Felicia (17 page)

“Mr. Burton, you say?” the policeman asked sharply, as he quickly pocketed the money. “You ’ave some mighty powerful friends, don’t you?”

Felicia smiled grimly at the sudden change in his attitude and pressed her advantage. “Mr. Burton is a good family friend and would not like it if I tell him how I have been ill-treated….”

“You just follow me, now, miss, and I’ll see that you is made comfortable,” the policeman said quickly. “Mr. Burton is well-known around ’ere for ’is influence. So you just tell ’im that Jack Walsh looked after you.”

Relieved that her ploy had worked, Felicia was thankful when they reached a small, stuffy backroom. “If you would be so kind as to fetch me a quill and some paper, I can notify Mr. Burton of my situation. And, if possible, I would like a candle.”

The policeman left her, carefully locking the door behind him. “No use in taking chances,” he muttered to himself. “Just because she said she knows Mr. Burton don’t mean that she’ll get any ’elp from him. And that lady what wants to press charges, she looks to be a mean character that would cause trouble if she could. Go carefully, Jack, me boy. Go carefully.”

Left alone, Felicia took in her surroundings at one glance. Thick dust formed a layer over everything, and a sudden movement in one corner of the wainscot indicated the presence of a rat. Thankful that her years of country living had innured her to that particular rodent, she ignored the noise and set about cleaning off the table that stood in the middle of the room. Any activity was better than just standing still. Having done the best she could with her thin linen handkerchief, she crossed to the heavily barred window and stared out at the cobblestone yard miserably. Once again she tried to organize her thoughts. She deliberately ignored the images of Lord Umber that kept forcing their way into her mind and concentrated instead on what she ought to say to David. Obviously, she couldn’t tell him everything, and pride would prohibit her from mentioning the part her aunt had played in her arrest. She must be concise yet clear.

The scraping of the key in the lock brought her attention back to her surroundings.

“I did the best I could, miss,” Jack Walsh said defensively as he laid the items she had requested on the table. “But candles are difficult to come by ’ere.”

“It is adequate,” Felicia said, hurrying over, eyeing the small stub of wax that would have to do as a temporary light “Thank you. It won’t take me long to draft my note.” She bent over the table and started to write. Within minutes she had filled the sheet of paper and folding it in two, wrote David’s office address on the one flap. “Mr. Burton’s offices are at 40 Lincoln’s Inn, Mr. Walsh, and I am certain that his senior clerk will give you an extra guinea for delivering this.” She felt it necessary to dangle the enticement of further monetary rewards in front of him, for she was beginning to realize that it was the only language he understood. “Before you go, perhaps you could tell me how you know of Mr. Burton. I did not realize his reputation extended this far.”

“’Im is well-known around ’ere, because ’e goes out of ’is way to defend the lowest of the low. ’Im and the judge, Lord Davenport, work together. If the judge is presiding, like, then you can be certain that Mr. Burton is defending. It’s a funny sort of justice they dole out, but they treat everyone fair. Unlike some I could mention.”

“I see,” Felicia responded, not understanding. David seemed far too young to have gained such fame for himself…and quite what sort of justice he and this judge meted out was beyond her comprehension.

“And if you say ’e’s a friend of the family, then maybe you knows all about ’ow ’e and some lord look after the children of convicted felons.”

“Not very much,” Felicia said hastily, wondering if this was the charity Lord Umber was involved in. “Mr. Burton is very modest and does not talk too much of his good works.”

Jack Walsh smacked his lips together as an idea formed in his mind. “See, if you really knows this Mr. Burton and you was to draw my name to ’is attention, then it’s possible, if you say the right thing so to speak, that ’e would consider putting me and my missus in charge of one of these ’omes he ’as for the urchins.”

“The kindness you have shown me, Mr. Walsh, is certainly something to commend,” Felicia said diplomatically, trying at the same time to still the warm feeling that her captor’s words had evoked. For some inexplicable reason she knew that the lord he referred to was Lord Umber, and the elation she felt was caused by the knowledge that he was as generous to the underprivileged as he was kind to his mother. How she had misjudged him! “And…and…you may rest assured that I will certainly mention your name to Mr. Burton.”

