by M C Beaton
The baroness sat down and put her hands on her knees like a fisherwoman and glared at them. “Very well. I hope I have trained your brains sufficiently so you will understand and not be shocked.
“I had just given birth to you, Felicity. It had been a hard labor, and the doctor advised Mr. Bride to take me to Scarborough to take the waters. I had never been in love with your father. Does that surprise you? But my family had no money, and I was tired of being poor. I craved fine clothes and jewels and fun. My husband was a dour, withdrawn man, very religious. My life in York was dull and tedious.
“And then we went to Scarborough. Scarborough. What a magical place it seemed. All light and color and fine people and witty conversation. Then the Prince of Wales arrived with his entourage. I persuaded my husband to let me attend a ball that a certain Lady Torry was giving in the prince’s honor. He saw me and asked me to dance—me, and nobody else. We fell madly in love. He was so beautiful then. We tried to be discreet, but word finally got to my husband. I told him I was going to live with the prince as his mistress. Then emissaries arrived from King George’s court. I do not know what they said to the prince, but he refused to see me. My husband took me back to York. He said not a word on the journey, but when I got down from the carriage, he told the servants to keep me outside. He called me a harlot and told me to make my living on the streets. I went to my father, and he turned me away as well.
“I finally went to Miss Waverley, a schoolteacher. She told me I was suffering from neglecting my mind and education. She told me that men were beasts and fickle and only interested in women to satisfy their desires. I did not believe her.
“She lent me money, and I went back to Scarborough to see the prince. This time I did see him. He held me to him and kissed me and then he told me I must go away and never see him again. I asked him why. The pompous fool said I was causing a scandal and I owed it to England to leave him alone.”
She fell silent, and the girls waited. Then she began to speak again.
“The contempt I felt for him soon cured me of my infatuation. All my hate was reserved for Mr. Bride. I learned through my spies that he had become slightly deranged and claimed you were probably not his daughters and so he had a nurse take you south and pay a foundling hospital to take you, and then he had you transferred to the orphanage. You were neither foundlings nor orphans, but then, money can take care of everything.
“When he died and left me all his money, it was like a miracle. I planned to take you out of the orphanage, and when the time was right, I would tell you I was really your mother.
“But there was no natural bond between us, no affection. I cried out for your love, and you spurned me.”
“That is not true,” said Frederica hotly. “You would whisper wicked tales to one of us about the other so we were constantly quarreling, and when we found out what lies you were telling, we did not trust you. You could have had all our love had you told us the truth at the beginning.”
“How could I tell you the truth?” demanded the baroness. “I did not want anyone to know Mrs. Waverley was the once-scandalous Mrs. Bride. I gave you love.…”
“You fed us on a diet of constant emotional blackmail,” said Felicity. “With all your knowledge and education, you should know nothing disaffects anyone more than that.”
The baroness shook her heavy head sadly. “So ungrateful. So unkind. I am lucky to be married to a fine man. I shall try hard to forgive you, but I confess I have no liking left for any of you.”
“I suppose we should not have expected anything else,” said Fanny to Felicity and Frederica. She turned to her mother. “Well, we thank you, Mother or Baroness or Mrs. Waverley. I am sure I speak for all when I say that despite the lack of love on both sides, there is a home with one of us should you ever need us. Had it not been for your education, we might not all have been lucky enough to marry men who wanted us for ourselves alone.”
The three sisters rose to leave. “Do you still have the jewels?” the baroness asked Felicity.
“All but a few items that were stolen from me,” said Felicity. “I know the name of the thief, but my husband does not want to pursue her because of the scandal it would cause. Why do you ask? Do you want them back?”
“Yes,” said the baroness, fingering a heavy rope of pearls about her neck. “I have only a few trinkets left.”
“Then you may have the lot,” said Felicity. “I never want to see any of them again.”
“Come, let us not quarrel,” said the baroness, all smiles at last. “You will deliver the jewels as soon as you can, Felicity, my chuck? Now we will take tea.”
“No, I thank you,” said Fanny. “I feel we have spent too much time here already.”
“As you will,” said the baroness indifferently. “But the jewels. I must have the jewels. I was a fool to leave them behind.”
