Refining Felicity (18 page)

Felicity realized she had spoken in her normal voice. Wanstead was slightly deaf and could be very deaf if she did not want to hear anything. Felicity repeated what she had just said in a loud voice.

‘Of course I will,’ said Wanstead. ‘Sit down at the toilet table, my lady, and I’ll do my best.’

Felicity smiled. ‘I don’t know what’s come over you, Wanstead. You always do my hair so well these days. I almost forget the times you used to try to yank the hair out of my head.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Wanstead, ‘it’s because of the change in you, my lady. You say “please” and “thank you” these days and it makes you a pleasure to work for.’

‘Have I been such a monster?’ asked Felicity ruefully.

‘Yes, my lady,’ said Wanstead. ‘Now do be quiet and let me work.’

‘So,’ finished Amy, ‘all my manipulating gone for nothing. Her grace has just informed me that Betty Andrews is a treasure.’

‘You should have consulted me,’ said Effy severely. ‘You are too impetuous, Amy.’

‘Well, I am usually more direct than you,’ said Amy hotly. ‘I always go to the heart of the matter.’

‘Then go to the heart of the matter,’ said Effy maliciously. ‘Go and tell Ravenswood he’s in love with Felicity and you want him to behave like a madman to release him from his engagement.’

Amy looked at her sister with her mouth open. Then she laughed. ‘Bless me, you’ve got it, Effy,’ she crowed and gallumphed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

By diligently questioning the servants, Amy found the marquess had gone out riding. She was so impatient to find him that she went straight to the stables and demanded a horse. The head groom fussed about, saying he must look for a side-saddle, but Amy roared at him that she could manage to ride with an ordinary saddle. Soon she was galloping off on a huge mount, her large feet stuck in the stirrups and her skirts hitched up to reveal scarlet stockings.

The marquess had ridden over to the Home Farm and had just completed his visit when he saw Amy flying towards him. He had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. There must be something up with Felicity to make Amy Tribble ride hell for leather like that. Amy came galloping up, reined in her horse, and tumbled out of the saddle to stand beside him.

‘My lord,’ she gasped. ‘You must appear mad as soon as possible.’

‘Why? What has happened?’

‘You must give Miss Andrews a disgust of you as soon as possible,’ said Amy.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘You must break your engagement to Miss Andrews, or rather, force her to break it.’

‘You make me feel incredibly stupid,’ said the marquess patiently, ‘but I still do not have the faintest idea what you mean.’

Amy sighed and then said carefully, ‘You, Ravenswood, are madly in love with Felicity. You don’t want to marry Miss Andrews. She is ambitious and won’t release you unless you do something about it. I told her there was madness in your family, but I don’t think she believed me.

‘I am beginning to think there is madness in
your
family, Miss Tribble. I do not love Lady Felicity.’

‘Pish, man, I am not blind.’

The marquess stood looking at the ground. He stood in silence for a long time. Then he said slowly, ‘Do not worry, Miss Amy, I am well able to handle my own affairs.’

‘But . . .’

‘No, you must not interfere. Not another word. Come along and I will ride back with you. We have only a half-hour left in which to change for dinner.’

The Duchess of Handshire was not entirely insensitive. She prided herself on her table and wondered what had happened to everyone’s appetite. Moody silence reined and the guests picked at their food, with the exception of Amy, who cheerfully ate everything on her plate.

Betty looked as pretty as ever, although there were slight shadows under her eyes. Felicity had an abstracted air and drank too much, and for once Effy had not the heart to chide her. Lord Bremmer kept sending smouldering looks in the direction of Betty and kept asking her to take wine with him throughout the meal.

When they were all assembled in the drawing room, they stood about talking. The marquess took Betty off into a corner and began to speak to her intensely. Amy brightened at the growing look of horror on Betty’s face and wondered what he was saying.

The duchess commanded a demonstration of the quadrille. Effy sat down to play. Not one of them performed very well and the demonstration came to an abrupt end when Lord Bremmer attempted an entrechat and twisted his ankle.

