The Painter

by Mary Kingswood

  “If my uncle is even in Southampton still.”

  “Oh, he remains in the town, my lord, for he has taken out a subscription to the summer balls here at the hotel. He always attends those.”

  “Well, that is something. When is the next ball?”

  “Wednesday se’nnight, my lord. You may care to enquire at the post office, my lord, or perhaps at the circulating library. Either may have an address for Miss Oakes or Mr Warborough.”

  But they did not. The post office knew the names, but their letters were collected, not delivered. Nor did any of the likely shops have the direction of either, although they all knew Felicia. “Oh, Miss Oakes, yes, indeed, sir. She lives at Summer Cottage in Itchen. Charming lady.” No one knew her new address.

  On his second day in Southampton, Fin tracked down the office of Mr Pierce, Felicia’s attorney, who had sent on Juliana’s paintings. Pierce himself was not there and his clerk regretted that he could not on his own authority release the address of a client, not even for an earl. His superior would doubtless be happy to do it, but he could not himself take the liberty. His lordship would understand, he was sure. If his lordship would care to leave his card, he would see that Mr Pierce attended to his enquiry at the earliest opportunity.

  Fin then made a systematic trawl through every single shop on the High Street, without success. He remembered the school where Felicia had taught, and after a couple of false starts, located Miss Latimer’s Academy. The two Miss Latimers, one fat, one thin, cooed over him and entertained him to tea and macaroons and a very small glass of sherry, while regaling him with gushing tales of Felicia’s many talents. She had called upon them three times, they revealed — so thoughtful of her, so gratifying that she remembered her old teachers — but they had no idea where she lived.

  “Somewhere to the north of the town, I believe, was it not, sister? Or to the west. No, definitely the north. I think.”

  Since almost the entire Kingdom was to the north of Southampton, this was less than helpful. They showed him around the school, pointed out three of Felicia’s works hanging on the walls, and hoped he would remember them if ever he decided to send his wards to school.

  It was a hot day, and eventually, worn out and dispirited, he withdrew to his private parlour at the Dolphin, tossed aside his coat and waistcoat, ordered brandy and settled down to get seriously drunk, for what else was there to do? He had come all this way to find Felicia and she was nowhere to be found.

  Tomorrow was Sunday, and a day of enforced idleness, but on Monday he would begin again. Perhaps Mr Pierce would be helpful, but if not, he would obtain a map and search for likely locations, and then he would hire a horse and ride to every village within a twenty mile radius. Boscobel Cottage might not be in a village, but Felicia would go to church somewhere, and once he found her parish, he would find the cottage.

  He sat on the desk in front of the window, brandy glass in hand, looking down on the scurrying figures on the High Street, and thought about Felicia. Was it love, this shivering, all-consuming feeling? Arnwell had called it obsession, and that it was. Just as he was obsessed with his art, so he was obsessed with his muse, the fellow artist who inspired him. But was there more to it? Did he feel now the way he had felt about Juliana?

  That was a surprisingly difficult question to answer. His memories of Juliana which he had once thought imperishable had become muted over time. He was aware that she had filled him with radiant joy, but he could not quite grasp the feeling itself. Somehow the warmth, the exquisite delight, the rightness he had felt when he was with her had thinned and almost blown away. All that remained was tenuous, like the last wisp of smoke when the candle is snuffed out.

  With Felicia — he smiled as he thought of her, he could not help himself. He felt an affection for her that was more than mere friendship. Gratitude, perhaps. She had forced him out of his grief-induced solitude, forced him to face the world again. No, more than that, she had forced him to face himself, to understand his own weaknesses and try to improve himself. He was a better person because of her.

  But was that love? He could not say. All he knew was that he wanted to see her again, hear her voice, see her smile… If only he—

  There she was!

  He cried out in joy, for there on the street below was the achingly familiar light step that made her skirts sway a little, the bonnet and pelisse he knew so well. She was scurrying along, head down, rushing somewhere… moving rapidly away from him. He jumped up and out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time, so that passers-by had to jump out of his way or flatten themselves against the walls. Someone called out to him but he could not stop. The least delay would be fatal! He must catch up with her, he must!

