An Independent Miss (9 page)

“Deeper and richer than hot
chocolate?”

“Exactly! I think he mesmerized me.
All I could do was think about how beautiful his voice was, and how I wanted to
wrap myself up in it. I missed half of what he was saying and I’m afraid I
don’t know if he said he loved me. And now I’m certain that he does not.”

Bea was about to say something when
Jesse opened the door and directed a servant to place a tea tray laden with
goodies on a side table before shooing the girl out. Jesse stayed, fussing
about, shifting perfectly placed plates and napkins.

“I won’t break.” Felicity finally told her.
“But as long as you are here, you might as well tell us what everyone is saying
below stairs.”

“Oh, miss.” Jesse’s eyes filled
with tears. “There’s you so in love, and him being such a scoundrel!”

“I’m not in love.” Humiliation
burned. She was not in love, or soon wouldn’t be. It was merely a matter of
time.

“Of course, miss.” Jesse whispered,
obviously unconvinced. “His lordship asked to be told when you woke.”

“Lord Westhaven or my brother?” Bea
asked.

“No, not the earl or your brother.
The marquis.”

The young ladies shared a look. “I
do not wish him to know that I’m awake. Not at present.”

Jesse poured milk into two cups.

“Jesse?” Felicity’s abigail didn’t
look up. “Does the marquis already know I am awake?”

The tea was abandoned. “Yes, miss.
Humphrey saw that you rang.”

Felicity thought for a moment. “It
doesn’t matter. I plan to go to the stillroom. If he asks, tell him we can meet
after I have finished my task there.” She took over pouring the tea. “That’s
enough, Jesse. I will call you when I need you. Bea, do you want to freshen up
after your journey, or would you like to go to the stillroom with me?”

“Cis, once in the stillroom you
wouldn’t even know I was there,” Bea smiled. “And don’t look like that, I am
not offended. That is where you find your peace. You are free to go find it and
I will go up to see my other cousins in the nursery. First, let’s have some tea
and biscuits. You will feel better once you’ve had your tea.”

Felicity looked to the empty cup in
her hand, neither putting it down nor pouring tea into it. “He doesn’t believe
in medicine. He doesn’t believe in foraging.”

“No!” Beatrice’s mouth formed a
perfect O, a lemon biscuit halfway to her lips.

Felicity shook her head, came out
of her daze. “He has so many concerns, I did not want to burden him with the
truth.” She poured the tea.

“That is awful, Felicity. How could
your father condone such a match?”

Felicity handed the drink to Bea,
looked toward the window, the dismal day outside. “Thomas is dead set against
the marriage. I think that’s why. I think he knew. Father had no reason to
consider such a thing.”

“It would be awful if you married
him,” Bea said, crossing to the bed and curling up, her drink in hand, a plate
of treats before her.

Felicity sat in a chair by the
fireplace, pulled her legs under her. “I don’t know if I can afford not to
marry him.”

“Can’t afford not to?” Bea bounded
off the bed to sit on the floor next to her cousin’s chair. “You can’t tell me
you need his money!”

“No,” Felicity shook her head.
“It’s not that I want his money, but what do I do if I don’t marry?”

Bea looked up stunned. “Why, you
marry someone else.”

“But who? Who wants a girl who has
been such a hoyden? Who wants a girl whose former betrothed preferred an old
woman to her? Who wants…”

“Stop!” Bea held up a hand. “That’s
enough. The scandal is not your fault. Besides, you have beauty and brains and
you are no hoyden! A bluestocking, perhaps, but not a hoyden. And you have a
comfortable dowry. You must have because Uncle William is no pinchpenny and he
adores you. I don’t see why you shouldn’t marry.”

“Bea, you are forgetting.” Felicity
smoothed a lock of hair from her forehead. “I went to his rooms in the middle
of the night. I am tainted, stained. Mother was quite right when she said I
should have thought about the ramifications. So, do I agree to a marriage of
convenience? Or do I never marry?”

“Oh, Cis, if you don’t marry, you
can’t have children!”

