Felicia

by Leonora Blythe

  Both men fell into a thoughtful silence which was only broken by the steady clip-clop of the horse drawing their carriage.

  When, at last, they arrived outside the massive gates of the prison, Adams gave the driver instructions to wait. The man agreed, but only after much grumbling and the promise of extra money for his patience.

  “Nice work,” David said warmly, as he rang the bell at the forbidding entrance. “If all goes well, we should be out of here in less than fifteen minutes.”

  A shaft of light shone through a crack in the door and the sounds of someone pulling back an iron bar could be heard. But instead of the gates being opened, a small piece of steel that covered the peephole was pushed back, and David found himself being observed by a pair of eyes.

  “Yes?” a gruff voice inquired. “What can be done ter ’elp yer at this time of night?”

  “Who is this?” David asked in his well-modulated voice. He knew most of the guards at Newgate and anticipated little difficulty in gaining admittance. “It is Mr. Burton here, seeking an interview with Mistress James.” There was a long pause, and David could feel the eyes raking him up and down. “Come on, my good man,” he continued with just a touch of irritation. “If you dally any longer, Mistress James will have retired for the night.”

  “All in good time, sir, all in good time. I can’t be letting everybody in, just because they ask. It’s my duty to check on all personages entering these ’ere portals.” With seemingly slow, ponderous movements, the guard slid back the peephole cover and proceeded to draw the bolts and chains. Finally, one door was swung open, and David and Adams entered.

  “Oh! It’s you, Watson,” David said, recognizing the dour-faced guard instantly. “We will not be long, so wait for us to return.”

  Watson bowed obsequiously, managing at the same time to hold out his hand. “Of course, Mr. Burton. And I’m sorry to ’ave kept you waiting. Only you can’t be too sure nowadays and can’t take enough precautions. Got to look at everyone, I ’as.”

  Adams slid a coin into the outstretched hand as he followed David across the courtyard. “At this rate, I wonder if we have enough funds,” he commented lightly. “Let us hope you are right about Mistress James.”

  David laughed wryly at this sally. By now they had reached the isolated women’s section. As they entered, the babble of wailing voices that assailed their ears was awe-inspiring and the stench was abominable. Adams looked at David apprehensively.

  “Thank goodness, you had the foresight to wait for me to return tonight,” David said grimly. “The very idea that Miss Richards would be forced to spend a night here is unthinkable.” He rapped his cane loudly on a door.

  “Who’s there?” a female voice shouted out rudely. “And what d’yer want?”

  “Fetch Mistress James,” David commanded. “My business is with her.”

  The door was flung open and a woman of undiscernible age greeted them with a toothless grin. “And what can I do you for?” she cackled, smacking her thick lips across her gums. “Anyone who comes a-calling at this time of the night can only cause trouble in my book.” She let out another shrill laugh and opened the door wider as she beckoned them in.

  Adams stepped forward first and ignoring the smell that emanated from her said, “Mistress James, do you remember me? The name is Adams. I work for Mr. Burton.”

  David stepped into the light as though to confirm his clerk’s statement.

  “Oh! We are ’onored, aren’t we just,” Mistress James said raucously, dropping a mock curtsy. “The ’igh and mighty one ’isself. And ter think I almost didn’t believe that Jack Walsh. Who’d ’ave thought that you would ’ave come. Your friend must really be important.” A trickle of saliva ran out of the side of her mouth as she spoke and, with an unconscious movement, she brought the back of her filthy hand across her equally dirty mouth to wipe it off.

  Both men looked away in disgust.

  “We have come to take Miss Richards home,” Adams said curtly. “We also want to know what the charges are that have been brought against her and by whom.”

  “Not so fast there, my boy. You can’t just sweep in ’ere and make demands. I’m paid to do a job and I do my best, even though they’re an ungrateful bunch of vermin.” She gestured contemptuously towards the caged part of the prison. “’Eathens, nothing but ’eathens.” She spat into a receptacle on the floor and grinned in satisfaction as the globule fell squarely in the middle, floating for a moment before sinking.

