Miss Felicity's Dilemma

by Eileen Dreyer

  She should have told him right away. After all, this was treason they were dealing with. Lives were at risk. Very important lives. But Felicity decided that since Flint failed to present himself at dinner, she had the right to escape his aunt’s rambling complaints afterwards to hole up in her room with her music.

  Specifically, the music sheets she thought she had accidentally included from one of her students. When she had realized what it was Bucky was so desperate to retrieve, she’d thrown on her clean dress and run right down to the music room, where her sheet music sat in the hinged bench. Mozart and Bach and Purcell and...Bucky.

  She should have taken a closer look at the piece before, she thought, pulling it out of the pile. She would have noticed the almost Gregorian chantlike repetition of notes which, when played, made no melodic sense. She would have remembered that it was sheet music Bucky had pushed into her hand that last day and asked her to take down to the music room to get her away from Eddie Lassiter. Evidently when the staff had piled all her belongings together to get her out of the house the next day, they had not separated out her music from anyone else’s.

  The piece was no more than two pages written in the key of B, beginning with the line:

  d d d c f f f ▪ f f g f f e▐ a a a f f f g b b a a a▐

  b b b a d d d e e e a a a g g

  She had to assume this was the list Bucky had wanted. Words, she thought. Places? Names? Dates? She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, a habit she’d developed when working out mathematical problems. She wished her friends Fiona and Mairead Ferguson were here. They would have known how to go about this in a minute. But then, the two of them were geniuses. Even in school they had corresponded with some of the greatest mathematical and astronomical names in the kingdom. In Europe, for that matter. They used to construct their own personal codes and challenge their fellow students to solve them. Then they had all communicated that way to avoid discovery by their headmistress, the dreaded Miss Chase. Felicity had been one of their most enthusiastic students.

  Patterns, they’d said. Always look for patterns. The pattern she saw here was repeated notes, with half rests separating some, whole rests others. Different words? Different letters? The whole rest separated the word, she thought. The half rest might have divided multiples of the same notes into separate letters.

  She nodded to herself. Suddenly feeling a little less lost, she pulled a sheet of foolscap from the little red lacquer escritoire that sat beneath her window. Finally, something that felt familiar.

  If the notes stood for letters, there couldn’t be a one-to-one substitution. There simply weren’t enough letters in music. Only A to G. Which meant the rest would have to simply be a repetition of the first seven.

  She laid out a grid.

  A B C D E F G

  H I J K L M N

  O P Q R S T U

  V X Y Z

  * * *

  If she was right, then the translation would be as easy as using that top line in repetition to identify other letters. O would be AAA. N would be GG. Working off her grid, she worked through the first page, separating the letters into words according to the rests.

  As she suspected, it wasn’t enough. She sat back and considered. Her repeated letters, which should have translated into something recognizable, didn’t.

  dddcfff▪ffgfff became RQTMUT

  ddddg▪ gaagg became ZUUHGG

  Hmm, she thought, considering her patterns. What was it Bucky had said? He needed the list. And he needed the locket.

  The locket.

  Suddenly she was grinning. Of course. Every code needed a key, and he’d been looking for it. And if the locket meant anything, the key was G. As in the musical key of G.

  But how did it fit? The key signature of the music was in B, but all transposing it to G would do would be to remove two sharps. It wouldn’t change the letters.

  B. G.

  B, C, D, E, F, G. Five steps. Could it be that simple? Just transpose the letters up five steps?

  She shook her head. Bless poor Bucky. He was a good musician. He was a far less proficient code maker. She bent back to her work with a will. But instead of translating the notes as she had, she raised the notes by five. An A became an F. B became G. She transposed again.

  Nothing.

  It should have fit. The key was G. It had to be. She sat for a moment and looked at her grid. Then she laid her letters out on a treble clef, as if teaching music. That was when she saw that she had another option. G was five steps above B. It was also two steps below B. Two steps down.

  And there it was.

  dddcfff▪ffgfff became PARKER.

  ddddg▪ gaagg became WEEMS.

  She smiled to herself, a hunter spotting the prey peeking through the brush. And for a moment, she was back in school, trying to smother her giggles so the headmistress wouldn’t know what she and the other girls were up after lights out in order to outwit the staff.

  By the time she finished, the hour was late. She thought of sneaking down to Flint’s room to share her results, but decided against it. They were safe in this lovely old house for the moment. And for just a few more hours, she would like to pretend that the last name she had translated had not been Lassiter. That Mary would grow up in peace and safety.

  Looking down at the fourteen names she had translated, some of which belonged to girls she had shared classrooms with, she considered that just perhaps it was a good thing she had no name but the one she had created for herself. She wouldn’t have to face a betrayal from her own family.

  Tucking her papers under her pillow, she changed into her threadbare old cotton night rail and blew out the candles. She was exhausted and knew she would have to rise in just a few hours, but she still found sleep long in coming. She couldn’t stop thinking of the reception she would get from Flint when she showed him her work.

  Much to Felicity’s chagrin, she overslept. The first she knew, Sukie was throwing back the curtains, and the delicious aroma of chocolate tickled her nose. She was in the process of stretching when she realized that the sunlight was far too bright.

