Felicity found herself being vigorously towelled and stood still, beset by a sudden memory. Papa, lifting her out of the tub and rubbing her down while she giggled at the childish ritual he recited.Rub-a-dub-dub,threemeninatub.
Yearning for the sort of close intimacy that allowed for such nonsense attacked her. To be loved and to love in return was all it took. Exactly as was evident between Raoul and his young sister. The boon of affection permitted so much. Felicity had forgotten. Too many years, starved of the like. And here she had wantonly thrown away her chance to feel it again.
Lost in her thoughts, she allowed Easter to dress her in the day gown provided by Angelica. She ought to wear her own horrid schoolmistress gown, ought she not? She had condemned herself to it. But she could not bring herself to make the change. While she remained in this house, she would have pride enough to look presentable in a milieu to which she had no longer any aspiration. After all, there was no saying when she might encounter Raoul. She could not bear to see the condemnation in his eyes if he should find her inappropriately dressed.
“There, miss, that’ll do. You look a picture, if I do say so myself.”
Easter was holding up a hand mirror and Felicity perforce looked at her reflection. She hardly noticed the neat arrangement of her curling autumn locks, caught by the shadows under her eyes and the tragic look within them.
In haste, she pushed the mirror away. “Yes, thank you, very nicely done.” The maid looked disappointed and Felicity captured the hand holding the handle of the mirror. “Forgive me, Easter. It is excellent and I’m grateful. I am afraid my mind is all over the place at the moment.”
The girl tutted, looking distressed. “I thought so, miss. It’s that letter from the master, ain’t it?” She shook her head. “Don’t you pay no mind, miss. He’s one as gets into them moods of his, the master is, but it don’t mean nothing. He’ll come out of it, you’ll see.”
Felicity had to smile at the motherly note, though the reminder stung a little. Young as she was, the girl sounded for all the world like Nanny Kimble in encouraging mode.
But a moment later, Easter caught herself up, blushing. “Ooh, I done it again! Mrs Astwick will have my head, she will, speaking out of turn. I do beg your pardon, miss.”
“You need not. I am very glad to have a friend who cares enough to try to help.”
The girl’s cheeks went even pinker and she dipped her head in a bashful way. “Good of you, miss, but I’m not supposed to speak so free. Me tongue runs away with me, that’s what Mrs Astwick says.”
“It will be our secret, Easter. If you wish to know, this is all very new to me and perfectly overwhelming. There, now you have a secret about me to keep too.”
“Ooh, I won’t say a word, miss,” promised the girl, round-eyed.
“You may call me Miss Flissie if you wish. It will make me feel very much more at home.”
Easter’s young bosom visibly swelled and she lifted her head and dropped a curtsy. “That I will then, Miss Flissie. Shall I show you to the breakfast parlour now?”
To Felicity’s combined relief and disappointment, Raoul was not present in the sunny room where Lucille was discovered, partaking of the morning meal in company with her governess.
“There you are, Miss Temple! I’m so glad. I was wishing you would come, for I mean to show you the grounds in my gig. I promised, remember?”
Felicity took the seat the butler was setting for her and accepted a cup of coffee. “Thank you, yes, I do remember.”
“You will need a cloak, for it is chilly out.” She called to the maid who was just leaving the room. “Easter, bring Miss Temple’s cloak to the hall.”
Easter curtsied and went off, leaving Felicity without an excuse to refuse the treat. She did not in the least feel like going for a drive, especially around Raoul’s grounds when she knew herself to be unwelcome. The fateful letter, with its accompanying bank draft and note, was reposing in the pocket beneath her petticoats where she had stowed it with care. She could not leave it in the bedchamber where anyone might find it. The precious bank draft could only be kept safely upon her person. If she lost it, she would be adrift all over again.
Lucille began to chatter of the treat in store as the butler proffered a dish of baked eggs. Felicity nodded without thinking and then stared at the portion on her plate, feeling quite sick.
Lucille noticed. “Don’t you want it, Miss Temple? Have a warm bun instead. These are spiced and very tasty. Pass Miss Temple the butter, Sholden.”
Felicity made no demur as her hostess insisted on plying her with buns, honey, jam and oat cakes. Perforce, she buttered a bun and nibbled at it, washing it down with copious draughts of the sustaining coffee.
Lucille talked all the time, thankfully relieving her of the necessity to do more than utter a word of enquiry or agreement. Just as well, for the frequent introduction of his lordship’s name caused her to wince.
“I am not yet allowed to drive a pair, for Raoul is not convinced I can manage them on my own. Of course, he won’t let me attempt his team. Raoul taught me, you know. He says I have light hands, but I’m not strong enough to manage four horses. Raoul drives superbly, does he not? He can ride the boldest of the stallions, even Buffalo, who is such a beast.” She trilled with laughter. “That’s what I call Raoul sometimes, when he is beastly to me. Beastly Buffalo!”
Here Miss Wimbush tutted. “Now, that will do, Lady Lucille. That is not at all a proper way to speak of his lordship.”
“Oh, don’t fuss, Wimby! You know I never speak hardly of Raoul outside the family.”
“I know nothing of the kind. You are speaking to Miss Temple at this moment.”
Surprise flickered in Lucille’s eyes. “Oh, but Miss Temple is practically family already, aren’t you? Raoul brought you himself and he never brings females here, unless it’s in a party. Not that he does that often because he hates having to do the pretty. Raoul says it bores him.”
“Yes, I’m very well aware of that,” snapped Felicity before she could stop herself.
