young lady indeed, and she sent me something in the way of a thank you that me and Adam’s Rib couldn’t spend in all our lives.’

‘Yet you travel on the mailcoach, sir?’

‘Always the mail, or the stage for me, missy. You meets such interesting people. It’s a bit of a habit now.’

‘Well, sir, I am Felicity Oldfield,’ she stopped and held out her hand and he took it, smiling.

‘Very glad to make your acquaintance, Miss. And your tale surely sped the miles behind us. It didn’t seem possible that all that could happen to one young miss in just a few months, but then I have had some pretty interesting periods in me own life. And now miss,’ he took the hand and squeezed it a little, comfortingly, for they were standing just behind the other coach and very near to the inn door, ‘I think we must go in.’

Felicity looked at the door and sighed, then said, ‘Yes! I know it! Whatever happens Mr Mosely, thank you for coming with me.’

And with that, they entered the inn.

When the storm had calmed down, Lady Aurora let all the attendant company greet Felicity as was their desire — her two young friends hugging her, Sloane bowing over her hand, Lady Sumner giving her a short sharp hug, Benedict patting her back heartily, so that she almost fell over. Then Mr Fenton, who had stood aside for a moment, moved forward and used one finger to tilt her head up to his, and looked at her gravely. ‘Never do that again.’ Felicity opened her mouth, but his eyes burned into hers. ‘Never.’ He said, dangerously.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on his cheek, tears coursing as she said, ‘Never!’

Anne Clarence, meanwhile, after scratching a note on the small table for the purpose at the side of the room, had gone to the smiling butler, and said, ‘Ransom isn’t it?’ He remembered himself and adopted his visage of disinterest once more, ‘Have a servant take this note to Durant House and deliver it to Miss Charlotte Fortescue’s maid, if you please.’

‘Certainly madam.’ He bowed, and with a last look into the room, he closed the door.

Durant, with Lady Letitia in his arms had not addressed her, but he finally was able to ask, in a loud tone to cover the din, ‘How is this possible?’

‘They must have met on the Great North Road,’ said Benedict. ‘It would have been me who found them.’ He added with satisfaction.

‘No indeed,’ said Lady Letitia, ‘We met on the Brighton Road, at an inn called the Cat and Mouse.’

Lady Aurora had sat down, pulling Felicity with her, unwilling to be parted from her. She was only partially listening to her young ladyship. Her eyes were only for Felicity. ‘Never forgive you!’ she said again, gripping her hand. Felicity smiled and laid her head briefly on her mentor’s shoulder.

‘I thought that old devil gave up Stanford’s direction too easily. He said you’d gone to the border.’

‘I would not consent to that. To travel with a man, to have to stay some nights at inns with him, was not right. Especially as I could not take my maid.’

‘Why the hell not?’ Said Durant, at the end of his tether. He was watching Benedict Fenton seat himself on the arm of the elegant sofa that held Felicity. Fenton leaned back and put his arm over the back of the dofa in what Durant considered an over-familiar way.

‘Because she would tell you — I know that she is your slave.’

‘But she wouldn’t have been there to tell me, until after you were married, if you had only instructed her to come with you at the last minute. She’d have been with you.’

‘I did not think of that,’ said the lovely Lady Letitia, deflated.

Mr Joyce, at Anne Clarence’s shoulder, made another strange noise and she hissed, ‘Don’t!’ but her shoulders shook anyway. She saw the hooded eyes of Wilbert Fenton look at her and raise an eyebrow and she blushed.

‘How came you to consent to such a thing?’ the viscount continued.

‘I know, I know it was wrong. But Lord Stanford was the only person being nice to me at all. You were furious, even some of my friends were a little distant and I knew that Aunt Charlotte would be on your side. And then, I did know that I had done wrong. It was spiteful and wicked, but I really did not know it would go further than the terrace. I was just so afraid that Felicity would make me look ridiculous … if it was ever known—’

‘You’ve said sorry enough, dear Letitia, please do not,’ said Felicity.

‘But how can I not? After all you have done for me this day?’ said Lady Letitia passionately.

‘Aunt Charlotte! I must tell her immediately!’ said Durant suddenly.

‘I have already sent a note,’ said Anne Clarence calmly.

‘Thank you my dear Anne,’ Durant said.

‘Oh,’ said Felicity, turning to her, ‘then you are the lady the viscount will marry?’

‘I—’ ‘We—’ said the Viscount and Anne together. They were saved by Lady Letitia.

‘I agreed to go with Lord Stanford. He was always so charming, and it seemed to me that though I did not love him, it would free me from you, Durant, and from my aunt. I could run my own household and have parties, and, oh, I don’t know—’

‘When did you know that it was a bad idea?’

‘Oh, almost from the first. The dreadful carriage he hired, and the fact that there were no attendants. And he asked me for money at the inn. I told him I wanted to go home. But he would not, of course, let that happen. I said I would give him a large sum if he consented. My whole quarter’s allowance. But he said …  he said, why should he eat just a part of the cake, when he could have it all.’

‘The beast!’ said Vivien Althorpe, but with relish.

‘And then he attempted to kiss me.’

‘Only attempted?’ asked Mr Joyce with interest that made Anne Clarence nudge him.

‘I hit him with a vase.’

‘Oh, very good.’ Approved Miss Carter-Phipps.

‘And so I did not rescue you at all, by the time you met me you had already knocked him out!’ said Felicity.

‘I am so glad I came today!’ whispered Mr Joyce in Miss Clarence’s ear.

‘But then, you know, Bastian,’ Lady Letitia’s high curls bounced lustrously as she turned to him, ‘I was beastly again.’ Miss Carter-Phipps and Miss Althorpe exchanged significant glances.

‘Tell me the worst!’ said Durant with a sigh.

‘I saw Miss Oldfield, I mean my dear Felicity, and I was so shocked to be meeting anyone I knew. As I was hurrying out to have the ostlers put to the horses once more, she told me she had jumped from the mail coach, to stop me eloping with Lord Stanford. I told her to go away and mind her own business, and to take that horrid little man with her.’

Mr Wilbert Fenton, by now fully returned to his urbane self, had taken a chair nearby Miss Clarence and Mr Joyce, rather out of range of the action, the better to spectate. At a nod from him, a footmen brought him some wine, he crossed his legs and prepared to be entertained. He nodded the footman to Mr Joyce, who took a glass with an acknowledging smile to Mr Fenton, and joined Miss Clarence on a sofa.

‘Who was the horrid little man?’ asked Benedict, looking down at Felicity with his eyebrows raised.

‘Oh, just the ex-Bow Street Runner that I met on the mail coach.’

‘Of course he is!’ said Mr Wilbert Fenton smoothly, causing the curate to choke on his first sip of wine.

‘Wha—’ said Durant pulling his fingers through his long hair. He met Benedict Fenton’s amused glance and sat, as Lady Letitia, very fine in a froth of pink muslin, with a silk embroidered bodice, took centre stage.

‘And Felicity, darling that she is, tried to reason with me, not knowing that I agreed with her, but was only seeking to escape as soon as possible. The ostlers told me that the horses were too tired to go back to London, having been pushed too hard by that idiot Stanford, and I promptly wept. And instead of leaving me to my just deserts, Felicity asked the man if there were more horses to be had and he said ‘no’.  I was in a terror in case Lord Stanford should awaken. And to cap it all, that vile old Viscountess Swanson came into the inn yard with her maid.’

‘Who is she?’ whispered Mr Joyce.