  “Oh, no.” Throwing back the covers, she scrambled out of bed. “What time is it, Sukie?”

  “Going on ten, ma’am. You didn’t ask me to wake you at a specific time, and you seemed to be sleepin’ so sound.”

  Quickly finishing her ablutions, Felicity picked up the dress Sukie had laid out for her. “Is Lord Flint up and about?”

  Sukie rolled her eyes. “Oh, laws, yes, Miss. He be closeted in with the duke hisself, what came down first thing.”

  Felicity stopped, her dress still up around her ears. “The duke?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss. I believe they’re havin’ words about the girls come through here.”

  Felicity went back into motion. “I imagine they are.”

  For just a moment she contemplated the thought that today might be the day she formally accepted Flint. Not because her feelings for him had changed. Because her feelings for herself had. Until this moment, she could have named nothing of value she would be bringing to her marriage. Oh, she could organize a household, but Flint didn’t seem all that consumed by a domestic agenda. She could play and teach music, but so could any girl in his circle.

  But now she could bring a skill those girls did not possess—well, unless they went to boarding school with the Ferguson twins, anyway. She could break codes. Surely that would be an aid to a man helping the government uncover plots. After all, she already had information for him. Information he couldn’t have obtained without her.

  By the time Sukie had pinned her mistress’s hair into a simple knot, Felicity was humming. She actually felt a bit breathless, skittery.

  Excitement. She couldn’t remember ever flirting with such an emotion. Anticipation. Just a wee bit of fear. After all, this could change everything.

  Oh, lord, she thought, pressing a hand to her suddenly unsettled stomach. I’m to be married. Who would ever have thought?

  “There you g
o, Miss. You look a right treat, you ask me.”

  Felicity bounded to her feet and gave her maid a hug. “Thank you, Sukie. You’re a wonder.”

  The girl blushed. “Aw, now, don’t go bein’ silly.”

  Felicity laughed and trotted over to retrieve her annotated sheet music and notes from beneath the pillow. A bit crinkled now, but still perfectly clear. Still a list of prominent British families who might just possibly be traitors, including poor Bucky.

  All right, perhaps she felt a bit more fear. After all, whoever ‘they’ were, they knew she had this. They had to know she would share it if she realized what she had. Thank heavens she was about to marry into a very prominent family.

  “Miss,” Sukie interrupted her, hand out. “You might want this. There’s a chill in the air.”

  Felicity caught hold of her brown knitted shawl and swept out the door.

  Felicity saw Higgins closing the door of the Green Salon as she reached the bottom of the staircase. When he caught sight of her he approached, his posture so stiff she thought he might crack, his attire flawless, his sparse hair slicked down without a strand displaced. Higgins was usually quite tidy. This was excessive.

  “The duke is here, is he?” she asked with a smile.

  He did not smile back. “He is indeed, Miss. Lord Flint is speaking with him in the library.”

  “About our house guests?”

  He cast a quick look around, as if afraid the duke would sneak up on him. “One would assume. Would you like some breakfast? I can have Cook send something up.”

  “Thank you no, Higgins. I am far too restless. I shall be quite well.”

  Oddly enough, this seemed to stiffen the butler even more. He cast a look over his shoulder and took a breath, as if coming to some decision. “In that case, Miss, may I suggest you wait in the Green Parlor next door to the library. I will let Lord Flint know you wait.”

  If she hadn’t thought Higgins would perish of mortification, Felicity would have kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I shall do exactly that. We haven’t heard from Mr. Reed, I presume?”

  Higgins frowned. “You’re certain about that, Miss? I cannot imagine Mr. Reed causing harm. Why he was just here last week.”

  Felicity nodded. “I’m afraid so. The warning was quite clear.”

  And his name was on the list.

  He sighed. “Well, nothing is out of the ordinary here.”

  “Except for the duke.”

  He gave her a solemn nod. “Except for the duke.”

  She would have preferred to wander the garden where she could have turned her face up to the sun and basked like a cat. But after Bucky’s warning the night before, she didn’t feel quite so capricious. The Green Parlor would do quite well with its emerald silk-papered walls and comfortable cream-colored settees. She should have brought a book, of course, especially since the library was currently occupied. Sitting and waiting were not her best talents.

  It turned out, though, she neither sat nor waited. The minute she entered the salon she heard voices. She looked around, but she was the only one in the room. Then she saw that the door into the next room was cracked ever so slightly.

  She turned back to check with Higgins, but the butler had silently closed the parlor door behind her. The scapegrace, she thought with a grin. He had been eavesdropping on his master’s conversation with the duke.

  She knew she shouldn’t sink so low. She swore she could withstand temptation and take herself to the other side of the room. She would quietly sit and go over the music crumpled in her hands, the list she’d pulled from the notes.

  Wrapping the shawl tightly around her shoulders, she quietly stepped across the pink and green Aubusson carpet toward the settee. Now that she had made her mind up that marriage to Flint would benefit both of them, she wanted to get the resolution over with. She wanted him to know. She wanted to see how he received her decision.

