CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Felicity dressed carefully for the ball. Her mother was unable to spare a lady’s maid to send with her, after sending one with Elizabeth, so Camille, Lady Blackstone’s maid, came in to prepare Felicity’s hair.
“Miss Mayson, you look a bit pale. You should not be nervous. You are not trying to find a husband. And your shoulders are so stiff and tense. Are you well?”
Some maidservants never said a word, but Camille was rather talkative.
“I am very well. I suppose I am simply trying too hard to impress.”
“You are very impressive without trying. Beautiful and pleasant.”
“You are too kind.” She thought for a moment, then said, “You know Lady Blackstone very well, do you not?”
“Oh yes, better than anyone. I’ve been with Lady Blackstone for many years, since she was married to the baron. When her sister died, it did things to her.” She scrunched her face and sighed, pausing in her work to get Felicity’s hair to curl on top of her head. “It is a pain she will never overcome, I think. It made her determined to never be poor again. But . . . it also created some frightening things in her. I do believe . . . But she has never mistreated me, so I shall say no more.”
“Is she planning any trips in the next fortnight? I was only wondering because I need some ribbon to match my blue dress, and I thought she might visit some shops.”
“Bless you, I do not know of any plans for visiting any shops, but perhaps she would send a manservant to get what you need. I shall speak to her, if you wish.”
“Oh no, don’t trouble her. It is not important. I only thought if Lady Blackstone were planning to travel somewhere she might—but I would not wish to ask her for such a trivial thing.”
Soon they were talking of other subjects.
Felicity could not persuade Aunt Agnes to go down to the ball with her, but then, she might be able to use that as an excuse to leave the festivities.
Camille had been right; she was nervous. Her hand shook as she touched the banister. And when she saw her fiancé speaking with Lady Blackstone in the ballroom, then glance up and give her an eager look, her stomach sank.
He took her hand and kissed it, then took the liberty of kissing her cheek. Felicity forced herself not to cringe at his affection.
“Darling. You will be the prettiest woman here.”
That would not be too difficult, as there were not many women there at all. But then she remembered Lady Blackstone had said she was inviting several other ladies from the county. If only Felicity or Mr. Merrick knew one of the women and could trust them to take a letter. But that was not likely.
More people began arriving. Lady Blackstone was smiling, greeting her guests. Finally, she seemed to notice Felicity and Mr. Ratley, and she came over to embrace them.
“Drink some sherry, my dear Felicity. You are as good as married, and you may as well enjoy yourself.”
Felicity had the same opinion of spirits as her most beloved author, Hannah More. But she smiled and said, “Thank you, Lady Blackstone. I shall enjoy my evening. I am with Mr. Ratley, after all.”
Perhaps she should not have said anything quite so facetious. Her words caused Mr. Ratley to stick out his chest and draw her closer to his side.
Lady Blackstone nodded knowingly. “Of course you shall. Dancing is just the activity for an engaged couple.” She winked at Mr. Ratley, then turned to greet more guests.
Just then, her eyes were drawn to Mr. Merrick as he entered the room. He was dressed very stylishly in a dark-green coat and tall black boots. His red hair was thick and well groomed, and he appeared relaxed but alert. If only she could feel that way. Instead, her hands were sweaty, and her thoughts were so jumbled she felt as if she were in a fog.
What would Mr. Ratley attempt tonight? Would he try to get her alone? She had heard tales of house parties where men would take women into darkened side rooms and take liberties with them. What sort of liberties, she was not sure, but certainly kissing. The thought of kissing Mr. Ratley again was not appealing. Now, she could no longer remember when, or if, it ever was.
Felicity was obliged to greet and speak with several more people before the music finally started.
She danced the first and second dances with Mr. Ratley. She noticed Mr. Merrick dancing as well, though Felicity did not know his partners. One was quite pretty, and she smiled at him a great deal.
“Darling, are you looking for someone?” Mr. Ratley said as they waited for their turn in the reel.
“Oh, I was just wondering who that pretty woman is who is dancing with Mr. Merrick.”
“I believe that is Miss Catherine Watson. I shall make sure you are introduced.”
She must be more careful not to stare at Mr. Merrick or his partners. It was a foolish mistake.
Everyone around her seemed to have forgotten the dead man they’d found in the garden. They were smiling and laughing and drinking sherry. Everyone was relatively young—there were no old men or women—and it might have been her imagination, but everyone seemed to have a sort of reckless look on their faces.