‘Dreadful old gossip who has made life more difficult for Felicity,’ said Lady Sumner, joining the audience on the sofa.

‘The old vixen—,’ said Letitia, looking an apology at Lady Aurora for her language, ‘—pulled up short and said, “Lady Letitia, what are you doing here?”’

‘More to the point, what was she doing there?’ asked Benedict, ‘Dashed rum sort of place with no fresh horses, if you ask me.’

‘I think Mr Mosely said it was another sort of establishment. Not a staging post. And Viscountess Swanson turned out to be in a dreadful mood, having walked two miles because her carriage had broken a shaft. This was the first inn,’ said Felicity.

‘It was perfectly vile. Not even a very clean inn,’ said Lady Letitia. ‘But that is when it happened. Lord Stanford staggered out of the inn, looking quite dreadful.’

‘Obviously, you gave him a nice clean hit,’ said Miss Carter-Phipps still approving.

‘What a bloodthirsty brood of young ladies London is breeding today,’ said Durant, and Benedict Fenton laughed.

‘Well, when my dear Letitia told me what had occurred, I believe he deserved it.’ Felicity said, championing her new friend.

‘Anyway, Viscountess Swanson looked at Lord Stanford, and then at me, and then down her nose, and said, “I see perfectly what you are doing here. I beg your pardon, Lady Letitia.”  In such a knowing way that I was ready to sink. And then Felicity, my dearest girl,’ Vivien and Althea’s eyebrows could not go any higher at one more endearment, ‘came from behind me and said. “She came to aid me, Viscountess” and then she gave this even more terrible look at Felicity, and at Lord Stanford, who was too far off to hear the exchange, and who looked too confused to know where he was even.’ Letitia sobbed suddenly. ‘What kind of girl would do that, Bastian? To ruin herself even further to protect the girl who had ruined her?’

The Viscount looked steadily at Felicity, with a fire in his eyes. ‘Only the best kind of girl,’ he said. Felicity looked away, blushing profusely.

‘I know, I could hardly believe it.’

Durant seemed about to say something. Lady Letitia recovered herself.

Lady Aurora said to her charge with pride, ‘You foolish, foolish, girl. How brave, how foolish.’

‘Oh no!’ said Felicity, standing now and joining Lady Letitia, ‘It was only that my reputation was already ruined, why let the horrid Lord Stanford ruin another’s—’

‘It was my own fault. I consented to that dreadful plan. I know it Bastian, I know it.’

‘But no one’s reputation was ruined for Mr Mosely saved us,’ added Felicity happily.

‘Yes, what a completely wonderful little man. He took off his hat and approached us, just as Viscountess Swanson was enjoying her horrible leering smile, and said, “The carriage will be repaired in a half-hour, ladies. If you would just take some tea in the inn. Lady Aurora will be worried that you are late, but I’ve sent the boy ahead with a message.” You should have seen the smile disintegrate on the viscountess’s face.’

‘We ended up having to spend the next ten minutes with her having tea. That was the worst bit,’ said Felicity.

‘Oh I know, we had to chatter about a visit to a friend.’

‘On the Brighton Road?’ said Durant aghast.

‘Oh, a reclusive friend,’ said Felicity laughing.

‘Very reclusive, almost a hermit,’ giggled Letitia.

‘Anyway, at that point Mr Mosely came in, and he looked very like a groom by this stage, and said that he had a conveyance to take us to you, Lady Aurora.’

‘It turned out to be a farmer’s milk cart, but the Viscountess couldn’t see it from the inn.’

‘You don’t mean to tell me that you both drove all the way to London in a dashed milk cart?’ asked Benedict.

‘What about Lord Stanford?’ Said Lady Sumner. ‘I should have something to say to a man who pushed his horses so on that distance.’

Benedict laughed. ‘Oh Jenny, Jenny!’ he said, ‘Always the horses!’ she gave his unholy glee a twisted smile.

‘Yes,’ said Lord Durant, more dangerously. ‘What did become of Lord Stanford?’

‘After he talked to us outside the inn, Mr Mosely went and spoke to Lord Stanford. He said he’d taken care of him.’

‘What on earth does that mean? By what you say, Mr Mosely is half the size of Lord Stanford.’

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the butler to his master, ‘but if Viscount Durant is wishful to speak to Mr Mosely, I believe he is below stairs at the moment, partaking of some ham soup the cook happened to have prepared.’

‘By all means, send him up!’ said Mr Fenton.

‘My dear, shall we order some refreshments? You look fully restored to beauty after the return of Felicity to her home,’ Felicity blushed at this, ‘but I fear the rest of us are made of lesser stuff.’

‘By all means. What an interesting story, don’t you think, my love?  I can almost enjoy the adventure now that Felicity is safe home. I do think you are a gifted orator, Lady Letitia,’ she added comfortably. 

‘The refreshments have been set out behind you, master. I took the liberty—’

‘Very good, Ransom.’

‘Well’ said Anne Clarence, to the other members of the sofa club, ‘He had to take the liberty, or how else could he have heard the rest of the story?’

‘I didn’t hear the food arrive. One forgets how unobtrusive London servants can be.’

‘My Maggie can be heard coming for miles!’ said Anne, smiling.

‘I admit I prefer a little warning—’ it seemed he’d said something risqué, he blushed. But she laughed silently and their eyes held.

‘So do I, at times.’

Lady Sumner blinked. Durant was paying no attention, both he and Benedict had all their attention on Felicity, both with admiration. Her heart tightened a little. But this would be good. One of them would marry her and all would be well. She hoped that Benedict would not be too hurt if Durant won the contest. She wondered when Anne Clarence would tell the viscount she loved another. If not soon, then Benedict would have the advantage. These thoughts, swift as they were, were interrupted by the arrival of a little man with a sharp feral face that belonged to generations of London working poor, and a moleskin waist coat, with a grin on his face as he bowed low to the assembled company.

‘Mr Mosely, is it?’ said Mr Fenton, holding out his hand in an unusual gesture of friendship, which Mosely took without a blink. ‘I am Mr Fenton. This is my house and the Viscount Durant and myself—,’ (the viscount bowed) ‘wish to thank you for the return of our relatives in good health.’

‘Ah,’ said the little man cheerfully, ‘the two wicked abductors. Miss Oldfield told me all.’

‘I trust,’ said Lord Durant, ‘that you will strive to forget what you heard and saw today?’

‘An application to the magistrates at Bow Street will give testimony to my discretion, your lordship. But wi’ miss trying to run away because she was a nuisance to you, and burden on you sir,’ he pointed at Mr Fenton senior, I was fair interested in ‘elping the lady. She’s a right one!’

‘Indeed she is.’

‘Would you be Lady Aurora, my lady?’ he bowed to her. ‘The poor lil ‘un cried the most to be leaving you. And then to be ‘elping—’

‘The black-hearted lady,’ interrupted Lady Letitia with a smile, ‘that’s me, you know. It’s from some novel she read, and it quite fits.’ She said sadly. ‘But we laughed about it on the journey home.’

‘In the milk cart?’ said Benedict, interestedly.

‘No, no. That were just to get the young ladies away from the ol’ dragon.’ Begging your pardon, my Lady.’

‘Oh, no, no,’ said Lady Aurora, ‘I have called her much worse.’

‘I knew I could get a rig at the next halt and so it proved.’

‘And Stanford?’ asked Durant.