Felicity thought the evening would never end. They were to leave on the morrow. Ravenswood had hardly spoken to her, and when he looked at her, his expression was veiled. There was no hope. Her head felt heavy. She would make amends to her mother for her previous wildness by marrying quietly and suitably. The idea was so depressing that she felt tears beginning to prick at the back of her eyes.

It was a sorry group that set out the next day on the long road back. Only Effy became visibly brighter as streets and shops began to appear on either side. Felicity was wishing the marquess would take himself off. She felt she could not bear to be under the same roof as him and to endure visits from Betty and her mother and to listen to preparations for the wedding.

Felicity slept heavily that night, not waking until late in the morning. She went reluctantly downstairs and then heard a querulous, complaining voice raised in the drawing room.

Mrs Andrews.

Felicity felt she could not bear it. She retreated to her room, dived into bed, fully clothed, and pulled the blankets over her head.

Downstairs in the drawing room, the amazed Tribble sisters and the Marquess of Ravenswood were listening to a lecture from Mrs Andrews.

‘I could not believe my ears,’ that lady was saying. ‘My poor little darling is quite, quite shattered. All that divine beauty to be so persecuted. The duchess making her slave from morning to night over the housekeeping as if my lambkin were a scullery maid. Nasty smelly messes in the still-room! And you!’ Mrs Andrews rounded on the marquess. ‘You
monster
!’

‘I?’ demanded the marquess, giving her a limpid look.

‘Yes, you. You told Betty you wanted twenty children in quick succession and that she would never come to Town because you intended to spend the rest of your days in the country. You said you wanted a meek and biddable wife and did not hold with ladies spending money on gowns. Three gowns a year you said was enough,’ said Mrs Andrews, her voice rising to a scream. ‘Well, let me tell you this: I should have known what you were like, Ravenswood, when you took up residence with these two frights. Betty tells me there is madness in your family. So, hear this! I, myself, went straight to the newspapers this very morning and put in a notice cancelling your engagement. And what have you to say to that?’

‘Thank you,’ said the marquess with a low bow. ‘Of course, my heart is broken.’

‘Fiddle,’ said Mrs Andrews. ‘You haven’t got a heart. Lord Bremmer has a heart. Betty said if it weren’t for him you would have left her fainting in the middle of a thunderstorm to die of pneumonia. Good day to you all, and I hope I never see any of you again!’

She departed in a flurry of purple silk and strong scent.

‘My stars!’ cried Effy. ‘I was beginning to think nothing would work.’

‘My dear Miss Amy, my dear Miss Effy,’ said the marquess. ‘May I have your permission to . . . ?’

‘Get along with you,’ said Amy, grinning like a schoolboy. ‘She’s in her room.’

Felicity heard the door opening but kept her eyes tightly closed. She thought it was probably one of the sisters, come to summon her to the drawing room, and did not want to be bothered.

Someone sat on the bed. Felicity feigned a faint snore.

‘Felicity,’ said a deep voice.

She opened her eyes and twisted round and looked up into the Marquess of Ravenswood’s face.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded tearfully. ‘Are you come to plague me?’

‘I am come to ask you to marry me. No one will have me. Miss Andrews’ mother has cancelled the engagement.’

‘Why do you want to marry me?’ demanded Felicity.

‘I love you.’

‘Oh, Charles,’ sighed Felicity, winding her arms about his neck. ‘When did you know you loved me?’

‘When Miss Amy Tribble told me so.’

‘That is not at all romantic.’

‘Then is this,’ he said softly, bending his face to hers, ‘and this . . . and this . . . ?’

‘Oh, Charles. Kiss me again.’

‘Come away from that door this minute, Amy Tribble,’ said Effy. ‘You shouldn’t be listening.’

‘I’m a chaperone, ain’t I?’ said Amy, pressing her ear to the panels of Felicity’s bedroom door once more. ‘I’m the best chaperone in the world. Damme, we’re both the best.’ She swung to face Effy, her eyes blazing. ‘By George, we’ve done it.’