  “Mistress James,” David said quietly. “I think you know my reputation, and you must realize that I would not demand you release a prisoner if it were outside the law. Miss Richards is not only a close friend of my family, she is also my client. As such, I am allowed to confer with her. If she has been brought before a judge for a hearing, then, no doubt, a date has been set for her trial.” He paused as though waiting for an answer, but continued as the woman shook her head. “If, as I suspect, Miss Richards has been incarcerated without being properly charged, then you are outside the law and cannot refuse my request.” He gambled that her knowledge of the law was scant and that she would believe him.

  Adams, realizing what David was doing, smiled reassuringly at her. He could see she was wavering and so said quickly, “You will be well rewarded for the trouble we have put you to tonight.” He jangled some coins suggestively in his hand. “And you need not fear that your compassion will be forgotten.”

  Muttering to herself, she waddled to the door and shouted into the inky blackness something that neither man could understand. As she returned to the center of the room she took a bottle out of a concealed pocket and, pulling the cork from the neck with her gums, proceeded to take a large swig. “Purely medicinal,” she said sourly to her audience. “It’s the ticker that’s bad and always gets worse when I’m upset.” She sat down heavily on a chair. “She’ll be ’ere in a little while.”

  David felt the tension leave him at her words. One never knew how Mistress James would react to anything, and he had not been at all certain that they would succeed in persuading her to release Felicia. He put a hand to the back of his neck and massaged it gently. “And the records?”

  Adams opened his hand briefly to expose the gold coins. Mistress James eyed them greedily.

  “Aye. You can ’ave them as well.” She pulled open a desk drawer and produced a grimy ledger and some equally grubby papers. She pushed the book across the table top toward Adams. “You’d best sign ’ere, just in case I needs the proof. It wouldn’t do me reputation no good, if word leaked out I was too lenient with my prisoners.”

  Adams picked up a quill and, dipping it into an inkpot, signed his name with a flourish on the line indicated. As he handed her back the ledger he carefully counted out ten guineas and pushed these over toward her before taking the papers. He looked at them carefully and then passed them to David. “I would say they are the genuine ones.” David nodded in agreement.

  Mistress James was still staring at the pile of gold and shaking her head in disbelief. She had never seen so much money at one time, but with a cunning born of her background she knew there would be more for the asking. “And the same again for the girl,” she whispered, “and no arguments, otherwise she goes right back downstairs.”

  The sounds of approaching people lent an urgency to her words and so, without protesting, David nodded laconically to Adams who counted out ten more coins. As both men turned towards the passageway, Mistress James swept the money into a dirty rag and hid the bundle in the folds of her skirt.

  “And ’ere we ’ave Miss Prim-and-Proper,” she crowed as Felicia appeared. “And thankful it is I am to be rid of her.”

  Felicia looked at David speechlessly for a moment before she realized that her ordeal was over. She shrugged off the arm of her jailor and walked towards him unsteadily. “Thank you, David,” was all she could say. “Thank you.”

  Sixteen

  Dinner for Lady Louisa that night consisted of dry biscuits. Her
nervous stomach would not permit anything else. Lord Umber and Dr. Ross had not yet returned, and she did not expect them for a while. They had gotten the idea to visit all the hospitals in the vicinity of Harley Street to see if Felicia had been admitted as a patient, for somehow Ian had convinced himself that she had met with an accident.

  Lady Louisa closed her eyes wearily. So much had happened so swiftly. The disclosure that Felicia’s grandfather was Lord Davenport and that he had been searching for her family for years was gratifying, for this confirmed the suspicion that lady had had all along that Felicia was well-bred. But when Ian informed her that he had decided he wanted nothing more than to marry Felicia, she had felt compelled to point out to him that Felicia would need time to adjust to her new family, and that he simply could not assume that she would return his feelings. Also such talk was premature, for there was no guarantee that she would be found. The anguished look on his face after she had spoken had been heartrending and indicated that Felicia’s disappearance had affected him as deeply as his father’s death had. She wished she could comfort him, but knew there was little she could say to ease his mind. It was a nightmare they would all have to live through.