‘I told his lordship that abduction was agin the law, in case ‘e didn’t realise. And there were no attendants to back up ‘is tale that the lady came willingly. I told ‘im the magistrates at Bow Street would come down hard on ‘im. I advised ‘im to make ‘isself scarce and never open ‘is mouf.’

‘He will not get the chance to,’ said Durant

‘Murder is also agin the law, begging yer pardon,’ grinned the little man.

‘Is there anything we can do for you in return, Mr Mosely?’ said Mr Fenton.

‘There maybes is, sir.’ Fenton reached into a capacious pocket for his purse, but Mr Mosely waved it away, ‘No, no, yer honour. I’m flush with yellow-boys as it ‘appens. But sometimes I might need to meet a man, for my investigations, you understand. Not of my own class, ye reckon, and while I have some very good contacts in the Beau Monde these days,’ he said with somewhat of a flourish, ‘they might not know the man I want.’

‘I think I can speak for anyone here and say, if such a thing occurs, apply at once.’

‘I’ll be going now, yer lordship. It was nice to meet you and if you was to need a problem solved, of an investigative nature that is, come to Mosely. A note to Mr Rigby-Blythe, lawyer, of Beltane Buildings, will find me. Cheerio!’ He turned to go, but Lady Letitia and Felicity danced forward to thank him once more and he cheekily pinched Felicity’s chin. ‘No, thank ee ladies, for the most interesting day I’ve had in a month. And what a story you do tell, miss’ he added to Felicity, ‘it was real treat, what I could follo’ ‘o it.’ He looked at Lady Letitia for a moment, then turned back to Felicity, ‘I don’t think much o’ the black-hearted lady title, she was more of a sad young lady, thinks I. And a beauty, to boot.’ Lady Letitia hugged him briefly to the intake of breath from the company.

‘You have been the Knight-errant of this tale, Mr Mosley, sir, and I salute you!’ she said, in the humblest voice Durant had ever heard her use.

‘Well, miss, I’d go on my knee and offer you my hand as such fellas do, if I didn’t think you was ‘aving a joke with me. But the missus wouldn’t like it.’ He winked and bowed and took his leave of the august company, whistling.

The party broke up after some more gentle chatter, and some refreshments of cake and wine. As those not resident in Grosvenor Square were leaving, a private conversation took place in the vestibule where Anne Clarence and Durant found themselves alone at last.

‘Anne!’ said Durant urgently to her. ‘My dear, I must—’

She turned to him with her humorous look and held his cheek. ‘Durant, you are free. We could never be more than the very best of friends.’

He looked at her and bent and kissed her hand.

‘Go to her!’ she said.

He turned and headed back into the room. He had already asked Letitia if she would go home with Miss Althorpe and she had been very glad to do so. She hugged him once more. ‘I know, Tish, I can see you are sorry,’ he’d said, when she opened her mouth again. She smiled, and left.

Now, Lady Sumner joined him, having just fetched a shawl for Felicity from her room. They both stopped in the doorway as they saw Mr and Mrs Fenton standing watching as Benedict whirled Felicity around, her feet from the floor, in joy. Genevieve’s voice caught in a sob that only Durant could hear, and she turned and ran back up the stairs once more.

No-one knew what, but something in this movement from the door alerted the Fentons and Felicity, and they turned, laughing, to see Durant, who now wished himself anywhere else, caught standing in the doorway.

‘My boy,’ said Mr Fenton, cheerfully. ‘You must be the second to be told.’ He smiled, and Durant attempted one also, but it felt like a rictus on his face.

Lady Aurora added, ‘We have made Felicity our heir. And our home will be hers from now on. There will be no more talk of becoming a governess.’

‘And I’ll be willing to bet that when the world hears of it, many rumours will suddenly be discounted, said Benedict, joyfully. ‘I shouldn’t wonder if there will be a deal more morning callers now.’

‘Probably,’ drawled his uncle.

Durant found his breath and regained the use of his legs all at one. He moved forward and said. ‘Is that the joyful news? I thought it was that you were to be wed.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Felicity, ‘It’s Benedict!’

‘Yes, pretty near to be a brother, or a cousin or some such, and we don’t marry cousins in our family.’

‘And,’ said Durant significantly, holding Benedict’s eye. ‘I think Lady Sumner believed so also, when she saw you just now.’

‘But she can’t—’ said Benedict, ‘She must—’

‘She was most upset.’

‘She was, was she?’ said Benedict darkly. ‘Which way?’

‘Upstairs.’ Benedict left at a run.

‘I think, Mr Fenton, that I must go up to my room to lie down after the excitement of this day.’ Said Lady Aurora, with a significant glance, ‘Will you offer me your arm?’

Fenton gave a stately bow, ‘My lady,’ he said proffering that appendage to her.

They left the room.

In the street, Mr Joyce awaited Miss Clarence. He smiled as she came down stairs from the house. ‘We shall have to walk, unless you think Lord Durant will grant you space in the landau.’

‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so. He’s been detained.’

Mr Joyce took her hand and placed it on his arm. ‘We don’t walk so in Little Clarence. The parishioners would talk.’

‘Many hearts would be broken.’

‘Whose heart?’ he asked.

‘Mrs Belville’s for a beginning.’

‘Oh, well, I have always held a candle for Mrs Belville, it is true. As I suppose her husband did, before he died forty years ago.’

‘What direction are we going?’

‘I have no idea. I think I am heading to my brother’s home. Is your direction elsewhere? Should we turn about?’

‘No, I suppose I should meet him.’

‘Who? The Almighty? Why? I assure you, he is not half so amusing as I.’

‘I might want to decide for myself. In fact, I ought to meet him before I say what I have to say to you.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, I might prefer the older brother. We may make a match of it.’ This was said in her usual railing tone, but he could only give a hollow laugh. ‘Mr Joyce, what are you really doing in London?’

‘I hardly know. Getting a new coat from my brother it seems,’ he said lightly.

‘Please tell me.’ Her tone was serious and he could not offer her another joke.

‘I hardly know.’ Then he looked at her direct. He breathed, ‘It is where you are.’

Anne sighed and grasped his arm a little tighter with her fingertips. ‘I know I have to be the one to do this, because of our positions…’

‘Because I have nothing to offer you…’ he said quietly, not pretending to misunderstand.

‘I am not going to be a viscountess. And I cannot get you preferment. That is, I do not wish to, if it will take you away from our home. You offer me everything I want in this world every time I see you. I came to London to say so to Durant. When you followed me, I was so full of you, so complete, for my love was here. Will you marry me and live with me and be my love?’

‘Anne Clarence. Did you have to ask me in the street? How am I to kiss you, my very best friend?’

With great aplomb, Anne hailed a hackney. When once they were in it, Mr Joyce took her into his arms and held her. ‘I told him to go to the Tower of London.’

‘But that is quite in the wrong direction,’ she said.

‘I know, my darling. That is just what the purpose is.’ He kissed her thoroughly once more.

‘Oh, Mallory. I’ve wanted this for so long.’

‘Then why did you get engaged to a dashed viscount then? One with lots of hair and a square chin.’

She laughed. ‘I thought it was sensible. I knew you would never ask, and I did not know what to do. But as soon as I saw your face when I told you, I knew how perfectly ridiculous that was. And I have been inspired by the remarkable resourcefulness of the younger generation today.’

‘Ah, the vase to the head? Or telling your tale to a Bow Street Runner?’

‘Whichever. The power of independent action. I have been too long in a household role to be a new woman.’

‘You have singlehandedly run an estate and a large household for all the years I have known you. With great aplomb, I should say. How I have longed to be able to help you on those days when the burden was extreme.’

