Felicia

by Leonora Blythe

  Mr. Burton stared hard at the unlikely object of Lord Umber’s interest. He was about to shake his head, when he changed the action to a slow nod. The hooked nose was familiar. “I do believe it is Lady Ormstead, and Miss Pimples as you so rudely called her, must be the daughter. Dreadful woman as I recall, garish and offensive with a tendency to be overbearing.”

  “You know her then?” There was a note of jubilation in Lord Umber’s voice. “She has recognized Miss Richards but refuses to acknowledge her. What do you know of the woman?”

  “Nothing intimate,” Mr. Burton said quickly. “Are you certain that she knows Miss Richards?”

  He listened in amazement as Lord Umber recounted the recent incident.

  “How extraordinary,” he exclaimed when Lord Umber had finished. “I have only met with Lady Ormstead a few times, for I did some legal work for her husband. In fact, the last time I went to see her was…” He paused, deep in thought. “When was Charles’s house party?”

  “Six months ago, at least,” Lord Umber replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “I visited Lady Ormstead at the same time. Ian…Ian, my friend,” Mr. Burton’s voice had changed pitch, and Lord Umber felt the excitement it generated. “I’ve got it,” his voice was triumphant. “There was a Mrs. Richards staying with Lady Ormstead. I am sure of it.” “Absolutely certain?” Lord Umber asked.

  Mr. Burton nodded. “She sat in the background, while Lady Ormstead and I discussed some legal matters. Actually, I hardly remember her for she was so quiet. My only recollection is of a woman in her early forties. She must have been a beauty in her youth.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I am sorry, Ian, but that is about all I can remember. I wish I could be more helpful.”

  Lord Umber clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s enough for the present. I shall pay a call on this Lady Ormstead on the morrow and force her to tell me about Mrs. Richards. Maybe they are related in some way.”

  “It’s possible,” Mr. Burton agreed cautiously. He looked at his friend guardedly. It was most unlike him to display his excitement so openly. “’Tis important then for you to discover Miss Richards’ pedigree?” he questioned lightly.

  “It’s solving the mystery that gives me the pleasure,” Lord Umber responded evasively, but even as he finished speaking he knew it to be untrue. David was far too perceptive, for his question had been entirely correct.

  Seeing the slight discomfort he had caused his friend, Mr. Burton changed the topic. “I am due at White’s later for a rubber or two with Paul. Do you want that I should mention this to him? It might be helpful for his next session with Miss Richards.”

  Lord Umber nodded thoughtfully. “Absolutely, David, for she is due at Paul’s first thing in the morning.”

  They parted soon after. Upon returning to his box, Lord Umber adroitly persuaded Lady Louisa and Felicia to leave just before the end of the play on the pretext that by doing so they would beat the crowds to the restaurant. “The truth is, Mama,” he whispered, “I do not want Miss Richards to confront that awful woman yet.”

  Ten

  Unbeknownest to either Lady Louisa or Lord Umber, Felicia had seen the vulgar woman staring at her. However, it wasn’t until she was already in bed that she recalled the incident. The face, or was it the grimace, seemed vaguely familiar, but once again she could not place it. She woke many times during the night as her mind conjured up pictures that made no sense. Always she seemed to be doing household chores—if it were not large pails of water she was carrying up and down endless flights of stairs, then she was bent over guttering candles, darning sheets, or sewing fine lace petticoats. Once she even heard herself calling for her mother, and when she awoke her cheeks were wet with tears. By the time morning came, she felt stiff and tired. The dark rings under her eyes gave her face a pinched look, and as she gazed at herself in the mirror she frowned at the image she saw.

  “Thank goodness I am to see Dr. Ross today,” she said to her reflection. “Maybe he can help me put a name to the odious woman. She must be important to have bothered me so.”

  Her feeling of apprehension increased with the idea that today could well be the day for remembering everything. Something seemed sinister, and for the first time since her accident she felt afraid of knowing the truth. With an effort she pushed these sentiments aside and quickly completed her toilette. With all the time she had spent musing, she had left little for breakfast. As she hurried downstairs, she was startled to see Lord Umber coming from his mother’s room. He was certainly up beforetimes, she thought

  “Good morning, Lord Umber,” she said quietly, not breaking her step. “I beg you excuse my haste, but I am late this morning.”

