Refining Felicity (10 page)

He leaned his head back and thought of Miss Betty Andrews.
She
would never dream of masquerading as a man. She was soft and curvaceous and beautiful, and he liked the pretty confiding way she had of shyly putting a dimpled hand on his arm and smiling up at him. She would never cause him a day’s upset or distress. He knew she would be in London for the Season, but, all in that moment, he decided to propose to her before she left Sussex.

Lady Felicity was in bed, and the marquess had just finished telling the Tribbles of Felicity’s adventures over a late supper. Effy clucked with shock and distress, but Amy remained silent. Amy thought it was terribly brave of Felicity to go through with allowing herself to be armed and pressed into service as a special constable. Amy also thought it must be wonderful to wear whiskers and stride free down the streets.

‘So, ladies,’ said the marquess, ‘to turn to pleasanter subjects: will you dance at my wedding?’

Hope shone in Amy’s eyes. ‘Oh, you monster,’ she said, ‘to plague us with your disgust of poor Felicity. Of course we will dance at your wedding. She is young and headstrong, but I knew all along you, above all, would be clever enough to see the gold there.’

‘I fear Lord Ravenswood does not mean Felicity,’ said Effy quietly.

‘No, of course not,’ said the marquess. ‘I mean to wed Miss Betty Andrews.’

‘Never heard of her,’ said Amy in a flat voice.

‘All London will soon know of her when she takes the Town by storm this coming Season,’ said the marquess. ‘She is divinely fair.’

‘Blondes ain’t fashionable,’ said Amy, leaning forward earnestly, oblivious of the fact that her left elbow was resting in the butter dish. ‘You can’t tell with blondes. Hardly ever natural. Look at Sally Jersey.’

‘Everything about Miss Andrews is natural,’ said the marquess with a reminiscent smile.

‘And that,’ as Amy said later to Effy, ‘is that. I could wring Felicity’s neck. How shall we punish her?’

Effy sighed. ‘I think this time, Amy, we will try kindness, and see if that doesn’t shame her into good behaviour. She had quite a terrible experience, you know. Mayhap it has sobered her.’

And, in the days that followed, Felicity certainly appeared a changed person. She had had a bad shock and went about quietly and carefully, like someone recovering from an accident.

Charlotte, the chambermaid, had been sent to the marquess’s country home, not in disgrace, but to keep her away from Felicity’s evil influence. The other servants, even Felicity’s maid, Wanstead, kept a wary eye on her but refused to be lured into any conversation. So Felicity settled down and learned to dance the new dances, the quadrille and the waltz, to perfection, play the pianoforte competently, and paint watercolours which gradually began to look like the scenes they were supposed to represent. Her tutors claimed themselves satisfied, particularly the music teacher, who refused to accept that Felicity had already known how to play the piano well and claimed credit for her prowess. The dancing master said she had acquired a certain grace and no longer whooped her way through Scottish reels and country dances like a hoyden.

What the Tribbles themselves were at pains to teach Felicity were courtesy and social manners tempered with kindness. Amy was often graceless and foulmouthed; Effy, silly; but both had a horror of hurting people by an ill-thought word or clumsy gesture. It was Effy who decided that Felicity must be taught the proper art of flirting. Effy acted as tutor, and Amy, dressed in breeches and bottle-green coat, acted the part of the man. Felicity was trained how to look coyly down when receiving a pretty compliment, how to slap with her fan when receiving a saucy one, and how to shudder and look distressed should the gentleman prove to be overbold in his attentions. Mr Haddon, coming upon them during one of these sessions, gallantly offered to play the courtier’s part; but for some reason Felicity could not understand, Effy grew distressed, and Amy, bad-tempered and sulky. Effy at last told Mr Haddon it was not seemly that a real gentleman should take part in their learning charades and Amy once more resumed her role.

The Tribbles still only took Felicity to sedate occasions, to lectures or concerts. They did not want Felicity led astray by some unsuitable man before the Season began. And then, a few weeks before the opening ball at Almack’s Assembly Rooms in King Street, Lord Bremmer came to call.

The sisters saw no reason to show him the door. He was rich and titled and unattached. Felicity could hardly be expected to do better. Mr Haddon had told the sisters they had been flying too high when they expected a paragon like Ravenswood even to look at Felicity.