‘And now you may,’ she said, with her head on his shoulder.

‘Yes. But I wish to remain the curate too, though perhaps Mr Bigelow could take on some of his own duties after this.’

‘My dearest love, do you have money for this hackney?’

‘Not a sou!’ he admitted, stretching his long legs on the opposite seat and holding her closer.

‘Ah,’ she sighed, ‘I have always longed to marry a fortune hunter.’

Benedict took the stairs two at a time, to the butler’s disgust, and entered Lady Sumner’s chamber without knocking. She was prostrate on the bed, face in a pillow, but she rose quickly, put her back to him and exclaimed, ‘What—!’

Benedict stayed where he was, only closing the door. ‘What is wrong with you, my lady? Do you have a headache?’

‘Just for a moment. It has passed now.’ She turned to him, her face its usual placid self, only the red at the tip of her nose indicating that she had been crying. ‘What do you mean by bursting into a ladies chamber without permission? I may have been dressing.’

‘You didn’t have time. Durant had the idea that you were upset.’ Benedict walked forward a step gently, as though not to frightened a wounded animal.

‘No. Merely suddenly unwell,’ she said, maintaining her upright demeanour.

‘Ah!’ he said, taking another step forward, ‘I have some news.’

He saw her straighten even further and tense her body, as for a blow. ‘I trust it is good news. We have had our fill of worrisome excitement today.’

‘We have,’ he came forward another step, a practice that Lady Sumner was regarding with some trepidation, but she held herself still. ‘It is about Felicity.’

She turned her head a little, and put her hand out to straighten a silver candlestick on a table nearby. ‘Oh,’ she said gaily, ‘Am I to wish you happy?’

He covered the remaining distance in two long strides, and gathered her in his arms. ‘Only if you say yes, Jenny.’

She buried her face in his coat to hide the tears that fell, and clasped the fabric to her. ‘I am very happy for you, Benedict. Indeed I am.’ She muttered into his coat.

‘I can see you are. I’m not going to marry Felicity, you goose. You are the only woman for me.’

‘No Benedict,’ she said, still unable to raise her head. ‘That is absurd. We are only friends. You needed me right now, with everything that has happened to you—’

He managed to lift her head with difficulty and had first to dislodge the desperate fingers that clutched his coat. ‘Of course I need you, I believe we need each other.’

‘Yes, my dear,’ trying for the voice she used to use to chide a younger Benedict. But his arm around her showed he was not that boy. ‘But only as friends.’

‘Then why did you come up here to cry when you took it into your head that I was going to marry Felicity.’

She broke away from him. ‘I didn’t—’

‘Jenny!’ he said severely. ‘You do not lie to me.’

‘If I have felt rather closer to you, my dear boy, it is no wonder. Only your letters got me through the worst of things. And I felt I was able, in some little way, to help you—’

‘You did. Your letters were the light of my life.’

‘But I knew that it could never be more than that. Look at me, Benedict. I am a plain woman. I have always known it, and never minded it. You are younger —‘she held up her hand as he wanted to protest. ‘—and so handsome that half the ladies in London are at your feet—’

‘You say you are plain. Then why can I not see you without being mesmerised by your beauty? Your honest eyes, your grace, I am bewitched. I believe I have always loved you, Genevieve.’ He laughed. ‘Now that Lady Aurora has made you elegant of dress, I have had some friends beg me for an introduction.’

‘You did not introduce me,’ she said with a little frown.

‘Of course I did not. Do you think me mad? What if you had preferred one of them?’ She laughed and he held her eyes. He moved towards her, took her back in his arms and this time she looked up at him. ‘I love Oswald, and I love you. Will you marry me, Lady Sumner?’

She twisted from his grip suddenly and said, ‘No, no, I can’t!’ and put her head into her hands.

The smile dropped from his lips. He had been so near to—. ‘Why?’ he asked gently.

‘I am not the stuff wives are made of. Frederick told me many times.’

‘Bosh!’

‘No, no Benedict, you do not know what I mean. It is indelicate — but I must explain. Our wedding night — I hated it. And all subsequent nights like that. It was quite dreadful. And he told me again and again that it was my fault. I have no ability— I cannot—’ her hands went back to her face, blushing with shame.

‘If he was not dead I would kill him.’ He took her in his hands gently, and bent and kissed her neck. ‘Did he do this Jenny?’ She moaned a little and looked up. ‘Trust me, it won’t be like it was with him. You’ll be wonderful with me because we belong together. And if it never was, I would still wish to be with you. My best friend and my love.’

‘Benedict, my darling,’ she said and he bent and kissed her properly. Everything in her stirred and she shook in his arms.

‘It is settled then.’  He said looking at her in his old merry way. ‘Dickie and Jenny together at last! I would celebrate by running my fingers through your hair, my Genevieve, but I fear in that thicket I would never find them again.’

She hit him and they collapsed on to a little sofa, laughing.

‘We must go down stairs presently, or there will be a new scandal brewing.’

‘Mmmm,’ he answered, kissing her neck again.

‘I still think Felicity would have made you an excellent wife, you know,’ she said presently, emerging from his embrace.

‘I think Durant would have something to say to that,’ remarked Benedict, idly playing with her fingers.

Felicity stood smiling at Durant in a way that made his head spin, unembarrassed since she was still in the grip of her good news. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she said. ‘Not about being an heiress, you know, but by really being part of the family.’

‘It is wonderful. I am so pleased for you.’ He said. ‘Miss Oldfield, I have to say—’

‘Pray do not,’ she begged.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You are always apologising to me. And thanking me. It is becoming quite tedious, you know’ she added laughing.

‘I am no longer engaged.’ He said stiffly.

‘Oh,’ she said, suddenly realising they were alone. ‘I am so sorry to hear so.’

‘You should not be. It was in the nature of an arrangement between us. I believe it would not have worked.’

‘I see,’ said Felicity, wondering why he was confiding in her in this strange way.

‘I am now free to do what I have long wished to. Miss Oldfield, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

‘I— I— no, of course not!’ Said Felicity, angry.

‘Of course not?’ said the Viscount, insulted. ‘Is this how I am to be answered?’

‘I am so sorry to have phrased it thus. But I am not replying to an offer of marriage for anything but honour and guilt, and all those meaningless things.’ She paced around the room angrily. ‘I am so tired of all of that. You should be grateful really, she added with a laugh, ‘I answered the last such offer by laughing.’

‘You don’t understand—’ said Durant.

‘I understand that you are kind—’

‘That is not what is said of me,’ he said.

‘And honourable—’

‘I hope I am that at least, but I was not thinking of your honour when I stole you from the inn yard.’

‘You were not thinking of anything besides completing the purchase and perhaps beating Letitia.’

‘You are right. Letitia is a brat and I was not going to be trounced by her starts like my aunt often is.’

‘But I think what she almost did to herself by eloping has truly sobered her. She has felt very alone since the death of her parents, you know, and she has reacted to it by becoming selfish, and loving her consequence instead. She told me that when she saw all my dear friends gather around me to try to repair the damage her careless tongue had done, she realised for the first time that she had no such friends of her own. And that it was, perhaps, her own fault. It made her very unhappy, and then you were so angry with her and she had no one to talk to. She is really a very different person than I thought. Mr Mosely made us laugh a great deal on the journey and it helped us get to know each other a little better. She was very entertained to know the names that my friend Miss Fleet and I had ascribed to you all from our novels, she found it most amusing.’

