Felicia (20 page)

“Not to my knowledge,” he answered evasively. “’Tis merely that Mama is slightly perturbed that Miss Richards might have lost her way. She was out on an errand, and Mama is convinced that Miss Richards misunderstood her directions.”

“She can always hail a hansom,” Lady Barbara said in disdain. “It is what I would do if I found myself in strange surroundings.”

“Quite so, Lady Barbara. But then you are exceptionally practical, are you not?”

“Immeasurably more than Miss Richards, or her father, it would seem,” she said spitefully, regretting the words instantly.

“Whatever do you mean, Lady Barbara?” Lord Umber asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

“Nothing. Nothing. ’Twas something that Mama heard about Mr. Richards that led me to believe he was
…”

“Gossip, you mean?” Lord Umber said, not allowing her to finish.

Goaded beyond endurance as she saw her chances of snaring the biggest prize on the marriage market dissolve, she was driven to snap back sacastically. “Hardly. It appears to be a well-known fact that her father was a gambler. I am surprised that neither you nor Lady Louisa are aware of it.”

“I fail to see why that piece of information should provoke such a comment from you.” He was exasperated by this turn in the conversation. “Miss Richards’ family tree was not in question.”

“Well, it should be,” Lady Barbara retorted petulantly. “Anyway, I do not know where she was going, and frankly I do not care.”

Lord Umber surveyed her cynically. What a self-centered little puss she had turned out to be! He was torn between feeling a slight disgust with himself for having encouraged her ambitions, and pity for her because of her inability to recognize their flirtation was at an end. Felicia had been quite right about Lady Barbara, he could see that now. She was nothing more than a scheming vixen. “I am sorry to hear you say that, Lady Barbara, for you are talking of the lady I intend to marry.” He stopped himself, surprised by his own words, but liked them enough to repeat them.

Lady Barbara looked at him aghast. “Ma…ma…marry?” she stuttered in astonishment. “You and Miss Ri…? Why…why…” She turned away in an effort to compose herself. She simply could not believe that he meant what he had just said. It was impossible. Lord Umber marrying a nonentity, a gambler’s daughter. She stamped her foot in frustration. Oh! How people would laugh at her now! She had been so confident that she could bring him up to scratch. With a supreme effort she squared her shoulders and forced herself to speak. “If…if you will excuse me, my lord, I will bid you good-day. Pray accept my…my felicitations.” She walked proudly to the door and was gone before Lord Umber could move.

He was bemused by the turn of events, for until he had actually uttered those words, he had not been consciously aware of his feelings toward Felicia. Poor Lady Barbara, what a shock it must have been for her. His eyes rested heavily on the open door as his thoughts returned to Felicia. He must find her quickly, before Lady Barbara had time to spread any malicious gossip.

What a coil he had caused. What if Felicia should turn him down? He dismissed that thought and any idea that the problems facing him would be insurmountable. Somehow, he would succeed.

For someone who had been in the depth of despair a few moments ago, the realization of his love had worked like a magic potion. He reentered the library with a jaunty step and his normal haughty demeanor had been replaced by one of amusement.

His friends ceased their low-toned conversation on his arrival and, emboldened by his triumphant air, asked, “She is with Lady Barbara?”

He beamed at them happily. “No. No. But when I find her, I am going to marry her.” The fact that he made no sense did not bother him.

“What! Congratulations!” they said in unison, his high spirits infecting them momentarily.

David was the first one to turn to more practical things. “At the risk of putting a damper on the proceedings, gentlemen, I feel that this might be an appropriate moment to deliver my news.”

Lord Umber looked at him, an expression of fashionable boredom cloaking his eyes. “Well?” he inquired lazily.

“Before you make a complete cake of yourself, Ian, I think you should seek the permission of Miss Richards’ grandfather.”

“Who is that, David?” Dr. Ross asked sharply. “Miss Richards herself does not know.”

“Exactly. That is why I came here this afternoon. The ‘old man’ did not feel equal to the task and asked me to present his case to Miss Richards.”

