Miss Felicity's Dilemma Page 5

  Felicity snorted. “It will be your home when you actually inhabit it. There is not a thing in this house that tells me you have ever so much as set foot inside. It could belong to anyone. This,” she said, swinging her arms wide to include the cluttered rooms, “belongs to someone. It belongs to your aunt. So, she is the one with the right to accept or reject me here. She has rejected me. If you do not wish to lend me conveyance into Gloucester, I will simply walk. I know which way to go now.”

  Well, she thought she did.

  She turned again to go, trying so hard not to let Miss Fare see the new tears that threatened. Instead Higgins saw them.

  “Higgins...” she began.

  “It would be my honor,” he said with a formal bow. “If that is what you wish.”

  “I am not frail,” Felicity heard behind her and almost smiled.

  “Higgins,” Flint said, “if you let her walk out of this house, you go right after her.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Higgins dropped a precise bow to the room and turned to follow Felicity.

  She heard Flint sigh.

  “Please,” he said, sounding wry. “Stay a bit longer, Miss Chambers.”

  Felicity halted in the hallway. “Please?” she echoed, careful not to let anyone see her relief.

  “Hadn't I said that?”

  She shook her head. Higgins shook his head. Miss Fare shook her head.

  “No,” they all said in unison.

  Felicity finally turned to see the rueful grin on Flint’s face.

  “My sincere apologies, Miss Chambers,” he said with a bow that rivaled Higgins’s. “I must have gotten ahead of myself. Will you stay while we sort this out?”

  “As long as tossing your aunt out into the snow is not part of that sorting.”

  He was now fighting a grin. “Difficult to do in September.”

  There was another resounding thunk of the cane hitting the floor. “His frail aunt is right over here.”

  No one moved for what seemed like an eternity.

  “What room have you given her?” Miss St. Clair demanded.

  “She will be given the Chinese bedroom,” Flint said.

  The old woman nodded. “About time. That old besom you have in charge exiled her up in the maid's wing.”

  “Yes, we'll be discussing that as soon as I finish here.”

  “You going to dismiss her?”

  “Mrs. Windom? Should I?”

  Felicity got another quick look from the old woman. “No. Let this one do it when she's in charge.”

  Finally, Felicity made a move. “Oh, no...”

  “Oh, yes,” the old woman retorted. “If you mean to be in this family, you need to learn how to deal with the servants.”

  “But I don't mean to be in this family.”

  “Too late.” She waved a gnarled old hand. “Now be off. You have worn me out.”

  “Then I may assume poor Higgins doesn't have to be hauling all this Gothic nonsense down the stairs?” Flint asked.

  She huffed, sounding stronger by the minute. “As if he would. Higgins knows who's in charge here.”

  “Until I make Miss Chambers my wife.”

  “And Miss Chambers is right here,” Felicity snapped.

  “Indeed you are,” Flint said, and held out his elbow for her. “Shall we make a dignified retreat?”

  She laid her fingers on his arm. “Might as well.”

  They nodded to Miss Fare and stepped into the hallway. Higgins closed the door behind them and followed at a safe distance.

  “You didn't seem unduly upset by your aunt's behavior,” Felicity said as she walked.

  Flint shrugged. “Something like this happens every time I'm here.”

  “If you'll pardon my saying so, sir,” Higgins said from where he brought up the rear, “the threat from His Grace was new.”

  Flint smiled. “Yes. Well, don't tell His Grace. There's a good man.”

  This time Felicity swore it was Higgins who snorted.

  Mrs. Windom sat in the back parlor as if she were in the dock before a judge. A thin, precise woman, she was perched on a hard-back chair with her feet planted in perfect parallels and her hands clasped in her black-serge-clad lap, her unremarkable face rigidly bland, albeit pale. Felicity all but sighed out loud. She recognized this expression as well. Confusion, terror, the look of a woman who had set a foot on firm ground and felt it sink beneath her.

  “If you wish me to stay in this house,” Felicity told Flint beneath her breath, “you will let me handle this.”