‘She used to be a joyful child. I fear I have neglected her. Another of my faults.’

‘Perhaps, but gentlemen are not accustomed to pay attention to children,’ she said, ‘My papa was so.’ She smiled, ‘But he was most attached to me, I assure you.’

‘How could he not be?’ Felicity trembled a little. ‘What position had I in the novel of your life?’

‘Oh, wicked abductor, of course,’ she smiled.

‘Ah, that is what Mosely referred to. I suppose I deserved the name.’

‘But it was given as a joke, you understand, as it was also to dear Mr Fenton, the same title. And you cannot believe that I ever thought of him as wicked.’

‘You’ll quite ruin his reputation if you ever say so in society, he thrives on a reputation for wickedness.’

‘Oh, I never should. But you are right, I met so many gentlemen that feared Mr Fenton, and I could never quite believe it.’

‘Before his marriage to her ladyship, he had the name of a fop, and a bon-vivant. But there was always the rumours of danger around him He did not suffer fools, your Mr Fenton. But this is not what I wish to speak to you about. I doubt you could believe in the wickedness of anyone.’

She looked surprised, ‘Oh in books, certainly. There are such dastardly deeds practised on innocents—’

‘Will you cease to speak of novels, Felicity?’ he said, frustrated.

She quaked at his use of her name, but she said as calmly as she could, ‘I think you are correct about real life, though.’ He was very close now and she moved back, chattering wildly, to stop him taking back the subject, ‘I have never really met anyone truly wicked. For example, my own dear butler was very grumpy, but I discovered that he had an arthritic complaint, which he had to hide lest he was turned off, poor man,’ she said, ‘I had to arrange things a little differently in the house to make it easier for him and he soon stopped being gruff with the chambermaids.’

‘Felicity, Miss Oldfield, will you marry me?’

‘So that you can have exchanged one arranged marriage for another? I am truly sensible of the honour you do me, but you do not have to. Whatever happens in the world, I know now that my place is here. I do not need your sacrifice anymore.’

‘Bah! I do not offer you a sacrifice. I ask you because I need you, and only you, to become my wife. But if you feel nothing for me, do not marry me because you are honoured. I don’t think I could bear that.’

Felicity’s chest was heaving, and she knew if he came closer she would be undone. If a hand touching hers could have kept her awake at night, if a look from him across a crowded room could make her head spin, she could not allow him to come closer.

‘Please, sir, remain where you are,’ she ordered.

He smiled a little at her tone. ‘And why is that, Felicity?’ His voice was low, as he watched the effect on her, he knew he stirred her, and it was not fear, but some other thing.

‘I did not give you leave to call me by my name.’

‘I give you leave to call me by mine. It is Sebastian.’

‘I know, I was not sure of your others for some weeks until I met you again. You featured in my thoughts as Sebastian mostly, for that is what your cousin called you.’

‘You thought of me then, in those weeks?’

‘How could I not? You were a most magnificent personage to me. It was otherwise with you, I fear.’

‘I thought of you often, you filled my thoughts annoyingly, even when I was proposing to another woman.’

‘My lord!’

‘I drove down Hans Place in the hope of seeing you.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes, and then I saw you at that dratted ball, and I was so pleased.’

‘You did not look pleased.’

‘Concerned, then.’ He admitted. ‘But I had wished to see you. Why, I could not explain to myself. After our meeting in this room, I knew.’

‘Yes?’ Her heart could have leapt from her chest, yet her voice was small.

‘You are the opposite of me in every way. My dear friend Anne told me it would take more than her good humour to change my crusty disposition. And she was right. It would take a beautiful young girl who knows how to turn a complete household into her devoted slaves, who seems to lack the ability to judge others harshly, who spreads joy like the roses I want to spread beneath her feet. Do you think now that I want an arranged marriage? But what of you? I will hold my tongue if it is not the same for you.’

Felicity looked down. ‘My friends Vivien and Althea were always remarking that I never seemed to like any of the gentlemen who danced with me more than another. Althea said it was not possible. But I had already met the handsomest man, the man who made me smile. All the others seemed painted in lesser colours.’ She looked up at him. ‘I tried hard not to dream of you.’

‘Felicity!’ She was in his arms in a trice, both of them making up the gap. He kissed her passionately. ‘You are perfection.  I never thought to find a woman as beautiful or as good as you. I do not deserve you,’ he said between kisses.

The door opened, and in walked Benedict, Genevieve and Mr and Mrs Fenton.

‘Still at it, Durant? You made a meal of a simple proposal.’

‘Felicity!’ Felicity ran to Lady Aurora. ‘You shall not be married until next year. I shall have that time with you!’ she said smiling and holding her close.

‘Congratulations, my lord!’ said Mr Fenton. And more quietly, in Durant’s ear. ‘And if I see her once cry, you shall answer to me.’

Durant nodded and they exchanged an amused look.

‘Genevieve! I am to be married after all! And I did not use even one of Althea’s hints to bring him to the point.’

‘I am so pleased, Felicity. You will make a fine viscountess. Whereas I have never been suited to the role of peeress. So I too will change my position in life, to become plain Mrs Fenton.’

Felicity looked from one to the other. ‘Is it really true? I knew you were dear friends, but…’

‘The dearest,’ said Benedict with such joy in his face that Felicity remained in no doubt.

‘Well,’ said Lady Aurora, ‘I hope dinner is very fine tonight for we have much to celebrate.’

‘Oh, but if the beef you ordered is a little overdone, Lady Aurora, you must not mind,’ said Felicity in a confiding voice, ‘I was speaking to Hervé yesterday and he awaits news from Tours of the illness of his maman.’ All six marched towards the dining room in pairs, and in a jaunty spirit.

‘I do not know how you find out these things, Felicity,’ said Benedict amazed. ‘My wife will not have that talent. She doesn’t give corn plasters to the chamber maid, as I found you doing once, my dear. If you are not a horse, she isn’t interested.’

‘Very true,’ said Genevieve, placidly.

‘Maman or no, if the beef is spoilt he may look for a new master, if he were my chef,’ said Durant.

‘Oh, Sebastian, you cannot mean so,’ said Felicity, stopping dead.

Durant smiled down at her, ‘The only way you could stop it is by becoming my wife quickly. On household matters I will naturally defer to my viscountess.’

Felicity skipped to keep up with the party, while Mr Fenton said, over his shoulder, ‘Good try, my lord, but you will never prise your treasure from these walls until my wife has planned the most lavish of all weddings. And it may take some time.’

‘Why dear Mr Fenton, it seems you too, want me to stay a while,’ said Felicity teasingly.

‘How else are we to comfort Hervé, at the inevitable death of his maman?’ drawled Mr Fenton, with his customary suavity.

‘Let us hope the beef is delicious. There has never been such a delightful day, and we need to celebrate,’ said Lady Aurora. ‘I thought I needed to lie down from exhaustion, but I now I think I could eat a horse.’

In a few minutes, Mr Fenton stood to make a toast. ‘To the various matches and marriages that have been arranged this day, I cannot well remember between who,’ his lady laughed and smiled at him, while Benedict banged on the table and jeered, ‘to Felicity’s return, and to the end of her dashed Damaged Reputation.’

Lord Oswald Sumner, come into kiss his mama goodnight before his nurse put him down, added his offering to the cheers. ‘Durdle-durdle-durdle-de!’

Epilogue

That night, much too happy to sleep, Felicity wrote a letter.

