by M C Beaton
PAPER PRINCESS screamed all the other journals. Miss Barchester had had her revenge after all.
“He will not want to marry me after this disgrace,” whispered Felicity. “Lord Arthur’s father, the duke, is very powerful and will stop the marriage.”
“Listen!” said Mr. Silver. There were howls and cries outside, growing closer.
They sat staring at one another. Soon an angry mob was below the windows.
“You wouldn’t think they would be able to read the newspapers,” said Felicity.
“They don’t need to,” said Mr. Silver. A stone rattled against the shutters. “I am afraid, dear lady, that lampoons of you will be in all the print shops by now. The speed of the satirical artists of Grub Street never fails to amaze me.”
More stones began to strike the house and the roaring outside grew louder.
“If Lord Arthur guessed this was about to happen,” said Mr. Silver impatiently, “then he should have arranged to protect us.”
“Listen!” said Miss Chubb. “Someone is shouting something.”
Despite anguished cries from Miss Chubb to be careful, Felicity opened the shutters and looked down.
Lord Arthur Bessamy stood facing the mob. He was making a speech. They listened to him in silence, and then a great roar went up.
“Come away from the window,” shouted Miss Chubb. “They have seen you.”
“No,” said Felicity slowly. “Lord Arthur is below. He made a speech, they all listened and cheered, and now they are going away as quietly as lambs.”
She turned from the window and ran out of the room and down the stairs to where John Tremayne was stationed by the door, holding a shotgun.
“Open the door,” cried Felicity. “It is Lord Arthur.”
John drew back the bolts and bars and opened the door. Felicity flew into Lord Arthur’s arms, crying, “They are calling me the paper princess. Your father, the duke, he will never let you marry me.”
“Don’t clutch my cravat,” said Lord Arthur amiably. “Quite spoils the shape. My dearest, by next week they will all have forgotten you exist.”
“How did you get rid of them?”
“I told them about Palfrey. I told them I was going to marry you. But I think it was when I told them that I had arranged for free beer at the pub in Shepherd Market, for them to drink to your health, that started them cheering.”
“I was so afraid you would not want to marry me.”
“Idiot. But remember: It is to be our wedding, and only ours.”
“I do understand.”
“Miss Chubb and Mr. Silver may marry when they please, but not at the same time as us.”
Felicity laughed. “Poor Miss Chubb. Of course she is not going to marry Mr. Silver.”
“I fear you are blind to love,” said Lord Arthur. “Why do you think Mr. Silver was so angry with poor Dolph? Now, do you want that wretch, Palfrey, arrested? After I left you last night, I went to call on Mr. Clough. He told me that Bessie is quite reformed and never wants to leave America.”
“No, I would rather let all the scandal die down.”
“Do you know the name of the bank where the Channing money is lodged?”
“It is Coutts in the Strand, I believe.”
“Then, I had better go there directly or Palfrey will flee the country with all the Channing money.”
He bowed and left, and Felicity went back upstairs to look at Miss Chubb and Mr. Silver with new eyes.
Lord Arthur was too late. He could only be glad that Mr. Palfrey had only drawn out ten thousand pounds. The estates, properly managed, would soon recover the loss.
Chapter Eleven
The Duke of Pentshire’s home, Pent House, was a palace in the middle of rich green countryside. Felicity felt she had been hurtled down there out of the chaos of London and then left stranded with a great number of chilly people who did not approve of her one little bit. The duke and duchess, Lord Arthur’s parents, were a handsome, formal couple whose exquisite manners barely concealed the wish that their youngest son had chosen someone else for a bride.
The couple were to be married in the private chapel. Felicity had made no suggestions of her own as to preparations for the wedding. There had been so much to do. John Tremayne had been parceled off to Lord Arthur’s home to study estate management under the tuition of the steward. Dolph had volunteered to travel to Tregarthan Castle right after the wedding to take charge until such time as Lord Arthur could manage to join him and decide what was necessary to bring the Channing estates into good order.
Felicity’s servants had either been pensioned off or found other jobs, according to their wishes. Dolph had taken a fancy to Spinks, who he claimed was an original, and had said he would take the biblical butler with him as a sort of aide when he went to Cornwall. Mr. Silver and Miss Chubb were to be married and were to live at Tregarthan Castle until a home of their own could be found for them.
