Authors: Claudy Conn
FELICIA OPENED HER eyes with a start and sat straight up, a question hitting her hard:
Where was she
? She looked around and squinted against the bright rays of the sun streaming in through her window. Ugh, she had forgotten to draw the pretty yellow hangings last evening.
Faith! Last evening? That was right. She was in a strange inn, and Scott was recovering from a gunshot! Scott was down the hall … and a complete stranger had helped them.
She sank back against her pillows. She had nothing on, as she had dropped all her clothing to the floor before getting into bed. Everything was ruined, even her undergarments, as the blood had soaked right through her riding jacket and had gotten all over the breeches. The only things she could still wear were her high-topped riding boots.
In addition to that, she had washed only her face in the bowl last night; she felt completely filthy.
What she needed was a bath—a nice soapy, hot bath.
Fie, Felicia
, she told herself.
Scott is down the hall … hurt, and all you are worried about is your needs.
And then, for no reason at all, someone else popped into her head.
Glen Ashton
.
How kind he had been. He had procured this room for her, seen to Scott … and then saw her fed and reassured. Just how was she ever to thank him?
A knock sounded at her door, and she called out as she covered herself to her chin, “Yes?”
A young maid peeked in and said, “Your bath is ready, miss …” The young woman stepped into the room and set down a large leather portmanteau, a hatbox, and a large, wrapped package. “Your uncle, Mr. Ashton, sent these up.” She indicated the bag and then placed a package on the chair just inside the room. “And this package as well.”
“Thank you, but, but … what time is it?”
“Well past nine, miss. Mr. Ashton said not to wake you, so I waited a goodly while.”
“Oh no, oh my. I never sleep so late … oh, please tell me, my … my brother … how is he?”
“His lordship said to tell you that your brother slept well and has already had some gruel. The doctor is due later this morning. I think Mr. Scott wandered back into a sleep.” She bobbed a curtsy and said as she turned back towards the door, “Shall I help you with your bath, miss?”
“You are very kind, but, no, thank you. I think I can manage. Down the hall, is it?”
“Yes, miss.”
Felicia’s mind was a whirlwind. She jumped up and ran to collect and open everything the maid had delivered. She attacked the package first and tore it open to display some undergarments, a nightdress, and a lovely pale blue silk and lace dressing gown.
He had thought of everything, but the notion of him picking out the lacy undergarments made her heat up from her toes to the top of her head.
Some thirty minutes later, having had a delicious hot bath, she stood before the mirror brushing her black hair into velvet waves. She was already wearing the black velvet riding ensemble he had chosen for her over the white lace shirt beneath, and she placed the matching black velvet top hat with its white sheer band onto her head. It was perfect. She took it off and left it ready on the bed, turned, gave herself another glance in the mirror, and found she was well pleased with the picture she presented.
Excited, she went forward to see Scott and hopefully … she realized that the thought was ‘hopefully’ Glen Ashton.
It felt wonderful to be clean and in such a lovely ensemble. She had to wonder just what Ashton had to pay to get the shopkeeper to open so early to accommodate him.
In high spirits she made her way to Scott’s room and knocked on the door. When he didn’t answer, she opened it a crack and was surprised to find it swathed in darkness. She had simply assumed he would be awake by now.
Worried, she tiptoed towards his bed, bent over, and put her palm to his forehead. Sighing with relief that he felt cool to the touch, she put a finger to his shoulder and dropped a kiss on his cheek.
“Good morning,” Ashton whispered from a rocking chair in the darkness.
She gasped even as her hand flew to her heart; she had not seen him there. “
Oh my faith
. You nearly scared me to death.”
“I had hoped not to do that.” He grinned while speaking softly.
“When did you get back from town?”
He moved to open the drape slightly and allow some light into the room before he answered, “Only a short while ago, and may I say, you look lovely, my dear. I thought that ensemble would suit you.”
“Oh, yes, and thank you. You are as you have been from the start, more than kind, but tell me, sir, however did you know my size?”
“I have a good eye,” he said quietly.
“Hallo!” Scott said from the bed, making an attempt to sit up and then collapsing against the pillows. “What the deuce are you two going on about?” He rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of one hand.
“Ah, my man of the hour is awake. What an excellent sign.” She moved towards the hangings, opened them wide, and fixed them in place. “There, that is better.”
“Devilish creature,” he said. “All that light all at once. Trying to kill a man, are you?”
“No, you do that too well all on your own,” she shot back at him amiably.
He grinned. “Hungry and don’t want any more of that dashed disgusting gruel.”
“Hmm, I am not sure—”
Ashton cut her off. “Do you know, I do think that a good idea. He is not feverish, and food will replenish his strength.”
“There, you heard the man. Off now, be a good girl and fetch,” Scott unwisely said.
“Careful, my buck. You will fully recover, and my memory is long, and I can be patient as I plot out my revenge.”
They all laughed, but Felicia said, “Right then, off I go to have a tray brought up to you.” She turned back to Ashton. “Anything for you, sir?”
“No … I think I will go and wash up and change,” Ashton said.
A moment later he walked her to the staircase, and she touched his arm to thank him again. “Sir, we will always be in your debt for your continued kindness.”
“I find I don’t wish for either of you to be in my debt. Rather, I would hope, Felicia, that you will trust me and tell me the whole truth so that I may safely see you situated.”
She was surprised. Had he not believed the story she had given him? It was very nearly the truth.
She lowered her gaze and said, “I have already told you our circumstances. There is no more than that.”
“Ah, but there is,” he answered enigmatically and turned to make his way to his room.