***
“And what did you make of that?” demanded Felicity as they got back in their carriage.
“Strangely enough, she behaved exactly as I expected her to,” said Frederica. She put her arms around both her sisters and hugged them fiercely. “We have found one another and that is all that matters.”
The baron arrived home that evening and said to his wife, “The servants say three titled ladies called.”
“Oh, them,” said his wife. “They were collecting for some charity. Do you remember, my love, that I left all the jewelry to Felicity?”
“Yes, and a damn silly thing to do, or so I thought at the time.”
“Well, the dear girl has written to me to say she is giving it all back to me. So sweet!”
“Don’t wear it all at once,” said the baron. “You used to look like a French ambassador’s house during a victory celebration.”
“Always funning,” said his wife with a fond smile. “Such a wit.”
“Yes, I know,” said the baron complacently. “I always thought it was my wit that charmed the Prince Regent into giving me the title.”
The baroness’s eyes narrowed a fraction. She was sure she knew why the prince had given him that title as she knew why she was somehow never allowed to go to London. But then she looked around at the comfort of her house and thought of her precious jewels soon to be returned to her.
“I am sure you are quite right, dear,” said the champion of women’s rights. “But then, you always are.”
***
The Marquess of Darkwater was finally ushered into the royal presence. He was not at all surprised to learn the prince had not yet gone to Brighton. He looked around the gathering of courtiers and said with a low bow, “What I have to say to you, Sire, should not be overheard.”
The prince looked at him apprehensively, but he waved his fat hand, and the company filed out.
“Now, Darkwater,” said the prince sulkily, “state your business.”
“I am come,” said the marquess, “to tell you I know all about that affair you had in Scarborough years ago with a Mrs. Bride, so there is no reason to set your bully boys on me again.”
“We don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Yes, you do. Comfrey and Harris told me they had been set on me.”
The prince seemed to crumple. “We have had enough of scandal,” he said. “Our public hates us. We had to stop it.”
“But if Your Royal Highness had simply told me the truth,” said the marquess, “I would have held my tongue. You had me believing the Waverley girls were your children.”
“Odd’s fish, man!”
“And all it turns out to be is that a youthful fling of yours nearly ruined a woman’s life. Why did you misbehave with a respectable Yorkshire matron? There are plenty of dashers at court to oblige you.”
“You would not think it to see her now,” said the prince mournfully, “but she was so fresh and innocent and beautiful. Word got to the king. We could not do anything other than give her her quittance. You will not speak of this, Darkwater?”
“Not I, Sire. I only want
your assurance that I and my wife will be left in peace.”
“Our word of honor.”
“Then I shall take my leave.”
“I loved her,” said the prince, dropping the royal “we.” “I loved her very much.”
The marquess sighed. This poor fat prince would never love his wife because he fell hopelessly in love with quite unsuitable women—Mrs. Fitzherbert being his current passion, a passion that showed no signs of dying.
He bowed his way out backward and, wheeling about, strode through the gilded, overheated rooms until he reached the fresh air outside. He was walking along Pall Mall when he found himself being hailed by Mr. Fordyce.
“Darkwater,” cried Mr. Fordyce. “We are surely both the happiest of men. I read of your marriage to Felicity Waverley, and tomorrow you may read of my re-engagement to Lady Artemis.”
“I congratulate you, Fordyce. When is the wedding to be?”
“Almost immediately. My bride-to-be says she cannot wait.” He kissed his fingertips. “Such fire! Such love! One day, she was all coldness and then the next, she was in my arms. Will you attend the wedding?”
“We should be delighted. We do not sail for the Indies for another month or two.”
“Lady Artemis has gone to call on Lady Felicity. Ah, if only I could hear what my darling is saying now, how she is describing her love for me.”
***
“So I had to promise to marry the fool,” Lady Artemis was saying. “Faugh! Trapped like a rabbit.”
Felicity blushed slightly. “But did you not consider, Lady Artemis, that … er … such a thing would happen?”
“Not I. I consulted some quack during my last marriage and the idiot told me I should never breed. Children! I detest children. With all your knowledge, do you not know any way to get rid of the brat?”
Felicity wished Lady Artemis would leave and take her troubles with her. “I do not suggest you answer any of the advertisements offering such a service,” she said. “It is said the women only bleed to death or die of infection.”