Dearest Miss Fleet,

I write this from home once more, for though I indeed left for a post in Brighton, which I feared to upset you by telling you about, I have had a more thrilling day than any of our favourite novels. I wish to tell you all in person, so please be at the park after breakfast. However, I must tell you just enough to think about tonight.

First, I have saved the black-hearted lady from a terrible fate, and found out that she is not black-hearted at all. Second, the coachman who delivers me tomorrow will be— my intended husband!

I know dear Beatty will see this letter into your hand tonight, for I shall tell the footman to say it is from me.

There are wonderful surprises ahead for you, too, my dearest Miss Fleet. You cannot imagine!

I have told you enough to keep you up a little, and as I will be too.

Until tomorrow, my dear friend,

Felicity

Author’s Note

Dear Readers,

I have really enjoyed writing Felicity, though it took me a lot longer than my previous three full-length Regency Romances. I had my model for Lord Oswald Sumner in little Dann Mercier, with whose family I spent a magical summer.

It would be quite comme il faut,  or très gentil of you to LEAVE AN HONEST REVIEW ON AMAZON☺  I will love you very much, probably for ever…

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Here is a chapter of my last book, Delphine and the Dangerous Arrangement to tempt you:

Considering that the house had received no visitors for some years, excepting the occasional visits by old Mr Rigby-Blythe, and considering that she had just become an orphan, Delphine Delacroix’s house seemed remarkably full of relatives. Especially aunts. There were probably a similar number of uncles, but as they gathered around sipping wine and indulging in desultory conversation, the worst she could say of them is that they blocked any heat from the cavernous fireplace. The aunts, on the other hand, gathered around one like gnats, even entering her bedchamber and pulling and picking at her dress and hair, buzzing with words that overlapped each other so much that she barely understood them. They were her mother’s sisters, which did not recommend them to Delphine, but as unlike her in appearance as they were each other. Her mother had brown hair, one aunt was fair beneath the turban, another dark and definite. The third was plump, unlike the others, and her hair was russet as an autumn day.

The throng followed her downstairs, surrounding her, and flew around her whilst she entered the drawing room which contained sundry male relatives that she had been briefly introduced to, as well as a number of unknown neighbours that the aunts had seen fit to invite to the funeral. These last could be seen to have wandering eyes, taking in the rooms and the appointments of furniture of the biggest house in the vicinity, about which their curiosity had been denied so long. She too, they had taken in hungrily - the young lady they had been permitted to bow to, never approach, as she sat stiffly upright in the carriage whilst her mother entered one of the village draper shops.

She was twenty-two years old and alone in the world, despite the chattering hoard that she had only just met. Mr Rigby-Blythe was her only acquaintance, and she met his ancient eye as she entered. She suspected he was to blame for the swarm. He was wearing the same rusty black suit as he always wore, and was so similarly ruined and rusty in his person that he always gave alarm, lest he gave his last breath under one’s anticipatory eye. Only his watery eyes gave any sign of life. They glittered at her as they had in those few minutes that she had been allowed to sit with him - before his lawyerly business with her mama.

There was to be a will reading, of course. Delacroix House was a large manor that had been raised in old Queen Anne’s day and her mother had been proud of it. Its many features had been spelt out to her, as had the life story of the great-great grandfather who had built it. She was aware that she came from a long illustrious line, whose closeness to monarchs had resulted in being granted many favours, including a Baronetcy that was now lost for lack of a male heir. It was a knife in her father’s heart, her mother had frequently informed her, that she had been born female, so much so that he had not been able to look at her. His death three years after she had been born had made this less of a blow than it may have been. She did not remember him. But the frequency of her mother’s reminder let her know that the knife had also penetrated the second parental heart. But then, so much that she had done in her young life had wounded her mother. ‘You will oblige me, Delphine, by …’ Refraining from slouching. Modulating your tone. Foregoing to run. Keeping your opinions to yourself. Eating what has been provided for you. Straightening your dress. Avoiding speaking to the servants. Wearing what I set for you. Reading what I choose for you. Never entering my chamber.

She was wearing a dress her mama had had made for her for this very day, once she knew that consumption was hastening her demise. It was of the finest black silk brocade, over an under-dress of heavy black satin. The whole thing had about twice as much skirt as any lady’s present, they wearing the finest muslin or silk, caught under the bust, with skirts that draped to show the body. Aunt Eloise, in particular, though a woman of fifty-five, wore a dress that was so diaphanous as to be shocking. On her fair head was a silken turban and a plume (dyed black, of course) and though she had fretted at Delphine’s dress, Delphine considered her deranged. Her own gown must have cost a great deal more than her aunt’s feather-weight affair. And that lady must be pierced with cold in these ancient, but draughty, halls.

Delphine made her stately way around the room, nodding to the village people, which was more condescension than she would have been allowed to show in her mother’s presence. A poor little scrap of a woman in a fluttery grey dress moved forward and put out her hand saying, ‘Oh my dear, how very sorry-’

Delphine stopped and looked at the hand. She had no notion what to do with it, no one had had the temerity to offer her such intimacy in her life.  One of the aunts, plump good natured Aunt Sybilla, said, ‘Oh, Miss Beauford, so kind of you to have come,’ and shook the poor lady’s hand lightly.

Miss Beauford’s eyes looked into Delphine’s with an expression she had never seen before, but that she feared maybe pity, and then smiled faintly and fluttered away.

That such a woman should pity her held Delphine stiff with humiliation. But she was moved to say to her aunt, ‘Beauford … but that is Mama’s own name?’

‘Of course my dear, Beauford is my late Papa’s name. We were all Miss Beaufords. Phoebe Beauford is, I believe, a second or third cousin of yours. Surely you were made aware when your mother introduced you?’

‘I have never been introduced to her before.’

Aunt Sybilla stared. ‘But she is a relative. She lives in the village.’ Delphine said nothing. ‘Perhaps your mama feared that she and her sister would batten onto their more prosperous relatives.’ She looked again at Delphine’s face. ‘But it is very strange of Emilia not to apprise you of-’

Her aunt led the way forward to another group of villagers, none of whom repeated the attempt at intimacy, but contented themselves with slight bows (the gentlemen) or curtsies (the ladies) which Delphine reprised, even more slightly.

***

Lady Marguerite Pelleter, the most brisk of the aunts, with thick dark brows as decided as her character, and a chanteuse dress draped à la Diane, was regarding Delphine from a distance. ‘She holds herself very high. She’s as cold as Emilia.’

‘I think, don’t you, that we should give her a chance,’ said Lady Eloise Carswell, she of the shocking gown, but with large blue eyes that expressed her caring nature, ‘She has had only one pattern-card for behaviour and I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but Emilia was-’

‘Yes. We all must do what we can for her. But if she really is of Emilia’s nature-’

‘Quite!’

***

After the guests had left and the will had been read, there had been the chattering dinner to be endured before Delphine had been released to her bedchamber. She was in shock. As well as the trial of the whole day, exposed to more society than in her whole life preceding, she had just found out that she was very wealthy indeed.

She had previously considered that her mother’s choice of restricted society and travel stemmed from a similarly restricted income. They ate frugally and had a fire in very few of the rooms. Their clothes were the only luxury mama had permitted - this Delphine had thought of as display of consequence for the village and the servants - with all the other economies practised to support the display. So much she had worked out. But it was quite untrue. The Delacroix estate was the largest and wealthiest in the county. Her late father had owned other properties throughout England, some let to wealthy families, including a whole London Square. There were bonds and investments of many kinds, and apparently she could ransom a king.