How did I end up here? Had she really wanted to go to China and become a missionary? That girl seemed so naïve now. Everyone had warned her of how dangerous it would be to go there, but England had proven to be quite dangerous itself.
The song ended, and Mr. Ratley led Felicity over to Mr. Merrick and his partner. He greeted Mr. Merrick and introduced her to Miss Catherine Watson.
Miss Watson smiled and said, “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.” But the woman could hardly keep her eyes off Mr. Merrick. Finally, she tore her gaze from him and said, “I am afraid I have promised to dance with a Mr. Webster next. If you will excuse me.”
Lady Blackstone came over and said something very quietly in Mr. Ratley’s ear.
“Oh, darling Felicity,” Mr. Ratley said, “I must go and speak with Lady Blackstone. Why don’t you dance with Mr. Merrick?”
Mr. Ratley moved away and left her standing with Mr. Merrick. The gentleman’s eyes followed Lady Blackstone and Mr. Ratley.
“Where do you think they are going?” Felicity asked him as discreetly and quietly as she could.
“I would follow if I thought they wouldn’t see me.” Instead, he took her hand, and they joined the others on the dance floor.
As they waited in the round, Mr. Merrick said, “You look quite lovely tonight.”
“The maid said I looked pale and nervous.”
“You did seem a bit stiff when I first saw you, but no one would think anything was amiss now. You are doing very well.”
“Thank you.”
They danced all the steps competently. Mr. Merrick was a good dancer. He smiled at her occasionally when he had to take her hand, but she also noticed him glancing about the room. Of course, he had to try and keep up with who was there and who was doing what and was probably also looking for Lady Blackstone and Mr. Ratley to return. And he couldn’t look as intently into her eyes as he did when they met secretly in the library closet.
But she allowed herself to look at him. He was handsome. She’d always thought so, absently, but now that she truly examined him, she imagined how easy it would be to look at this man every day.
But her feelings were only a consequence of the fact that he’d likely saved her life when he snatched her letter and burned it—and she was still relying on him as their only real friend in this place.
He, on the other hand, had no reason to have tender feelings for her. Yes, she had found the crucial papers in Lady Blackstone’s room, but he’d have found them himself soon. But perhaps she might prove even more useful to him and to his mission.
“Thank you for the dance, Miss Mayson.” His eyes were back on her as several people happened to be pressing close to them as they left the dance floor.
“My pleasure.”
His eyes were already back on the door Mr. Ratley and Lady Blackstone had exited by. He excused himself and headed in that direction, perhaps to see if he could eavesdrop on them.
Her mind flitted to Lady Blackstone’s room and those papers in her drawer. Is that where Mr. Merrick had gone, to try to steal the papers?
She wandered over to the refreshment table set up in an adjoining sitting room and took a cup of lemonade. When she walked closer to the doorway, she caught a glimpse of Mr. Merrick walking toward the stairs.
Now might be a good time to go check on Aunt Agnes.
Felicity put her cup down and headed to the stairs. Mr. Merrick was just disappearing at the top as he rounded a corner toward the wing of the house where Lady Blackstone’s room was located. Might she not prove helpful as his lookout?
She walked quietly up the steps and stopped at the top. If she went left, she would seem to be going to her room to look in on Aunt Agnes. If she went right, she would be following Mr. Merrick toward Lady Blackstone’s room.
No one seemed to be around, so she turned right.
She walked slowly until she was in sight of Lady Blackstone’s door. Was Mr. Merrick inside? She continued on. Lady Blackstone’s door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open. Mr. Merrick was hunched over the small bureau where she had found the papers.
Felicity heard footsteps coming up behind her. Her heart lurched. If she were to call out to Mr. Merrick, whoever was walking toward her would hear.
She turned and walked down the darkened corridor to await whoever would appear. Let it not be Lady Blackstone or Mr. Ratley.
It was a man. He appeared at the top of the stairs and turned right. Oh dear. It was Mr. Ratley.
He was walking toward her. She hurried toward him. “Mr. Ratley!” she called out, a bit louder than necessary.
O God, please let Mr. Merrick get away before he is seen.
Philip found the papers. He was just picking them up when he heard Miss Mayson’s voice: “Mr. Ratley!”
