by Amanda Scott
Felicia could not pretend she did not understand him, for she, too, had been aware for some time that Belinda Crawley’s behavior had altered, and not for the better. “I think, perhaps, she has merely become more confident of herself now that the Season has begun in earnest, sir. The first few weeks are always a bit unnerving for a young girl, you know.”
“Dash it, ma’am, it ain’t like it’s her first season. I could understand it if it were Theo—Miss Theodosia—who were doing the changing. She is in her first, though, watching her hold court at every event she attends, no one would guess it. If it weren’t for Vyne insisting she get her beauty sleep, and throwing fits, by what I hear, when she don’t, Miss Theo would be the belle of the Season. But only look at Belinda.” He seemed unaware that he had used her first name. “Why, there she is over there with that rascal Dacres, preening and flirting with her fan like a doxy. That won’t do. Where the devil is Ned, that he don’t stop her from making such a cake of herself. Dash it, I’m going to speak to her myself.”
“Yes,” Felicia said, beginning to enjoy herself, “you go and do that, my lord. I see Sir Richard, there by the window. I’ll let him take me back inside, so you need not concern yourself.”
It was just as well she did not easily take offense, since he had clearly forgotten her and already had taken several steps toward Belinda and Dacres. He was not deaf, however, and reminded, he turned quickly back, apologized, and motioned to Vyne to join them. No sooner had the artist done so, however, than Dawlish excused himself and hurried away.
“Enjoying yourself, Miss Adlam?”
She chuckled. “I think Dawlish has a stronger interest in Miss Crawley than he admits, don’t you, sir?”
Vyne shrugged. “Won’t do him any good. Belinda has decided to marry into great wealth. Dawlish wasn’t born in a cottage, and his connections are excellent, but she thinks of him as a brother, you know, not as a suitor.”
“That can change, sir, in the blink of an eye.”
“Perhaps. Women are notoriously fickle.”
“And men are not?”
He looked at her shrewdly. “Any particular man we might be discussing, or just men in general?”
Feeling warmth in her cheeks, she said with forced calm, “Certainly in general, sir. I merely made an observation. Men can be quite as fickle and rude, or as sensitive and frail as women can be. To separate feelings and emotions by sex has always seemed to me to be absurd. People are simply people.”
“No doubt.” His attention was clearly wandering. He collected himself with visible effort and said, “Your sister will stay up much too late, knowing she need not sit in the morning, but do not let her continue to fatigue herself unduly, or it will show in the painting. If it is to be finished in time for your aunt’s ball, I cannot spend a great deal of time trying to recapture the look I want from sketches. It will be easier if she can pose, but she must look her best.”
“How much is left to be done?”
“Only the final touches to the figure itself, and the glazing. Had to leave the gown till last, because it is white—I explained about that—and will take a deal of time to dry.” He looked sharply at her. “I’d like your word, ma’am, that Miss Theodosia will have no new opportunity to get into that room.”
“No, she has promised, sir, and Theo does not break her word when she gives it to me.”
He studied her for a moment, seemed satisfied, and nodded. They went back into the ballroom, and Vyne left her with Lady Augusta, who also had comments to make about Theo, but Felicia was accustomed to her aunt’s ways, and paid little heed to them. She had grown bored with the evening, and was quite willingly discussing the possibility of going on to Lady Hawthorne’s drum when Dawlish approached, looking harassed, and said he must speak with her again at once.
“Devil of a thing, ma’am,” he said, scarcely waiting until they had moved a little distance from the others. “Can’t understand it, but the fat is dashed well in the fire now, because Belinda thinks I have asked her to marry me!”
“Good gracious, sir, how came that about?”
“Dashed if I know,” he said. “I was telling her that in my own opinion she ought not to be flirting so outrageously, or behaving as if she were a diamond of the first water, tossing her head and treating other folk like peasants, and when she demanded to know what business it was of mine, I said I dashed well wished her papa were still alive, because then I should know what to do about it, and dashed if she didn’t say she couldn’t think what I was about to be proposing marriage to her in such a slapdash way! Now, dash it, I ask you, ma’am, did that sound like a proposal?”
