by M C Beaton
“When would I have had the opportunity?” parried Frederica, thinking guiltily of that last letter, now lying under her mattress, in which he had asked her to meet him in the garden of Mrs. Waverley’s house at midnight.
Felicity looked at her anxiously. “Be assured, Freddy, he is a bad man.”
“A bad man who has twice saved my life.”
“True. But do not feel beholden to him in any way. He will ruin you.”
“Forget Lord Harry,” said Frederica lightly. “What of the colonel? Do you not find it odd that Mrs. Waverley should encourage frequent visits from a man?”
“I think she thinks the colonel is a bit of a joke,” Felicity said, laughing. “She told me it is important to convert the gentlemen to our way of thinking—so that they will make better husbands—if they seem willing to listen to our views.”
“I am being silly,” said Frederica, with a grin. “Can you imagine a woman like Mrs. Waverley languishing in the colonel’s arms?”
They went off to their respective rooms, Felicity meaning to write some more but feeling too sleepy, and Frederica, to sit and watch the clock and wait until midnight.
***
At just a few minutes after midnight, Frederica climbed out of the library window and dropped lightly to the ground. She stifled a gasp as a pair of strong arms caught her and held her. Then she let out a little sigh and leaned back against Lord Harry Danger, who buried his lips in her hair.
He turned her about to face him. “It seems like years since I saw you last,” he whispered.
She put a hand up to his face in the darkness and stroked it gently. “Are your cuts healed?”
“Almost. I received a handsome gift from Mrs. Waverley.”
“What is it?”
“A very handsome traveling dressing case.”
Frederica’s voice gurgled with laughter. “She obviously hopes you will use it as soon as possible.”
“An excellent gift for our honeymoon. I have a special licence. I have arranged things with my mother. In two weeks time, my love, I shall collect you and take you to her. We will be married quietly and then go on our travels.”
“I have no dowry,” said Frederica.
“You do not need one. Bring only yourself.”
“But clothes…?”
“Give Mrs. Ricketts one of your old gowns and your measurements tomorrow and tell her to bring them to me. My mother will have enough clothes made ready for you.”
Frederica shivered. “I am afraid something will happen before then.”
“More attempts to take those wretched jewels? Be assured that every thief in London will be too frightened to make the attempt. Tooley was evidently a monster, feared even by his own kind. His killing will stop anyone else from trying to rob you.”
“What happened to the little child you rescued?”
“Already in a good home. My butler’s married sister is childless and is delighted to take the waif as her own.”
“I must tell Felicity of our plans,” said Frederica.
“No, I do not think that would be wise.”
“Please. I cannot leave her without saying goodbye. Perhaps, after the honeymoon, she can come and live with us.”
“If Felicity wishes, she can live with us, but she must not know of our marriage until I have you safe.”
“She would not betray me!”
“I do not think that young lady approves of me in the least. Do be sensible, my love.”
“You must allow me to make up my own mind as to what is best to do,” said Frederica firmly. “We are not even married yet and already you are trying to tell me what to do.”
“Trust me in this case.”
Frederica opened her mouth to protest, but he covered her lips with his own. His lips were warm and caressing in the darkness and his body was hard and muscular against the softness of her own. She tried to remain passive and unresponsive in his arms, for that was surely the behavior of a lady, but her senses started reeling and soon she was matching passion for passion.
He freed his lips at last and said on a sigh, “How wonderful it will be not to have to meet like this—to have all our days and nights together. I shall not feel I have you safe until we leave London together.”
“And will you always love me?” demanded Frederica fiercely.
“I promise. And you must never even look at another man or I shall beat you.”
Frederica drew a little away from him and said, “If you beat me, I shall leave you.”
“I am sure you would, my termagant. No beatings, then. Only kisses for punishment, like this… and this…”
A small moon rose above the houses and silvered the walled garden with light. “It is different for me,” murmured Frederica at last. “All your kisses are new and wonderful, but you have kissed so many women, how do I know you are not comparing me to any of them?”