Lord Umber looked at David questioningly. There was only one person whom David referred to as the ‘old man.’ David nodded. “Yes, Ian, you are quite right. Her grandfather is none other than Lord Davenport.”

Lord Umber’s astonishment was plain. “Lord Davenport, David? How did this come about? One minute Miss Richards is a penniless orphan. The next she has acquired a title and family. My mind is befuddled.”

“I was talking over the case with him this morning and he supplied the answer. Andrew Davenport, whom we knew as Andrew Richards, was his youngest son. When Andrew married into the ‘trade,’ Lord Davenport cut him off without a penny.”

“How nonsensical,” Lord Umber said irritably.

“Quite,” David concurred. “Unfortunately, that was the case and not something Lord Davenport regretted doing for several years. By which time, Andrew and Arabella had disappeared without trace. The only connection Lord Davenport had was Lady Ormstead. When he approached her, she flatly denied knowing anything that could help him. She claimed that she had not heard from them in years. He continued his search, never suspecting that his son had changed his name.”

“Surely Lady Ormstead knew?” Lord Umber asked. “Why did she not volunteer the information?”

“Jealousy, Ian, jealousy,” Dr. Ross replied. “Do you not see that once she told her sister that Lord Davenport was willing, nay anxious to put the past behind them and start afresh, it would put Arabella in a higher social position than herself. My God!” he ejaculated, “what a sick, convoluted mind Lady Ormstead has. No wonder Miss Richards tried to suppress all memories of her.”

The three men looked at each other in amazement.

To break the uncomfortable silence, Dr. Ross said to Lord Umber, “I was right then, Ian. Miss Richards is well-connected.”

Lord Umber smiled. “But in the end, Paul, it would have made no difference to me.” He cast a rueful look at David. “And, in some ways, I wish it weren’t so, for now I have to persuade Lord Davenport that I am a worthy suitor for his granddaughter’s hand.”

“Let us not jump ahead of ourselves,” David said hastily. “First, I must inform Lord Davenport that Miss Richards is missing, then we must find her. Frankly, I wouldn’t know where to begin.” He shook his head. “Excuse me, my patron is anxious for news. I shall be in my chambers late tonight, if you need to contact me. Otherwise, I will call first thing in the morning for news.”

“Very good, David. I appreciate your help.” A note of despondency crept into Lord Umber’s voice as he envisaged the difficulties ahead. He could not countenance sitting at home waiting for Felicia to contact his mother, yet, as David had just said, where did one begin to search for a young girl in London.

He was so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that he neither noticed David leaving, nor the look of sympathy Dr. Ross gave him. He snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. “Those relatives in Manchester, Paul, do you think she would go to them?”

Dr. Ross looked sheepish, wishing once again that he had not invented them. If he had known then what he knew now of Lord Umber’s intentions towards Felicia, he would have acted far differently. “To be quite honest with you, Ian, Miss Richards does not have any relatives there. It was something I said in haste, in an effort to comply with her request that you and Lady Louisa be kept in ignorance of the true facts.” He looked at Lord Umber apologetically. “You see, Miss Richards felt that you would be compelled to deal with her aunt if you knew the full details of the treatment she suffered whilst living at Graystones, but, more importantly, she did not want your pity. I am sorry I had to go to the lengths I did to mislead you, Ian.”

“I appreciate your loyalty to your patient, Paul,” Lord Umber said, wearily brushing a hand across his brow. “But it means we are right back where we started. Where on earth can she be?”

Fifteen

David’s interview with Lord Davenport had been short. The elderly judge, although extremely disappointed that his granddaughter could not be restored to him immediately, was inclined to take a more optimistic view of her disappearance.

“You know how it is with young people nowadays, David, they get caught up in what they are doing and quite forget about time. No. No. It is my contention that she is on her way back to Lady Louisa’s at this very moment and we shall be hearing from Lord Umber momentarily.”