  She got the kind of glare that had been bred into generations of ducal offspring. It was easy enough to recognize after spending a childhood schooling alongside their daughters and working for more of their ilk. She answered it with a calm silence, the kind governesses use with recalcitrant heirs.

  He huffed. He actually huffed. Felicity took it as assent and turned to the too-still housekeeper whose hands were clenched so tightly in her lap her knuckles had blanched.

  “Did Lord Flint instruct you about which bedroom to appoint for me?” Felicity asked gently.

  Flint glared again. Mrs. Windom, surprisingly, hiccupped. “N...no, Miss. We were given no instructions except keep you here 'til he arrived.”

  Felicity let go of Flint's arm and slipped into a violet-hued armless chair across from the matching one the housekeeper occupied. “What was I wearing when I arrived?”

  Mrs. Windom frowned, obviously expecting a trap. “What you're wearing now, Miss.”

  Felicity nodded. “Lord Flint? What am I wearing now?”

  He didn't hesitate. “A shapeless brown sack that looks like you stole it straight off a horse's nose.”

  “And have you ever seen anyone dressed like this installed in the Chinese bedroom?”

  He had the grace not to answer at all.

  “What did you think when I arrived, Mrs. Windom?” Felicity asked. “In my shapeless sack with one very battered portmanteau and hard-soled working shoes?”

  Because only the child of a ducal family would think that any housekeeper worth her salt would place someone who looked worse than any of her underlings into a family or guest room. Felicity just wanted Lord Flint to understand.

  But Mrs. Windom didn't give the answer Felicity expected, that she had thought Felicity to be a new housemaid or a nanny awaiting visitors.

  “Well, Miss, I thought you was the same as the other women.” Mrs. Windom still looked bemused. “And we always put them upstairs.”

  Felicity blinked, sure she'd heard wrong. “What?” she demanded, turning to glare at Flint.

  But he was staring at Mrs. Windom as if she'd grown fins. “What?!”

  Mrs. Windom blinked and hiccupped. “Pardon, my lord. I hiccup when my nerves....”

  He waved her off. “Just tell me. What women you're always putting upstairs?”

  “You mean you don't know?” Felicity asked.

  “Of course, I don't know! Does my aunt know?” he asked Mrs. Windom.

  “Of course not!” the housekeeper retorted, then hiccupped again. “We were instructed not to inform her.”

  “Women,” he said, his frown terrifying. “How long has this been going on?”

  The housekeeper pressed her fingers over her lips after another unseemly noise. “But...they've always come,” she said. “Since right after your lady grandmother...”

  “Always?” Flint demanded. “But who sends them?”

  She frowned. “You mean you don't?”

  For the first time in days, Felicity thought she might actually enjoy herself.

  “If you could, Mrs. Windom,” she said. “Tell us how they come. Who contacts you. How long they stay. Where they go.”

  “Well, I don't know,” Mrs. Windom protested, “do I?”

  “What,” Flint asked in deadly tones, “do you know?”

  He only succeeded in setting off more hiccups.

  “Sit down, my lord,” Felicity suggested.

  “What?”


  “You loom, sir. Please. Sit down before the woman has a spasm.”

  He sat with very little patience. “I apologize, Mrs. Windom,” he said. “But I have no idea about any women. Which means someone else is using my house without either my knowledge or permission. You truly thought that...I...sent them?”

  His housekeeper nodded, gave one more hiccup and looked to Felicity. “Of course. It's Mr. Burke brings 'em here, after all. And he always has a note from your Mr. Everhill. To hold the ladies here until they're collected.”

  “Collected?” Felicity demanded, turning to Flint.

  But he was already back on his feet. “Hi-i-i-g-g-i-i-i-i-n-s!”

  Felicity rubbed at the headache that had begun to bloom with all the bellowing. “You really must stop doing that.”

  “H-i-i-i-g-g-i-i-i-i-i-i-n-s!!”

  Inevitably, footsteps thundered down the hallway in their direction. No wonder Higgins had maintained his youthful figure, Felicity thought inconsequentially. He was always moving faster than an army at double-march.

  “My lord,” he greeted them as he skidded to a stop in the doorway.