Her maid Susan, over forty with a face of frozen biliousness, had that night removed her mistress’s clothes silently, but permitted herself a few acid words before she left the bedchamber.

‘Your wealth will attract only the sewer rats of London to your side - Lady Delacroix said as much to me before her death.’ The bitter lines around her mouth tightened before she turned to go. She had been her mother’s devoted slave - and spy.

Delphine seldom exchanged words with this attendant of all her young days. ‘You need not worry about London, Susan.’

‘You do not go, then?’ said that upright dame, surprised - and pleased, the girl thought.

‘Oh yes,’ said Delphine, ‘at the beginning of the season. But you will not accompany me.’

Susan blinked, then left her with a look that could turn milk.

Wealth, had thought Delphine, was already having some benefits.

***

'The richest?'

'Oozing'

'How wonderfully vulgar you are, Hildegard. How came town to be ignorant of this? If we cannot trust the wag tongues, what use have they?'

'Lived with her mother in the country. Religious women.'

'As are we all. Young, then?'

'Practically past her prime. Twenty-two, I believe.’

'Youth gone and the bloom left her cheek.  But life teaches us that there are always trials to be borne.'

'Old Midas says she is richer even than him.'

'Then I suppose we must forgive her the face.'

'Her face?'

'The face that prevented the rich mama from presenting her to the town.'

'Foggy saw her. No disfigurement that he could see. Just dresses in an old out-dated manner - oddly, he said.'

'Well, Foggy himself dresses oddly so we'll give little credence to that... I do hope it doesn't start a new fashion.  Just when society has settled to a dream of classicism - it would be bad manners for a rich young debutante to attempt a coup. I should have to cut my hair. But a wondrously rich orphan with no obvious disfigurement. It’s a rare, unprotected, prize.'

'As to that, there are a number of maternal aunts.'

Gascoigne sighed. 'It is ever thus. Who?'

'Well, Lady Carswell, Foggy’s mother, of course, Mrs Lynfield, and Lady Mags Pelleter.'

'Good God! As well take on the Duke.'

‘Wellington might be preferable to Lady Mags. Well, anyway, I believe I will try my luck at the Castlereigh's ball where it is rumoured she will make her first appearance!'

'So, I suppose, must I. The hounds are even now baying at my door. How desperately dull. Should I wear a wig, do you think, to curry favour?'

'Yes. It sounds odd - hair a mile high like portraits of one's grandmamma, Foggy says.’

***

Delphine Delacroix was sitting on her Aunt Sybilla's pale gold covered settee which matched another three such (plus several chairs) in her aunt's commodious morning room in Russell Square. Mrs Sybilla Lynfield was the richest of her sisters, having failed, happily, to catch a poor aristocrat like the others. Mr Lynfield was handsome, rich and kind, delighting in his plump and amusing little woman. Fifty now, her French embroidered muslin dress was in a rich green colour that cleverly complimented the red in her hair. This was styled in the latest (and daring) short crop, enhanced today by a broad green silk band.

Her niece was wearing a heavily corseted blue brocade dress, which may make some suitable upholstery for any number of chairs, and her brown hair (despite the strict instructions given by her hostess to her lady's maid) was piled on her head precariously in coils and rolls (no doubt some of them false) with an ornate pleated ribbon arrangement threaded though. One ringlet hung over her shoulder to finish it. It was surprising that she did not also wear powder and patch. She sat perfectly straight in her chair and did not move. Her face had regular features, was triangular in shape; her large turquoise eyes could have offered it distinction, but as their expression was as closed off and cold as her mother's, they failed to do so.

Here sat the richest unmarried girl in England, thought Mrs Lynfield, and much good has it done her.

It had been thought by the three aunts that Sybilla, not having a daughter to bring out, would be the person best suited to take Delphine in charge after the strict period of mourning had passed. They had all determined to rescue her from Delacroix House, where she had lived as a bird in a gilded cage all her life, speaking only to her mother and to servants, allowed no visitors. Mrs Lynfield herself had, five years ago, written to her sister offering to bring the girl out - but she had received no reply. 

Mrs Sybilla Lynfield had been chosen to house the girl, since it was obvious that her sisters' as yet unmarried daughters (Christiana Carswell and Lady Roberta Pelleter, both thankfully pretty) would get stampeded underfoot in the attempt to get near Miss Delacroix's fortune. Mrs Lynfield, with only a son away at sea, had happily agreed.

Mr Lynfield (with a change from his usual suave tone) had, last evening, grasped Delphine’s shoulders, which caused her to stiffen, and said, ‘you are very welcome here, my dear girl.’ He’d leaned forward and kissed the girl’s cheek, which had caused her eyes to enlarge in shock, as though she had been struck.

When Lord Peregrine (Pinky to his friends), also there with the family to welcome her, had tried his inarticulate best to express his feelings on the occasion, she had almost jumped. Mind you, the big,               , face of his lordship coming towards one was a trial, but he meant well. As different as could be to Mr Lynfield’s debonair person, he was bluff and a little overweight and heavily dependent on his charming wife. Eloise, the kindest of the sisters, had become engaged to the tortured young man in her first season precisely because he was always strangled with embarrassment when asked to speak to young ladies. Her compassionate heart had sought to make him more comfortable, and eventually he proposed, with Eloise filling in a great many blanks in his declaration with imagination, and she had consented. Lord Carswell, last evening, had made do with patting his niece’s arm, which had caused the girl to look at him as if he were an escaped lunatic. Which was unfair, thought Sybilla, he was only an idiot.

It had seemed that all that would be needed to launch her niece on the world was to take her to the best dressmaker in town and update her antiquated (if expensive) wardrobe, have her hair done, and steer her past the shoals of fortune hunters towards some worthy match.

But her niece had proved more difficult than she had imagined. To all her expositions of the latest modern fashions she had asked 'Must I?' and when her aunt had said peevishly that she thought it would be a treat for her, said firmly, ‘It is not.’

‘Well, it would be a treat for me!’ said her exasperated aunt. ‘You really cannot be seen in London looking such a fright.’

There was a flicker in Delphine’s eye at this, and her soft-hearted aunt was stricken with guilt. ‘I did not mean you, but only your clothes.’

‘My mama had this fabric imported from Italy at great expense, and had it made in the village by a seamstress who once worked in the finest London establishments.’ She heard her aunt mutter, ‘Thirty years ago!’ but ignored it. ‘I must suppose that the cost of my gown is vastly superior to yours.’

‘Very likely,’ said Sybilla Lynfield, acidly, ‘and if you were a cushion, or a dining chair, or some such thing, I would consider you very elegantly appointed. But as you are a young lady making her debut in the polite world, you will wear something fitting.’

The two sets of eyes met each other and Delphine’s cool turquoise ones were rather surprised at the fire in her erstwhile kind aunt’s. The eyes held for perhaps a minute, then Delphine rose calmly. ‘I shall consider the matter,’ she said regally and moved from the room.

Her aunt sat with a phoph! on a well upholstered chair and looked at the tall, ancient figure of her butler, who allowed himself to meet her eye briefly. ‘I do not know what to do with that girl, Fiennes!’ she confided, beyond convention.

‘A great deal of spirit,’ the butler muttered, with a cough.

‘Is that what it is called? More like Emilia’s-’ she said referencing her dead sister, but she recalled herself. Fiennes knew all her sisters, having worked for her father before her, but it was unbecoming to discuss such things with him. Their eyes met and she did not have to finish with “stubbornness” for him to understand it.

