Felicity and the Damaged Reputation: A witty, sweet Regency Romance

by Alicia Cameron

  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 wil
l 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.