  Out of the door and down the street he flew. Where was she… he had lost her! No, there she was, far ahead of him.

  “Felicia! Felicia! Stop!”

  She walked on unheeding, and he ran, ran, ran, long strides eating up the pavement. Someone crashed into him. He ran on.

  “Felicia!”

  She turned, saw him, stopped, waited, her face filled with amazement.

  “Felicia…” Now that she was before him, almost within arm’s reach, her head tipped to one side in amused puzzlement, he could not say a word. He had no idea what to say to her.

  “Fin? Whatever are you doing?”

  “I… I had to see you. To know if you are safe… well. Are you well?”

  She giggled. “I am well, as you see, but why are you out in the street without a coat? You will take a chill in this rain.”

  It was raining, he discovered. His face was wet, and her bonnet dripped. His shirt was soaked. “I had not noticed. Why did you not write to me? You did not reply to my letter. Will you come? To the ball? It is for you.”

  Her face registered dismay. “Fin, you are insane. Where are you staying? The Dolphin?” She looked about her, considering. “Mr Pierce’s office is just across the street. Let us go in there, and perhaps they will have a fire to warm you while someone goes to the Dolphin to fetch your coat.”

  “What does that matter?” he cried. “Felicia, tell me at once, are you happy?” A shadow crossed her face. Not happy, then. “Is it Uncle Giles? Is he pursuing you? He must be, or why else would he subscribe to the balls?”

  Those expressive eyes displayed astonishment at that idea. “Mr Warborough? I assure you that any pursuit in which he is engaged is not directed at me. Will you not come inside out of this rain? I have no idea why you have come here, but I would not have you struck down with a fever because of it.”

  “I came to find you. I was worried about you.”

  She took his arm, and he allowed himself to be led meekly across the road, dodging between passing carts, and through a door. A young man came forward, the clerk he had spoken to earlier that day.

  “Do you have a fire in your parlour?” Felicia said. “Lord Finlassan is very wet, and must warm himself at once.”

  Another door opened, and Fin followed them into the room. The fire was already lit, burning low, but the clerk fiddled about with coals and the poker until it blazed brightly. Felicia pulled Fin across the room to stand in front of it as the clerk withdrew.

  “Now,” she began, “you can tell me—”

  “You are not happy,” he burst out. “Why? Is it Buckley? Did he raise your hopes and—?” She was smiling and shaking her head. “Not Buckley? Then is it something I did? If I offended you—”

  “No, no! You did nothing wrong.”

  “Why did you leave?” he said. “I did not want you to leave and there was no need.”

  “There was every need,” she said firmly. “My position at Hawkewood was only ever intended to be temporary, remember? Just until a governess could be engaged. Now that that has been done—”

  “What does that matter? The girls still need you. I need you. You must come back, Felicia.”

  Now her expression changed again, but he could not read it this time. “No,” she said softly. “
I have no place there.”

  “How can you say so? You will always have a place there, to set me straight and keep me in order, to inspire me, for I cannot manage without you.”

  Anger. She drew herself up straighter, moving away from him, and her eyes flashed contemptuously. “Of course you can! You know precisely what you ought to do and how you ought to behave. You are not a child, Fin. You will not do to me what you did to the Lady Juliana. I will not allow you to turn me into some kind of idol who dominates your life.”

  “But you are my muse.”

  “Your prisoner, you mean. Do you not see how cruel it is? All my life I have had to imagine the perfect life that reality denied me. A father who was rich or noble or heroic, a mother who loved me and wept when I was torn from her despairing arms, a family who discovered their lost daughter with cries of joy and swept me away to a world free of want and wrapped me in unwavering affection. Of course I knew it was all lies, but it comforted me when I was alone, and kept me from misery. But then you came along and gave me a tantalising glimpse of the life I had always envisaged. Your beautiful house, the estate, the glories of Derbyshire. When I was there the dreams and the truth merged until I could not tell one from another. I began to put down roots there, to feel as if I belonged and that was so dangerous, for the truth is that there is no place for me there. I am an interloper, I know that. I left because I had to and it was the hardest thing I have ever done. If I return, it would be ten times harder to leave again, and yet I must.”