“I didn’t want to marry any of them. Only you.” He bent his fair head and kissed the throbbing pulse at her neck before seeking her mouth again.
They kissed and caressed, the hoarse voice of the watchman from the square only coming faintly to their ears. Drugged with passion and dizzy with kisses, Frederica twisted and turned in his arms to accommodate his searching hands, her body pliant and malleable beneath his fingers.
Mrs. Ricketts stood by the library window and wished they would hurry up so that she could get to bed. Kisses were safe enough, but she felt it was her duty to see that Lord Harry did not go any further until he had put a ring on Frederica’s finger.
At last, she heard the murmur of voices and saw the figures in the garden below separate. Then she heard the sounds of stifled laughter and moved quickly back from the window as Lord Harry helped Frederica up to the windowsill.
She darted out to the landing outside the library and listened again, until she heard Frederica call softly, “Good night,” and then went thankfully to bed.
***
During the following week, Felicity began to be puzzled by the changed atmosphere in the house. Mrs. Waverley appeared to be in a state of suppressed excitement and was hardly ever home, always driving off somewhere with the colonel. But there was nothing loverlike about the pair that Felicity could detect. There were no more lessons from Mrs. Waverley and, most strange of all, no supervision. Felicity wanted to go out and buy more paper and ink. She put on her pelisse and bonnet and walked boldly to the front door and opened it. Mrs. Ricketts came out into the hall. “Going out, Miss Felicity?” she asked mildly.
“Only for a little,” said Felicity defiantly.
“You must no longer go out in the streets of London on your own,” said Mrs. Ricketts. “Wait there, miss, and I’ll fetch my bonnet and come with you.”
“Do you mean Mrs. Waverley has actually given instructions that we are to be allowed more freedom?” asked Felicity.
“No, miss, not exactly. But if I did not let you go, you would only escape as usual by the library window.”
“So you know about that?”
“Of course. Won’t be long, miss.”
As they walked in the direction of the shops, Felicity asked curiously, “Why did you never report our escapades to Mrs. Waverley?”
“Didn’t seem important,” said Mrs. Ricketts. “If I had thought you young misses were up to something bad, then I would have felt it my duty to report you, but I followed you myself on a few occasions, and you only went to buy books. Books!” sniffed Mrs. Ricketts. “Waste of money. Addling your pretty heads with education and dead languages. Unnatural, that’s what it is.”
“It is the duty of every woman to educate herself as much as possible,” said Felicity.
“Why?”
“So that in turn she may educate others, so that they may bring up enlightened children.”
“The only way to bring up children is to give them a good taste of the birch when they’re naughty,” said Mrs. Ricketts. “The gentlemen like stupid ladies and that’s a fact.”
“
Yes,” said Felicity slowly, “they do. Now, Frederica is very clever. I should have thought most gentlemen of the ton would find her intimidating.”
“Most, yes.”
“And she is not precisely attractive.”
“Miss Frederica is very beautiful,” said Mrs. Ricketts, “but not in the common way.”
“I fear any man who shows an interest in Frederica must only be some rake who is looking for amusement.”
So Felicity did not really know how things stood with Lord Harry, thought Mrs. Ricketts. Just as well. Aloud, she said, “You do have a poor opinion of your sister.”
“Frederica is not my sister, as you very well know. On the contrary, I have a high opinion of her, but a low one of the gentlemen of society.”
“You know what it is,” said Mrs. Ricketts, with a sudden burst of insight. “It ain’t Latin and Greek what’s addled your brains, Miss Felicity, but them novels you keep reading. I peeked in some of them and there’s always some lord out to seduce some female… and in the last chapter she throws him over and goes off to live in a cottage with some poor but honest tradesman. If a cobbler had come courting Miss Frederica, you would credit him with all the virtues, where in real life, he’d probably only be after her money.”