  “Not too late for breakfast, I hope,” Lord Umber said more sharply than he intended, but the glimpse of the, bleak, pinched look on her face filled him with concern.

  “Indeed not. That is where I am headed this very minute.” She continued down the stairs, wondering at his gentle tone. Well, he was always much nicer immediately after visiting his mother.

  Lord Umber stood on the lower landing for several moments, looking in the direction of the breakfast parlor. What on earth had happened to cause that look on Felicia’s face? The discreet coughing of the butler recalled him to his surroundings.

  “Will you be partaking of breakfast, m’lord?”

  “What a splendid idea, Sims. I do believe I will.” He entered the parlor and motioned Felicia to remain seated. “You don’t object to my joining you, Miss Richards?” he asked, helping himself to some eggs and kidneys that were being kept warm on the sideboard.

  “It would do me little good to say yes,” Felicia said lightly, as she looked meaningfully at his filled plate. “For where would you go with that?” In truth, she was thankful for the diversion, even though she had to contend with the sudden, heavy thumping of her heart that his presence caused. Whatever is the matter with me? she asked herself. I am acting like a child just out of a nursery. It must be because I am overtired.

  “I am sure Sims would solve that dilemma,” Lord Umber replied, matching her light tone, in spite of the deepening concern he felt. Now, in the harsh daylight of the room, he could see the dark rings under her eyes, and the way she was toying with her food indicated that something was bothering her.

  “In that case, sir, pray be seated, for I hesitate to put Sims to any extra trouble.” She smiled as she spoke, and for just a moment their eyes held in a deep look.

  A little shaken by the intensity of his feelings, Lord Umber quickly sat down. “Such kindness, Miss Richards, will not go unrewarded,” he murmured, breaking the heavy silence that had developed.

  They continued eating for a while, Felicia struggling to regain control of herself. The emotions she had just experienced alarmed her, although she realized that her sleepless night had a lot to do with her inability to be more calm.

  “Is something the matter, Miss Richards? You do not seem to be in your usual spirits this morning.”

  “And pray what are they, sir? As this is only the second time we have met so early, you must surely realize that, like everyone else, I am a bad-tempered shrew until the afternoon.”

  Lord Umber forced a laugh, hiding his disappointment that she was unwilling to confide in him. He knew his reaction was foolish, even so he wished he could persuade her to trust him. “I am thankful to have escaped your more choleric disposition thus far then. In sooth, there is nothing more tiring than being black-browed before nuncheon.”

  Felicia lapsed into silence again, her thoughts on the woman in her dreams. She was tempted to ask Lord Umber if he had noticed her last night, but something held her back. Perhaps, if Dr. Ross was unable to help, then she would broach the subject with him.

  “Miss Richards…” Lord Umber began, but was interrupted by Sims, who chose that moment to enter the room. He made his majestic way to the table and presented Lord Umber with a silver salver upon which reposed a letter. Lord Umber took it and opened it with some annoyance. His
annoyance increased as he read the contents and a dark scowl settled on his handsome features.

  “Not more bad news?” Felicia asked anxiously.

  “No…no. Merely a note from Lady Barbara.”

  His tone discouraged further comment, but Felicia, glad that the subject of conversation had moved away from herself, continued, “I can guess at the message, for even Lady Louisa was moved to comment on the snub you delivered her last night.”

  “Mama? I wonder she noticed anything outside of her friends and what they were wearing.” Why should his mother have made such a remark, he wondered, unless it was to divert Felicia’s attention from Lady Ormstead. “But no, ’tis not as you suspect.”

  Felicia, aware that her inquisitiveness was both bad-mannered and unladylike, blushed. She could not deny that she had felt highly gratified when Lord Umber had seemed to deliberately ignore Lady Barbara, nor could she deny her curiosity over the note this morning. “I must apologize for my vulgar curiosity,” she said quickly, “for I know it is not my concern. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go to keep my appointment with Dr. Ross.”