  She wanted to see his eyes light when he realized what she offered. Clutching the sheets more closely, she smoothed her skirt as she prepared to sit and wait.

  “You’re certain she isn’t pulling the wool over?”

  Felicity heard the clipped baritone voice and stopped. The duke. It must be. His tones were even plummier than his son’s, and his voice rang with command. Felicity literally held her breath.

  “I am,” Flint answered easily.

  “Even though she was carrying the fob.”

  That stopped even her breathing. Felicity froze, the sheet music crinkling in her suddenly clenched hands.

  “I believe her story,” Flint answered.

  “The search of her things turned up nothing?”

  “Nothing more than the possessions of an impecunious music teacher, just as she said.”

  “And you used your considerable talents on her to make absolutely sure.”

  There was a long pause. Felicity didn’t breathe.

  “Of course, I did.”

  She felt as if she’d been kicked.

  There was a rather indelicate snort. “Well, your…skills have never failed you before. I admit I hoped she was as guilty as the rest of them. It would have made it easier all round.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  “It would have saved us time.”

  “Those women you’ve been foisting on my household weren’t any help?”

  “They were, actually. Housemaids, mostly, recruited by Diccan Hilliard. But they didn’t have the same access of Miss…Chambers? Is that what she calls herself?”

  “Yes. Why? Do you know something she doesn’t?”

  “I know quite a few somethings most people don’t. The pertinent fact, though, is that we can send her back to that school of hers.”

  There was a small pause. “I’m to break it to her gently?”

  “Well, don’t tell her that you never meant to marry her. Just tell her that I changed my mind.”

  Never? He had never meant to marry her? Felicity thought she might vomit right onto the carpet.

  “And I get the house,” she heard him say.

  “I made a promise, did I not?”

  Felicity stood there in the shadows just beyond the door feeling sicker by the minute. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. She looked down at the freehand score she held, the tune embedded in her brain where she knew it would remain until she forgot her own name.

  It would be so easy to threaten them with it. Hold it hostage until they set her up someplace she could be comfortable. And alone. It sounded good, suddenly, living by herself somewhere she couldn't again be so bitterly disappointed.

  Sadly, she had too many scruples. And Flint was right. She was a dreadful liar. There was only one thing to do.

  She didn't even bother to knock. She just pulled the door all the way open and walked in, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor. Still gleaming, she thought absently as she crossed the room. It was better to think about than the sick realization in Flint's eyes as he jumped to his feet.

  “It would have been much easier just to ask,” she said, keeping a dreadful control over her voice as she lifted her gaze to his. “But I imagine the games are more fun.”

  “Felicity...”

  At least his voice sounded strained. A better actor than she, obviously. She didn't give him a chance to continue. Deliberately turning from him, she faced the duke, who didn't even bother to look chagrined. “I had heard you like to play with people's lives. Be careful one of them doesn't play back.”

  The duke sat behind Flint’s desk, a silver-haired near twin to his son.

  Well, Felicity thought inconsequentially, at least Flint had never had to question his parentage.

  The duke rose slowly to his feet. His brow gathered. “You had better not be threatening me, young lady. The fate of the nation is at risk.”

  She gave him a smile that seemed to take all her energy. “I imagine as an excuse that will do for you. Still, some people won't be as understanding as I.”

  “However?” he ret
orted.

  “However, nothing. I do not play games, Your Grace. Although I will make this one demand. Since you saw fit to blithely interfere with my life, you may now restore it. In exchange for these papers which I believe are what you were looking for, you may secure me my old position so I never have to cross your path again. Have we an agreement?”

  “I can simply take them.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. Evidently disdain was all it took to learn a new skill.

  Flint answered for her. “You would never sully your hands,” he told his father. “And I can’t think of anyone here who would help. They like her better than they like you.”

  The duke never looked toward his son. “I would have your help, or I would take your house back,” he told him anyway.

  “And lose any reputation you have left as a gentleman,” Flint retorted. “I would make certain of it. Right after I burned the house to the ground.”

  The duke actually looked surprised. For a moment, there was silence. Then he deliberately turned back to Felicity. “You were always to be accepted back to your little school, Miss...er, Chambers. My best wishes for your future endeavors.”

  He held out his hand. Without another word, Felicity dropped the papers into them and turned to leave. Behind her, the duke snorted rather indelicately. “It seems all that money spent on Miss Chase's Academy was a waste after all.”

  She had just been about to leave. With those words, though, her previous disinterest in her background shattered. She stopped and turned.

  “So, you do know why I was sent there.”

  He lifted an imperious eyebrow that almost made Felicity laugh out loud. At least she finally knew where Flint had learned that trick. “Of course, I know.”

  “Then you won't mind telling me.”

  “Why should I?”

  She shrugged. “Why not? Lady Winnifred said something about the school, that girls were sent there for a reason. What reason?”

  “Safety. Men in power are targets of blackmail and extortion. Their children make them vulnerable.”

  She nodded, her chest growing painfully tight. “Especially bastard children, I imagine. I was not the only one there.”