For her part, Felicity was glad to see Lord Bremmer. He was as young as she, and it was flattering to see the love and devotion in his eyes. Ravenswood’s insults still burnt like acid in Felicity’s breast.

She no longer lay awake at nights making up plots and plans to trounce the Tribbles. But the day after Lord Bremmer’s reappearance, the morning papers carried the announcement of the Marquess of Ravenswood’s engagement to Miss Betty Andrews. The Tribble sisters had not seen any reason to warn Felicity of the approaching engagement.

Felicity hated the marquess more than ever. He would parade that horrible, clinging idiot, Betty Andrews, in front of her. He would laugh and sneer. The only way she could strike back at him was to hurt the Tribbles.

She was still young enough to consider anyone over the age of twenty-five as being practically devoid of feeling. As far as Felicity was concerned, the Tribble sisters were in comfortable circumstances. They did not need her and would soon find another to replace her.

Lord Bremmer was to be allowed to take her out driving that day. Felicity began again to plot and plan.

She had very little time to force their brief acquaintanceship on to a more intimate footing, but no sooner had they driven off than Lord Bremmer himself gave her the opportunity.

‘You must wonder, Lady Felicity,’ he said, as he turned his phaeton in at the gates of Hyde Park, ‘why it was I did not follow you to London.’

‘Yes, I did,’ said Felicity, giving him a melting smile.

‘Well, the awkward fact was,’ he said, ‘that a marriage had been more or less arranged for me by my parents. I had to extricate myself from that, don’t you see?’

‘Oh, yes,’ breathed Felicity while she fought with her conscience. She hoped desperately that Lord Bremmer’s intended had not been too hurt by his rejection of her.

‘But the thing that puzzles me,’ said Lord Bremmer, ‘is that if Ravenswood wants you for himself, then why did he up and propose to someone else?’

Felicity was ready for that one. ‘I spurned his advances,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘But he has vowed to get his revenge.’

‘Gad! How?’

‘He has sworn I shall never marry anyone, and to that end, he has persuaded the Tribble sisters to turn anyone from the doors who might wish me as a wife.’

‘But they gave me a great welcome.’

Felicity heaved a melancholy sigh. ‘I heard them laughing about it afterwards,’ she said. ‘Miss Amy said, “Bremmer is too young to be of danger.”’

Lord Bremmer’s face darkened with anger.

‘But after tomorrow, I shall not be allowed to see you again,’ said Felicity, with a break in her voice. ‘For Ravenswood comes to Town.’

‘Damme,’ said Lord Bremmer. ‘Such cruel persecution is beyond all bounds. I’ve a good mind to elope with you.’

He reined in his horses and looked at her. Felicity’s eyes were shining with hero worship.

‘Oh,
thank you
,’ she said.

‘Eh, what?’ asked Lord Bremmer, looking at her stupidly.

‘Thank you for rescuing me,’ said Felicity. ‘My hero!’

‘Oh, Gad, what, I say . . . urgh . . .’

‘And it can all be so simple. For there is to be a review in Hyde Park at eleven in the morning. And you shall take me to that and then we can change to your travelling carriage and go to Gretna.’

‘Urm . . . !’

‘How brave and clever you are.’ And Felicity went on praising him and smiling at him and telling him how wonderful he was until the bewildered young man would gladly have taken her to Greenland that very moment had she asked him.

‘And I shall put clothes in a paper parcel and say we are dropping them off at St George’s for the poor,’ said Felicity, ‘for I could never manage to carry a trunk out of the house.’

‘No, indeed,’ said Lord Bremmer, allowing himself to be swept along.

Felicity was resting in her room later that day when Amy came in.

‘Ravenswood’s coming here this evening,’ she said abruptly, ‘with Miss Andrews and her mother. Wear something really good for dinner.’

‘Is Lord Ravenswood to stay here again?’ asked Felicity.

‘Yes.’

‘Why? He has a Town house.’

‘Er . . . it’s being redecorated. Goodness, I’m tired,’ groaned Amy. ‘I had hoped for a quiet evening. I do not think I shall enjoy the company of this Miss Andrews. She sounds just the sort of female to make me feel awkward.’