“No.” Felicity felt the tears pool.
“Almost as bad, I would be a burden on my brothers!”

“No!” Bea yelped. “That would be
horrid! Don’t you have any money of your own?”

“Grandmother remembered me in her
will, but it’s an age before I have access to it, not for years, when I’m
twenty-five, and even with that, what does it cost to run a household? I’ve
been thinking about that, and doubt she would have left me enough, even with
modest expectations. What a bumble broth.”

“What about your Aunt Vivien? It
seems to me that she owes you.”

“She hasn’t two halfpence to rub
together. Mother has been helping her for years, and just said she would cut
her off.”

Bea got up to pace, waving a piece
of cake in the air as she spoke. “We shall have to think about this. There must
be a way to clear your name.”

“I can’t imagine anything that
would do that.”

“Or a way to help you finance your
own life.”

“I could work.”

Bea gasped, held her hand to her
chest. “Work? Not even our fathers and brothers do that!”

“Well, I could.” Felicity nodded.
“Maybe.” Her enthusiasm drained. “If I could find anyone who would hire a woman
of loose morals.”

“Stop!” Bea ordered once again.
“You do not lack morals! No one can say that you do.”

“They will, which means I cannot
teach young ladies, or work as a governess. Not unless I go to some faraway
place where no one will have heard of me. I can’t even work as a seamstress. My
sewing and embroidery are merely adequate. I do a rather fine job of netting,
but who is going to hire a woman who merely nets?”

“You could open one of those cute
little shops that sells medicines!”

“Medicines? I would have to be a
member of the Society of Apothecaries and they will not have me. I already
tried, when I was younger and didn’t know better. They do not accept females.”

“But you always know exactly what
people need. It’s a true gift, Felicity. You help people.”

“No, it is not possible. If there
were any chance, my father would have to put considerable pressure on others
and I do not believe I can count on him for that.”

“Even now?”

“No, Bea, especially not now. It
may have been possible before this, I may have been able to convince him to
sponsor me, but not after this. And who would go to a woman apothecary who has
no man backing her?”

“Well,” Bea sat down again and
looked at her cake, what was left of it. Most had fallen as crumbs with her
gesturing. “Other women, children.”

“I don’t know.”

“It is worth investigating.”

“It would be difficult.” She fought
the flutter of possibility.

“Women control where their children
go, and,” Bea jumped up, paced, as her enthusiasm grew, “from my experience
women are more comfortable speaking with another woman about their ills.”

“That is true, Bea, but there is
still the Society to confront.”

“You don’t need them, you already
know everything.”

“I need them for respectability.”

Bea plunked down again. “Will you
at least try? When we are in London?”

It was too unlikely, but so was
Andover’s proposal. “I will see what happens when we are in London.”

****

“Excuse me,” Andover went below
stairs, ventured into the realm of servants. None bothered to respond. “I am
looking for Lady Felicity. I have been directed to the stillroom.”

The cook, or so Andover surmised by
the roundness of her girth and the large white—or once white—apron,
stood in the doorway of what could only be the kitchens.

“Do you know where the stillroom
is?”

She huffed and turned back to her
work, but not before nodding toward the end of the hall.

Obviously, Felicity was a favored
child of the household, and he was the beast responsible for cutting her to the
quick. It was not his intention. He strode down the hall past what was indeed
the kitchen and a scullery, to a closed door at the end of the hall. He opened
it to find a space more akin to some natural scientist’s abode than a great
house’s stillroom.

Certainly, there were herbs drying
from overhead rafters, and rows upon rows of jams and cordials and any manner
of jarred foods and wines. There were scales for measuring, and jugs with
plugs, and any number of clear flasks and flagons, as well as funny little
stoves with lamps beneath them. He frowned over the small jars, of little use
for anything but medicines.

On the table lay a great volume,
opened to a page with pictures. Andover looked down to see exquisite drawings
of a plant. Not just the whole plant, though there was that, but other
drawings, in different stages of growth, dissected with detailed illustrations
of particular parts of the plant.