***

Mr Rigby-Blythe had the veiled young lady ushered into his office, reflecting that the discretion of the veils was quite redundant since the dress of the last age (this time a voluminous cloak of purple velvet over such a profusion of lavender silk as would fashion evening gowns for three young ladies of today) made it quite unnecessary to await the lifting of the veil, to say:

‘Miss Delacroix, a pleasure.’

‘Mr Rigby-Blythe. We may converse at last.’

Seeing her to the seat beside his large mahogany desk, his eyes twinkled.

‘Our stolen conversations at Delacroix House seemed almost clandestine, had I not been an old man.’

Delphine smiled, the first he had seen from her, ‘I believe if you had offered for me sir, I may have run away with you.’

‘Alas that I had not a steed with the stamina to speed us to Gretna Green!’ he smiled.

‘No, I believe your Trusty might have failed us before Speltham.’ She said, a trifle sadly, mentioning the town twenty miles distance from her home.

‘Well, we must not repine for what might have been, my dear girl. What may I do for you? Your uncle Lynfield has said to me quite clearly that I must deal with him in all matters relating to you.’

Delphine frowned. ‘And you replied?’

‘I did the lawyerly thing my dear, and smiled. If Mr Lynfield chose to conclude that I agreed, he was quite free to do so.’

‘I knew, sir, that to further my acquaintance with you would be a joy for me. Now that we are at our leisure to talk, let me enjoy it - might I have some tea?’

With a large gesture of acquiescence, Mr Rigby-Blythe rang a bell.

Over tea Delphine learnt a great many things about her fortune. It would become hers fully when she was twenty-five, although the assumption was that she would have a husband to manage it before then. Her maternal uncle, Mr St John Beauford, now living in Paris, was the executor, with the practical aid, in London, of Mr Rigby-Blythe. All accounts would be sent to Mr Beauford - but he had already resolved on a princely sum as her quarterly pin money. He would be resistant, as any gentleman would, to his niece’s interest in the financial matters regarding her estate, for women’s brains were not formed to deal with such things.

‘I may have other expenses over and above the clothes that my aunts wish to foist on me. Might I draw on you?’

Mr Rigby-Blythe’s merry, rheumy old eyes looked into hers, ‘I suspect,’ he said, ‘that you will be a very fashionable and expensive young lady.’

‘I do not think so.’

‘If there are a plethora of expenses,’ he suggested sagely, ‘some more than might be considered usual, who knows what bills might be lost among?’

‘So I must embrace the dress maker?’

‘Oh, I thinks so. And the manteaux-maker and the milliner. And you may wish to set up your stable, perhaps. A number of fashionable young ladies have horses and carriages of the latest design, to tool around the park and be remarked upon.’

‘I do not wish to be remarked upon,’ said Delphine flatly.

Mr Rigby-Blythe sipped his tea. ‘Then you had better not wear the clothes your mother had made for you. They may be finely wrought, but they are so outmoded as to make you a figure of fun.’

Delphine had already been pointed out by people on the street enough to know this to be true. Her resistance to her aunt’s entreaties burst like a bubble. She had refused merely to escape another version of her mother’s control. But when her true ally told her the same thing, she gave in. At least this way she would no longer be an oddity. ‘And the horses?’ she enquired.

‘Are the sort of expense that your uncle St John would not take issue with. He wishes you to make your mark upon the world so that you may gain a husband and relieve him of the burden of your financial empire. It is rather more than he bargained for at his time of life.’

‘Shall you tutor me in the business of my holdings?’

His eyes considered. ‘It is perhaps a little tedious work for a young lady, but if you wish it, I will.’ He sighed, ‘My dear girl, if I might be permitted to call you so, it will do you little good. Your wealth will be dealt with by your husband, whose name we will find out by the end of the season, I have no doubt.’

As if she had not heard him, she said coolly, ‘My aunt visits with her sisters on a Thursday afternoon, saving more pressing invitations. They like to speak of me, so it will be quite convenient for me to come to your office on these days, on the pretext of attending the lending library.’

‘I should not have guessed that subterfuge would come so easily to you, my dear.’

‘I did not previously have the scope.’ She saw Mr Rigby-Blythe’s eyes water a trifle more than their rheumy best even as he smiled at her jest, and added gently, ‘My aunts are a great deal kinder than my mother, sir, in their individual ways. But I fear finding myself in a trap worse than I have lived. Marriage is their answer to all, but I think them all too silly to be trusted with my future.’

‘I would I could advise you, my dear, but the polite world is not my area of expertise. I have a few clients, I hear gossip, but I doubt it enough to avoid a possible mésalliance.’

‘Ah! You do understand. I always believed that you would. Though we exchanged so few words, I saw a wealth of understanding in your eyes.’

‘And I in yours. Your mother was a challenging woman. I cannot imagine the life you lived there.’

Delphine’s eyes became a little cold. ‘She did not like me, but she could never let me become attached to another person. More than one servant was cast off simply for showing me a morsel of affection, including my old nurse. I should like you to find her, sir, and to make sure she was adequately pensioned.’

The lawyer took up his quill and asked some questions, writing down his client’s scant knowledge. ‘I shall set enquiries in motion at once, it may be that her direction is in some old papers of your mother’s that I have not yet perused.’

‘Before I left, I visited with Miss Beauford, a cousin of some distance, I understand. She was most thankful that her late sister and she were permitted to live in the cottage by my so-generous parent. Aunt Eloise took me on a polite visit before we left Delacroix, and I could see that even she was shocked. The running water on the wall, the leaking roof and this sweet creature with her mother’s china and her clean white linen. How could my mother allow it? No wonder she did not take me to visit my only relative in the village. I wish that her cottage be repaired as quickly as possible.’

‘I believe that I have the authority to keep Delacroix house and all its properties in good order, without recourse to your uncle. It shall be done,’ he paused, ‘Might I propose something to you, Miss Delacroix?’

She nodded graciously, still sitting stiffly on her chair.

‘While the work is done on the cottage, might you not invite Miss Beauford to London as your companion? With her accompanying you, I feel your aunts might grant you more freedom in London with little fear.’

‘It is a good notion, but much as I pitied her, sir, I must say that Miss Beauford was even sillier than my aunts.’

Mr Rigby-Blythe laughed at her from beneath his caterpillar brows, ‘your honesty is refreshing, my dear girl. But I have known Phoebe Beauford since she was young and though not exactly sharp in her wits, I know her to be two things you might need in a companion. Both loyal - and biddable.’

She gave a laugh, a delightful and unusual sound to emanate from this young lady ‘You persuade me, sir. Once I have permission from my Aunt Sybilla to invite her, I shall write to her tonight.’ Delphine rose and her lawyer joined her, she buttoned her kid gloves and said, ‘Goodbye sir. I look forward to our next meeting.’

Mr Rigby-Blythe shook his head and chuckled when his client had gone. Long had he wished to help her because the beautiful hermitage she had lived in, with her ice-cold mama, had been no life for a young girl. She was allowed in the garden and the village, but the latter only with her mama. He believed she was used for show, finely kitted out like the daughter of the great house - the daughter of a mother whose self-interest was of an order close to madness. They had exchanged some words and many looks over the years, and he had espied beneath her upright bearing a humorous eye and a desperate spirit. But her sense of purpose and determination amused him. He hoped it would not be sold to the first charming smile, the first caressing words that she heard. Yet, after a life such as she had had, how could she fail to be moved by any affection? Hold fast, young mistress, against the suave tongues and dastardly hearts of the Beau Monde.

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