Miss Felicity's Dilemma Page 6

Reaching the third floor, he knocked on the first door on the right. For a moment there was only silence. Felicity found herself holding her breath, although she didn't know why.

  Then the door eased open to reveal the newest houseguest. Mrs. Windom hadn't exaggerated. The girl might have been Felicity's age or a bit older, and she was tall, far taller than Felicity, and almost gaunt, her faded blue roundgown all but hanging off her. Her hair, scraped ruthlessly back into a bun, was a thin, watery blond, and her features would probably end up being round and pretty with a bit of weight on her.

  She had beautiful blue eyes, though. Instead of lowering them as was the norm, she kept them fixed on Lord Flint, wide and staring, a rabbit keeping sight of the fox.

  “Miss Murphy?” Lord Flint greeted her, his voice gentler than it had ever been with Felicity, which made her relax a bit.

  Then he smiled, and even Miss Murphy relaxed a bit.

  “This is the master, Nora,” Mrs. Windom said. “It's his house you're in.”

  Miss Murphy bobbed a curtsy.

  “May we speak to you a moment?” Lord Flint asked.

  The girl looked over her shoulder into the narrow, bare room. “Er...I...”

  “Well, that was maladroit of me, wasn't it?” He looked down at his own staff as if waiting for an idea or chairs, whichever came first.

  Felicity shook her head, even more amused. “The Chinese Suite has a lovely little sitting room,” she offered. “Maybe we could go there.”

  Flint blinked at her. “How do you know? You haven't moved yet.”

  She grinned at him. “There was very little to do the last four days.”

  So, they retreated to the Chinese Suite a floor below; Lord Flint and Felicity, anyway. Higgins and Mrs. Windom, not voluntarily, were sent for refreshments.

  “Now then,” Flint said, flipping his tails and taking one of the red silk chairs.

  Felicity sat on the gold settee. Miss Murphy stood very straight and still next to her until Lord Flint remembered to motion her down into another red silk chair.

  “You were brought here by my coachman,” Flint began.

  Miss Murphy cast a quick look around, as if expecting eavesdroppers. “I was, my lord.”

  “Can you tell me from where?”

  “The Three Tuns.”

  Flint nodded. “Before that.”

  The girl sat mute. Flint waited. Felicity wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do.

  “I asked you a question, Miss Murphy.”

  Still he was met with silence.

  He got to his feet. The girl flinched, as if expecting attack. It was then Felicity saw the faint shadows along the side of her throat. Bruising. She looked more closely, but with long sleeves, it was impossible to tell if the girl had suffered more injuries.

  “Who tried to choke you?” Felicity asked abruptly.

  The girl flushed, then went dead white, her eyes huge in her thin face. Flint was staring at Felicity as if she'd lost her mind.

  “You are safe here, Miss Murphy,” Felicity promised.

  Miss Murphy looked over at Flint, who sat back down.

  “Yes,” he said. “Absolutely safe. You were told you'd be safe here, weren't you?”

  This time they at least got a small nod.

  “And so you are. Are you going to America as well?”

  The girl cast Felicity a look, then turned back to Lord Flint. She nodded.

  “Why?”

  Another silence. A suspicion of tears in her eyes.

  “You do know that I am the duke's son,” Flint said, tapping fingers along his knee.

  The girl looked frozen.

  The rest of the interview didn't go any better.

  “He really isn't a hard man,” Felicity told the girl twenty minutes later after they'd been left alone with the tea things. “Sugar?”

  The girl shook her head. Not a prosperous person then, whether servant or mistress, if she didn't want to give herself a taste of what she could never usually have. From the girl's faint accent, Felicity knew she'd come across the Irish Channel quite a while ago. From the calluses on her hands, Felicity would peg the girl as a servant. She handed over the cup into those shaking hands and poured her own, adding two lumps, not nearly as disciplined as the woman she faced. She liked sugar. She wanted to enjoy it while she could.