He pulled a stool out from beneath
the table and sat, fascinated by the study of biology and the most delicate of
drawings. Beautiful, the color clear, precise. He was so drawn to the study
that he ignored the writing, at first. Curiosity pulled him to it, notes
written in boxes and more illustrations of the plant drawn as a frame.

There was the Latin name and the
common name. Comfrey. It rang a bell. He read more on how to identify it, how
to forage for it, when to pick and precisely how to pick it.

He stood up, knocking the stool
over.

He stepped back.

Looked around, half expecting to
see Macbeth’s three witches.

Very carefully he lifted the stool,
put it back in place and left. He would find Felicity later.

****

“Lord Andover, I presume.”

He’d seen the woman approach, in
the reflection of the window. Family, he presumed, as most of the other guests
had left with the uproar of the morning. London would be all-aflutter over
events.

He’d taken his position, looking
out the window, for solitude. When the men finished their port and cigars and
joined the ladies, he found Felicity sitting in the back of the room, as she
often did, but this time with Lady Bea. She met his eyes, for a moment, her
expression wary and too full of pain.

He wanted to soothe her, to speak
with her, work through this, but she looked away. The two ladies rose then and,
before he could reach her, she was off, claiming a headache, Lady Bea in her
wake.

He managed to meet them, before
they passed through the door. “Please, Lady Felicity,” he said for her alone.
“Let us speak.”

Soft and low and innocently
seductive, she whispered. “Perhaps tomorrow, my Lord.”

Bea bustled her away, but not
before slaying him with a look.

If only Upton hadn’t chosen this
night to go visit friends on a nearby estate. Andover could use his support,
not knowing who was friend and who was foe. Upton would have diverted Lady Bea
and, possibly helped enliven a party subdued by scandal and premature
departures.

But then Upton had given up on Lady
Bea arriving, and left too early to hear of the fiasco of the night.

So Andover headed toward the window
to be alone, half hoping to see his friend ride up the drive.

“I am Lady Redmond, Felicity’s
aunt, Beatrice’s mother.”

He faced her then, bowed, taut as a
bowstring, ready to be slain with words, as her daughter had slain him with a
glance. “I’m sorry, madam, I was woolgathering. Pleased to meet you, Lady
Redmond.”

“A betrothal announcement would cut
the air. We could all feel suitably festive instead of so morose.”

He snorted. The men had discussed
that very issue over port, with all but Thomas agreeing.

Thomas, ever contrary. If not for
him, a betrothal would have been announced the night before and they wouldn’t
be in this predicament. “Unfortunately, the young lady needs time to come
around. Once she will speak with me, I hope to convince her.”

“Wasted effort. In my day, we
didn’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I do believe things are a bit
different these days.” But they weren’t, not really. If it came to that, her
parents could put tremendous pressure on Felicity.

Except, Andover did not want to win
his wife by forfeit. He wanted the Felicity who had trembled at the mere touch
of their hands.

By the time the evening drew down,
he still hadn’t had a single moment alone with her.

Too edgy to retire to his own
rooms, Andover headed outdoors. Humphrey helped him on with a waxed cotton
coat, to repel the rain. “I will have a footman at this door, for your return,
Lord Andover.”

“Surely you can leave a side door
unlocked. Save anyone needing to stay up.” He put his hat on. “I’ve no idea
where I’m going or how long I will be.”

The cold damp night drew him toward
the gardens, a bright three-quarter moon as lantern through clouds breaking
after their dosing of rain. Extensive grounds and a brisk pace failed to dispel
the rage and frustration roiling through him. He wasn’t even certain what he
hoped to gain until he heard a lone horseman on the drive.

Rupert had returned. A man full of
ridiculous solutions to life’s problems.

Andover could use some
ridiculousness.

CHAPTER 9 ~ PLANS
MADE

“You did what?”

Andover sank another ball and
rounded the billiards table. “I didn’t do anything, Rupert. Her Aunt Vivien did
it all.”