  “Do you know anything about a series of women who have been making free with my staff bedrooms these last two years?”

  Tugging his jacket straight, Higgins blinked as if caught in a bright light. “But of course, my lord.”

  Now his employer was rubbing the side of his head. “How many?”

  “Well...” The dignified man cast a questioning look at Mrs. Windom. “Twelve, perhaps?”

  “Twelve. Women.” Flint was shaking his head. “Young? Old? Pretty? Rich? Poor?”

  “Er...working class? Young all. Rather...thin, many. Quiet.”

  “Did you think I was another?” Felicity asked.

  Higgins blinked again. “Excuse me, Miss. You aren't?”

  “I don't believe so, Higgins. Unless the others were expected to marry the master as well.”

  He just gave a mute shake of the head.

  “Then why were they here?” Flint demanded, his voice rising.

  He earned no more than another mute shake of the head.

  “Well, why don't you know?” he all but yelled.

  That, finally, made Felicity laugh. “Because it wasn't their job to know, you great lummox.”

  Flint spun on her. “Surely they had ideas.”

  “Not if they wished to maintain their places. Please, Higgins,” she said, facing the now-also-pale butler. “Have a seat.”

  “No,” Flint snapped. “Send for Burke. Tell him he'd better be here within five minutes or just keep walking down the lane.”

  Higgins fled.

  “You'd make a terrible housekeeper,” Felicity muttered, eyes closed.

  She was surprised by Flint's outraged huff. “Why?”

  Her eyes still closed, she smiled. “Because if your silver began to go missing, no one would tell you where.”

  “And you could do better?”

  “As I have acted as housekeeper in a pinch, yes.”

  “Fine. Question Burke, then. I'm sure you two get along well enough he'd spill any secrets in your shell-like ear.”

  Felicity's eyes popped open. Shell-like?

  “Is there anything you can add, Mrs. Windom?” she asked, deliberately turning away from such a slip. “Do the women have particular accents, or share any personal information? Did you think anything nefarious was going on?”

  Mrs. Windom straightened like the face of Judgment. “Not in my house there wasn't.” She spared a glare at her employer. “But once they left here, how can I know? I fed 'em up until they got pink in their cheeks and sewed new dresses myself to replace the rags they came in, and sent 'em on their way with a basket when their time came.” She blushed heartily. “I was sewing one for you, Miss.”

  For the first time in far too long, Felicity felt the sharp light of kindness warm her. “Thank you, Mrs. Windom. I cannot tell you what that means to me. Save it for the next.”

  “There will be no next,” Flint assured them, retaking his seat.

  “Accents were all different,” Mrs. Windom mused. “Some from London, some north, some...well, foreign-like. Not Frenchies, but not good English. Young. Skittish as new foals near a dog, if you'll pardon my saying so.”

  “And none of them told you anything of where they'd been,” Flint asked more gently now. “Where they were supposed to go?”

  Mrs. Windom shook her head. “Mostly no more’n please and thank you. Hello, goodbye. Stayed in their room.”

  Flint was rubbing his head again. Felicity actually felt for him. She couldn't imagine him liking a surprise like this.

  “And my aunt never knew?” Flint asked.

  “And wouldn't the old besom have told the world, now?” Billy Burke suddenly spoke up from the doorway.

  Everyone turned his way. He stood just outside in the hallway in muddy boots and broadcloth, his hat still in his hand, Higgins waiting behind him. Felicity didn't blame the butler. She would have wanted to hear the rest as well.

  “She had visitors in here every week, all right. It was hard enough keepin’ ‘em on her side of the house so’s the young ladies would be protected.”

  “I assume you're about to explain, Burke,” Flint said in a lazy drawl that didn't fool anybody. Even Felicity tensed.

  And then she saw the real hurt flare in Flint's eyes as he faced the man who had put him on his first horse.

  “And didn't he think you wouldn't be around enough to notice, then?” the banty Irishman said, just as calmly.

  “Who?” Flint asked. “Who has been using my home, as if I didn't know?” He pulled out his snuff box and flipped it open. “And while you're at it, you might as well tell me why.”

