Once they left with a bow and a bob, Aunt Imogene turned on her great-niece, demanding answers.
“I didn’t set out to deceive Mr. Finch,” began Felicity, but she hung her head, rubbing at her temple. “That is not true. I did wish to deceive him.”
Aunt Imogene opened her mouth, but Felicity spoke over her.
“I need some peace, Aunt, and this little fib will give it to me. Besides, it’s not far from the truth. I am here to stay with you, I am your niece, and I do enjoy looking after you when I am around.”
At that, Felicity readied a cup of tea for Aunt Imogene, which did wonders to erase the disapproving glint in the lady’s eye.
“I simply do not wish to be known as the Heiress. Just for a little bit.”
“I do not like deceptions, my girl. They rarely end well,” said Aunt Imogene, though she set herself to enjoying her tea and cakes.
Tugging the blanket closer around her, Felicity stared at the flames in the fireplace. “Did Uncle George ever tell you of my failed elopement?”
With wide eyes, the older lady blinked at her great-niece.
Felicity took in a deep breath, letting it out with a pained expression. “I was a foolish girl of sixteen, who allowed herself to be swayed by a man with honeyed words and a calculating heart. He was the younger brother of one of Uncle’s clerks, and I was convinced Alastair Dunn was everything I longed for in a gentleman. I knew how people view my scars—”
“Oh, Felicity—”
But she held up a staying hand. “I know, Aunt Imogene. I pay it no heed now, but I was not so self-assured at that age. He was the first person, outside my closest friends and family, who did not treat me as though I still carried the pox with me. Alastair convinced me I was the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen.”
The elderly lady abandoned her tea and cakes, coming to sit beside Felicity on the sofa and taking her hand in hers. “You are not the first to be swayed by such things.”
Felicity squeezed her hand. “No, nor am I the first to be talked into an elopement. Alastair convinced me Uncle George was biased against his suit, and that Scotland was the only option for us. I hadn’t spent much time in the company of gentlemen, so it never occurred to me that Uncle’s money was the true enticement. Luckily, Uncle George discovered it before I boarded the coach.”
Her heart gave a sad sigh, though Felicity did not know if it was because of the pain attached to the memory of that awful night or how much she missed her dear uncle. A year and a half of mourning had eased much of her sorrow, but at times like these, she missed his support and guidance.
“You should’ve seen Uncle,” she said with a faint smile. “There I was, sitting in a coaching inn, awaiting Alastair's arrival, and Uncle George barreled in, leaping out of his carriage before it had come to a stop. I thought he’d be furious, but his only concern was my safety. I was such a simpleton and didn’t consider what evil can befall an unaccompanied young lady at a coaching inn.”
“I shudder to think of it,” said Aunt Imogene.
“As do I, but providence smiled down upon me, and Uncle George discovered Alastair's plans. Once Uncle made it clear he would not give us a farthing if we eloped, Alastair disappeared, leaving behind a pathetic note of apology. The villain didn’t even bother to give me the news in person or tell me before I spent hours sitting in the cold, waiting for him. He simply never showed.”
And it truly was a pathetic note of apology, though Felicity was not about to share those brief words. She’d burned the missive long ago, but it could not erase their memory, as though the words were burned into her mind.
I cannot marry you, Felicity. Please forgive me. —A.
For a man with so many sweet words to say, he ought to have managed something more than that.
“I cannot imagine George cutting you off,” said Aunt Imogene, drawing Felicity back to the present, and her observation drew a smile from her great-niece.
“Uncle George would never be so cruel, but my beaus believed it to be true, which ensured each petitioned for his approval, and not one received it. For a time, I was bitter over his interference, but I came to understand. And having seen the specimens that have lined up to claim my hand since Uncle George passed, it is no mystery as to why he sent them all packing.”
Of course, there was more to the story than those few sentences could convey, but that was the heart of the matter. Felicity felt no need to expound at length over the pain Alastair and all the others had caused, for it was of no significance now. If anything, she silently thanked them for their part in her history. For good or ill, it had molded her, and Felicity was quite pleased with the end product.
“So, I am sorry for having misled Mr. Finch, but I could not bear the thought of yet another gentleman tripping over himself to earn my good opinion.”
Aunt Imogene’s lips pinched. “I cannot claim to be pleased with it, but I will not give away the truth. Nor will I lie.”
“I am not here to socialize, and no one in the neighborhood knows of my inheritance. I doubt the truth will be discovered, and I cannot see how my financial affairs are anyone’s business but my own. So, it should not matter if I am a companion or guest.”
“Well, you may not be here to socialize, but I do hope Mr. Finch will keep his word and visit,” said Aunt Imogene. “He is such a good fellow.”
Felicity’s brow furrowed. “Do you not think him the slightest bit…” She paused, hunting for the word until it came within her grasp. “…melancholic?”
Aunt Imogene’s head cocked to the side, a smile on her lips. “Not at all.”