He regarded her shrewdly for a moment. “Well, I’ll be on my way, then, miss, else I’ll not get back afore nightfall.”

“Perhaps you could tell me one other thing before you go, Mr. Walsh. The crime I am supposed to have committed, what…what is the penalty?”

“Death by ’anging, miss, or deportation. Depending, of course, on the evidence,” he added quickly as he saw the color drain from Felicia’s face. “It’s a serious crime, miss, no matter who you are.”

“But I am innocent,” Felicia whispered. “Innocent. Please hurry with my note. I shall only rest easy when I know that it has been safely delivered.”

“You rely on Jack Walsh, miss. I’ll see to it that Mr. Burton gets this. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll make arrangements for you to be locked in this ’ere room until I return. It’ll cost a bit more than you ’ave given me, but I reckon we can settle the score when Mr. Burton gets ’ere.”

“But what of this Mistress James you spoke of? Will she not be expecting me?”

“Don’t you be worrying your pretty head over ’er. There being no rush to move you immediately, especially when I say the word.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Walsh,” Felicia said forlornly. “I really don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Easy on, miss,” he said in alarm. “Don’t go fainting away again on me. Nobody’s going to harm you yet. And, what’s more, if you really do know Mr. Burton, maybe ’e can even get the lady to drop all charges. ’E can be very persuasive, I’m told. Anyways, I’m doing no more for you than I would ’ope anyone would do for my daughter if, Lord ’elp us, she were ever to find herself in similar circumstances.”

Felicia smiled at him wanly, knowing that his only motivation was greed. But she was too thankful that he had agreed to help her to care. “I shall wait for you to return then.”

Thirteen

There was such a smug, well-satisfied air
about Lady Ormstead when she returned to her rented house in Upper Grosvenor Street that the footman commented on it to Mr. Nestor. “’Erself is a delight this noon, and ’ere’s me be’en worrying that she would be letting me go for my failure to give the gentleman the message this morning. Wonders will never cease, will they, Mr. Nestor?”

The butler gave him a frosty look before replying. “If it’s Lady Ormstead you is referring to, then kindly say so, lad. I don’t know really what the agency was a-thinking of, sending you ’ere as an experienced footman. I, myself, ’ave never encountered such unfamiliarity as to ’ow to comport oneself about one’s duties as you display.” He sniffed haughtily in what he considered his most superior manner, but the footman seemed quite unabashed.

“Aw, come off it, Mr. Nestor. You know the agency ’ad no one else to send ’ere. It must be seven poor souls like me that ’erself, begging your pardon, Lady Ormstead, has gobbled up this Season, and I only undertook the position to get experience. For I am going to be a gentleman’s gentleman one day.” He grinned impishly at the impassive face of his mentor.

“Then you ’ad better learn ’ow to behave in the presence of one,” Mr. Nestor answered scathingly, “and make sure that you deliver the correct message to that Lord Umber when ’e calls again.” His homily was interrupted by the sound of Lady Ormstead’s bell, and without more ado he moved away to answer the summons.

“You rang, my lady?” he inquired grandly when he finally reached Lady Ormstead’s sitting room.

“Yes, Nestor. I have changed my mind about not seeing Lord Umber this afternoon. So when he calls kindly see to it that he is shown into the brown room.”

“If you don’t mind me mentioning it, your Ladyship, the fire smokes something terrible in that room. Perhaps I could suggest the library.” He coughed deprecatingly.

“No. No, Nestor. Just do as I tell you. He won’t stay long enough to worry about a few plumes of smoke.” Her eyes glistened with suppressed excitement. “And there is no need for you to stay in the vicinity.”

“I beg your pardon, madam?”

“Eavesdropping, Nestor, eavesdropping.”

“Madam!” the butler exclaimed in outraged tones. “I ’ave never been guilty of such an atrocious act in all my life.”

“Good, good,” Lady Ormstead said unpleasantly. “Just insure you don’t change your habits today.”

“Is that all, then, madam?” he inquired stiffly, checking his anger with difficulty at her vulgarity. All his sensibilities were offended by her suggestion.

