“That is what Miss Armiger thought, I daresay,” Felicia said darkly. “She died in her bed one night, unaware of her own impending mortality. You could fall from your horse tomorrow and break your neck.”
He sighed. “Very well. I will consider the matter, but do not expect me to rush into anything. You may remind me at monthly intervals.”
“I shall not be here to remind you of anything.”
He went very still. “Not here? You are leaving?” He looked at her fully, as if for the first time, taking in her travelling gown. “Today?”
“If I can obtain a seat on the mail tonight,” she said calmly.
“The mail! I will not have you travel on the mail. If you must go — must you go?”
“I must,” she said softly. “I only stayed to preserve you from Miss Claypole, remember? Lady Drusilla has located two governesses who meet her requirements, and my services are no longer needed.”
“But you will not leave today,” he said firmly, and this time he took her hand in his and did not relinquish it. “You will not leave until the new governesses are established and the girls are settled in their charge, and when you do, you will certainly not travel on the mail or the common stage. I shall provide a post-chaise and a maid to accompany you, and a footman to ensure you are treated well whenever you change horses or rest overnight.”
“You are all goodness,” she said, but she could not quite meet his eyes. She had never had any hope of his affection, but if she had nurtured any, his calm acceptance of her departure would have destroyed any vestige of it. She was no more to him than his wards’ ill-educated governess, and an artist of little merit. He would have forgotten her within a month.
~~~~~
In two days everything changed. Miss Durward arrived from Nottingham and Miss Farrell from York, who between them encompassed every possible accomplishment to be taught to two young ladies. Then Mr Giles Warborough declared an urge to revisit his old haunts at Southampton, and announced that he would accompany Felicia on her journey.
“What could be more comfortable than to have a man to arrange every detail for you, Miss Oakes?” he said cheerfully. “You will have not the least thing to trouble you, and we shall travel together in the most pleasant and companionable manner.”
She could hardly object to it. Fin provided both maid and footman, as he had promised, paid her salary for a full year and gave Mr Warborough a heavy purse to cover their expenses on the journey. So it was that far sooner than she had anticipated, Felicia found herself standing on the steps of Hawkewood Hall at an early hour, watching her boxes and portmanteau being strapped onto the back of the post-chaise. Juliana and Margarita wept and hugged her. Lady Drusilla, who had come to see her off and no doubt ensure that she actually left, wished her well and smiled in modest satisfaction. And Fin… Fin looked grief-stricken.
“Will you write to me?” he said plaintively.
“I cannot do that,” she whispered. “It would be most improper.”
“When have you ever cared about such things?” he cried, but he did not argue with her, for which she was grateful. Her heart was too full, and a single word or gesture or smile would bring on the tears that were so close to the surface.
“Will you see that Lord Arnwell receives my letter?” she said, although she had already extracted his promise to do so. “And will you visit him occasionally?”
“He will not want to see me.”
“As to that, I cannot say, but he will want to see Hercules. Will you take him there? It is only necessary to let him off the lead and he will find his own way to the Sanctuary.”
That raised a tentative smile. “You expect me to walk the dog now?”
She tried to return his smile, but it was too difficult. And then he handed her into the chaise, Mr Warborough and the maid climbed in too, and the door was slammed shut.
Her time at Hawkewood Hall was over.
19: Old Friends
The journey south was more comfortable than the mail, but that was all that could be said for it. Mr Warborough was a fussy traveller, so he regaled the hours in the chaise with anxious fretting over the horses, the postilions, the carriage, the next inn and his constant fear of impending disaster. The maid, a glum-faced housemaid of forty or so, said nothing and did nothing useful, for Felicia was perfectly used to dressing herself, but she was glad of her silent presence. Together with the footman, a young man of seventeen thrilled to be leaving Derbyshire for the first time, the servants imbued the travellers with an air of respectability, and ensured them efficient service whenever they stopped for horses, refreshments or accommodation.
