It was both balm and frustration. No surprise to hear Papa was universally popular, but Felicity yearned for detail. She tried again. “I remember him like that too, but I wonder do you know what he did? In the way of business, I mean. Where did he go? Did you ever hear of a Mr Rusper?”
“Business? Gracious me, dearie, whatever next?” She tutted, fork poised. “Mr Temple was a gentleman born.”
“True. But I am his daughter, and I have been for more than six years a schoolmistress in a Bath academy.”
“A schoolmistress! Oh, no, dearie, have you indeed?”
The shock was evident and Felicity caught a meaningful look from Lord Lynchmere. Realising her tone had been tart, she moderated it. “I beg your pardon, Mrs Dadford. I did not mean to distress you. You see, I know my father was not above plying a trade, for he used to sell stories from time to time.”
The little landlady made a dismissive gesture. “His writing! That is a very different matter, dearie. A most genteel occupation and none could cavil at it.” She looked to Lord Lynchmere. “His lordship will bear me out, I’m sure.”
His lordship, taking no part in the conversation, merely gave his enigmatic smile. Not that it mattered, for Mrs Dadford was off again.
“Nan and I were used to look forward to reading one of his stories in the magazines, and sometimes dear Mr Temple would read them to us. Oh, such stirring tales they were! How he thought up such adventures I shall never know.”
The word brought a constriction to Felicity’s throat. Adventures! Papa’s stock in trade. But this was getting her nowhere. She took a sip of wine and plied her fork for a few moments to give herself time. Lord Lynchmere, to her relief, filled the breach. Had he noticed?
“What Miss Temple is getting at, ma’am, is that her father engaged in excursions of his own. She understands that he had an allowance of sorts and that he used to see a Mr Rusper. Do you know if the man was a lawyer or something of the sort?”
Mrs Dadford frowned over it. “I cannot say I ever heard of such a man, sir. Nan may know, perhaps. It’s true Mr Temple was apt to leave little Flissie with Nan and go off somewhere.” Her eye brightened. “Marlborough! Well, he must have gone there, for it was where the accident —” She broke off, setting down her fork and shaking her head. She threw an apologetic glance across the table.
Felicity seized on the slip. “That is where he was killed? Don’t fear to speak of it, Mrs Dadford, pray. I need to know.”
The little lady sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Forgive me, dearie, but it’s brought it all back. Poor dear Mr Temple!”
Oddly, her distress proved strengthening to Felicity. “What exactly happened? I was never told the full sum of it. Only that a carriage was going too fast and he was knocked to the ground.”
The landlady was shuddering. “Trampled by the horses! They bolted too, leaving poor Mr Temple crushed and battered on the ground.”
The horror of it hovered somewhere above Felicity, waiting to descend. Yet she felt curiously detached, needing more. Someone was accountable. “Didn’t the driver stop? Come back when he had his horses under control?”
“Not then, he didn’t. Leastways, I never heard he did. But he was there at the inquest, for we read all about it in the newspaper. Accidental death, they said, which of course it was. But Nan will have it he paid his dues.”
Felicity began to feel chilled, though still divorced from the harrowing tale. “How so?”
Mrs Dadford looked surprised. “Didn’t you know that was the reason? Oh, I suppose you were too young to understand.”
The coldness turned to ice as a snaking suspicion curled into her mind. Her voice felt alien. “The reason for what, Mrs Dadford?”
“Why he took care of you. That lord. I forget his name now. Nan didn’t want to let him take you, but she said he was all remorse and meant to make it up to you and would adopt you and all. For there was no one else, and you were a gentleman’s daughter and he was a lord.”
Felicity’s lips felt bloodless. The candlelight flickered in her vision, the scene before her fading into a dreamlike amorphous mass.
“My guardian … you are speaking of my guardian, Lord Maskery.”
CHAPTER TEN
From far away Felicity heard the voices, making no sense.
“Was that his name? Nan will remember.”
“Steady, Miss Temple! No swooning now.”
Too late. The darkness began to overwhelm her. She was in a carriage, coated and bonneted, staring into a void, only half aware of the man at her side. Her guardian. Guardian: a man to guard her, shield her, protect her. Like a father, like the father he had despatched to his maker.Ah,cruel…
“Miss Temple! Felicity! Wake up!”
A light slapping at her cheeks.