Lady Artemis stood up and walked to the window. “I suppose I shall have to go through with it and then farm the wretched baby out to some nurse. I declare! There is young Lord Western lately come to town. Such an Adonis! Such legs. He is talking to that frumpy Miss Nash. Fie, what a waste. I shall descend and see if I can make life difficult for her.”
After Lady Artemis had left, Felicity crossed to the window and looked down into Hanover Square. The handsome Lord Western had been leaning against the side of a vis-a-vis talking to a young lady and her mother. Lady Artemis sailed up, parasol twirling. She stopped and spoke. Lord Western laughed. Soon Lady Artemis and Lord Western were walking off round the square in the direction of her house.
Felicity shook her head. Poor Mr. Fordyce. Did he deserve such a wife? And then Mrs. Ricketts came in to say Caroline James had called.
Felicity’s face lit up with pleasure, and she went to meet the actress with both hands outstretched in welcome.
“Tell me all your news,” said Caroline, who then listened as Felicity recounted her adventures.
“You do not need to worry about a plot for a book.” Caroline laughed. “You have had so many adventures. Why do you still live here? Darkwater has his own house, has he not?”
“We are staying here to make preparations for our journey to the West Indies,” said Felicity. “We have to find jobs for the female servants, except the inestimable Mrs. Ricketts. Fanny and Frederica are quite jealous that I am to have her with me. She says she longs to see a country where the sun shines all day long. And what of you? And what of Mr. Anderson?”
“We are to be married,” said Caroline. “His mother has left town in disgust. I fought against it. He is so young, you know, but … I am very happy with him. Do you think I am doing wrong?”
“Not at all,” said Felicity. “I shall dance at your wedding.”
Caroline took her leave, feeling elated and happy. No one in the theater seemed to consider her proposed marriage to Bernard odd, and Felicity seemed to think it was all right. She walked all the way to Covent Garden and mounted the stairs to her apartment. Bernard was lying on his stomach on the floor, drawing up sketches for yet another fantastic piece of stage machinery.
“You will make me jealous,” laughed Caroline. “The manager says you attract more people than the actors.”
“Where did you go?” he asked anxiously. “You were gone a long time.”
She knelt on the floor beside him and smoothed the hair from his brow. “I went to see Felicity Waverley. She is now married to the Marquess of Darkwater. I told her we were to be married, and she was so delighted at the news, I felt happy and decided to walk home.”
He kissed her tenderly. “You are always so sure someone will exclaim in horror at the idea. Now come and look at this design for a flying harlequin, and tell me it is the most wonderful thing you have ever seen.”
***
The Marquess of Darkwater arrived home in time to change for dinner. “No Waverley sisters?” he teased. “I was sure I would find Fanny or Frederica here. It is a wonder their husbands see anything of them at all.”
“It is marvelous to have a family,” said Felicity. They were standing in his bedroom, which he never slept in but only used as a changing room. He stripped off his shirt. “Where is my valet, George? He is never around since we moved here.”
“He is the only male servant in a household full of female servants,” said Felicity. “He lives like a king with housemaids running errands for him and Mrs. Ricketts getting Cook to make treats for him. Shall I call him?”
“No, I’ll dress myself. Kiss me first.”
She put her hands on his naked chest and smiled up into his eyes. He caught his breath, then held her close and kissed her fiercely. “It’s been so long,” he whispered at last.
“I know,” said Felicity. “Since dawn this morning.”
His busy hands felt for the tapes of her gown, and his mouth came down on hers again.
Mary, the little housemaid, who had been posted at the top of the stairs, listened hard. She heard the master’s dressing room door opening and closing. Then there were sounds of footsteps, and her lady’s bedroom door opened and closed. Mary listened harder until she heard a key clicking in the lock.
She ran down the stairs and into the servants’ hall. “Oh, mum,” she cried. “They’re at it again.”
“Watch that tongue of yours,” snapped Mrs. Ricketts. “Well, they won’t be wanting any dinner, and it’s a shame to waste it. Pass the lobster, Mr. George, and pour the iced champagne, but see that Mary only gets half a glass because she does giggle so.…”