  Felicity noticed that he didn't offer to let Burke sit or rest anywhere. Burke didn't seem to notice.

  “Your father, o' course,” he said. “The duke.”

  “Why?”

  Burke gave an eloquent shrug. “Dukes don't share their thoughts with the likes of me, sir, now, do they?”

  Flint took a pinch of snuff, inhaled, and pulled out his kerchief to brush loose flakes. “And you just carted young women around for the duke without asking his purpose?”

  “Not past makin' sure no harm was comin' to 'em, like. Put each of 'em on a Bristol ship for America with a packet of papers from Mr. Everhill.”

  “My estate manager.”

  “The same.”

  Flint nodded absently. “And you picked them up?”

  “Three Tuns on the London Road. All waiting in the first bedroom. With a maid.”

  Which meant, Felicity was relieved to know, that they had not been taken advantage of.

  Flint was still nodding, his attention on the small gold snuffbox he flipped about in his left palm. “I imagine Mr. Everhill is not nearby to be questioned.”

  “In London,” Burke said. “Duke was after wantin' him.”

  Lord Flint nodded absently, still focused on the snuff box in his hand, the top glinting gold as he turned it.

  “If I find any of my staff has gone behind my back again, no matter who instructs them, they will be summarily fired without reference. Am I clear?”

  Burke didn't move. Mrs. Windom and Higgins nodded.

  “There will be no more women lodged in the servants’ quarters who do not draw their pay from this house unless I am the one to tell you so. I will so notify the duke.”

  There was another round of nods.

  “One thing, my lord,” Burke quietly said, not moving.

  Flint looked up, and Felicity was glad he wasn't angry at her.

  “Yes, Burke?”

  Burke motioned upward. “What do I do with the one I just brought?”

  Chapter 6

  “Lord Flint...Lord...Flint!” Felicity gasped as she hurried up the stairs after him, Burke following her and Mrs. Windom following him.

  “Don't you scare that poor girl,” the housekeeper panted on a hiccup.

  Lord F
lint stopped so quickly Felicity almost caromed off him. “I have no intention of scaring her,” he said, glaring back at them all. “I just want answers.”

  “Once you revive her from the swoon she'll fall into the minute you burst into her room like the Furies,” Felicity retorted.

  He glared. “The Furies were women.”

  She glared right back. “I doubt your guest will notice the difference.”

  He returned her glare, hand on the banister. “I'm quite certain you have a better idea.”

  “Than terrifying her after she's just arrived from who knows where?”

  “The Three Tuns.”

  Felicity scowled. “You know what I mean. If none of the women has broken their silence yet, chances are they have been forbidden to speak,” she said, head back to keep eye contact with her alleged fiancé. “And I doubt a frontal attack will make a difference.”

  Lord Flint sighed. “It does occur to me, Miss Chambers,” he said, looking none too pleased, “that for a woman who was only last week a junior teacher of penmanship and shower baths—”

  “Piano and deportment.”

  “—you manage to be far more assertive than one would anticipate.”

  She flashed him a grin. “Blame Pip. She brought me out of my shell.”

  He groaned. “I'm sorry I didn't meet you before she did. You might have been more manageable.”

  Felicity saw the spark of humor in his eyes and chuckled. Blast him. She was truly enjoying sparring with him. It fizzed in her chest like a stolen sip of champagne and made her want more.

  “Pip would want me to tell you that you wouldn't have liked me like that.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “Yes, Pip would. Now then, what exactly did you have to say about Miss—-” He looked down at Mrs. Windom.

  “Murphy,” the woman said with a definite nod.

  “Miss Murphy.” He nodded. “Irish, then.”

  “Not so you'd notice,” Mrs. Windom said.

  “Gently,” Felicity said. “That's all. Go gently with her.”

  He huffed again. “You make it sound as if I plan to flog her.”

  Then without another word, he turned back up the narrow stairs to the maids’ wing. “The staff is elsewhere, Mrs. Windom?”

  “At dinner, my lord.”

  He nodded.