“Good God, man, that is low.”

Another ball sank into its target.
“Your loss at this game or what happened last night?”

“Both,” Rupert moved closer.
“Though I must say, this loss isn’t so bad. At least we can play again and I
can trounce you. But Lady Stanfield doing what she did. You think it was
planned?”

It was a thought. Andover crossed
to a side table where he’d left his scotch. “I don’t know. I don’t think she
actually knew Felicity would come to my rooms.”

“But she knew the footman would
talk.”

It always surprised Andover when
Rupert said something astute. It shouldn’t. Rupert did it often enough, but
those comments were usually tucked amid a load of rubbish. They were easily
missed.

Not this time.

“That is exactly what she was
playing at. I’m certain of it, but can’t, for the life of me, figure it out.”

“There was that nasty business in
your youth,” Rupert teased. “When we first went down to school, first love and
all.”

Andover snorted. “I wouldn’t use
the word love. The first bedding, yes, and we shouldn’t be discussing it.”

“Because you’re a gentleman and
gentlemen do not discuss their conquests?”

Sometimes that was a hard rule to
abide by. “In reality, it was her conquest, not mine.”

“And you were nothing but a randy
young boy. Seems to me,” Rupert looked around for his cue, “that a boy of
fourteen needn’t be held to a man’s code of honor. In a situation like that, a
boy should be crowing. It’s a rite of passage, after all. And maybe that’s what
has her in such a snit. Maybe in your craven boyishness you didn’t please the
sow.”

“Sow? That’s harsh.” Andover
countered, though he tended to agree with the terminology. Thank God he’d asked
that Rupert be included in the house party. It had been a horrific day, between
Felicity avoiding him, her cousin giving him evil glares, her brother on the
verge of calling him out, and the other guests, who hadn’t taken their leave,
whispering incessantly.

Not to mention the look of
disappointment in Lord Westhaven’s eyes. Andover respected Westhaven. He didn’t
like to feel he had let him down.

Rupert, on the other hand, knew
Andover’s history. They had, after all, grown up next door to each other before
going off to school. More important, Rupert knew all about Vivien. It was
Thomas and Rupert who had found Andover, bloody and beaten outside the stables
after Vivien’s late husband had gotten to him. Rupert and Thomas were probably
the only people in the world who would truly believe that Andover had not
invited Felicity’s aunt to his rooms.

“I need your help, Rupert.”

“Let me get a shot in this game,
and you just may get it.”

With a toss, Andover handed over a
cue. “Lady Felicity is heading to London.”

“You will go as well, won’t you?”

He should, he knew he should, but
there were other matters, just as pressing. “I’ve been away from Mother for too
long. She is still fragile.”

“Ah.” No more needed to be said.
Upton well knew how ‘fragile’ Andover’s mother was.

“That damned physician, and the
damned apothecary. I swear it is the elixir they give her. I try to take it
away, forbid the servants from allowing her any. She becomes desperate, it’s an
awful thing. I can’t seem to refuse her.”

“Mother’s been to visit her.”

Andover studied his cue, searched
for some semblance of straightness in his own life. “I would rather she
didn’t.”

“She won’t, again.” Upton promised,
but it was ill won. “She is not comfortable with such things.”

“Yes, well, no one is which makes
my decision more difficult. Do I pack Mother off to London, so I can watch over
her, or do I leave her in the country and away from uncomfortable brushes with
society?”

“The city might offer diversion.”

“The doctors worry that it will
excite the nerves, but what do they know? A bunch of quacks, the lot of them. I
just don’t know what to do. I must get to London, to offset any more snubs.”
Carefully, he laid the cue down. “It was awful, Rupert. Felicity didn’t bend or
break, but her eyes… I will not soon forget that look.”

Upton hesitated, his eye on the
table, cue in hand.

“Go ahead,” Andover slapped his
shoulder. “See if you can best me.”

With a slight smile, Upton lined up
a shot, and sank the ball. The break from the tension settled deep inside
Andover as he watched his friend bend to the task of lining up his next
attempt.