It was fortunate that Mr Warborough liked nothing better than the sound of his own voice, requiring no response from Felicia. She was poor company, sunk in her own miserable thoughts and her spirits lowering with every mile further from Hawkewood Hall. Or rather, every mile further from Fin. She would never see him again, and no matter how many times she told herself bracingly that it was for the best and she would soon recover from her megrims, she could not rouse herself from her sorrow. During the day, she could just about maintain an air of composure, but at night, when the maid was snoring gently on her pallet, Felicia would pour hot tears into her pillow and wish with all her heart that she were back in Derbyshire, and could see him again.
On the fifth day, the chaise drew into the bustling streets of Southampton and rumbled under the arch at the Dolphin Hotel, where they were to stay. Felicia had written to Agnes on the journey, for there had been no time before leaving Derbyshire, and there was a note awaiting her at the hotel. ‘Miss Oakes, How lovely to have you home! If convenient, Jimmy will be in town with the gig for the Tuesday market and will collect you from the Dolphin at 3. Agnes. PS I hope your journey was not too disagreeable.’
“Tuesday! Four days away!” Mr Warborough exclaimed. “It is as if they do not want you. Shall I arrange transportation for you? It is not far from Southampton, I think. You could be there before dinner.”
Felicia was more struck by the discovery that Jimmy Tucker had a gig at his disposal, and it sounded as if the Tuesday market was a regular outing. But she had no wish to descend upon the cottage unannounced.
“Not today!” she said, laughing. “They will want time to arrange everything for me. It is so unsettling to have a visitor arrive unexpectedly. They will have made themselves quite at home, no doubt, and spread into every corner of every room. They will wish to hide the mess, polish the furniture and obtain some decent mutton for the table. I do not wish to set them about the ears, especially in the kitchen. I am very fond of mutton.”
He laughed but said, “You are hardly a visitor. It is your own house, after all.”
“Tuesday will do very well. I shall have time to call upon my old acquaintances and do a little shopping before I am confined to the country.”
And yet the confinement would not be so great with a gig. How pleasant that would be! Miss Armiger had always set her face against any means of conveyance. They went only where they could walk, and carried only what could be fitted into a basket or the small sledge they used to collect wood. Boscobel Cottage would not be so dire a prospect if she could but leave it occasionally, other than for church.
After settling into their rooms and changing out of their travel-stained clothing, Felicia and Mr Warborough met in their private parlour.
“It wants an hour — almost two — before dinner,” Mr Warborough said. “I should write to Fin and Drusilla, I suppose, but I am minded for some air and a chance to stretch my legs after the confinement of the coach. Should you care to stroll about the town with me, Miss Oakes?”
She agreed to it readily, for surely the familiar sights would be a welcome distraction from her dismal thoughts. She fetched her spencer, bonnet and gloves and within a very few minutes they were stepping out of the front door.
Astonishingly, the very first person Felicia saw was an old friend. “Jane!” she cried. “Whatever are you doing here? Oh…
and Mrs Pollard. Good day to you, ma’am.”
She dropped into a respectful curtsy, just as she had in the days when she was a lowly drawing teacher and Mrs Pollard was the rich mother of one of her pupils. The habit of deference was hard to break, even though she was no longer a teacher, or even a governess. Felicia was a woman of modest but independent means now, and Mrs Pollard was just another wealthy woman, one who no longer had any power over her.
“Felicia!” Jane cried, her solemn face breaking into a wide smile. “Oh, Mama, you remember Miss Oakes from Miss Latimer’s Academy?”
Mrs Pollard pursed her lips, clearly remembering Felicia all too well. She it was who had taken Jane to all the Southampton assemblies and permitted her to stand up with clerks and apprentices and other unsuitable young men, when her ambitious parent had intended her to marry the heir to a dukedom. That little scheme had not worked out terribly well, especially since the heir in question was now drowned off the Cornish coast. The sons of a viscount and a baronet had likewise evaded Mrs Pollard’s traps, but she was ever optimistic, and Felicia wondered why she was in Southampton rather than one of the more fashionable watering-places such as Brighton or Bath, where there might be better pickings for a matchmaking mama.
Two minutes of conversation, and the news that the estate in Dorsetshire had been leased for the summer, enabled Felicia to hazard some guesses. Three expensive seasons in London for Jane without resulting in an eligible match no doubt necessitated some economies.