Felicia had all she could do to contain her amusement, but she managed it, and said, “Well, sir, you did say you wished you could speak with her father. Generally, when a young man wants to speak to a lady’s father, it is to ask for her hand. And perhaps Belinda knows that you care for her.”
“But I don’t!”
“Don’t you?”
He stared. “Well, not in that—Oh, good God, Miss Adlam, you don’t know what you are saying. Ned will cut out my liver if I have led Bella to think I want to marry her.”
“But don’t you?”
He let out a long breath and nodded. “Made up my mind years ago that if I couldn’t have Bella, I’d never marry. But Ned won’t hear of it. Wants her to marry for money even more than she wants it, and he clearly don’t think I’ve got enough. Stands to reason, don’t it? As good as warned me off her, didn’t he?”
“Did he?”
“Yes, by heaven, he did.”
“I see. Well, perhaps you and Miss Crawley ought to have a real talk, sir, and find out what the pair of you want before this goes much further. It is possible that you are mistaken, and if you are not, there still may be a way out of the mire.”
He sighed. “I suppose you are right. One hesitates, however, to annoy Ned, particularly just now when he has other things on his mind.”
“More debts, I suppose,” Felicia said with a sigh.
Dawlish looked at her as though he would deny the charge, but he seemed to have second thoughts and said merely, when Lady Augusta was seen to be approaching them in a purposeful manner, that Felicia might do well to take some of her own advice.
Lady Augusta had come to tell her they were ready to depart for Lady Hawthorne’s house, and Felicia did not see Dawlish again that evening. In the days that followed, she had no time to consider anything beyond her own engagements and the preparations for their ball. Crawley did not return for Theo’s next sitting, sending word from Newmarket that he would be delayed, and they did not hear from him again for some time.
Felicia, believing that he had got tired of playing nursemaid, decided he had more interesting things to do, but she expected daily to see him at one of their engagements or riding in the park. He did not return, however, even for the opening of Almack’s, and she found the evening deadly dull, having no interest in flirting, which was the main pastime at the famous subscription balls. Indeed, London had begun to seem tiresome.
Much time in the days before the ball was spent at Lady Augusta’s large house in Upper Brook Street, helping her make decisions regarding a myriad of last-minute details; and then, several days before the date, a new crisis occurred.
Theo came running to find Felicia. “Did we not send an invitation to Caroline Oakley?”
“Yes, of course, we did.”
“Well, she never received it. I met Belinda in the park, and she told me Caro is afraid she has offended us.”
The same afternoon, when Felicia received a demand from her aunt to know what had become of the invitations for the Ladies Crofton and Thomond, since they had not received them, she realized something was truly amiss, and remembering what had occurred with her letter from Bradstoke to Lady Augusta, sent an inquiry to the post office to ask if some similar incident had prevented the invitations from being delivered. Receiving a reply with her morning post and opening it to read a dign
ified disclaimer, she exclaimed, “The post office knows nothing about them. I cannot understand it, for the entire lot was set out in the hall and collected at once. What can have happened to them?”
Theo and Freddy were her only companions, the latter having come in but minutes before to suggest that since Lord Crawley had given up taking him driving, perhaps Miss Ames might escort him and Sara Ann to see the wild beasts at the Tower menagerie. Upon hearing Felicia’s exclamation, he immediately assumed an expression of angelic innocence and said, “Happened to what, Aunt Felicia? Has something gone missing?”
Noting the look, Felicia watched him carefully and said, “A good number of the invitations to our ball have gone missing, Freddy. Can you think what might have happened to them?”
“How would I know about any old invitations?”
The innocent look was more intense than ever, but Felicia had begun to note that Master Freddy took care not to be caught in any outright lie, so she said quietly, “Do you know?”
His cheeks grew red, and he looked away from her.
“Freddy?”
He shrugged.
