Lady Ellingham and the Theft of the Stansfield Necklace: A Regency Romance (3 page)

      Felicity
did not stop running until she reached the end of Green Street.  She looked
around for her pursuer but was amazed to discover that the street was deserted.
Thank goodness!  Thorndale had decided not to give chase. She almost collapsed
on the pavement with relief but it would do no good to linger.  She turned into
Park Street and lapsed into a quick walking pace.  All she wanted to do now was
to get to the safety of her own home. 

      Felicity
had just turned into Upper Brook Street when a large dark figure suddenly
jumped out of the shadow of a doorway and grabbed her from behind.  She felt a
vice like arm fasten around her neck and press hard against her throat and
something sharp digging into her side.  ‘Well me lad, just do as yer telt and
hand over the baubles and yer winnit get hurt.’ The voice was aggressive,
guttural and unrefined and Felicity had no doubt that she had fallen into the
hands of a footpad.

      Felicity
struggled to free herself, forcing her elbows as hard as she could into his
ribs. In his shock, her assailant relaxed his grip just enough for Felicity to
turn around but she could not quite free herself.  She found herself facing a
giant of a man with a pocked marked face and blackened teeth.  ‘Slippery little
bugger aren’t yer,’ he grinned as she struggled some more.  ‘Why don’t you just
make it easy on yersel and hand over the blunt and I’ll be on me way. That way yer
won’t be gettin hurt.’

      ‘Let me
loose you worm!’ she gasped trying to free herself from his grip. She could not
even reach into her pocket for her pistol for her arms were pinned to her sides.
‘I have no money!’ she cried.

     ‘What the...’
The man stared at her in surprise and ripped the black silk scarf from off her
face. ‘Well, well, well, what have we here, a wench?’  He continued to knock
the hat off her head, her long golden hair escaping its confines.  She had tied
the tresses harshly back in a band but some unruly blonde curls had broken
free.

      The man
gave a lopsided, sickly grin and Felicity froze in horror as he discovered her
secret.  ‘Well seeing as yer ave no blunt, mebbies yer might ave somethin else
I might like,’ he leered.   He bent over her to kiss her but she averted her
face and his lips brushed passed her ear.  She nearly retched with disgust.  He
stank like the gutter and his breath reeked of daffy.  Just at that moment,
they heard voices in the distance, faint at first but they were getting louder. 
Her assailant raised his head to listen, obviously reluctant to relinquish his
unexpected and most welcome prize. The conversation became distinguishable as
two gentlemen walked toward the end of Park Street and into Upper Brook Street.

      ‘I say
Henry, what time is it?’  Henry consulted his timepiece. ‘Still early old chap,
only 2pm. I have to say Charles it was damn tame offerings at Watiers tonight,
the stakes were not very high.  Glad we left when we did but what shall we do
now?’

      The man
called Charles deliberated for a bit. ‘Ball of fire, that is what we need
Charles, a ball of fire.  What do you say that we knock old George up; he keeps
damned fine brandy in his cellars, doubt he’s paid tax on a drop of it.’

      ‘Jolly
good notion Charles,’ Henry replied chuckling gaily.

      It was at
that moment they noticed Felicity trapped in the great arms of her assailant.  Felicity,
who had listened expectantly, sagged with disappointment as they rounded the
corner.  One of the gentlemen was round and portly and clearly in his altitudes
and the other was of medium height, very slim and appeared to be in no better a
state.  She doubted she would get any help from this quarter.  The footpad
grinned, he was obviously of the same opinion and who could blame him, for he
was a giant of a man and certainly a lot younger than the two unfortunate
gentlemen who had stumbled upon them.   Moreover, the two inebriated gentleman
appeared not to understand the situation.

      ‘I think
we have chanced upon a mill Henry.’  Charles raised his nose in the air and
sniffed.  There was a distinct pungent aroma of daffy and something else;
Charles could not quite describe it but it was certainly acridly pungent.  He
raised his quizzing glass to survey the scene. ‘This is no mill old chap.’ He
poked Felicity’s assailant in the hip with his cane. ‘That gentleman there is a
footpad, I would swear it.’