His blood pounded in his temples. For a moment he debated—should he take them? Did he have time to replace them with the dummy papers and secure the real papers inside his waistcoat? He clenched his teeth and left them, closing the drawer and turning to leave.
He tried the side door, which might lead him to the back stairs. It was locked. There was no escape except through the door he had come in. He hurried to it and peeked out.
“What are you doing on this corridor?” Mr. Ratley asked, pulling Miss Mayson into his arms.
Philip felt sick.
“I was looking for Lady Blackstone. I wanted to ask her something.”
“I was just going to take something to her room.”
Energy surged through his veins. He glanced the opposite way down the hall. He saw only shadows. Perhaps if he went that way he’d come to the back stairs. It was risky, as he’d probably be seen by the servants coming from this corridor, and they’d tell Lady Blackstone, but if Mr. Ratley saw him, he was a dead man.
He glanced back toward Miss Mayson and Mr. Ratley. Miss Mayson leaned in and kissed the man.
Philip’s stomach churned, but he ignored it and darted from the room, to his left, hurrying through the shadowy corridor. Soon he came to the narrow wooden back stairs and rushed down. Miraculously, he did not encounter any servants, even as he reached the bottom, near the kitchen. He dashed into the ground-floor corridor between the vestibule and the large drawing room. Soon he was back in the ballroom.
Felicity was glad it was dark. Her hands trembled where she held Mr. Ratley’s shoulders, and she suddenly felt light-headed and faint. Had Mr. Merrick had time to escape?
When the kiss ended, she whispered, “My darling,” hoping to distract Mr. Ratley further. She kissed him again, inwardly cringing at her own deception—and at his wet, flaccid lips.
She pulled away, trusting Mr. Merrick to have escaped by now.
“Darling.” There was a note of pleasant surprise in Mr. Ratley’s voice. He was smiling. “If you wanted to be alone with me, you should have said so.”
“Oh no.” She laughed, the sound coming out as breathless. “I came up here to look in on my aunt, then thought I would see if Lady Blackstone was in her room. But when I saw you . . . forgive me. It was very impulsive of me.”
“But not at all unwelcome.” He bent to kiss her again.
Her insides squirmed, but she allowed it for a couple of moments, then pulled away. “We shouldn’t. I . . . I don’t want anyone to see us. Come. Let us go join the party. I wish to dance and dance with my future husband.” She tried to sound merry and enthusiastic.
“Just a moment. I need to put something away in Lady Blackstone’s room.”
“Won’t she mind?”
“No, no. She sent me to do it. It will only take a moment.” He removed his arms from around her, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and strode toward Lady Blackstone’s room.
He did not seem too surprised that the door wasn’t completely shut. Felicity removed her hand from his arm and strode inside to Lady Blackstone’s small desk.
Felicity glanced around the room but did not see Mr. Merrick. She allowed herself to relax and concentrate on being the madly-in-love but piously modest fiancée of Mr. Ratley.
Mr. Ratley turned to come back toward her, then stopped, as if remembering something. He went to the small bureau and opened the very drawer where Felicity knew the incriminating papers were kept.
Her heart crashed against her chest. Had Mr. Merrick taken them? Would Mr. Ratley see that they were missing?
He seemed to sift quickly through them, then he shut the drawer and headed toward her.
“Is everything well?”
“Yes, of course.” He reached the door and shut it closed behind him, then took a key from his pocket and locked the door. She watched as he slipped the key into his coat pocket.
“Does Lady Blackstone always have you lock her door for her?”
“So many questions.” Mr. Ratley smiled down at her and shook his head. He looked as if he might kiss her again.
She pretended not to notice and took his hand in hers and started toward the staircase. “Come. Let us go. We’ve probably missed at least two dances.”
“So eager to dance with me?”
“Of course! You are such a good dancer. I don’t always have such a wonderful partner.” It was true. She often had no partner at all.
Mr. Ratley beamed. “I have been told, on occasion, that I am a good dancer.” They started down the stairs. “I would imagine we make a very handsome couple.”
Felicity smiled up at him.
How could she have fancied herself in love with this man? She couldn’t help hoping that Mr. Merrick realized she did not wish to kiss Mr. Ratley, that she had done it for Mr. Merrick’s sake. Tears welled in her eyes, but she resolutely blinked them away. So much depended on her strength of will. God, give me strength. She clenched her teeth and kept smiling.