Felicity and the Damaged Reputation: A witty, sweet Regency Romance

by Alicia Cameron

  Mrs Fleet looked away. ‘I think Lady Aurora’s affection for you knows no bounds.’ The little lady leaned forward and took Miss Oldfield’s hands impulsively. ‘I have not known whether to tell you my dear. Only now, you should see how much Mr and Mrs Fenton are truly attached to you, so that you might see that you can stay. That you ought to stay, for only true affection could have caused them to—’

  ‘To—? Continue, I pray you—’ gasped Felicity.

  ‘It is I who am entrusted to pay all the household accounts for Lady Ellingham, you know. I mean those of a personal nature. Not the housekeeping, but the milliner’s bill, the modistes’, and so on, all fall upon my desk.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘And there has not been one from Madame Godot. Or Madame Celeste. Or any of the other modistes that you have told me of.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Did my Aunt Ellingham give Lady Aurora a sum of money? Or a banker’s draft?’

  ‘Lady Ellingham does not have such sums in the house, in case of thieves. And I write out all her banker’s drafts — all she must do is sign them.’

  ‘But in this case — surely she wrote it herself?’

  ‘I do not believe so.’

  Felicity looked down at the enormous muff she carried, which matched a trim on her pelisse. ‘Then all this — it is Mr and Mrs Fenton?’ Felicity shook away tears, ‘But of course it is! Why did I ever think other?’

  ‘So you see, my dear Miss Oldfield, do you not?’ said Miss Fleet grasping her hands more tightly, ‘Her ladyship and Mr Fenton have had such affection for you — from the first. And now that you know that, you need not leave them!’

  Felicity’s eyes filled up. She tried to talk, but could not. Only she could know that this only made things worse. She had seen with her own eyes, even in this circulation library, the shoulders that had turned from her dear friend Mrs Fenton, all because of her. She could hardly bare it. She would not say so however, for now Miss Fleet, who had not given up her discretion lightly, was looking so hopefully at her that she had not the heart to explain.

  ‘Perhaps you are right, my dear Miss Fleet. Thank you for telling me.’

  As the ladies came out of the circulating library, they were rather later than usual and no hackney carriage was to be seen. They could have walked, but Felicity had sent off her maid, and their destinations were in opposite directions. A smart barouche, with its hood pulled up to keep out a light rain pulled up, and Felicity heard herself hailed. ‘Miss Oldfield, well met. May I take you and your companion up?’ Merry blue eyes in a handsome face looked down at her, but somehow too intimately for their slight acquaintance.

  ‘Lord Stanford. No, I assure you, I am awaiting a carriage as we speak.’ She turned her head a little to Miss Fleet who was looking very worried, as she was now late for Lady Ellingham. ‘Perhaps you could take my companion to Half Moon Street? She lives with my aunt, Lady Ellingham.’

  Lord Stanford pulled a face. ‘Of course, I would be glad to convey both of you home.’

  ‘I am awaiting my coach sir, as I told you,’ said Felicity briskly.

  Lord Stanford had jumped from the carriage, ‘My dear Miss Oldfield,’ he said, standing too near to her and bowing over her hand, ‘You must know that I am your devoted servant. You know I hold you in regard. And even in your present trouble, I wish to discuss with you a solution to your problem.’

  ‘I’m afraid, sir,’ said Miss Fleet placing herself in front of him, causing him to drop Felicity’s hand, ‘that I — I have remembered an errand that we must run. Do continue on your drive.’ She was shaking a great deal at her own temerity, but she could not allow this to continue.

  Lord Stanford sneered at her from his superior height and little Miss Fleet was sure he was going to remove her. Felicity was too shocked and humiliated to move herself. Whatever his solution his lordship was insinuating, it made her flesh creep and her face flame.

  Another voice interrupted them. ‘Miss Oldfield! Miss — eh — Fleet. I am come to collect you!’ It was Durant. Felicity grasped her companions arm and bobbed a curtsy at Lord Stanford. Both ladies joined the Viscount on the narrow seat of the phaeton, rather crushed. ‘Stanford!’ nodded Durant with a steel cold voice. It was two streets before he said angrily, ‘What were you doing with Stanford?’