  “You surprised Lord Flint,” she explained as she stirred. “He had no idea this...er...program had been going on.” Sipping at the lovely rich brew, she shrugged. “But then, he's rarely here, so I'm sure it hasn't mattered. Bad luck and timing for you.”

  Although why the duke hadn't foreseen the mischance Felicity couldn't think.

  The girl sipped at the tea, and her eyes went wider. She looked down at the cup as if it should explain itself.

  “Lovely, isn't it?” Felicity asked. “I must say that everyone is treated well here.”

  When they weren't being harassed, anyway, to marry the heir for no better reason than he was handsome, funny, endearing and....well, the heir. The whole thing kept making less and less sense.

  “You have been forbidden from speaking?” she asked the girl.

  Again Miss Murphy looked around. Again she nodded.

  “Do you want to go to America?”

  This time the nod was enthusiastic and accompanied by a smile.

  “I already have a situation,” she admitted in the kind of gentle voice that should belong to the best of nannies. “In Boston. I have cousins there and all.”

  “It sounds marvelous,” Felicity agreed and wondered if someone would like to offer her something similar.

  Could Boston America be any worse than the wilds of Derbyshire? Maybe it was at least warmer there, so a person didn't get chilblains every time she removed her gloves at the piano.

  “You'll not be...er, traveling with me?” the girl asked.

  Felicity looked down at the sad state of her brown kerseymere and smiled. “Believe it or not,” she said, “No. Although I begin to understand why even though she didn't speak much, Mrs. Windom fed me like the fatted calf.”

  “Truly?” There was deprivation in those magnificent blue eyes.

  Felicity's smile grew. “Truly. What were you told of your stay here?”

  “I keep to my room and everything would be delivered to me until such time as I leave to board my ship.”

  “Then so you shall. For a while at least, I seem to be in charge of the house, and I want you to feel safe. I have the most peculiar feeling you haven't in a while.”

  For which Pip would definitely demand answers of her uncle the duke if Felicity asked. Because there was no doubt about the sharp shadows that skimmed Miss Murphy's eyes.

  Felicity gave a final nod. “How about this, Miss Murphy? That is an awfully small room you have, but we don't want it getting about to Lord Flint's aunt that you're here. She will torment you like a bluebottle fly. Not only that, evidently, she often has visitors. So, your universe will consist of your room and my sitting room. If you contain yourself thusly, I am certain you shall go unremarked.”

  Twenty minutes later Felicity checked for witnesses before ushering Nora Murphy back up to her room. And then Felicity headed back down to speak with Lord Flint.

  She only made it as far as the second stair down from her own room. Before she made it another step, her legs simply seemed to give out on her and she found herself sitting on the step, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, just staring at the graceful plaster acanthus leaves that rimmed the ceiling a story below.

  She should continue on her way, she knew. Lord Flint would be waiting for her report, especially after she'd made such a point of ushering him out of her sitting room once it became apparent he wouldn't coax, bully or wheedle any more information from Miss Murphy. But too much had happened too quickly.

  For the last four days all she had done was wander these rooms, ride around the park and once or twice take a turn at the duke's piano....

  That reminded her. She
had piano music somewhere. She had packed so fast to leave she’d completely forgotten to gather it up. She'd recover it when things settled down a bit.

  Outside the tall windows the long gloaming had settled over the park, and below the servants were undoubtedly setting up for family dinner. Felicity had a feeling she truly should grab that music and run for her life while she had the chance. Nothing made sense to her, and the situation was growing odder by the moment. She simply didn't know what to do.

  “Miss Chambers?” she heard above her.

  Higgins, she realized.

  “You poor man,” she said, not moving. “Do you ever get a moment off your feet?”

  She thought he might have smiled. “It is rare the master is this busy here.”

  She smiled herself. “And yet you seem to have a steady stream of guests.”

  “Well, er...em...yes.” She heard him rustle a bit, as if changing positions. “Is there anything I could get for you, Miss?”

  She thought about asking him to join her on the step, but knew that the idea was a nonstarter. Good butlers would have to be missing both legs at the hip to sit in the presence of guests.