Theo said angrily, “You little beast, where are they?”
“Theo.” Felicia quelled her with a look, then turned back to the little boy and said, “Freddy, I think you must tell us the truth, you know. This is a very serious matter.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then said, “I’ll get them.” Turning on his heel, he ran out, and a moment later, they heard his footsteps clattering on the upper flight of stairs.
Theo said grimly, “I wish Jack and Nan would come to collect that little wretch. Really, Felicia, it is a wonder he has not burned us in our beds merely to see what it might be like. That is always the reason he gives for his mischief.”
Felicia hoped Theo was wrong, but when Freddy handed her a stack of invitations minutes later, and she demanded that he explain himself, he shrugged and said, “I saw them sitting on the hall table waiting for the postman, and I just moved some of them to my bedchamber for a while to see what would happen.”
Conscious of a wish that not Jack or Nan but Crawley were at hand to give this child his just deserts, Felicia struggled to remain calm and said through gritted teeth, “Freddy, you have been very naughty. You simply must not do such dreadful things.”
“I didn’t know it would make you angry. Are you going to send us back to India now?”
She stared at him. “Is that what you want? Is that why you do the dreadful things you do?”
“No. At home no one ever told me what was wanted. I had to find out for myself, and when we were in the way there, our papa and mama sent us to you. There is nowhere to send us from here but back to them, is there?”
“School,” Theo told him. “The new term begins in a week, thank the good Lord, and I hope your masters beat you often.”
“I should think they probably will,” Freddy said with a sigh. Then, looking pensively at Felicia, he added, “I expect this is not a good time to mention that you still have not said if Miss Ames may take us to the Tower.”
Felicia was conscious of an overwhelming desire to lose her temper. Really, she thought, repressing it with difficulty, civility was becoming a great deal more taxing than it ever had been before. She said carefully, “Not only is it not a good time, Freddy, but you must tell Miss Ames that although Sara Ann and Tom may go if they wish to do so, you are to have no treats at all until after the ball. Do you understand me?”
He nodded, looking serious but not, she thought, particularly chastened. Sending him to repeat her message to the governess and then to retire to his bedchamber to think about his sins, she sighed, and said to Theo, “I do not know what to make of that child. I cannot believe he truly means to be wicked, but it is as if he had no sense of right or wrong.”
Theo nodded. “Tom told me once that Jack and Nan left the children entirely to the servants to raise, and the servants generally allowed them to do as they pleased. Tom, being the eldest, has always felt some responsibility to the younger children, and of course Sara Ann is just a baby by comparison, but Freddy feels no responsibility to anyone. School will be the making of him, I think,” she added with a wise look.
Felicia frowned. “Crawley said the same thing, and I think his reasoning was much like yours, that he hoped they would beat proper behavior into him. But I cannot wish for that, Theo. I want him to learn that his behavior makes a difference, both to himself and to those of us who love him.”
Theo shrugged and turned the subject back to the invitations. Felicia decided to send footmen to deliver those addressed to persons most likely to be offended by the delay and to entrust the rest to the post. In the days that followed she had no time to miss Crawley, but she did note that Freddy’s behavior was irreproachable. He tended to his lessons and was such a model of rectitude that Miss Ames expressed herself astonished and even Lady Adlam commented upon the change.
“He can be such a pleasant little fellow,” she said to Felicia and Theo two afternoons before the ball, when they were counting replies to their invitations and inscribing a flattering number of acceptances on their guest list.
Felicia, knowing well that this encomium derived from nothing more than Freddy’s having taken five minutes to hunt for his grandmother’s vinaigrette, which Lady Adlam had managed to mislay in moving from the sofa in her sitting room to the one in the drawing room, felt no compelling urge to encourage this change of attitude, knowing it could easily alter again in the space of an hour. She agreed merely that Freddy had shown a good deal of kindness in searching for the vinaigrette.
Lord Adlam, who was perusing his afternoon post at the writing table, diverted her attention just then by saying in a tone of outrage, “Whatever can they be thinking of now?”