  “Of course,” Lord Umber replied blandly, hiding his amusement at Felicia’s ill-concealed interest in his affair with Lady Barbara. “I will accompany you, for I too have an early assignation. As to the other question, it would appear that Lady Barbara has been suffering an indisposition, which she feels goes a long way toward explaining why she has been out of sorts of late. ‘Not her usual self,’ is the way she puts it.”

  “You mean there is another side to her?” Felicia asked involuntarily, regretting her words immediately. “I mean, ah…ah…nothing serious, I hope?” Why does my tongue always run away with me? she thought miserably. But, at least that explains his annoyance. With such a determined lady in pursuit, he must feel like a hunted animal. Still, there was no denying that he had brought it on himself, for there was no doubt he had encouraged her dreadfully.

  Watching the changing emotions race across her face, Lord Umber tactfully addressed himself to her second question. “No, I don’t think it is anything serious. Although she didn’t actually say what it is that ails her, she made mention that she was at home to visitors.” He caught the disapproving, yet questioning look that Felicia threw at him and smilingly shook his head. “And, no, that is not where I am off to.”

  Put to the blush again, Felicia lowered her gaze, “I…I…”

  “I think you should put my mother’s mind to rest,” he interrupted hastily. “The truth is, Miss Richards, I am at the devil’s end to know how I can dissuade Lady Barbara from attaching too much importance to the times I have sought her out in company. It is now apparent to me that she cannot conceive the possibility she is not the uppermost thought in everyone’s mind, especially mine. I am sure that she has received great encouragement from her mother, but Lord knows, I have done nothing to encourage her to think that my intentions were serious. Indeed, perhaps you can offer some advice.” He lapsed into silence. Now, why on earth did I use my mother as an excuse to reassure Felicia that Lady Barbara means nothing to me, he wondered. I must have taken leave of my senses.

  “Some advice, my Lord! How can I possibly advise you? And…and…just think how Lady Barbara would feel if she knew she was under this sort of discussion. I…I cannot possibly help you.”

  Unabashed by the outrage in her voice, Lord Umber sought to steer the conversation into lighter channels. Whatever impulse had propelled him to say what he had, was gone. “My dear Miss Richards,” he cajoled, a merry twinkle lighting his eyes. “Her adage has always been ‘I care not what anyone says, so long as they say it about me.’ So I hardly think she would be overcome by the knowledge of our conversation.”

  “Lord Umber,” Felicia said severely, trying hard not to let him see her amusement at his quip, “enough! I think I know you sufficiently well to believe you will find a solution to the dilemma you now find yourself in. After all, no matter what you may think, it is of your own making.”

  He chuckled. “Touché, Miss Richards. But if you do happen to think of anything…” he continued irrepressibly. “Shall we go?”

  Felicia was still slightly bewildered by the conversation as Lord Umber swung himself into the coach and sat beside her. She would like to put it down to what Lady Louisa termed the “early morning syndrome,” in which things were said or discussed by people whose brains were still asleep. But her own forwardness had gone a long way to encouraging such impropriety. There was no denying that Lady Louisa would be pleased to learn that her son had no intention of making his relationship with Lady Barbara permanent, and she had to confess that the news was welcome to her as well. Surreptitiously she stole a look at the impressive profile Lord Umber presented her, and let out a tiny sigh. She would definitely miss his presence when the time came for her to leave, for she could not refute the simple fact that she gained enormous comfort from the self-confident air that exuded from him.

  “Are you uncomfortable?” Lord Umber asked, for he had heard the sigh.

  “No. That would be an impossibility in such a well-sprung coach. I was trying to perform the difficult task of marshaling my thoughts for Dr. Ross.”

  “Do you find your sessions with him difficult?” He watched her closely as she answered. The idea that it could be this that caused her sleepless night crossed his mind.

  “Actually, I rather enjoy them. My only concern is that I take up too much of the good doctor’s time.”