  “Why? Why must you ever leave? Come back and stay for ever.”

  Her face was white. “I cannot. Do not ask it of me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it cannot possibly be for ever. One day you will marry and your wife will certainly not want me there.”

  The door opened and a man peered round it. “Get out!” Fin said. The man scuttled away.

  Felicia laughed suddenly. “Poor Mr Pierce!”

  He stared at her, flummoxed. How could he persuade her? Why could she not see how much he needed her? No matter what she said, he could not see how he could go on with his life without her. She was indispensable to him, utterly essential to his happiness…

  Then he knew the answer. He knew his own mind as certainly as he knew that the sun would rise tomorrow.

  “Marry me,” he said.

  She became utterly still, her eyes wide with shock, her lips slightly apart.

  “Please… marry me.”

  She put her hands in front of her mouth, so that all he could see of her face was the huge eyes staring at him. Such expressive eyes! The initial shock was giving way to something else… hope? Desire? Or was that his own wish imposing itself?

  “Felicia? Will you marry me?”

  She crossed her arms across her chest. “Yes. I will. I will marry you.” She gave a little laugh. “I ought to be noble and self-sacrificing and protest that I am unworthy to be the wife of an earl — which is perfectly true — but I cannot do it. I want to marry you so badly… have wanted it almost since I first met you. I know I ought to refuse, but I love you far too well to contemplate it. I will marry you, yes.”

  Joy coursed through him, filling him with delicious warmth. He was giddy with happiness, and could feel a broad smile spreading across his face. She was his! She would never leave him, and the world was in perfect harmony. He laughed in delight.

  25: Running Away

  A discreet cough made Felicia jump.

  “Oh! Oh, Mr Pierce.”

  “May I intrude for a moment? Is there anything your lordship requires? A towel, perhaps? Some brandy?”

  Fin laughed again, and shook his head. “No brandy.” He seemed… happy. Yes, happy. Perhaps he would regret his impulsive offer later but for the moment, Felicia could see that the tension had dropped away from him, and the intensity in his gaze had softened. There was a warmth in his eyes when he looked at her.

  While Mr Pierce fussed around Fin, Felicia had a moment to wonder at her situation. She had gone in moments from despair and dark misery, through fear of her unknown pursuers to the astonishment of seeing Fin, dripping wet, barrelling down the High Street towards her. He had come to find her! He cared about her. And then the most shattering moment of all, those world-changing words — ‘Marry me’. In a haze of delirious selfishness, she had accepted him. They were, she supposed, betrothed, at least until some other impulse crossed his mind, and he thought better of it.

  “I believe you wished to see me, my lord?”

  “Did I? Oh… no, I have found what I was looking for.” A quick glance at Felicia, and there was that warmth again.

  “Then perhaps you are merely sheltering from the rain?” Mr Pierce said.

  Felicia remembered her mission. “I wished to see you, but…” She glanced uncertainly at Fin. “Perhaps another day?”

  “Now is as good a time as any, if Mr Pierce is free to attend to you.” Then, hesitantly, he went on, “If you wish to consult him alone…”

  She was gripped with a fear that if he went away he would have time to reflect on his rashness and change his mind, so she said quickly, “Not at all. It is nothing secret.”

  They went through to Mr Pierce’s office, where chairs resistant to the effect of damp breeches and pelisses were found, and the fire was built up to satisfactory levels, warm enough to raise steam from their drying clothes. Felicia explained about the two men she had seen, who seemed to be following her, or perhaps watching her, for she had seen them only the day before as she left the shop in the village. Realising that they were observed, they had quickly vanished behind the church, and she had not felt it seemly to chase after them through the churchyard.