      Henry
gazed through his alcohol-induced stupor as if he had just received a
revelation. ‘By George, Charles I think you may be right.’

      Henry
gazed at Felicity. ‘Say young man, are you in need of assistance?’

      Felicity
still locked in the footpads vice like grip nodded her head vigorously but the rogue
just laughed.  Henry turned to the footpad. ‘I say you scoundrel, unhand that
young man. What kind of coward are you anyway? Why you don’t pick on someone
your own size?’

      The
footpad just gave them a languid wave of the hand. ‘This here, you old fools,
is no cove, and I would suggest you both mosey on your way and be mindin yer
own business if yer divna want yer cork drawn.’

     Henry
looked at his friend. ‘Did you hear that Charles, this ruffian called you an
old fool.’

     ‘Called me
an old fool did he?  Do you know Henry I am not sure if that was a compliment. 
I don’t think I like being called an old fool.’

      With one
swift movement that belied his age and his inebriated state, Charles raised his
cane and pressed a lever to reveal a large deadly blade. Before the footpad
knew what he was about, Charles adroitly thrust the blade into the footpad’s
upper thigh.  He gave a shriek of pain bringing his hand down to his leg to
support himself and released Felicity in the process.  Felicity ran to stand
behind her rescuers before the assailant regained his senses.  Blood was seeping
through his coarse breeches and was slowly dripping down his leg.  The footpad
glared daggers at Charles who held him at bay with the length of his cane, sullied
with blood but still glinting ominously in the moonlight.  Badly injured, with
blood dripping heavily on the pavement and no longer having control of the
situation, the footpad cursed and spat, and then deciding to cut his losses, he
limped off down the street.

      ‘Good
riddance to him I say,’ muttered Henry as he turned to Felicity.

       Felicity
by this time had retrieved her scarf and hat and put them back on, quickly tucking
her hair into the confines of her hat.  She only tied the scarf loosely around
her lower face as she had no desire to be rude.

 ‘I say young men
are you alright?’ Charles asked with a jovial air. Felicity replied in deep
tones. ‘I think so sir.  I must thank you for your kind intervention.’

      Henry patted her hard
on the back nearly knocking her over. ‘No problem young man, think nothing of
it. I think after such an experience you must be in need of a drink. We are off
to George’s house for a brandy would you care to join us? The more the merrier
I say.’

      Felicity bowed. ‘No,
no thank you sir,’ she spluttered and not daring to say anymore in case she
gave herself away, she ran off down the street as fast as her legs would take
her.

      ‘Well I say,’
George remarked as his eyes followed her.  ‘The young men today, running off
like that!  Didn’t even tell us his name.’

      Charles frowned
as he watched Felicity enter into a house at the far end of the street. ‘I say
Henry I do not think that was a young man.  I think that was a Lady.’

      ‘A Lady!  Nonsense,
what would a Lady be doing on the streets this time of night unescorted?’

      Charles shook his
head.  ‘I do not know old chap, but I am telling you that was a gel.’

      Henry scratched
his head as if trying to think. ‘He was wearing breaches wasn’t he?’

      ‘Yes but...’

      ‘Then he must
have been a lad,’ Henry concluded. ‘Stands to reason.’

      ‘But did you see
those curls peeking out from under that hat?’ Charles argued.

      ‘Well he must have
been a pretty lad then, don’t be such a nodcock Charles, it could not possibly
have been a gel. What respectable gel would be out on her own in the streets
this time of night?’

      ‘Charles shook
his head. ‘You know Henry I am sorry but I must be more foxed than I thought.’

      ‘Well boy or gel,
the fellow just lives down the street so he could at least have invited us in
for a brandy.’

