Table of Contents
Copyright
Felicia
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Felicia
By Leonora Blythe
Copyright 2014 by Leonora Blythe
Cover Copyright 2014 by Untreed Reads Publishing
Cover Design by Ginny Glass
The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.
Previously published in print, 1978.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, dialogue and events in this book are wholly fictional, and any resemblance to companies and actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Also by Leonora Blythe and Untreed Reads Publishing
Carolina
Helene
Lady Tara
Sally
http://www.untreedreads.com
Felicia
Leonora Blythe
FOR TONY
with special thanks and affection to
Ben Ross
One
James, the young, gangling underfootman, snapped the last lock shut on Felicia’s trunk and bent down to buckle the leather strap. “That’ll be all then, Miss Felicia?” he inquired.
“Yes, James. Thank you,” Felicia answered and wished she could spare a coin to give him. But her aunt had given her just enough money for the journey to Manchester and not a farthing more. The few guineas that Mrs. Ambel, the housekeeper, had pressed into her hand last night were already safely sewn into the hem of her drab traveling dress.
James sensed her discomfort and hastened to reassure her. “Now, don’t you be fretting, miss,” he said. “You is goin’ to be all right, away from ’ere. Be careful though ’ow you go on the stagecoach and don’t you be lettin’ strange folk talk to you.” His voice was brotherly. “But I’m sure Mrs. Ambel ’as already warned you of that.”
“Indeed she has,” Felicia said, “and you may be sure I will heed the advice.”
“Well, I’ll be takin’ this trunk of yours downstairs, miss, and you just come when you’re ready. I reckon Mr. Jennings will ’ave the cart round by the back door in a few minutes, and you know ’ow sulky ’e gets if ’e’s kept waitin’ long.” James paused. “And…and, Miss Felicia, I just wanted to say good-bye and good-luck.” He held out his hand awkwardly, and Felicia quickly took it in hers.
“Thank you, James. I shall miss your cheerful whistle in the mornings.” She smiled warmly. “And you know how sorry I am that I shall not be here when you and Annie get married.”
James released her hand and picked up her trunk. “Thank you, Miss Felicia, and just remember…be careful who you speak to.”
Felicia took one last look around the attic bedroom that had been her refuge for the last five years. Now that the time had come for her to go the feeling of apprehension that had been building within her evaporated. A sense of freedom washed over her, leaving an exhilarating tingle to her body.
“Mama, Mama,” she whispered, “I will be brave. I promise. I will try to remember how you suffered without complaining. I will not let you down. But, Mama, why did you have to die?” A tear threatened to trickle down her cheek, but she resolutely brushed it away.
To take her mind off her mother, Felicia checked her reticule to make sure that the few pathetic pieces of bric-a-brac she had managed to retain were safe.
There was a tentative knock on the door, and in some surprise Felicia opened it. A look of astonishment spread across her face as she saw her cousin. “Hello, Wendy,” she said quickly, “whatever are you doing up here?” Felicia noticed that the rims of Wendy’s eyes were red as though she had been crying.
“Mama said you had gone,” Wendy sniveled, “with…without saying good-bye to me.” She put a small, fat fist to her eyes and wiped away the tears. “And…and…you promised you wouldn’t forget.”
“And I have not forgotten,” Felicia said briskly. She tried to suppress the annoyance caused by her cousin’s words. It seemed that Aunt Gweneth was determined to make her departure as difficult as possible. “You know you are not allowed up here, Wendy,” she continued more gently. “Run along to your room, and I will join you in a few minutes.”
“Cousin Felicia,” Wendy blurted out “I just wanted to say that I am sorry you are going. Really I am. And I am sorry for being so horrid to you. I am going to miss you so.” She broke off, sobbing.
Felicia was puzzled by Wendy’s attitude. In the five years she had been at Graystones, this was the first time Wendy had ever shown any remorse for her behavior. Knowing her cousin well, Felicia suspected an ulterior motive. However, her tone was coaxing as she replied: “You will soon forget me. As soon as you arrive in London and get caught up in all the preparations for your debut, you will not have time to think of much else.”
“But…but…you don’t understand,” Wendy wailed. “I will not have anyone to help me.” The tears started down her fat cheeks again. “I need you with me.”
“Come, come, Wendy,” Felicia said with some irritation. “You must know that is impossible. Your mother is sending me away. It was she who found me the position as governess in Manchester. As for needing me, I am sure Aunt Gweneth will hire you a proper lady’s maid once you arrive in London.”
But Wendy was not easily placated. “It is all your fault. I know it is, for Mama would never send you away. You…you are far too useful to her…and me,” Wendy sobbed. “You do not want to come to London for I expect you will be jealous of me…en…enjoying myself.”
Felicia listened to Wendy in exasperated silence until she could not bear it any longer. “Pull yourself together, Wendy,” she said bracingly. “I do not have the time to stand and listen to your self-pity. In fact, you have delayed me so much that I will have to bid you farewell here.” She looked down at her cousin, and resisted the temptation to put her arm around the plump, shuddering shoulders. “Here, take this.” She held out a finely embroidered handkerchief that her mother had given her for Christmas. “Blow your nose hard, for you know how that always stops you crying.”
