Consternation entered Mrs Dadford’s features. “Gracious me! I’ve not got room in the stables for —”
“Don’t disturb yourself, Mrs Dadford. I have arranged for the whole to be accommodated at the Plough.”
“Oh, that’s a mercy, sir — my lord, I mean.”
Suspecting this could go on for some time, Raoul made good his escape. But not in time to miss Mrs Dadford exclaiming to Miss Temple.
“You should’ve said, Miss Flissie. Bless me if I can guess why you’d be going about with a lord! What’ll Nan say to that? He’s not your betrothed, is he?”
Raoul cursed as he opened the front door. Damn Angelica for being right as usual! Was Miss Temple’s mind cool enough to think up a valid excuse?
Flurried, Felicity made haste to turn the little landlady off the topic. “Nothing of the kind, Mrs Dadford. I am greatly indebted to his lordship, but it is a long story and I am rather tired as we have travelled from London today.”
The creature clapped her hands together, distress entering in. “Goodness, I should think you must be, dearie. You’ll be wishful of a wash and such, or shall I fetch you a cup of something? I’ve the tea under lock and key, but seeing as it’s you —”
“Tea would be very welcome,” Felicity cut in, stemming the flow. “Indeed I should be glad of a chance to tidy myself presently. But pray first will you tell me what has happened to Mrs Kimble? They said at the Plough that she has arthritis.”
Mrs Dadford’s features crumpled and she shook her head, perching on a chair opposite. “Such a tragedy, poor Nan. She got worse and worse and she never said, dragging herself about after her lodgers for far too long. But in the end, she couldn’t manage. She’s tied to a chair these days and has to have Cissy help her to bed.”
“Who is Cissy?”
“Nan’s granddaughter. Does everything for her, does young Cissy. I go in to keep her company when I can and take her a little something, for she’s struggling to make ends meet, poor Nan.”
Felicity’s half-formed scheme for her own relief vanished at a stroke, but her disappointment was overborne by intense fellow feeling. “How perfectly dreadful. Has she no means now she cannot take in lodgers?”
Mrs Dadford sighed. “I’ve a notion she’d a small nest egg saved, but likely most of that’s gone now. Mr Dog was used to slip extras into her shopping, but he’s gone now too, and —”
“Mr Dog has died? Oh, no!”
Mrs Dadford shook a vigorous head. “No, no, dearie. He sold the shop and went off to live with his brother’s boy in Marlborough. It got too much for him, poor Mr Dogsmerfield.”
“Dogsmerfield! I could not recall his proper name. In fact, I am not sure I ever knew it.”
“Well, no one ever called him that, so I’m not surprised, dearie.” The door opened and she jumped up. “But here’s his lordship and I’ve not shown you to your room. Come along, dearie. I’ll make the tea while you freshen up.”
Within a half hour, refreshed, with her outer garments discarded, Felicity was again seated in the parlour, sipping the promised tea. Lord Lynchmere had been shown to his chamber and not yet reappeared and Mrs Dadford had gone off to supervise the preparations for dinner, twittering with anxiety.
“I’ve none of the fripperies his lordship must be used to, dearie. I only hope he won’t despise a plain dinner.”
She did not appear to be comforted by Felicity’s reassurances, lamenting the shortcomings of her cook and debating whether to set her “lad” to dig up some spears of asparagus despite the difficulty of locating them in the dark.
Her mind far too beset with question to dwell on gastronomic possibilities, Felicity was glad to be left alone to ponder her fresh problem. How in the world was she to avoid falling in with Angelica’s scheme now? Her admittedly vague idea of working out an exchange with Mrs Kimble while she sought a post was out of count. She could not impose upon an invalid. She would be nothing but a burden in the poor woman’s present circumstances. Even if she had been able, Mrs Kimble evidently could hardly afford to feed herself and her granddaughter, never mind a penniless lodger.
Felicity was again wholly dependent upon the charity of Lord Lynchmere and his cousin. Could she make a bargain with Mrs Dadford? No, impossible. How explain her dilemma when she had arrived escorted by a marquis? The little creature would be bound to exclaim and question, and Felicity could not possibly expose her guardian’s shocking machinations to the elderly dame.
Her ruminations were interrupted by the entrance of Lord Lynchmere, sporting a fresh neck-cloth and seemingly as energetic as ever despite having driven over sixty miles. He came to lean an elbow on the mantel and gave her a slight smile.
“Hungry?”
She eyed him. “Why, aren’t you?”
One eyebrow lifted. “I wasn’t being cryptic. In fact, I am devilishly hungry.”
“I suppose I am, now you mention it. I had not thought about it.”
His eye became keen. “You’ve found something out?”
He was acute, she had to admit. The worry returned. “About Mrs Kimble.” She relayed what Mrs Dadford had said, omitting any mention of her defunct scheme to take refuge with her old landlady.