Contrary to Lord Arthur’s hopes, society had not forgotten or forgiven the paper princess, and news of her masquerade had reached the august ears of Lord Arthur’s father. Felicity had not been present during the long family arguments in which Lord Arthur’s parents had tried to talk their son out of marrying her. But she felt their disapproval keenly.
There could be no reassuring hugs and kisses from Lord Arthur. If he took her out on the grounds for a walk, a footman was always in attendance, as the duke and duchess held strictly to the rules of society, which decreed that no couple should be left alone for a minute until after they were married.
Lord Arthur was beginning to become furious with his parents. He had been left a fortune by a distant relative and was economically independent of them, so they could not forbid the marriage, much as they wanted to. But he could not help feeling they might have put a better face on things.
If he had brought home some actress, they could not have been more shocked.
The arrival of Felicity’s sisters and their husbands did more to remove her from him, because she took refuge in her family’s company in the guest wing, keeping as far away from his parents’ aloof disapproval as she possibly could.
Felicity was feeling the strain even more than he guessed. In the stern lines of his face she began to read that he had begun to share his parents’ distaste. Miss Barchester had seemed an odd sort of female for him to have ever proposed to. She could only be glad the duke and duchess had never met Miss Barchester. Her cold looks and old-fashioned dress would probably have pleased them. Felicity overheard the duchess saying one day with regret in her voice that it was a pity Arthur’s previous engagement had come to nothing, for the Barchesters were a very old family. So were the Channings, the duchess had admitted, but Cornish! One never knew what went on in those castles and mansions down there, but it was well-known the Cornish were strange.
More of Lord Arthur’s relatives continued to arrive, and the long formal dinners were an agony for Felicity. Miss Chubb was too wrapped up in her newfound happiness to be of much help. Lord Arthur, never allowed to sit next to her, was looking grimmer each day, and when Felicity retired with her ladies, she and her sisters were isolated in a corner of the drawing room as if they had the plague.
They were to spend their honeymoon in Brighton, Felicity having formed an affection for the place. While still in London, Felicity had looked forward to the honeymoon. Now she wondered if she would find she was tied for life to a man who bitterly regretted having proposed to her. It began to cross her mind that she might do him a great favor by running away. But to do so would spoil not only Miss Chubb and Mr. Silver’s future, but John Tremayne’s as well, who was so delighted and excited at the prospect of his new and important career. And then there was poor old Spinks. If she ran away, Dolph would have to drop the idea of taking Spinks to Tregarthan Castle, and Spinks had seen in Dolph’s adoption of him the gracious hand of a benign God.
There was also all the great machinery of a ducal wedding that had been put into action. All tenants h
ad been invited to a grand party on the grounds. Everyone appeared to have bought new clothes especially for the occasion. And if she ran away, the duke and the duchess would have the satisfaction of telling their youngest son that that was just the sort of disgraceful behavior he might have expected from an adventuress and impostor like Felicity Charming.
So her wedding morn finally arrived. She was dressed in white silk and pearls while the rain fell steadily on the formal gardens outside and ran down the panes of the windows like fat tears.
How she was beginning to hate jewelry—hate the cold feel of pearls and the clumsy weight of diamonds. How she loathed the long corset that for some mad reason she was supposed to wear. It was so long and tight, she could only take tiny little steps. How she hated the cold, slippery feel of her white silk petticoat.
It was a gloomy, depressed couple who finally made their vows to one another in the family chapel. It was a grim silent couple who sat side by side at the wedding breakfast and listened to the interminable speeches. Dolph, elated with wine, and blissfully unaware of the prevailing chilly atmosphere, made a speech about how he had actually believed there was a country called Brasnia, told them about the bears, hiccupped and laughed immoderately, toasted the “happy” bride and groom, and then sat down, heartily pleased with himself, not knowing that everyone who might have begun to forget about Princess Felicity of Brasnia was now remembering the disgraceful masquerade all over again.