Wendy grabbed the delicate piece of linen and screwed it up into a tight ball. “You are an unfeeling beast,” she sniffed and stamped a foot. “You don’t care what happens to me…” She looked up at Felicia slyly, and the expression of disdain she saw on Felicia’s face goaded her into saying, “I shall go and tell Mama not to let you go, for I can see now that that is the very thing you want.”
“That is quite enough, Cousin Wendy. I do not have to tolerate your tantrums any more. Go to your mother, by all means, but there is nothing you can do to keep me here. I am free of you both,” She flourished her shabby reticule at her cousin. “I have my st
agecoach fare and a little more besides, and that is all I need to get away from here.” Her eyes were glittering in her anger, and the look of distaste she bestowed on her cousin made Wendy wince. “Now, go,” Felicia continued. “Go quickly, before I say or do something we both regret.”
Wendy fled from the room, her loud, angry sobs echoing down the narrow hallway. Felicia stood for a few moments and wondered at her daring. “I really am free,” she said to herself. “I am free and without fear.” She hugged herself happily and danced a few steps around the room. She stopped when she reached the mirror. “Aunt Gweneth,” she said solemnly, “I hope I never see you again in my life.”
She picked up her reticule, which had fallen to the floor, and without a backward glance walked from her bedroom. She swiftly descended the attic stairs, being careful to avoid the loose floorboard that always creaked when trodden on, and quickly crossed the upstairs landing to the servants’ wing. She could hear angry voices coming from her aunt’s room as she started down the last flight of stairs.
Her heart was pounding as she hurried down, and she stopped only to draw breath when she arrived in the kitchen.
“I was just coming to fetch you,” Mrs. Ambel said, looking quizzically at the heightened color in Felicia’s cheeks. “My, my, we are in a ’urry to leave, aren’t we?”
Felicia took a long, steadying breath before she answered. “Cousin Wendy delayed me,” her voice was demure. “But I think I had better go quickly before my aunt demands to see me.” She grinned wickedly at the housekeeper. “You see, I had a slight argument with dear Cousin Wendy.”
Mrs. Ambel looked at Felicia in astonishment. “Well, whoever would ’ave thought you capable of such a thing,” she said in admiring tones. “You’re right, though, you’d best be off before the bell goes.”
Mrs. Dauncey stepped forward and presented Felicia with a large hamper. “’Ere you are, Miss Felicia. Just a little something to keep you from starving on the journey. I’m only sorry there’s not more, but… She shrugged her shoulders.
“Dear Mrs. Dauncey,” Felicia said. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness. I am sure I will not be able to eat half of it.” The hamper felt quite heavy, and Felicia knew it would be filled with the delightful delicacies that her aunt enjoyed. “I shall always remember your many kindnesses to Mama and myself.” She leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on Mrs. Dauncey’s face.
Biting back the tears that were once again threatening, Felicia followed Mrs. Ambel out of the kitchen to the waiting cart. They had just reached the courtyard, when the sound of a bell could be heard. Mrs. Ambel ignored it. “She can wait,” she mumbled crossly. “Just for once, she can jolly well wait.”
Annie and James were standing by the cart waiting to say their final good-byes. Mr. Jennings, the coachman, was standing by the horse’s head, waiting for Felicia with ill-concealed impatience. Mrs. Ambel cut the farewells short by sending Annie to answer the summons of the bell. Felicia was thankful. She could feel her self-control slipping.
She watched James toss her trunk into the cart and waited for him to help her up. As soon as she was settled, Mr. Jennings swung himself up and jerked the horses to a fast trot. Felicia tugged on her bonnet strings, making certain they were tight, and sat up proudly. Mr. Jennings sniffed loudly to indicate his feelings at having to bother himself with such a menial chore. It was an embarrassment to him to have to use the cart, but Lady Ormstead had insisted on this mode of transport, refusing to let Felicia have the use of her crested barouche.
Felicia turned to wave a final good-bye to Mrs. Ambel and James as the cart rounded the bend in the long driveway. As much as she would miss her few friends at Graystones, she looked to the future with excitement, so she turned her back on the big house with a great sense of release. She did not notice her aunt standing in the window of her upstairs drawing room, nor did she see the sly look of satisfaction on her aunt’s face.
*
Felicia had no difficulty obtaining a seat on the stagecoach. The two ostlers at the inn in Chepstow, where the coach picked up passengers, were very pleased to be able to help someone so young and pretty.
“Don’t matter ’er clothes are drab,” the younger stableboy said, smacking his lips. “She’s a good lookin’ bit o’ muslin, no two ways about it.”
Felicia was indeed beautiful, almost a replica of her mother. Tall and slender, her golden hair framed a face that was exquisite in its delicacy. Because of the excitement, her limpid eyes, normally a violet-blue, were an even deeper shade.