  “They do not approach you, or accost you in any way?” Mr Pierce said, polishing his spectacles vigorously before replacing them carefully on his nose.

  “Not at all, and I do not feel that they intend me harm, but what can they mean by it? Is there anything that may be done to deter them? Should I alert the constables, do you think?”

  “As to the latter, it seems to me that you have no need for such assistance.” He beamed at her, and then at Fin. “You have a powerful protector now, I believe.”

  “It is unsettling,” Fin said, frowning. “I do not like it. We should return to Derbyshire at once.”

  “At once!” Felicia said. “I can hardly leave instantly, and it is Sunday tomorrow.”

  “Next week, then,” Fin said. “Monday. Pack a few things, and I will make the arrangements. We can send for the rest of your belongings later. I will not have you hounded by these men.”

  There was no arguing with Fin in such a mood. Nor did she wish to, for a speedy return to Hawkewood Hall and the announcement of their betrothal exactly accorded with her wishes. Only when they had faced Lady Drusilla’s outrage would she be certain whether this abrupt betrothal would stand, for she could not depend upon it. Somewhere inside her was a knot of fear. He had asked her to marry him, but he had spoken not one word of love. He had called her his muse, not his beloved, and perhaps he married her as the only way to keep his muse close. But if that was all this marriage should be, she would accept it gladly. At least she would be with him, would share his life, and that was enough.

  She left the men to discuss details. One of the juniors returned from the Dolphin with Fin’s coat and hat, although he had forgotten the gloves. Somewhat drier, and more respectably dressed, Fin offered his arm and they stepped out of the attorney’s office onto a street already bathed in sunshine again, although the road still streamed with water, the puddles gently steaming in the afternoon heat.

  They had not taken ten paces when Felicia stopped abruptly. It was the two men who were following her! They stood a little further up the street with their backs to Felicia, together with—!

  She gave a squawk of outrage. Grabbing Fin’s arm tightly, she dragged him into the nearest shop, a grocer’s. “They are there!” she hissed. “The men of whom I spoke. They are right there on the stree
t, and they are talking to Mr Warborough!”

  She pointed them out to him, and he peered through the window. Within moments, the group broke up, the two unknown men disappearing down Broad Lane, while Mr Warborough walked on down the street and passed by the grocer’s shop window. They quickly hid behind the sacks of rice and when they next dared to look, he was gone.

  “He knows them!” Felicia cried. “Mr Warborough knows those men!”

  “That settles it,” Fin said firmly. “We leave at once. Whatever Uncle Giles is up to, it is nothing good, that much is certain. You will be safe at Hawkewood. Come, let us go back to the Dolphin and have the horses put to.”

  “Today?”

  “Immediately, or as soon as Matthews has packed for me.”

  “What about my things? I need to go back to the cottage—”

  “Too dangerous.”

  “But I shall have to tell Agnes, and Jimmy Temple is waiting for me at the Star with the gig. I must have some clothes, Fin.”

  He grunted. “Very well, but we will go in my carriage, not the gig. I will see that this Temple fellow gets word, but only after we have left. We must take no risks until we know what is going on.”

  She could not think that such urgency was called for, but as it showed a pleasing concern for her wellbeing she made no further protest. As they turned to leave, they found the grocer bowing and smiling at them.

  “Good afternoon, madam. Good afternoon, sir. What may I offer you? We have an excellent range of teas, newly arrived direct from China.”

  “Nothing,” Fin said, and would have turned directly for the door.

  Felicia tugged on his sleeve. “We should buy something, since we have made use of the grocer’s shop. Not tea, perhaps, but—”

  “Something to please the young lady,” the grocer said eagerly. “Some dried figs? Or something sweet? I have some delicious sugared almonds.”

  “We will take some of those,” Fin said, smiling down at Felicia in the most heart-stopping way. “A pound… no, two pounds. You may eat them on the journey, my dear.”