  Miss Fleet, who was generally so very timid, was livid at the disrespect from Stanford and did not like the Viscount’s cool tone either, ‘It is what Lord Stanford was doing with Miss Oldfield that is the question, my lord,’ Durant looked down at the little woman with shock, and Felicity did the same, but raising her brows in amusement, ‘and the answer is, being prodigiously disrespectful! I fear his lordship does not deserve the name gentleman. He is, and this is not a word I have ever thought to use - a cad.’ She recollected herself and said, collapsed into her usual tone, ‘I am sorry if that offends you sir.’

  ‘No, Miss Fleet, it does not. I think you have adequately described him.’ He exchanged a smile with Felicity briefly before he had to watch the road. He pulled up at Lady Ellingham’s house. ‘Can you hold the reins, Miss Oldfield, while I help Miss Fleet—’ but Miss Fleet had already jumped, surprisingly nimbly, from the perch.

  Felicity said her goodbyes and soon they were bowling around the streets, but a little more slowly now, and the silence was even more deafening. ‘I wish to say agai—’

  ‘Pray do not sir, I know it.’

  ‘But when you are subjected to the likes of Stanford — what did he say to you?’

  ‘I have been subjected to Lord Stanford before now. He once asked me to marry him.’

  ‘But you have no — I am sorry, but he generally has the reputation of a fortune hunter.’

  ‘I believe so. But I said no on quite other grounds.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘He is very … he makes me feel … rather sick. I do not know why, but I hardly think it a sound foundation for marriage,’ she added with a smile.

  He laughed. ‘You would, however, be Lady Stanford and I believe he has a rather large property in Kent.’

  Felicity was silent. ‘Well, today he was about to offer me something less than marriage, I fear. Now that I am ruined.’ She laughed. ‘Oh, do not look so sir, I am merely jesting. He is just so…’ her voice dwindled, and Durant saw that though she was trying to pass off the incident, she was clearly shaken.

  ‘Disgusting? Repulsive? Abhorrent?’ He offered.

  She laughed. ‘You cannot say such things. I only mean, well — less than gentlemanly.’

  ‘An understatement I fear. You must do better. Stanford is a well-known toad, a crawling snake, a vulgar snipejaw.’

  ‘You made the latter word up. But he is, perhaps…’ she looked at him naughtily, ‘rather obnoxious?’

  ‘Shameless. Repellent.’

  She was laughing freely now. ‘No, no, simply a little offensive.’

  ‘Detestable. Nauseating. Disgusting.’ He was making her laugh and the humiliation of Stanford’s behaviour was losing its grip on her. Stanford he would deal with later, but for the moment this was little enough to do for her. ‘Let me say it again. I am so very sorry for the disgrace I have brought upon you. I—’

  ‘Please do not say so again.’ She touched his hand and he almost jerked the reins. ‘It was Lady Letitia’s hastily said words that brought this upon us all. And no doubt she is very sorry now.’ His brows rose. ‘She may not show it of course, but there is shame in her eyes.’

  ‘If only I could think it, I could hold out some hope for her future. But as it is—’ he frowned, manoeuvring the horses outside the Fenton’s house.

  ‘I’m sure of it.’ Felicity looked at him with her kind smile. ‘I have a twin sisters, you know. And my sister Amity is quite capable of making mischief. But there is never any sign of shame in her eyes afterwards. Lady Letitia is quite another matter.’

  The horses had stopped and his groom was had jumped down from behind and was now holding their heads. Durant turned to he
r fully and looking as though mesmerised into her eyes. ‘How is it, Miss Oldfield, than whenever I seek to apologise to you, you end by comforting me?’ His voice was deep, intimate and warm. She felt some response in herself, but was unable to know what it was. Her lips parted and his breath came rather faster. She shook off what she had been going to say, she hardly knew what it was. She turned from him a little flushed, and jumped from the high perch.

  ‘Come in, won’t you?’ She said, hoping to avoid meeting Mr and Mrs Fenton alone for the first time since she had learnt the truth, in case she betrayed her knowledge.

  ‘Very well.’ He jumped down and joined her, and she remembered that inviting the object of the rumours of her disgrace might not be the sensible thing to do.