The older boy agreed, nodding his head vigorously but keeping his eyes firmly on Felicia.
The excitement she felt made her oblivious to the ostlers’ close scrutiny, and she was totally unaware of the other passengers waiting for the coach. One of them, a thin young man with limp hair and a bulbous nose, watched the stableboys’ ogling with amusement. It would be a pleasant indulgence to while away the long journey to Cheltenham talking to such a lovely girl. He was tempted to exchange his cheaper outside ticket for a seat inside, although he could ill afford the additional expense.
As the blast of a horn announced the arrival of the coach, the thin young man made up his mind. He sidled closer to Felicia and muttered in an insinuating undertone, “Jason Hobbs, at your service. I couldn’t help noticing you was on your own, as it were, miss. What do you say we team up as far as Cheltenham, if you take my meaning?”
Felicia made no reply to Jason Hobbs’s impertinent suggestion. Actually she hadn’t even heard it, so intent was she on enjoying the warmth of the spring sunshine and savoring her anticipation of the journey. The thin young man shrugged his shoulders and turned away. A sulky expression on his face reflected the thoughts arising from the imagined slight: Who is she anyway? A common drab giving herself airs, that’s who. But no denying she’s a looker….
The courtyard of the inn had suddenly come alive. The two ostlers ran forward to hold the heads of the sweating horses until the coachman threw them the reins.
“’E looks a little worse for wear this morning,” the younger boy muttered to his companion, nodding toward the coachman. “Let’s ’ope ’e reaches Cheltenham in one piece.”
A couple of passengers alighted, shaking their heads at the drunken coachman. He had his back to them, taking another swig from a bottle, so he did not see their gestures. Neither did Felicia. She was anxiously watching her trunk being hoisted up.
Only after it had been firmly strapped down did she climb into the coach. The younger ostler was there to assist her, and she thanked him prettily as he handed her the hamper of food. There was only one other passenger inside, the thin young man having settled himself in an outside seat. A prim, elderly woman was sitting in the far corner of the coach, pressed up against the side as though all the seats were taken. Felicia smiled at her, but the only sign the old woman gave to acknowledge the invasion of her privacy was to pull her capuchin round her thin body more securely and tighten her hold on her valise.
Felicia sat down and smoothed the creases from the shabby brown walking dress, before unclasping the frogging which held her cloak together. She was acutely conscious of the dowdy picture she presented but had decided that she would wear only her oldest clothes for the long journey. Mrs. Ambel had told her she would be able to change into something more becoming when she reached Manchester.
“It’s no point dirtying your new gowns before you need,” Mrs. Ambel had said. “We don’t want you arriving at your new position looking all crumpled and disheveled.” She had omitted to make mention of her fears for Felicia’s safety on the journey, thinking that fewer men would take notice of a girl who looked shabby and wore ill-fitting clothes.
The coach started with a jerk. Felicia settled herself more comfortably on the hard seat and looked over at the old woman. She smiled ruefully as she realized that the woman was asleep, for she had been hoping to start a conversation with her. She had so many questions to ask. Instead she turned her attention to the passing cou
ntryside. She knew it would take at least two hours to reach Gloucester; the innkeeper in Chepstow had so informed her. However, she was to stay on this coach until Cheltenham, where she would pick up her connection for the Northern Line. Her interest in the monotonous scenery outside soon waned, and her thoughts wandered to the family she was to join in Manchester. Initially, Felicia had been surprised that her aunt had bothered to spend time looking for a post for her, until she realized that her aunt wanted her out of the way as quickly as possible after her mother’s death. In all honesty, she was glad to be away from Graystones.
Felicia looked down at her hands ruefully. The long delicate fingers were reddened from washing her cousin’s fine underwear. As careful as she had been to rub salving cream into her hands, she had been unable to prevent the chap marks. She hoped that her new mistress would not expect her to do similar work, for it would be nice to have smooth hands again.
She flexed her fingers as though she were playing a piano and smiled happily to herself. At least she would be able to play again, she thought, once she had worked away the stiffness.
Although unused to traveling, she was not at all perturbed by the swaying of the coach, and in a short time, she too fell asleep. The small frown that creased her forehead as she slept was the only indication that she felt any apprehension of the future.
The lurching of the coach did not awaken her, nor the worried exclamations of her companion. Her slumber was deep, for she had not had much rest in the last few weeks. She had nursed her mother almost twenty-fours a day in addition to the usual chores her aunt had assigned her.
The halt at Gloucester was brief, there being no passengers to pick up. Only one man got off, and his complaints about the coachman passed unnoticed amid the general bustle of changing the team. They were soon on the road again, and Felicia was barely aware of the stop they had just made.
The old woman was wide awake though. For, with a fresh team to handle, the coachman was becoming reckless. She sensed something would happen and so was better prepared than Felicia when the drunken coachman took a sharp bend too fast and lost control of his horses. He might have managed to avert total disaster had he had the road to himself, but an oncoming curricle was the final obstacle he could not avoid.
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