“So what can I do to help with your
betrothed?”

“Begrudgingly betrothed. If she had
her druthers, the whole thing would be called off.”

Rupert stood up. “That’s rich. She
has the most eligible bachelor in all of England proposing and she would rather
face scandal than marry you? She can’t be in her right mind and give you the
brush-off.”

Andover shook his head. “For a
sweet and agreeable young lady, she has a very sturdy backbone. Not at all what
I would have expected.”

“Still waters and all.”

“So it seems.”

“Does that worry you?”

Andover sipped his scotch. “Not
terribly. She’s intelligent so I never took her for a pushover, and she’s
practical. We just never ended up on opposite sides of the same issue before.
She is building a very friendly wall around herself. I need to figure out how
to breach it. But you know women … there is no figuring them out.

“Do you know her side of things
yet?” Having missed his shot, Rupert went over to the drinks tray and poured
himself a brandy. He looked into the liquid depths, as Andover bent to take his
shot. “I think I know of a way to get to Lady Felicity.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jane, my sister Jane. She’s always
had a soft spot for you and she went to school with Felicity.”

Andover thought for a moment.
Rupert had so many sisters it wasn’t easy to tell them apart. “Wasn’t she the
one who spilled wine down Felicity’s dress?”

“That was an accident. She wouldn’t
do that on purpose.”

Andover nodded. “No, not red wine
on a white dress.”

“She can be a bit of a gossip, but
she wouldn’t really do anyone any harm.”

“Come to think of it, Rupert,
didn’t she spook Felicity’s horse in the park that afternoon?”

Upton looked down at his boots, as
though considering. “No. She couldn’t have done that. She’s not much of a
rider. She just didn’t know what one can and cannot do. Where did you hear
these things? You weren’t even in town last season.”

“We were in mourning, Rupe, not out
of communication. Mother received all the gossip from town. A much needed
respite from her own thoughts. For a time those correspondences were the only
thing that kept her going.” Not even that worked anymore.

“Ah, of course.”

“Your sister, do you think she’ll
be supportive to Felicity, help me get a word in with her?”

“Don’t see why not.”

“Good. Right now the only inside
track I have is Beatrice, who would love to run me through with a dagger.”

“Shame, that. I rather like
Beatrice.”

Andover snorted.

****

“Oh dear,” Lady Westhaven stood with her
husband and daughter as they waved off the last carriage full of guests.
“Everyone left so quickly, William. We must get to London soon, dear, very
soon, so we can stem the gossip.” She turned on Felicity. “Which you aren’t
helping, Felicity.”

“What do you mean? I was friendly
last night.”

“You did not single him out.”

“Mother, what do you expect from
me?”

“Enough.” Lord Westhaven stepped in.
“Felicity is coping the best she can at the moment. People left because the
season is back on track. It was time they were off. No one, other than the
Chandlers, changed their plans.”

“I suppose you are right,” Lady
Westhaven sighed. “And Lady Singleton promised she would staunch whatever
bleeding comes from Lady Chandler. Wretched woman. You didn’t let her pious
little act trouble you, Felicity? She was merely trying to make her girls look
better than they ever could.” She fanned her face.

Felicity didn’t answer. The
Chandlers’ actions, giving her the cut in her own home, revealed what her mind
had refused to acknowledge. She would not be the only victim of her wayward
actions. Her parents maneuvering the Chandlers from their home, in the night,
before dinner was even served, would have repercussions for her entire family.

Marriage to Andover would staunch
that tide.

“Could I not marry someone else?”

“No.”

Felicity expected that from her
mother, a tirade of how no one else would have her. That her father had said
it, so emphatically, robbed her of an argument. She was reduced to asking why.

“You never showed any interest in
the men who courted you last year. I doubt you will find others, of any more interest
to you, this year.”

Her mother snorted. “As if there
would be others.”

Her father shot her mother The
Look. A gentle, soft-spoken man, not prone to anger, no anger now, but a steady
intelligence that could cut a tirade in its midst. “Her dowry is enough to pull
attention.”