  She need not have been so concerned with meeting the Fentons alone. For in the salon, along with a smartly dressed young lady in a heavenly blue muslin, was Lady Jersey, and close as he was standing to Felicity, Durant felt her tremble. But then, he almost trembled himself.

  Anne Clarence looked at the beautiful, tall girl before her, a little shocked. The epithet used to describe her by both Sally Jersey and Lady Aurora was “kind”, and for that to be the first thing that came to mind in describing her must make her kind indeed, for her beauty was truly remarkable. Her lips were like a flower, her eyes a beautiful and unusual russet, her hair a riot of autumn colours. She was perfect and yet, for Sally Jersey and for Mrs Fenton, they first described her good nature and her kindness. Durant was frozen for a second, and could that be a little flush? It amused her to see him bereft of his usual aplomb. Perhaps she could guess why.

  ‘Durant!’ she said, amiably. ‘I am come to London, as you see.’

  He took her hand and bowed over it. ‘Anne.’ He said, finding his voice.

  Mrs Fenton smiled at him, ‘We were not expecting you, my lord.’

  ‘I came upon Miss Fleet and Miss Oldfield at the lending library, and brought them home.’

  Anne saw at once that the lovely Mrs Fenton was calculating the distance from the library, and whether the drive might have added to the scandal. In normal circumstances, it was unexceptional to be in an open carriage with a gentleman, but it was clear that everyone was more careful. Anne was aware of some undercurrent. Mr Fenton, who Anne had recognised as one of the Prince Regent’s cronies (although rather slimmer and less floridly dressed than when she’d known him) raised an eyebrow at Durant. ‘Indeed?’

  Miss Oldfield seemed sensitive to a note of censure in their host’s tone. ‘Oh, yes, Mr Fenton, the Viscount rescued us from an encounter with Lord Stanford.’ She said this lightly.

  The brow came down and the other met it. ‘Stanford? I shall have a word—’

  ‘Let me,’ said Durant shortly.

  ‘I think not.’ Said Mr Fenton, grimly. ‘Felicity, Lady Jersey and her friend have been so kind as to visit us today. Miss Anne Clarence!’

  Felicity bobbed curtsies of the same degree to each of the ladies, and Anne realised, with a shock, that she must seem to the young girl to be the same age as her ladyship. She was twenty-seven and the magnificent Lady Jersey, now sporting an enormous round Scotch bonnet trimmed with a feather so long that it trailed on her shoulder, was thirty-one, a year younger than Durant. She had spoken to Sally earlier, and had afterwards sought out Felicity to get her measure, and to make some sort of decision before she talked with the Viscount.

  Sally, so pleased to see her, had also been a little shocked when she realised that Anne’s mother was indeed dead.

  ‘I would never have burdened you with this business had I known, my dear.’

  ‘I’m glad then, that you did not know. I’m come to town to see if I can help.’

  ‘Then you will let me make some suggestions to particular friends guaranteed to spread the word of the engagement, unofficial as it must be at your time of mourning?’

  ‘As to that, Sally, it is rather more complicated. I need your help.’

  ‘What now?’ said Lady Jersey, petulantly, ‘I declare I’m tired of the whole affair. Had I not seen the girl with Miss Friel, I would never have lifted a finger.’ She adjusted her silk shawl and held her nose in the air, but presently looked around to meet Anne Clarence’s patient eye. ‘Oh, tell me at least. But I will not get further involved.’

  ‘The thing is, if you tell people about the engagement, you may not be telling the truth,’ said Anne, candidly.

  ‘You are not engaged to Durant? He was lying?’

  ‘Of course not. At the moment, I suppose I am engaged. I mean to say, I said yes.’

  ‘At the moment?’

  ‘I am not sure that — that—’

  ‘It is a perfect match! You and Durant have always been friends. Whatever can be holding you back? Think of it, Anne. To be Viscountess Durant and take your place again in society. You have been gone too long. It is where you belong. Why, which other country maiden in the world but you is there that could arrive in town and wearing a gown that I could so envy. Where did you have it?’

  ‘Oh, I designed it!’ said Anne brightly. ‘I’m glad you like it, Sally, I must say, Kate, my maid, did a wonderful job interpreting the drape I designed—’

  ‘Yes, my dear. And I would never have thought that green could have been so becoming, but that is not the point. Why are you only engaged to Durant at the moment?’

