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 con
tained 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.’
Felicity and the Damaged Reputation: A witty, sweet Regency Romance Page 5