“I think any honest tradesman is more likely to have virtues that a spoiled lord has had no opportunity to acquire.”
“You should have been alive when Oliver Cromwell was running the country,” said Mrs. Ricketts gloomily. “A right puritan, you are.”
They continued on their way to the shops, arguing amicably, Felicity privately feeling relieved to have the company of the tall, bony housekeeper, for once she was out in the streets, she could not help looking nervously about her in case there was another thieving attack on the Waverleys.
When Mrs. Ricketts returned, she found Frederica waiting for her in her parlor.
“My dear Mrs. Ricketts,” said Frederica. “I am going to elope… next Wednesday.”
“Yes, that sounds like as good a time as any,” said Mrs. Ricketts placidly. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing,” said Frederica happily. “Lord Harry and I do not want to involve you for fear you’d lose your job. I shall leave by the library window at midnight. He is taking me to his mother’s and we are to be married from there. Thank you for giving him the dress and the measurements.”
Mrs. Ricketts poked the fire and put a small black kettle of water on it. “I would not tell Miss Felicity of your proposed elopement,” she said.
“That is what Lord Harry said. But I would so like her to know.”
“I would not risk it, miss,” said Mrs. Ricketts. “A dreadful puritan is Miss Felicity.”
“Then I am doing nothing to shock her. I am going to be married, not to be his mistress.”
“Don’t reckon as how she’ll believe that. Do be guided by me, Miss Frederica.”
But Frederica found her secret beginning to weigh heavily. Mrs. Waverley was forever absent, rushing here and rushing there. She never summoned them, and either dined with the colonel, or dined alone. Felicity was busy writing, sometimes far into the night.
On the day of her elopement, Frederica could not bear it any longer. She went into Felicity’s room and stood looking at her. Felicity was bent over her work, her shining chestnut hair spread about her shoulders. At last, as if conscious of Frederica’s gaze, she put down her pen and turned about.
“What is it, Freddy?” she asked.
Frederica moved toward her, her hands clasped in front of her. “Felicity, dear, there is something I must tell you.”
“Oh, what?” asked Felicity vaguely, her eyes still full of the story she was writing. She was nearly at the end. She could hardly believe she had done so much. With luck, it would all be finished by early evening, and the following day, before she lost her courage, she would take it to the bookseller, Harvey, in Bond Street, and see if she could interest him in publishing it. If only she could! She would have her own money and no longer be dependent on Mrs. Waverley’s generosity. Perhaps she might even be able to buy a cottage somewhere, where she and Frederica could live.
Frederica knelt on the floor beside her and looked at her pleadingly. “I am going to elope with Lord Harry Danger tonight, Felicity.”
Felicity looked down at her in dawning horror. “Oh, Freddy, I thought you had come to your senses. Don’t you see it is all a game with him?”
“It is not a game,” said Frederica. “I love him and he loves me. I am meeting him in our garden at midnight. He will take me to his mother’s and we will be married from there.”
“He will take you to his mother’s house,” said Felicity, her ever-fertile imagination working hard. “but his mother will not be there. He has a dreadful reputation, Freddy. Mrs. Waverley said—”
“Oh, we all know what Mrs. Waverley said!” Frederica got to her feet. “Mrs. Waverley will say anything to keep us close. I am escaping for good and all, Felicity, and after my honeymoon, I shall send for you.”
“Frederica, I beg you to be sensible, to see reason.”
“I only know that he loves me and I love him,” said Frederica quietly. “When you see the announcement of our wedding in the newspapers, you will realize how wrong about him you have been.”
“That is an announcement that will never appear, you poor fool.”
“I should have known better than to tell you,” said Frederica bitterly. “Just don’t interfere in my plans.” She went out and slammed the door behind her.
Felicity sat for a long time, staring into space. Then she got to her feet and went downstairs. Mrs. Waverley was not in the drawing room, and there were sounds of commotion and bustle from the hall.