“What is it, Papa?”
He clicked his tongue angrily. “That rascal Bonaparte. If he forces the Portuguese to expel the English wine merchants from Oporto and Lisbon, the English trade there will fail altogether, since the Portuguese will be glad to get it into their own hands. His man in Lisbon wants to ship as soon as possible. They have thirty-six thousand pounds’ worth of wine there—a good bit of it mine—and would be glad to remove it, but their man is afraid of being stopped if he attempts it.”
“But I thought your wine had already been delivered, Papa.”
“Pooh, nonsense, that was only what was left of a very fine cellar after the collector died. This is the best Portuguese wine I’m talking about, Felicity. We may never get any more!”
Fortunately, since she could think of nothing intelligent to say to soothe his outrage, Peters entered just then to announce the arrival of Mr. Townshend.
“I will come down to him, Peters,” she said. But her father had paid attention for once and demanded to know who was this fellow Townshend to intrude at such a moment.
“A Bow Street man, Papa,” she said calmly.
“Bow Street? Have nothing to do with him!”
“But I must. He is to provide security for Aunt Augusta’s ball, and I collect that he has something to discuss with me.”
“Not suitable,” Adlam said testily. “Bring the fellow up here if we must see him at all, Peters. Not right my daughter should entertain a fellow of his stamp alone.”
Felicia protested. “I am certain he would prefer a more private interview, sir. Perhaps if you and I were to see him downstairs. Mama will not wish to be disturbed.”
“Nonsense, do her good to be disturbed. What are you waiting for, Peters? Show him up at once.”
Peters fled, and Felicia, exchanging a speaking glance with Theo, accepted the inevitable.
Townshend was shown in a few moments later and displayed not the least discomfort at finding an audience awaiting him. Making a profound leg to Lady Adlam and another to his lordship, he turned with a businesslike air to Felicia and said, “It’s done the business, Miss Adlam, just as we’d hoped it would. The culprit is known. The question is what to do now.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Adlam. “Do you understand him, Theo, love? Felicity, what is the man nattering about?”
“I believe he has unmasked the person who has been forging invitations to ton parties, Papa. Is that it, Mr. Townshend?”
“That’s it,” the runner replied. “Nabbed her at the stationer’s, just as I’d hoped, ordering cards. Had the nerve to inform the chap that Lady Augusta had misjudged the number of cards required, and had asked her to collect a few more. I’d had a word with the stationer beforehand, of course, and he kept her waiting whilst he sent for your humble servant.”
Felicia, realizing that he was enjoying their suspense, said crisply, “A woman? Pray, who is it?”
He glanced at Theo. “Don’t mind telling you, I suspected a few, but never this one.” Theo glared back at him. “I suppose you thought it was me.”
“Don’t say I didn’t. Soon saw it was Lady Augusta got the invites, though, and wouldn’t no one leave her off a guest list.”
Felicia chuckled. “Oh, Theo, what a coup for you! You may tell all your friends you were a suspect. Won’t they tease you!”
Theo’s smile was crooked. “Sir Richard already said he wouldn’t put such a thing past me, but that was because he was cross with me at the time. And, anyway, Crawley told him to stop talking nonsense. Said he had a good notion who the culprit was, and it was not Miss Theodosia Adlam. So there!”
Lord Adlam said curtly, “Suspected my Theo? Nonsense. You must be mad, Townshend, if you ever thought my lovely daughter would do such a thing.”
Theo said, “He just told us he knew it wasn’t me, Papa. And Sir Richard isn’t mad, either, not in the least, but I wonder if Crawley really knows who it is. Do you think he does, Felicia?”
Suddenly remembering the morning Townshend had left the fake invitations with her, that she had walked back into the room to find Crawley looking them over, Felicia said with a small gasp, “Good gracious, perhaps he thinks I’m the forger!” When everyone laughed, she explained, adding, “He gave me the oddest look, but I did not think much about it then. Now, I wonder.”