“Jane so enjoyed her time in Southampton,” Mrs Pollard gushed, “so we thought to spend a few weeks here before beginning our round of visits to all the relations. So tedious, of course, but one must accept such invitations when offered, for a refusal would give offence. I shall take no pleasure in it myself, for the society my sisters move in is somewhat more confined than we are used to, but we shall make the best of it, shall we not, Jane? At least Mr Pollard will have a little sport to amuse him. I had hoped that my cousins at Valmont would have invited us, but naturally the new duke is not entertaining, not while the family is in deep mourning for his brother. I wrote to offer my condolences at once, you may be sure, and to suggest that Jane and I might comfort his grief, and he wrote me such an elegant letter of gratitude — expressed himself so well on the subject — but he felt he would be poor company for a young lady such as Jane just at present. So thoughtful! Perhaps next year, when he is out of mourning. Such a tragedy, to lose the eldest son so soon after the father! We wore black ribbons ourselves for some time in sympathy, but we had to leave off for the season, for how could Jane dance with black ribbons? Jane so loves to dance, and she shows to such advantage in the cotillion. Such gracefulness! She was greatly admired in London, as you may well imagine, but there was no gentleman who quite took her eye, so here we are, just on our way to subscribe to the summer balls at the Dolphin. Fancy meeting you here, Miss Oakes.”
Her eye fell on Mr Warborough, patiently standing a little aside while they talked.
“That is a fine gentleman you are with. Jane, do you know that gentleman?”
“No, Mama.”
“He is not from Southampton,” Felicia said. “Mr Warborough is from Derbyshire.”
She did not feel it necessary to say more, for the rector of Church Compton, of middle years and having neither title nor fortune, could hardly be of interest to Mrs Pollard, but in this she underestimated the lady. At the name, her eyes acquired a certain brightness.
“A relation of the earl?” she whispered.
“His uncle,” Felicia whispered back. “Should you like me to introduce him to you?”
“Oh, indeed! How kind! Most obliging of you.”
At a signal from Felicia, he willingly stepped forward with his ready smile, sweeping his hat from his head.
“Mrs Pollard, may I make known to you Mr Warborough, who is the brother of the Fourth Earl of Finlassan, and uncle to the present earl. Mr Warborough is rector of Church Compton parish in Derbyshire, and having happy memories of Southampton and wishing to refresh his acquaintance with the town has been so obliging as to accompany me on my journey from Derbyshire. Mr Warborough, this is Mrs William Pollard of High Farley in Dorsetshire, and her daughter Miss Pollard. I had the pleasure of sharing with Jane my small knowledge of drawing and painting when she was a scholar here in Southampton.”
There was bowing and curtsying, and much polite exchange of pleasantries. Mr Warborough was an odd sort of man, Felicia reflected, but he had a thousand times the address of his nephew and could make himself agreeable in any company. He even succeeded where so many men had failed, and contrived to draw Jane a little out of her crippling shyness. Felicia delighted in her remarks, diffident though they were, and approved Mr Warborough’s gentlemanly manners which led him to devote attention to her. Nor did he neglect Mrs Pollard, making himself so agreeable to her that she promptly invited him to dinner that very day.
“Oh, but you must come, and you too, dear Miss Oakes, for we had engaged for some friends to dine with us and they have cried off, I know not why, and it will be a great crime if we sit down just the three of us to a whole goose, you know.”
Felicia thought it would be a great crime too, and was more than willing to assist them in disposing of the bird, so she was relieved when Mr Warborough agreed to it very readily. He was so willing, in fact, that he turned round at once to go back into the hotel and cancel the arrangements for dinner issued not ten minutes earlier, and when he emerged again with Mrs Pollard, it was to inform Felicia that he too had subscribed to the season of summer balls.
“Are you staying so long, sir?” she said, surprised.
“Ah, but it is five shillings for just one ball, you see, and fifteen for the whole season. I have only missed the first two or three, so even if I only stay for a month, it is still better value. And who knows but I might stay for longer. I am not at all decided, for I need not hasten back. The curate will perform the offices for me on Sundays, and will like very well to have the parish to himself. Yes, perhaps I will stay for the whole summer.”