When Felicity went on down to the hall, she stared in amazement at the scene that met her eyes. Trunk after corded trunk was being carried outside and loaded into a fourgon. “Careful with that one,” cried Mrs. Waverley, supervising the operation.
“What is happening?” asked Felicity. “Are we going on a journey?”
“No one is going anywhere,” said Mrs. Waverley. “I am tired of all my clothes. The good colonel has said he will take them to the workhouse for me and distribute them among the inmates.”
“But so many trunks,” cried Felicity. “Would it not have been better to have had a new wardrobe of clothes made before getting rid of the old?”
Mrs. Waverley rounded on her fiercely. “It is not your place to question me,” she snapped. “Go to your room.”
“But there is something about Frederica I must tell you.”
“Nothing that Frederica does or says interests me any further. Go to your room!”
Felicity backed up the stairs before the blast of Mrs. Waverley’s anger.
Mrs. Waverley saw to the last of the loading of her trunks. The fourgon would bear them down to the colonel’s home in Shropshire. Mrs. Waverley had told no one of her marriage plans. No one loved her except the colonel. No one had ever appreciated her except the colonel. They could all learn to look after themselves.
She went back to the drawing room, sat down at her desk, and began to write a letter to Frederica and Felicity. In it she stated that she was leaving them. She said nothing of her marriage. She said she was leaving them because of their lack of love and affection. But she was giving them the house and everything in it, including the jewels. She hoped that one day both of them would realize how their coldness had wounded her. She then propped the letter up on her desk with the title deeds to the house. She picked up a smart new bonnet and put it on, smoothed the silk of her gown down over her massive hips. “A fine figure of a woman,” the colonel had said. Mrs. Waverley began to glow with happiness.
She went down the stairs and said to Mrs. Ricketts, “I am going for a drive with Colonel Bridie to visit some friends in Primrose Hill and shall not be back until late. Do not wait up for me.”
“Very good, mum.”
Mrs. Waverley swept out.
She climbed i
nto the colonel’s carriage. He seized her hand and kissed it. The driver cracked his whip and the carriage moved out of Hanover Square. Mrs. Waverley did not look back, even once.
***
Felicity went down the stairs several times that day, looking for Mrs. Waverley, but each time Mrs. Ricketts told her the mistress had not returned.
The drawing room had been dusted and polished earlier that day so there was no reason for the servants to go into it. The letter and title deeds to the house lay unnoticed by everyone.
Felicity decided that the saving of Frederica’s soul had been left to herself. She knew instinctively that Mrs. Ricketts would refuse to help.
As midnight drew nearer, she went down to the deserted kitchen and made a pot of chocolate, tipped a generous measure of laudanum into it, put two cups and saucers on a tray with the chocolate, and carried it up to Frederica’s room.
“I thought you would like a hot drink to sustain you before your elopement,” said Felicity, with a smile.
Chapter Nine
Frederica looked in surprise at Felicity as she stood in the doorway, holding the tray. “Oh, Felicity,” she cried. “I do believe you have forgiven me.”
“There is time to have a comfortable coze,” said Felicity, putting the tray down on the table and pouring out two steaming cups of chocolate.
“Is Mrs. Waverley returned?” asked Frederica, pacing up and down.
“No, not yet. Sit down, dear Freddy, and drink this chocolate. It will sustain you for your adventures to come.”
Frederica sat down, but she eyed Felicity warily. “When did you change your mind?”
Felicity thought quickly. She could not act too out of character or Frederica would become suspicious. “Alas, I have not really changed my mind about Lord Harry,” she said, “but it is your life and your decision. Only promise to return after he has ruined you. I will steal the jewels and take you away if Mrs. Waverley will not forgive you.”
Frederica began to laugh. “What a romantic you are! I am sure that is a book you have been writing, or do you have a secret lover?”