  “I assume a maid comes with my fancy new bedroom?”

  He cleared his throat. “As to that, Miss...the staff and I would like to—”

  She lifted a finger in the air, still not facing him. “I had better not hear the word 'apologize,' Higgins. You forget. I have spent my adulthood caught between stairs, and I know precisely how this entire episode was mismanaged. And not by you or any of your staff.”

  It occurred to her at that moment that of course the staff would have known of the discussion in Aunt Winnie's sitting room. Poor Mrs. Windom must be gnawing her nails to the knuckle.

  Felicity leaned her head far enough back to make eye contact with a very rigid Higgins. “Higgins,” she said, gentling her own voice. “I would very much appreciate your delivering a message to Mrs. Windom as quickly as possible. She is an excellent housekeeper supervising a staff that is in good heart. Her job is quite secure.”

  Higgins didn't lower himself enough to actually slump, but Felicity could see the hint of a smile. “You believe you might be remaining with us, Miss?” he asked in a suspiciously noncommittal voice.

  Felicity returned her chin to her palms. “Oh, Higgins, I have no idea. But no matter what happens, I will make sure my promise to Mrs. Windom is kept.”

  “Thank you, Miss.”

  She nodded. “Now. That maid.”

  “Mrs. Windom had thought to appoint Sukie. Bright girl, ready for the chance.”

  Seventeen or so, just a bit taller than Felicity and plump as a berry scone, if memory served. Hmmm, Felicity thought. The idea of scones was making her stomach rumble. She was going to need to eat soon. “Could you ask her to join me, please?”

  There was a brief pause. “Here?”

  She grinned to herself. “Here, Higgins.”

  She thought he bowed. “At once, Miss.”

  Sukie ran, too. Everybody in this house seemed to have a habit of running, Felicity thought, still seated on her step.

  The girl arrived from the servants' stairs at the back and trundled down the carpeted hallway.

  “Yes, Miss Chambers?” she asked, stuttering to a halt at the top of the steps. “You needed me?”

  Felicity patted the stair net to her. “Would you mind joining me, Sukie?”

  This time the answering silence was longer. “There?”

  Felicity just gave the step another pat.

  “You've been appointed to do for me?” she asked when Sukie sat and tugged her skirts over the sturdy black shoes that pretty well-matched Felicity's own.

  “If it please you, Miss. Yes.”

  Felicity finally sat up and turned to face her. “I am delighted, although I'm not sure how much you shall benefit. As you can see, I do not claim any pretensions to fashion. A good swipe of my shoes and warm water in the morning might be enough to do me. Is it enough for you?”

  Sukie's smile was huge, revealing a bit of a gap between her two front teeth. “Lord love ya, Miss. I'll find somethin' to do. It's worth it for the advancement.”

  Felicity nodded. That was right. Sukie had gained a better place at the servant's table with the promotion. Well, Felicity wasn't going to deny the girl her better ration and status.

  “You can help me one way, if you will.” Felicity took another look out over the staircase to where it swept down three more stories in an elegant oval. A far cry from anywhere she had ever lived before. And she was to be in charge of it, at least nominally. If she said yes, anyway.

  “Anything, Miss.”

  “What do you know of Lord Flint?”

  Sukie blushed and dipped her eyes. “Handsomest man in Gloucestershire.”

  “He is that.”

  “Not sure exactly what you want to know, Miss, since he's not here often.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Workin' for the duke, so I hear. Spent time travelin' and all. Was with the army chasin’ Napoleon, too.”

  “And when he's here?”

  Another flashing smile. “Most of the girls're half in love with him. Can't help it, can they?” Her eyes widened abruptly. “Not me, o' course. I'm walking out with Jeb the groom. But everybody likes him.”

  “The staff is...er...comfortable with him?”

  “Do you mean does he bother the girls? Nobody bothers anybody here. He won't have it.” She grinned suddenly. “And if he tried, Mrs. Windom would give him what how.”

  “And yet he has some rackety friends.”