Felicia tried not to look too surprised at this, but upon reflection supposed that Mr Warborough was inclined to look favourably on anyone who was willing to feed him so freely on the slightest acquaintance. He seemed to eat often with Lady Drusilla, and perhaps he saw Mrs Pollard as a similar source of benevolence. Felicia fell in beside Jane as the party moved off up the High Street, and somehow, and she could not tell how it happened, they found themselves at Castle Square where the Pollards had leased a house, and were invited in. There they met Mr Pollard, ate cake and drank tea, with Madeira provided for the gentlemen, and this was such a pleasant diversion that there was scarcely time to return to the hotel to dress for dinner before they were required to present themselves once again at Castle Square.
There were two other guests that evening, a widow and her son, and it was quite obvious that the son was yet another of Mrs Pollard’s efforts to secure a husband for Jane. It was equally obvious that such efforts were once again doomed to failure. The young man was handsome and fashionable, yet had not the courtesy to set Jane at her ease. His manners had too much of haughtiness to overcome her shyness. Where she had chatted freely to Mr Warborough only that afternoon, now she was tongue-tied and blushingly silent again. Felicia sincerely felt for her, and did her best to distract attention from Jane’s difficulties by becoming excessively lively herself. For his part, Mr Warborough was so attentive to Mrs Pollard that she did no more than throw Jane a black look every two minutes or so.
When the ladies withdrew, Mrs Pollard swept the widow and her excessively fashionable turban to the sofa, immediately launching into some tale about ‘my cousin at Valmont’. This left Jane and Felicia to have a comfortable coze together beside the window.
“Are you sorry not to be at High Farley this summer?” Felicia said. “The town can be quite unpleasant in the hot weather.”
“I shall miss it, of course,” Jane said with a sigh. “Most o
f all I shall miss my lovely little mare. I like to ride every day, and that is not possible here. But we are all resigned to it, and we have some acquaintance near here.”
“You mean Valmont,” Felicia whispered. “How remiss of His Grace not to invite you all to stay with him.”
Jane giggled. “Poor man! He is not His Grace yet, for he refuses to claim the title until it is quite certain that his brother has not married and left behind an heir. He has people scouring America to find out, although it is hard to imagine that a duke would marry without telling anyone. They do have a mail service there, after all. But I do not expect an invitation. Mama so loves to talk about him, yet the connection is very tenuous, and we barely know any of the Litherholms. Nodding acquaintance, that is all.”
“So who else do you know here? Your friends from Miss Latimer’s?”
“Yes, the Miss Narfields live a few miles from here, although I was never a particular friend of theirs. Their father is a baron, which Mama likes, and he has two brothers of marriageable age, which she likes even more, although we have never managed to meet any of them, despite Mama’s efforts.” She sighed. “We also know Sir James and Lady Godney, from Daveney Hall. Lady Godney is always pleased for us to make up the numbers at her evening parties in London, but I am not sure she will want to continue the acquaintance now.” She lowered her voice. “We are not here from any nostalgia on my part, you may be sure. Your friendship was the only part of my time in Southampton that I look back on fondly. No, the real reason is that Papa has gone back into the ship owning business.”
“Here in Southampton?” Felicia said.
“Yes. He had interests here many years ago, but when he married Mama, he sold everything and bought High Farley, for her family is rather grand and she expected to marry a gentleman. But you will remember the Brig Minerva which was lost earlier this year? It was owned by an old friend, a Mr Sherrard, and when it sank, he was cast into a great deal of trouble. There were those who said that a ship in calm seas and clear skies, and under an experienced captain, should not sink, and that there must have been mischief afoot. And then there was a duke aboard, too, and was it not an odd coincidence that the very ship bearing so important a personage should founder? There was an inquiry and it was agreed that nothing untoward had occurred, and the ship’s maps… charts… whatever they are called, were wrong and the ship hit rocks that were not marked on the maps. The Second Mate, who had charge of the ship at the time, survived, and his testimony was crucial. But still, people talked, and Mr Sherrard’s business declined abruptly. So Papa has taken a half share in Mr Sherrard’s ships, and we are here to support the family in whatever way we can. Mama is not happy, as you may imagine, for she will be expected to entertain Mr Sherrard and his associates, and that does not quite suit her notions of our position in society. Still, Papa is adamant that it must be done.”
The Painter Page 20