* * *
Felicia stopped by her room, took up her hat, and then made her way downstairs and arranged for a breakfast to be taken to Scott. She then had a quick cup of coffee and swallowed a sweet bun nearly whole while standing.
She needed some fresh air and perhaps a ride?
Guilt swept through her as she thought of Ashton asking her to trust him. She was keeping things from him, which in her mind was the same thing as lying. He had been all that was good and kind, and she had given him only half-truths in return. It was very wrong of her.
Perhaps it was time to come clean and tell him the whole—tell him who she was, who her guardian was. Perhaps? She would take a ride to clear the cobwebs in her head and try to make a good decision.
She made her way to the livery of the inn, sighing happily because the morning was gloriously perfect for a little exercise with her horse.
She smiled at the stable hand, a neatly dressed young man of no more than fourteen or fifteen years who rushed towards her.
“Aye then, will ye be wanting yer saddle, miss?” he asked politely.
Felicia thanked him, and between them they had her neat bay gelding, Whiley, tacked up. She led Whiley outdoors and used the mounting block to hoist herself up easily into the saddle.
Walking her horse slowly towards a bridle path at the left of the stables, she wanted to throw her arms out and drink in the beauty of the fresh, cool air. Thank goodness, Scott would be fine. Thank goodness, she wouldn’t have to face her horrible guardian and might make the next six weeks safely out of his grasp. Thank goodness.
Smiling, she put Whiley into a trot but slowed him back to a walk as the trail narrowed and became cluttered with exposed roots.
It was as she took stock of her surroundings, for she had taken a branch of the trail that looked wider than the one she had been on, that Whiley took a misstep and then another.
“Oh no … Whiley, what is this?” she exclaimed. She jumped out of her saddle at once, removed her glove, and ran her hand down his leg looking for heat.
She didn’t find any swelling or heat, so she picked up his hoof and found the problem. He had lost a shoe.
Sighing, she patted his neck. “Right then, dashed uncomfortable, isn’t it, old boy … walking about with a shoe missing. We’ll get you back and see to it.”
It was then, all at once, that the sound of a man’s voice caught her attention. Felicia instinctively, worriedly looked about herself. She could see nothing.
She tethered Whiley and walked through the thick woods towards the sound of a gruff voice who seemed to be in the heat of anger and debasing someone who had displeased him. That someone, from the sound of her crying, was a young woman!
Concerned but cautious, Felicia kept low, glad she was wearing black as she weaved between the thick evergreens.
She came to a complete halt and could just make out the form of a burly man as he raised his hand and brought it down across the young woman’s face, slapping her viciously.
Felicia started forward but then stopped herself. She hadn’t even her little ladies pistol with her. What a dolt, she thought herself, leaving without it yesterday.
“See what yer crying gets ye! If ye fuss loikes that any longer, oi’ll ’ave no choice but to dim yer lights completely, and ye won’t be loiking that none, no, ye won’t.”
She heard the sound of wheels hitting stone. Looking past the rough individual, she realized he wasn’t in just a clearing but a dirt road, and a wagon was being driven in his direction.
What was going on here?
The scoundrel took the arm of the young woman, and Felicia saw that while the woman’s clothes were now soiled, they had been quite fashionable before their ill use.
She then saw the girl’s distressed face, the welt across her cheek, and closed her eyes. She had to do something. She simply had to do something to help the young woman.
But what could she do? Keep them in her sights … follow them and then go for help. That’s what.
“Well, it’s about toime!” the rough blackguard told the driver of the wagon.
She heard a couple of other male voices, all of them sounding disgruntled as they spoke at once and apparently in accord before their apparent leader shouted for silence. “Enough! Oi’ll not have ye grumbling at me. We haven’t the toime for that.”
Dreadful men, Felicia told herself. Something nefarious was going on here, but what? Who was that poor woman?
She had to stay out of sight. She couldn’t see quite as much as she would have liked, for she kept hidden behind the brush.
She parted the evergreen branches and peeked to see the big burly man wrap the poor young woman in a blanket, tie it in place around her, and throw her roughly into the back of the wagon. They couldn’t travel far, she thought, not with that old cob. So where were they going?
“Right then, ye dimwits. Toike her to the cabin and get her inside. Don’t be dillydallying longer than need be.”
Two men climbed into the wagon seat, and one took up the reins. The burly fellow and yet another she had not seen earlier saddled up and rode off.
She took a step to follow the wagon, stopped, and rethought her plan. Instead, she hurriedly backtracked, took her horse’s reins, and quietly led him deeper into the woods.
The wagon was already out of sight, but she stared down the dirt road and took note of the tracks the wheels had made. She mounted Whiley and followed the deeply etched tracks until she spied a weathered cottage in a small clearing.
Quickly she jumped off her gelding and tethered him behind some evergreens where a nice patch of grass grew. He bent and nibbled happily. Good, he was out of sight. Slowly, she made her way towards the cottage, ducking low, very low as she approached closer.
A skinny lad in a gray knit sweater over a gray cotton shirt stepped onto the cottage’s front and broken wood steps, turned back, and told his companion, “We’ll come out of this wit’ a pretty guinea or two, don’t ye think, Jackie-boy?”
“Oi then,” said Jackie-boy, coming to join him on the steps.
“Did ye do whot Styles told ye?”
“Oi did. Left the letter at old man Wilson’s house, oi did. If he wants her back in one piece he’ll have to pay.”
“Whot’s the mort doing now?” asked the skinny one in the gray sweater.
“Why, Clemmy … do ye have it in mind to bump her one, eh?”
Clemmy laughed, and Felicia grimaced.
Horrid blackguards
, she thought.