  ‘I think that the Viscount and I will always be friends, but I am not at all sure that we should be more. Now that I am free, I find that I am rather enjoying it.’

  Sally Jersey’s eyes narrowed. ‘There is more to this than meets the eye.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘So, are you here to release him?’

  ‘I’m not quite sure. Of course I’m concerned for the young lady, but I have been thinking on the journey, Sally, and I am not sure it is right to release Bastian yet.’

  ‘But why—?’

  ‘Don’t you see, Sally? If I release Durant, he is honour-bound to marry the girl and such a forced arrangement might be dreadful for them both. I have never known Durant to be interested in girls so much younger.’

  ‘He is hardly in his dotage.’

  ‘No, but who was his last flirt? The Duchess of Telford, Susan informed me. Someone he can talk to, someone who is experienced — and beautiful, of course. I cannot be sure if releasing him is the right thing, and I won’t know until I meet her. For perhaps there is more we can do without marriage.’

  ‘Do not ask again for vouchers. You know I cannot. I even banned my own sister-in-law, so no appeal to my good-nature will work.’

  ‘Will you not lift the ban on Lady Caroline?’ asked Anne with a smile.

  ‘If you had read that dreadful book, you would not ask.’ Anne had received her own copy of Glenarvon which was runaway bestseller, from her sister. Lady Caroline Lamb, though not the admitted author, had depicted many of the fashionable world in an unfavourable light. It was shocking, horrendous, yet everyone had a copy. Her target was her ex-lover, the poet Lord Byron, but her clever pen had sketched others too. ‘And she has been behaving shockingly. Byron has taken himself off to the continent.’

  ‘I fear that she is pilloried less for her sins than her indiscretion.’

  ‘We are not here to discuss Caroline Lamb, but Durant. Bastian has made his own bed, let him lie on it. And let us be done with it, if you are really determined not to marry him. Anyway, Wilbert Fenton is taking a high stance, pretending that nothing was said in that fateful night. It may suffice. A number of people have doubted the accounts and distrusted the gossip. Especially since Fenton and Durant are posing as friends. If only some young man would offer for her, I feel no stain would remain. Throughout the whole she has behaved with dignity.’

  ‘I long to meet her, Sally, and before I decide. I pity her plight, I do.’

  ‘Well, marry Durant and make a friend of her. The story will disappear overnight. Or reject him, and let him marry her.’

  ‘Very practical advice. But I know my own mother’s life
in a loveless marriage, and my father’s too. They had not a thought between them and made each other very unhappy until his death. I could not wish that on Durant. Or on her. Please, my dear, take me to the Fentons’ house.’

  ‘Oh, very well! But it upsets my day cruelly.’

  Having decided, Lady Jersey was quick and dynamic as was her wont, and she kept up a gaggle of town gossip for the entire carriage ride to the Fentons’.

  And now Anne was looking at this lovely young girl, and wondering what the viscount’s loss of aplomb might signify.

  The Reverend Mr Mallory Joyce, when he had conceived of this expedition to London, had banked on the probability that his papa, Sir Royston Joyce, Baronet, would not be in town. He was fortunately correct, and he walked into the library of the house in Eaton Square, to find his elder brother Godfrey, forty-two, with his feet stretched out towards the fire, reading The Sporting Times. The butler, who had known him since the cradle, had not felt the need to announce him, so Godfrey, whose fair hair was further on the road to total disappearance than his own, looked up, mildly inquisitive.

  ‘Hello, Almighty,’ said the curate.

  ‘Mallory!’ said his brother, without bothering to get up. ‘How goes the life of the spirit, old fellow? Whatever are you doing in town? And what are you wearing?’ He was genuinely, but lazily, pleased to see his brother, but his eye was offended by the fraying cuffs.

  ‘The same suit as I wore the day papa threw me out. Not changing it for five years makes it pretty disreputable, you know.’

  ‘But you have other coats—’

  ‘I sent for them but papa was so furious he wouldn’t release them. So here I stand. My stipend allows me to have a change of linen, but…’ his brother’s mouth was agape. ‘How is the old gentleman?’