David had done nothing to dissuade Lord Davenport to the contrary, feeling that it was far better for the old man to be comfortable with his thoughts than fretting over the possibility that Felicia could have met with a serious accident. As he entered his own chambers, he frowned to see a light still burning in his senior clerk’s cubicle. The hour was far too advanced for anyone to be still working, yet it was unlike Adams to leave his lamp lit. He closed the outer door noisily, and Adams quickly appeared.

“Why, Adams, whatever are you doing here so late?” he asked in surprise.

“Mr. Burton,” Adams whispered hoarsely in relief. “I am so glad you’re here. I didn’t know where to find you, but knew you would return to your chambers at some point.”

“Is something wrong? I swear I have never seen you looking so agitated.”

His clerk, normally immaculate in his dress, looked crumpled, and his silver hair was tousled. Aware that his appearance was lacking its normal precision, Adams attempted to straighten himself.

“I do apologize, Mr. Burton,” he said earnestly. “I must have drowsed off. The fact is that a policeman by the name of Jack Walsh has been here, claiming to have news as to the whereabouts of a certain Miss Richards. His attitude made me suspicious and so
…”

“Miss Richards, did you say, Adams?” David asked. “Where is this Mr. Walsh? I must see him at once.”

“He left over an hour ago. Said he couldn’t wait a minute longer, especially as he was beginning to think it all bam that you really knew her. I’m afraid that as I didn’t recognize the name myself, I was inclined to agree with him. It was only after he left that I started to think it all odd and so decided to wait for you. I hope I have done the correct thing,”

David stared at his clerk in dismay. “Did he say where Miss Richards was, Adams?”

“Newgate, Mr. Burton. Up on a charge of purse-snatching.”

David’s dismay turned to disbelief. “Did he not leave a letter of explanation or details of how we could reach Miss Richards?”

Adams shook his head slowly. “He refused to leave
a
note that Miss Richards had written. He said that if you wanted to see her you could go to Newgate in the morning and ask for Mistress James.”

“That panderer!” David exclaimed furiously. “Come, Adams, we have not a moment to lose. Bring all the spare cash we have, for I know that gold is the only language those guardians of justice understand, and it is imperative that we get Miss Richards out of that hell-hole immediately.” He paced the room angrily, at the same time trying to think clearly. He wondered briefly whether he should notify either Lord Davenport or Ian of this latest development, before deciding that it would be better to see Felicia first and find out the truth surrounding her arrest. He did not for a moment believe there was any truth to the charge and deemed it wiser to wait until he had all the details before alarming anyone unnecessarily, especially Ian. He did not need any great imagination to know how he would react.

The most important person at this precise moment was Felicia, and his main objective was, quite obviously, to wrest her away from Mistress James who was, without doubt, the meanest of all jailors in the woman’s section. “I’m ready, Mr. Burton,” Adams said, reappearing from his cubicle. “I have found nearly one hundred guineas. Will that be sufficient?”

David laughed harshly. “Mistress James would kill for twenty. Yes, Adams, I think we will have enough to free Miss Richards.”

David’s automatic assumption that Adams would accompany him on this mission pleased the clerk. He had worked with David for the past six years and in that time had learned to respect not only David’s fine legal mind, but also the compassion he showed to the underprivileged. However, David’s insistence on defending the more unsavory criminals had horrified Adams in the beginning and, although he had grown accustomed to dealing with these characters when they came to Lincoln’s Inn, he never felt easy when David spent any length of time at Newgate or The Fleet interviewing a prospective client.

Adams was puzzled by the sudden interest David was showing in this Miss Richards, for until a few minutes ago he had never heard of her. Yet David’s reaction to the news that she was in Newgate was enough to confirm she was important. He waited until they were safely ensconced in a cab and well on the way to the prison before he broached the subject.

“Who is this Miss Richards, Mr. Burton?”

David scrutinized his clerk in the dim glow shed by the carriage light before answering slowly. “I know I can rely on your discretion, Adams, else I would not have asked you to accompany me….”