  Sukie shrugged in the world-weary way of those in service. “All young men do, I'd say. And his could be worse. Noisy, mostly, a bit frolicsome, but only amongst themselves. There's no fear of being interfered with, which is a nice change, which I'm sure you know.”

  Felicity smiled. “I do indeed. It is why I fought to gain a slot in an all-girl's academy. Do you know anything about the girls who pass through here?”

  Sukie wasn't stupid enough to miss the deliberate segue. “Nothin' more'n they need plumpin' up when they come. Silent as graves most of 'em. Glad to move on, though none'll have any complaints of their care here.”

  “If I'm any example, Sukie, that is definitely true.”

  “Are you truly going to be mistress of the house, Miss?”

  Felicity turned back to her acanthus leaves. “I honestly don't know, Sukie. None of it makes sense to me.”

  Sukie laughed. “You'll pardon my sayin', Miss, but what difference does that make? Don't you want to live here? And above stairs?”

  The truth? She did. She couldn't deny it. There was something so lovely about the old bones of this place. Something homey and dear and loved that called to her lonely heart. Something that might just actually be hers, even for a while.

  But as she well knew, as Sukie knew just as well, things were never that simple.

  “What is the word downstairs?”

  She was answered with silence.

  “If I am to be mistress,” Felicity said. “I need to know how to go on.”

  There was a small sigh. Felicity refused to face the girl, allowing her anonymity for the truth. “His lordship is much favored, Miss. And it hasn't gone unnoticed how good you were to Mrs. Windom.”

  Felicity nodded. “A good place to start, then. Thank you, Sukie. I appreciate the candor.”

  Sukie left the way she came. Felicity still couldn't work up the motivation to stand. She was caught dead center in the eye of a hurricane and didn't know how to navigate.

  How could she? She was in an impossible place. A fantasy that made no sense. She had actually been whisked away from a second-rate boarding school at the invitation of a duke to meet his son with marriage in mind.

  Marriage. To the son of a duke. Her, an orphan with a surname she had made up whole cloth.

  And him....

  She drew in an unforgivably trembly breath. Just thinking about him set those sparks loose aga
in, spilling through her like fireworks and setting her limbs alight. Which didn't help her in the least. How could she keep a straight head while dealing with him when her body...when her body...?

  She shook her head. It didn't even bear thinking about. If she couldn't control the rush of anticipation every time she thought of him, she would never be able to make a sensible decision.

  That was troubling enough. In fact, it would have made an excellent plot for a Minerva Press novel. But then other women had been introduced to the plot. Frightened girls, really. Underfed, skittish, work-roughened girls on their way out of the country. Girls who were kept secret to all except for two men. Girls who had been hurt.

  She had to believe that Lord Flint didn't know. He had truly looked as shocked as she felt. Sukie hadn't hesitated to defend him against any charges he might interfere with the help.

  Felicity wanted to believe he was innocent of hurting the women who had moved through his house. She wanted to like him, she realized. He was unlike any of the aristocratic men she had known in her life, with the exception of Pip's brother Alex, who had helped rescue all the girls of Last Chance Academy back in the day.

  Lord Flint could be completely overbearing. He could seem impervious to pressure, and rock stubborn against opposition. At the same time, he had apologized—-apologized—for having pressured her. She tried very hard to think of any other time in her life she had received an apology from anyone, much less the son of a duke, and simply could not.

  Felicity sighed. She was in a dangerous place. She had known Lord Flint no more than a few hours, had known his intentions even fewer than that. And yet, she wanted them to be true. She wanted them to be honest. She wanted to think he liked her, too, and was sincere that he meant to make something out of his father's impossible demand.

  And yet...

  And yet, Felicity was too old to believe in fairy tales. If fairy tales were true, her parents would have come for her. They would have explained to her that they'd been lost at sea so long that by the time they looked she was beyond their reach. If fairy tales were real, she would have been a lost princess, not a teacher of ten-year-old girls who wanted no part of her, living in an unheated cubicle the size of Lord Flint's dining room table and using her half day off to bring her tatting into a local shop to sell for extra money.