  She must have dozed, for suddenly she was jerked awake by the sounds of knocking on the front door. She pulled herself upright and patted her cap straight as she waited for the footman to answer the summons. A few minutes later her son stood on the threshold of the salon, his pale, drawn face proof that he had been unsuccessful in his search.

  Without a word, he crossed to the drink tray that stood on the sideboard and poured himself a good measure of brandy. He tossed this down and poured himself another before speaking.

  “Mama…Mama…” he said helplessly. “The truth is I know not where to start looking. She has vanished without a trace.”

  “I know, son,” Lady Louisa soothed. “I know. But we must not give up hope yet.” She glanced up at the delicate, gold filigree clock on the mantle and was surprised to see that it was only eight o’clock. “There is still plenty of time for news tonight. Where is Paul?”

  “He had some things to attend to, but he promised to look in later on to check on you,” he answered bleakly. He paced the room like a caged animal, stopping by the fireplace to kick the coals. “What else can I do? Whom can I approach? Where can I go? Damn, damn, damn.” He talked to himself, oblivious to his mother’s presence. “I know she is behind it. I know it.” He stopped abruptly and turned towards Lady Louisa with a triumphant expression on his face. “And I intend seeing her this very instant.” He tugged the bell rope impatiently.

  Sims entered immediately. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Order my carriage for me,” he instructed.

  “Where…where are you going, Ian?” Lady Louisa asked hesitantly. She had never seen her son this angry before; it seemed to her that he was fairly spitting with rage.

  “To Lady Ormstead’s. I am going to force her to tell me what she had done with Miss Richards, for I am as certain as I can be that she is responsible for her disappearance.”

  “But, Ian,” Lady Louisa protested feebly, “you cannot force yourself on anybody at this time of night. And…and besides, she may not be in.”

  “If that is the case, I will wait for her. No, Mama, my mind is set. I cannot sit here waiting for something to happen. It is unthinkable.”

  “Then you must do as you suggest,” Lady Louisa answered with a calmness she did not feel. The frustration and forlornness her son was experiencing was too painful to watch and, although she was apprehensive about what he would say to this Lady Ormstead, she knew she was powerless to prevent him from going. “Leave her direction with Sims,” was all she said. “And I will send word to you, should I hear anything.”

  Lord Umber nodded grimly and strode from the room, his features hardened into a ruthless expression.

  Lady Louisa rose from her chair unsteadily, her sense of frustration as complete as her son’s. Where could Felicia have gone? She shook her head in bewilderment.

  She started nervously as she heard the knocker sound again, and waited anxiously for Sims to announce the visitor. She heard the low murmuring of voices as people entered the hallway and she gave a joyous cry as she recognized the light tones of Felicia. Unable to wait for Sims to do his duty, she opened the door and quickly stepped out into the hallway.

  “Felicia,” she exclaimed jubilantly. “My dear child!” Seconds later she was embracing Felicia, tears of relief falling down her cheeks. “Oh! Felicia, how glad I am to see you.” She stood back and looked her up and down, searching for outward signs of injury. Finding none, she asked, “You are not hurt?”

  Felicia shook her head, too emotionally drained to speak. She glanced at David beseechingly.

  Lady Louisa, suddenly realizing where she was, relinquished her hold on Felicia. “Shall we go into the salon? I am sure we will be more comfortable there.” She led the way, putting her arm through Felicia’s, leaving David and Adams to follow.

  Once they were all seated and David had made the necessary introduction of Adams to Lady Louisa, a silence fell.

  “I…I…am sorry to have caused such a stir,” Felicia said softly, aware that Lady Louisa was waiting for her to speak. “It’s…it’s been such a…”

  “That you have been restored to me is sufficient for the moment,” Lady Louisa said swiftly, seeing the distress on Felicia’s face. “Tomorrow is soon enough to talk.”

  David nodded his approval. “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, I am sure, Lady Louisa. Miss Richards has been through an excruciating experience.” He smiled at Felicia encouragingly. “She wanted to come here tonight, preferring to wait until the morrow to meet her grandfather.”