“Unwanted attention,” her mother
snapped, and was then held back by another of The Looks.

“I could settle with one of the
suitors from last year.”

“No.” Her father shook his head.
“It has to be Andover.”

The ostracism meant little to her,
she was not that fond of society, but her family would insist on rescuing her.
It wasn’t in their nature to let it go, let her deal with the situation. Which
meant they, in turn, would be ostracized. Her father would not be troubled by
the lack of society, but for the rest of them, who thrived on the outside
world, it would be crushing.

She looked at her father then, all
the hurt and confusion evident, for he opened his arms. She went into them, her
mother joined them, wrapping her arms around the two.

Sniffing back tears, Felicity
pulled away, looked to her parents. “You don’t know the worst of it.” She
whispered.

“Ah,” her father nodded, dropping
his hold, “but I do.” He turned, headed back up the stairs. “Thomas told me
about Lord Andover’s aversions to apothecaries and doctors and foraging.”

“What?” Lady Westhaven snapped. “He
disapproves of Felicity? How dare he!” She exclaimed, as if she hadn’t been
fighting Felicity’s works for years.

“I could just do that, dedicate my
life to my work. I don’t have to marry.”

Her father gave her The Look.

She never should have gone to
Andover’s rooms.

****

“Felicity?”

Felicity dropped the newspaper,
flustered by what she had been reading. Andover, along with Lord Upton, were
supposed to be on their way home. Her betrothed had ‘things to see to’ before
their marriage.

She hadn’t seen him off. In fact,
she had avoided it. She needed more time to build barriers, yet there he stood
and there her heart went, ratcheting up its beat, totally forgetting the alarm
set off by what she saw in the paper.

“Lord Andover.” She nodded, picking
up the newspaper, placing it on a table, as she tried to focus on what was more
important than her own troubles.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “Bad news, I’m
afraid. We were informed at dinner the other night. Our neighbor, Jack
Marshall, of Homslee Hall, was injured in France. It is worse than I thought.”
Gaining distance she crossed to the window. The weather was horrid. “I should
have gone over there by now, but we heard they weren’t receiving. Now the
weather, it’s so wild, I don’t think we could get there today.”

“Your father went early this
morning. I went with him.”

“You did?” She looked over her
shoulder.

He nodded but, thankfully, remained
near the door. “Not an easy visit to make. Word is he is not doing well. His
older brother has gone to him.”

“Robbie would go. That is very much
like him. Robbie is a man who likes action. Jack preferred the settled
predictability of home.”

His voice grew closer. “Jack was a
particular friend of yours, I gather.”

“Yes,” Felicity mused, ignoring his
approach, even as she wished him away. “He always made one laugh and he was so
interested in the land, how things grew. We shared much.”

“But you did not have an
attachment?”

“Goodness, no!” Even the thought
jolted her. “He was like a brother. We shared interests.”

Jack loved fields and crops and all
manner of plants. “I’m sure his parents will feel better knowing Jack won’t be
alone.”

“Yes, I believe so. Information in
the paper often lags.”

She looked back at the broadsheet,
as though that would offer answers, and saw Andover nearly upon her. “I’m sorry
we did not know the extent of it before now. I would have gone with Father.”
She moved to the chess table.

“No one would expect less of you.” She
heard his smile and wished he had not found her at such a vulnerable moment.

“The weather has halted my travels,
as well.”

“Of course.” How foolish that she
hadn’t considered that. “I’m sorry your plans were thwarted.”

“No doubt.”

She looked back, drawn by the irony
in his tone. “I didn’t mean that, I mean, I didn’t mean…”

“Please don’t avoid me, Felicity.”

“I haven’t,” she lied, becoming
more used to such things.

“You are.” He stopped her
wanderings, placing his hands on her shoulders from behind.

If she had seen it coming, she
would have slipped away, finding it absolutely unfair he affected her so
deeply, yet felt nothing himself.