       ‘Don’t be too
hard on the young sprig old chap.  He must have had a shock.  That footpad was
a big brute of a fellow.  He scared me, I can tell you. Tell you what, did you
notice which house the young cawker went into? We should pay him a visit
tomorrow to see how he is. Young devil probably should not even have been out,
he only looked about fifteen.’ 

      ‘Good idea Henry,
and meanwhile we can still knock George up for that ball of fire. Boy I need it
more than ever after that.’

      Henry grimaced.  ‘Got
a feeling he might tell us to go to the devil this time of night.’

      ‘Goodness no! It
is only a quarter past two, still early yet old chap,’ Charles quipped and at that,
the two friends linked arms and sauntered off down the street.

******

      On reaching home
and entering the hallway, Felicity almost collapsed with relief.  She had
always yearned for adventure but certainly not an adventure of this sort. 
Still she needed to reach the safety of her own room.  It would not do for
Richard to return home to find her loitering in the hallway dressed in Harry’s
clothes.  She reached into the jacket pocket; thank goodness, the necklace was
still there.  The footpad had been so surprised with the discovery that a
female was wrestling in his grip; that he had forgot almost everything else.  It
was a good thing that Charles and Henry had arrived on the scene when they did.
 If Felicity had lost the necklace it would have been a disaster and it did not
escape her that, it was not all that could have been lost this night.  She had
a very lucky escape indeed.

      Felicity crept to
her room without incidence, took the black velvet pouch containing the necklace
out of her pocket and placed in carefully in a small secret recess in her
bedside table.  She could not wait to tell Emily that she had retrieved her
family heirloom and that she could rest and be happy again. She would pay her a
visit tomorrow. Felicity undressed and hid Harry’s clothes under her bed until
she had time to return them to his wardrobe.  She regretted having lost one of
his gloves but hopefully he would not miss them when he returned home.

      Only two streets
away in Green Street, Alex Sheraton stepped from the balcony back into his bedchamber. 
He looked around and everything seemed to be in order. He had caught the
intruder standing next to the dresser and he certainly did not look as if he
had had any time to take anything. He had not carried a bag and he did not
appear to have anything stashed on his person.

      Thorndale walked
over to the dresser and opened the drawer where he had thrown his winnings from
the previous evening; to his relief they were still there.  He reached into his
pockets to remove this evening’s spoils so that he could place it with the
rest. He picked up the bundle, added his winnings and was just about to throw
it back, when he noticed that something was wrong.   The little black velvet
pouch containing the Stansfield necklace was missing. Thorndale put his hand
towards the back of the drawer to check if the pouch had been jostled to the
rear but found nothing.  He knew he should have put it in the safe the night
before, but when he had arrived home, he had been tired and just placed it into
the drawer beside the bundle of cash.  The realisation came to him and he stood
furious.  It was gone. The Stansfield necklace was gone.  The Duke of
Stansfield would be furious and if there was one person for whom he held a
great respect, it was his father.

      Thorndale stood
there mystified.  What kind of thief would steal a necklace but leave nearly
£2000 in cash just lying in a roll.  He was mystified and it only served to
strengthen his suspicion that this was no ordinary thief.  He cursed and made a
resolve to ensure that no stone was left unturned in bringing the fellow to
book.

******

         Felicity arose
late the following morning.  Despite the excitement of the night before, she
had slept well.  She could only put it down to nervous exhaustion.  With the
assistance of Sarah, she dressed and made her way to the drawing room where she
found her mother putting the finishing touches to a beautiful embroidered
cushion cover and admiring her handiwork.

      The Countess
looked up as she entered the room. ‘So there you are Felicity.  I was just
about to send out a search party for you.  I need to go to Madam Fournier’s for
the final fitting for my new ball gown.  Would you like to accompany me?’

      Felicity gave her
mother an apologetic smile. ‘I would have been happy to mama but I was hoping
to pay Emily a morning call.’  Lady Ellingham looked disappointed. ‘But you
will see her tonight at Almack’s,’ she replied in the hope that Felicity might
change her mind.