‘Lord Ravenswood is very close to you, is he not?’ asked Felicity.

‘What? Oh, yes. Devilishly fond of me and Effy, he is. Anyway, wear one of the new gowns Mamselle made for you, there’s a good child.’

‘Very well, Miss Amy,’ said Felicity meekly.

Amy eyed her suspiciously.

‘I should be glad you are behaving so well these days, but such good behaviour from such as you makes me feel nervous. Not plotting anything, are you?’

‘No,’ said Felicity with a limpid look. ‘I am become all that is respectable, and the highly respectable Lord Bremmer is to take me to the review in Hyde Park tomorrow.’

Amy’s face cleared. ‘He’s a pleasant chap and comes from a good family. I had best go and try to make myself as near a fashion-plate as I can. Thank goodness, Mr Haddon is to be there as well.’

As she sat in the drawing room before dinner, Amy began to fidget nervously. What could be keeping Felicity? Effy was talking to Mr Haddon, the marquess was standing by the fireplace chatting to Miss Andrews, which left Amy with the task of talking to Mrs Andrews. Amy could not help wondering whether the marquess ever considered that his beloved might turn out in later years to look like her mother. Mrs Andrews had been a great beauty in her youth, but discontent had scored lines down either side of her mouth, and an excess of the use of blanc had pitted her skin. She had a high, drawling, affected voice.

Amy was just about to ring the bell and ask a servant to go and fetch Felicity when the door opened and that young lady walked in.

Amy’s eyes misted with pride.

The French dressmaker had already lived up to and beyond Amy’s expectations. The gown Felicity was wearing was a simple sprigged muslin. But it was one of the finest examples of Yvette’s art. The neckline was cleverly cut so that Felicity was allowed to bare the genteel maximum of seductive bosom and still look like a lady. The deep flounces at the hem fluttered as she moved, as did the thin material of her gown, emphasizing the hint of a shapely leg and the young swell of a firm buttock. Her hair was dressed in one of the latest Roman styles and pomaded to a high shine.

Miss Andrews looked at Felicity and then sharply upwards at the marquess. He was watching Felicity with a brooding, hooded look.

Effy made the introductions.

‘La,’ cried Miss Andrews, waving her fan. ‘I could not for a moment imagine you wearing red whiskers, Lady Felicity.’

Felicity gave a half-smile. The Tribble sisters threw reproachful glances at the marquess, who coloured slightly. He had told Miss Andrews of his adventures with Felicity but had not dreamt for a minute she would repeat them to anyone or betray in public that she knew anything at all. But worse was to come. For it soon transpired that Betty Andrews had told her mother all about Felicity. Like her daughter, Mrs Andrews was irritated by Felicity’s appearance. The marquess living under the same roof as the noisy masculine type of female she had expected Lady Felicity to prove to be was one thing; the marquess sharing a home with a graceful enchantress was another.

‘Yes, I confess I was monstrous shocked to hear of your escapade,’ drawled Mrs Andrews. ‘Gels were whipped for such behaviour in my day.’

The marquess found himself hoping Felicity would say something pert or rude so that he might not feel so awful about the behaviour of his future mother-in-law, but she merely raised her eyebrows slightly and went to sit beside Mr Haddon.

The rest of the evening was a nightmare for the marquess. It became all too plain that his fiancée was jealous of Lady Felicity, and the more jealous she became, the more charmingly Felicity behaved. After dinner, Felicity entertained the small company by playing the piano. Mr Haddon clapped enthusiastically and then demanded to see Felicity’s latest watercolours, telling Mrs Andrews proudly that Felicity had a professional touch.

The marquess watched Felicity with a brooding gaze. He found himself wondering if she had become beautiful, enchanting, and accomplished merely to spite him.

When at last Mrs Andrews rose to her feet and said they must leave, the remaining company sighed with relief.

Amy came back into the drawing room after seeing the Andrewses off.

Felicity was putting away her sheets of music. Amy slapped her on the back. ‘You Trojan, Felicity,’ she said. ‘If you weren’t the most enchanting piece of goods I’ve seen in years.’

Felicity smiled and blushed, but something flashed in the depths of her eyes.

Amy thought uneasily that the quick flash had been one of guilt and wondered why.