From inside came the creak of bedsprings. ‘Dear, dear,’ cried Effy. ‘We must stop them.’

‘I don’t think Ravenswood will go too far,’ said Amy cheerfully. ‘Come along, Effy. This calls for champagne.’

‘We had better go and tell the Tribbles the good news,’ said the marquess after he had reluctantly freed his lips. ‘We must be married soon, for you are not safe with me.’

Dizzy with passion and happiness, they made their way downstairs.

‘I think they know already,’ said the marquess, as they paused outside the drawing room.

From inside came the noise of Amy roaring out a chorus of ‘The Gay Hussar’ while Effy thumped the piano keys with gusto.

‘Another kiss,’ whispered the marquess, pulling Felicity back into his arms.

Felicity held him away. ‘Did you tell Betty something to frighten her away?’ she asked.

‘Only that I wanted twenty children.’

Felicity began to laugh. ‘What a lovely idea,’ she said. ‘When do we start?’

He shook her and smiled down at her. ‘You are still wild,’ he said. ‘Come, kiss me and promise me you will never change.’

Love rules the camp, the court, the grove – for love
Is heaven, and heaven is love.

Lord Byron

Lady Baronsheath had a house guest, a Mrs Toddy, a comfortable, cheerful widow who was gratifyingly interested in all the details of Lady Felicity’s forthcoming marriage. Lady Baronsheath had worried that her husband might write from America, forbidding the wedding to take place until his return. But the earl had written he was highly delighted, callously adding he was sure his wife would see the couple spliced without his help.

The countess was to travel to London the following week to begin arrangements for the wedding in St George’s, Hanover Square. She was glad of Mrs Toddy’s easygoing company, for she feared by each post to learn that Felicity had changed her mind. She could not quite believe that her daughter was to be so respectably married, albeit the engagement was dreadfully short – a mere three months.

‘What you have not told me,’ said Mrs Toddy, between sips of tea, ‘is how you came to know the Tribble sisters, and how you came to choose them to school Felicity. It turned out a brilliant choice, but how could you guess? I know them slightly myself, and Amy Tribble is definitely odd.’

Lady Baronsheath hesitated and then said, ‘I shall tell you if you promise not to breathe a word to a soul.’

Mrs Toddy looked suitably solemn. ‘Not a word shall pass my lips.’

The countess took the now yellowing newspaper out of the drawer and smoothed it out and handed it to Mrs Toddy. ‘I was at my wit’s end,’ she said, ‘and I saw this advertisement and answered it. I did not know anything of the Tribble sisters at that time.’

Mrs Toddy read the advertisement slowly and carefully. ‘What an amazing thing,’ she said at last. ‘No, I will certainly not tell anyone. Everyone believes the Tribbles to be friends of yours.’

Mrs Toddy left Greenboys before Lady Barons-heath’s departure to London, assuring her friend that she would most definitely attend the wedding and considered herself honoured to be included among the guests.

On her return to Tunbridge Wells, Mrs Toddy found that Lady Baronsheath’s secret had grown uncomfortably large. It was misery to have such a splendid piece of gossip and have to keep it to oneself.

She was choosing silks in a shop one afternoon when Lady Fremley, one of the residents of the spa, came in. They chatted while they inspected the silks and Lady Fremley declared herself green with envy that Mrs Toddy was to attend the wedding of the year. She begged Mrs Toddy to return with her for a dish of tea.

Lady Fremley liked to lace her afternoon tea with brandy, and Mrs Toddy soon found her tongue loosened, and she told Lady Fremley all about the Tribbles’ advertisement, but swore her to secrecy.

But Lady Fremley had not such a conscience as Mrs Toddy, and finding the secret burning inside her, she duly started to unburden herself to all and sundry until it appeared as if the whole of the upper echelons of Tunbridge Wells had been sworn to keep the secret.

And so the gossip spread out like ripples in a pool, and the little tide of murmured gossip washed up on the shores of London before Felicity’s wedding. It spread quickly round the upper ranks of society and then down to the lesser ranks, the lesser ranks including Mr Desmond Callaghan.