Lady Ormstead dismissed him with a wave and an order to send Wendy to her, before sitting back to contemplate the upcoming interview. “I do believe I have done it,” she said to herself gleefully. “This time, I think I have succeeded, and now no one need ever know that Richard and Arabella had a daughter.” She let out a mad cackle which shook her voluminous body like a partly set jelly. “Mama, Mama, are you all right?”

The anxious voice of her daughter brought Lady Ormstead out of her daydream abruptly. “What is it, child?” she asked sharply. “How many times do I have to tell you not to creep up on me? You know any sudden movement is bad for my heart. Really, Wendy, you are so thoughtless.”

Wendy stood to one side, biting nervously on her lower lip. ’I’m sorry, Mama,” she whined. “But Nestor said you wanted to see me.”

Lady Ormstead eyed her daughter keenly before turning her gaze in the direction of the window. It really was too provoking that she had been blessed with such an obese daughter. Absolutely nothing could be done to disguise those pimples which covered her face. As for the child’s figure, no amount of lacing would produce the small waistline that was so fashionable. And to crown it all, they had not received a single invitation that amounted to anything. The outrage of seeing Felicia, whom she had thought to be out of sight for ever, perched happily between Lord Umber and his dowager mother, was too much to bear with comfort. Why, Wendy had not met a single eligible male, and the only offer had come from their neighbor, Mr. Brown, who was old enough to be a grandfather. She muttered under her breath savagely. “It would serve her right if I accept.”

“I beg your pardon, Mama? I…I didn’t hear.”

“Don’t interrupt, Wendy. Do sit down and stop fidgeting, and smooth your dress, you look an absolute fright.” “Yes, Mama. I’m sorry, Mama,” Wendy whined as she obeyed.

“I want you to know that you have received your first offer, and I am at this very moment considering whether to accept it.”

“Yes, Mama,” Wendy said dully.

“Do you not want to know who has honored you so? Really, you are an exasperating child. Nothing, it seems, interests you except cream buns and bon bons. Mr. Brown is most anxious to take you off my hands.”

“Mr. Brown, Mama!” Wendy exclaimed in agitation. “How…how could he? He doesn’t even know me except to say ‘good morning.’ Why, I have never given him the slightest encouragement. Please, Mama, I couldn’t possibly. He’s…he’s…far too old, and besides, he’s deaf.”

“I haven’t given him my answer yet, Wendy, so don’t be in such a taking. Although the way you behave at the dances I take you to does not lend much encouragement to any of the younger men. You are a wallflower, my dear,” she said spitefully, “and a wilting one at that”

“But, Mama,” Wendy snivelled. “It’s not my fault. If only you could find me a maid like Felicia. I know I would look better, but…but, the one we have now is worse than Sadie. No one is able to dress my hair like Felicia. No one. Why did you have to send her away?”

“Who?” Lady Ormstead said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Whom are you talking about? Have I not forbidden you ever to mention that name in my presence? Have I not ordered you to forget that she ever existed? I will not be disobeyed, Wendy. Now, go to your room and remain there for the rest of the day. And, if you continue to disregard my wishes, I will accept Mr. Brown’s offer and let him drum some sense into you.”

A storm of tears shook Wendy, and soon she was sobbing hysterically. “Please, Mama,” she begged. “Please don’t do that. And I am sorry to have disobeyed you. I promise it won’t happen again. Only, please, please don’t say yes to Mr. Brown.”

“Go to your room immediately,” Lady Ormstead said irritably. “I have had enough of your tantrums. Spend the rest of the day contemplating the trouble you have caused me, and maybe by tomorrow I will feel more inclined to forgive you.”

Wendy fled, crying uncontrollably, leaving her mother looking at the closed door with a pleased expression on her face. Now, she could rest easy, for her interview with Lord Umber would not be interrupted. She knew that Wendy would not dare to come downstairs for the rest of the day.

*

The peace and quiet of White’s had done much to restore Lord Umber’s humor, and he had just finished reading the morning papers when he felt someone tapping his shoulder. He looked round and saw, to his surprise, that Dr. Ross was standing behind him. Rising quickly, he followed him out of the reading room.