Then Felicity was led upstairs to be changed into her carriage clothes. She looked desperately at Miss Chubb, dying to cry out for help, but that lady was smiling all over her large face and saying she was sure Felicity must be the happiest lady in the land.
Felicity’s sisters hugged her and begged her to call on them when the honeymoon was over. Her clothes had been chosen for her by the duchess. A fussy carriage dress of brown velvet was put on over that constricting corset. The carriage gown was fussily tucked and gored and flounced. It was topped up by a navy straw bonnet shaped like a coal scuttle.
Lord Arthur was waiting inside the carriage when she made her way out. Felicity hugged her sisters, hugged Miss Chubb, and hugged Dolph, who was still laughing drunkenly about the bears, climbed in the carriage, and sat down primly on the seat beside her husband.
The carriage moved off.
Silence.
The rain drummed on the carriage roof, and the wheels whizzed through the puddles on the drive.
“Well, that’s that,” said Lord Arthur at last.
Felicity said nothing.
“Do you know,” said her husband, “I think you are wearing quite the most horrible hat I have ever seen.”
Felicity tore it off, threw it on the floor of the carriage, drummed her heels on it and burst into tears.
“Here now… now.” He pulled her into his arms. “What’s all this? Tears on our wedding day.”
“Oh, it’s awful… awful,” sobbed Felicity. “Your parents hate me, you hate me…”
“I don’t hate you, you stupid little wretch,” he said crossly. “I love you to distraction. I’ve had to watch your gloomy face and torture myself wondering if you no longer loved me and yet at the same time being frightened to ask you.”
“Oh, Arthur,” Felicity dried her eyes. “I have been worrying about exactly the same thing.”
“We are both fools. Come and kiss me.”
He crushed her against him, and Felicity let out a yelp of pain.
“What is the matter?”
“It’s this corset,” wailed Felicity. “It has the bones of a whole whale in it, that I’ll swear. I am laced so tight, I feel faint.”
Lord Arthur released her and jerked down the blinds. “Take it off,” he said.
“What!”
“I said, take the damned thing off. We are married. We can do what we like. No relatives, no parents. I have not felt so free since I came into my inheritance and left Pent House to set up my own establishment in town. Take it off.”
Felicity giggled. “You had best help me with your mother’s choice of dress. Her maid lashed the tapes so tightly, I think she had instructions to make sure I kept it on for life.”
“More than likely.” He dealt with the tapes expertly and began to slide the dress from her shoulders.
“You do that as if you were accustomed to it,” said Felicity sharply.
“I was always good at untying knots,” he said blandly. “Goodness, what a monster that corset is. You’ll need to lie on your face on this seat.”
Felicity lay down on her face while he struggled with the lacing of her corset, which had been lashed into a double knot at the back. Then he turned her gently over and began to unlace it at the front.
“Oh, what a relief,” sighed Felicity as he at last slid the corset from under her and chucked it on the seat opposite.
“Felicity,” he said hoarsely, looking down at the slim figure in the white silk petticoat.
“Arthur! You can’t do anything yet. Not here! Not now!”
But his mouth silenced her, and his clever hands sent the rest of the world spinning away.
They were to spend the night at a posting house a comfortable distance away from Pent House.
Two tall footman jumped down and helped milord and milady to alight. The coachman and outriders took the horses and grand ducal carriage round to the stables.
“See if they’ve left anything in the carriage,” called the coachman to one of the grooms. “Ladies are always leaving fans and reticules.”
The groom poked his head in the carriage and then reached in an arm. He then slowly backed out and mutely held up the corset.
“Well, my stars,” said the coachman, filled with admiration. “Couldn’t even wait. Ah, well, that’s the Quality for you!”
Felicity awoke during the night with a frightened cry, and her husband hugged her close.
“I had a nightmare,” said Felicity. “I dreamt I was back at Tregarthan Castle, and Mr. Palfrey was having me whipped.”
“Shhh. He cannot trouble you any longer. He has fled the country. I told you, Mr. Barchester said he had gone off and taken Martha with him.”
“It seems unfair that such a wicked man should go unpunished.”
“He’s got Martha Barchester with him, and that is a fate worse than transportation. Besides, he will have to live in exile for the rest of his days. But now you are awake, I may as well take up where I left off…”