  Felicia looked at Lady Louisa candidly, her blue eyes enormous with strain. “I cannot think properly this evening, so much has happened and I know…I know I have to go to Lord Davenport’s tomorrow, but I wanted nothing more than to sleep in familiar surroundings tonight.”

  “My dear, I would not want it any other way. You are always welcome here, you know that. Come, let me put you to bed.” Lady Louisa turned to David and Adams. “I beg that you wait for me to return. I will not keep you above a few minutes.”

  The door closed softly behind her, and David sat back tiredly. “Thank goodness that is behind us, Adams—though how Miss Richards is ever going to forget her experience at Newgate is beyond me. I swear the memory of Mistress James will be with me for a long time to come.”

  “She was certainly not a pretty sight tonight,” Adams agreed. He stood up. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Burton, I will be getting along now. I dare say my missus will have given me up for dead long since.”

  “By Jove! I am sorry, Adams,” David exclaimed. “I must confess I never gave her a thought. My thanks to you for all you have done tonight. I will see you in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir,” Adams said as he reached the door. “Good night.”

  As good as her word, Lady Louisa reappeared soon after Adams’ departure. “The poor girl is exhausted,” she fussed. “I swear she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.”

  “I am not surprised to hear that,” David replied. “Thank you for not creating a fuss, for that was one thing Miss Richards wanted to avoid.”

  “What did happen to her, David? I cannot stand the suspense a moment longer.”

  David regarded her pensively, uncertain whether he should divulge everything without Ian’s presence. “It’s a harrowing tale, which I would prefer to relate when Ian is here. Will he be in shortly?”

  Lady Louisa clasped her hands together in annoyance. “Oh! Lordie me! I clean forgot. He went off to Lady Ormstead’s, convinced she was at the root of Felicia’s disappearance and determined to force her to talk. Excuse me, I must ask Sims to send a messenger there to let him know that Felicia is safe.”

  “I think it would be best for me to go, Lady Louisa. If Ian has gained admittance, then a great deal of discretion will be needed, for he
was right. Lady Ormstead was indeed behind Miss Richards’ misadventure.”

  “Oh no!” Lady Louisa said faintly, sitting down hastily. “Then you must get there before Ian loses his temper completely.”

  “Of course. I will return as soon as possible, but I must stop in at Lord Davenport’s for I have promised to give him word of his granddaughter.”

  “I shall look for you both within the hour, then.”

  *

  However, it was nearly two hours before they returned and, if Lord Umber was relieved that Felicia was safely asleep upstairs, the scowl on his face belied his feelings.

  “I am sorry we kept you waiting, Mama,” he said, as he poured himself another drink, “but Lord Davenport insisted that we stay for supper. In the circumstances it seemed uncivil to refuse.”

  “I understand, Ian. Paul has been here, and he looked in on Felicia. He seemed quite satisfied that she was sleeping normally and said to tell you he would call first thing in the morning. Was…was Lord Davenport glad of your news, David?”

  “Enormously, Lady Louisa. He wants to do what is best for Miss Rich…I mean, Lady Felicia, and feels that perhaps it will be best for her to prolong her stay with you until she has adjusted to the idea of belonging to a family again.”

  “How thoughtful of him, to be sure. He may be right, but I think we should ask Felicia in the morning what it is she wants to do. Mayhap we could invite Lord Davenport to luncheon, so they can become acquainted gradually.” She glanced at her son. “Don’t you agree, Ian?”

  “Indeed, Mama, an excellent suggestion,” he answered absently. “Mama, are you certain that Paul said she was all right? I mean, he didn’t think that because she had suffered another shock she would lose her memory again?”

  “He didn’t mention that possibility, as I was unable to supply him with any of the details of her ordeal. He thought it best not to speculate.”

  “A wise doctor,” David murmured before turning to Lord Umber. “Ian, I am sure Lady Louisa has waited long enough to hear the story. Do you want to listen to me again, or would you be more comfortable with the telling?”