  Satisfied with her response, Lord Umber wondered again what it was that was troubling her. It was too late to probe further for the coach came to a halt. “Don’t you worry about that,” he said gently. “Just remember that Dr. Ross is enjoying every second of his experiment.” He picked up her hand, squeezed it lightly. “Good luck, and I hope you give yourself some good news this time.” He released her hand as the footman opened the door, and Felicia murmuring something unintelligible, disappeared into Dr. Ross’s office.

  Lord Umber sat back for the short ride to Lady Ormstead’s house and contemplated the upcoming interview. It would be extremely interesting to hear what the woman had to say. Maybe she could even shed some light on Felicia’s mysterious trip to Manchester, for that was the one truly puzzling aspect of the whole perplexing case. The woman’s attitude last night was most peculiar and supported his theory that she was trying to hide something. Why else would she behave so suspiciously?

  He had his secretary to thank for tracking down the whereabouts of Lady Ormstead. That priceless bundle of efficiency had spent a fruitless hour searching for her name in Who’s Who, but finally succeeded when one of the undermaids confessed that her sister had, until recently, been in the employ of that “awful woman.” Lord Umber marveled at his secretary’s ingenuity, for he knew it would never have occurred to him to ask the servants.

  Yet, now, on reflection, it was the most obvious thing to do.

  The address was in a less fashionable thoroughfare of London, and as the coachman swung into Upper Grosvenor Street, Lord Umber was hard put to recognize the area. When the coach came to rest outside an unimposing, slightly shabby house, he wondered if perhaps his secretary had made a mistake. His doubts increased as he waited for someone to respond to his energetic hammering of the knocker and almost gave up in despair, when his summons was not immediately answered. Just as he was descending the steps, he heard the sound of chains being removed and so returned to wait impatiently for the door to be opened.

  After what seemed to be mighty struggle with a bolt, the door was indeed opened, and a rumpled looking footman inquired if he could help.

  “Indeed,” Lord Umber said haughtily. “You can confirm that this is the residence of Lady Ormstead.” He cast a look of disdain in the direction of the footman. Never had he seen such a slovenly servant.

  “Yes, sir, m’lord. But she ain’t at ’ome,” the footman answered nervously, looking over his shoulder into the inky blackness of the house interior.

  Lord Umber looked at
him suspiciously, for it seemed unlikely that anyone had left the house that morning since the chains had still been in place until his arrival.

  “Ah! I see,” he said sarcastically, “the neighborhood is sufficiently unsafe to warrant keeping the door bolted at all times.”

  The footman looked uncomfortable as he nodded dumbly.

  “Well, be so good as to take my card, young man, and make sure you tell Lady Ormstead that I shall return at 3 o’clock precisely, this afternoon.” He took out his wallet with a flourish and removed a heavily embossed calling card which he placed very deliberately into the outstretched, trembling hand of the servant. Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and was in his coach before the gaping footman could discharge the rest of the instructions Lady Ormstead had given him.

  Slowly the footman closed the door and dragging his feet, made his way into the nether regions. When asked by the butler if he had said all the necessary, he shook his head.

  “Didn’t ’ave a chance. ’E was gone afore I could say Bob’s my uncle. Said ’e’d be back this afternoon.”

  “You utter imbecile,” the butler shouted, venting his spleen on the unfortunate underling. “I’ve a good mind to send you to Lady Ormstead to explain your stupidity.”

  “M…m…me, Mr. Nestor. I ’ardly think so, if you don’t mind. ’Erself wouldn’t listen to the likes of me.”

  Mr. Nestor gave him a stony look. “Enough of your impudence. Just make sure you deliver the entire message when Lord Umber returns.” He left the quaking footman to answer the impatient ringing of Lady Ormstead’s bell.

  Lady Ormstead listened to Nestor in a distracted silence, merely commanding him to insure that her orders were carried out properly that afternoon. Her thoughts were on Felicia as she wondered what had happened to allow that scheming wretch to wriggle her way into such illustrious company. How had her carefully laid plans of losing Felicia in Manchester been overset. She had been so certain of success. Now she would have to think up another scheme.