CHAPTER TWO
Philip McDowell glanced around at his parents and all three of his brothers gathered around the breakfast table—a rare occurrence. His mother was smiling, and his father was frowning.
“So, you’re finally going to fight in the war against Napoleon?” his oldest brother, Damian, asked Philip, taking a sip of tea and following it with a bite of bread.
“Not exactly.”
“Leave him alone, Damian,” Nathan, his clergyman brother, said. “He’s probably spying on some evil frame-breakers union or a bunch of lawless men bent on burning mills in Manchester. He can’t tell us where he’s going or he’d have to kill us.”
“That’s right,” Thomas, his second-oldest brother, added. “But don’t mock him. If he gets a commendation from the Prince Regent, we’ll all be shown up.”
“Well, I am very proud of Philip,” his mother said. “He’s been serving our country in the Home Office, and whatever they ask him to do, I’m sure he will do the job very well indeed.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“When are you getting promoted?” his father demanded. “I haven’t heard anything about a promotion for more than a year. What do you do in the Home Office anyway?”
“Whatever I was doing, Father, I’ll be doing something else for the next several weeks. I only told you so you will not worry if you cannot reach me. And I will probably not be able to write to any of you.”
Philip wished he had not told them anything. Let them find out when it was all over. But his mother did not deserve to have her letters unanswered without an explanation.
He should expect some teasing from his brothers. As the youngest, he was used to it.
When the meal was over, Philip made his way downstairs, thinking he might play some billiards for an hour before he had to leave. On the way down, he met Clara, his mother’s maidservant.
“Good afternoon, Clara.”
She smiled but then seemed unable to meet his eye. “Good afternoon, Mr. Philip.”
His mother, distraught, had told him earlier that morning that she suspected Clara was with child. “I am very sad to get rid of her,” she confided. “But what choice do I have? I cannot have her here. It isn’t done. What would everyone say?”
He almost said, “Why do you care what everyone will say?” But he knew how cruel people could be if one disobeyed society’s “rules.” Instead, he said, “Do you know who the father is? Perhaps he will do right by her and the child.”
She shook her head. “I have not asked her yet.”
“Perhaps she has family who can care for the child, and she can come back to work after the baby is born.”
Mother smiled at him. “Even though you are my youngest, you always were the most mature.” She stood up straighter, as if casting off the burden that had been weighing on her. “I am sure all will be well. It is certainly nothing for you to worry about, Philip, and so we shall speak of it no more.”
Now, as Philip made his way down the stairs, he noticed his brother Damian was behind him. Philip glanced back just in time to see a significant look pass between the maidservant, Clara, and his brother—Damian’s look was stern while Clara’s eyes filled with tears. After she passed by him, she practically ran the rest of the way up.
Philip’s heart sank as he continued down the stairs.
“Why don’t you play a game of billiards with me?” Damian took the steps two at a time, catching up with him. He clapped his hand on Philip’s shoulder.
The game was friendly, up until Philip won.
“There’s a first time for everything.” Damian curled his lip. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re going? Did you get some girl pregnant and have to stash her away somewhere?” He laughed, a loud, ugly guffaw.
Philip felt the heat travel from the back of his neck to his forehead. “No, Damian. I have not slept with my mother’s maidservant, as you have clearly done.”
Damian stopped short, his jaw hardening. “How did you know about that?”
“How could you take advantage of a servant girl in such a way? You are a Member of Parliament. You should adhere to a higher standard than the average man.”
“Who made you my judge?”
“Do you plan to marry the girl?”
“Are you daft?” He snorted. “She’s only a servant.”
“Is that why you aren’t interested in any of the ladies Mother has tried to match you with? Well, I think you should tell Mother. She might treat the girl better if she knows she’s carrying the first McDowell grandchild.”
Damian’s face flamed red. “Listen to me, little brother. You are not to tell Mother anything.” Damian took a step toward Philip, his hands clenching into fists.
Philip stood his ground. After all, he was no longer the little brother. Philip had kept growing long after his brothers, and he was now two inches taller than the tallest of them. “I hope you will do right by the child, at least.”
“Keep your mouth shut and your nose out of my affairs.” But Damian’s voice had lost its bravado. With one last look, he stalked off.
Philip let out the breath he’d been holding. But this was not over. When he returned from his mission, he would make sure Damian took steps to ensure the child was taken care of, at least.
He supposed his brothers would never treat him respectfully, nor did they seem inclined to grow up and behave as men. When they were children, they had often used Philip as the butt of their jokes, had left him behind, and had treated him as if he was incompetent. As a consequence, he had worked harder than any of them to learn and succeed. He could make friends with anyone, could decode secret messages, and could even infiltrate secret societies. He’d wanted his brothers to finally respect him, to be different now that they were adults.
Perhaps things would be different if this assignment at Lady Blackstone’s house party proved as dangerous as he anticipated.
As soon as Felicity and Aunt Agnes changed out of their formal dinner clothes, her aunt sat down with a book by the lamp.
“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” Auntie asked, holding her book in one hand and her spectacles in the other.
“It was less dull than most dinner parties.”
“That nice Mr. Ratley was flirting with you again.” Auntie’s brown eyes crinkled as she smiled.
“Do you really think he was flirting?”
“Come now, Felicity. I may not see as well as some, but I’d have to be blind not to see that he is showing an interest in you. Even Lady Blackstone said he was smitten with you.”
“But why should he be? He hardly knows me. You may have noticed—there are not very many women here. It was rather scandalous, but there were only six females at dinner, including you and myself, and there were fifteen men!”
“Yes, it was very many.” The same intimidated look crossed Auntie’s face as when she had first seen the other dinner guests.
“And I had never met a single one of them before. I may not know more gentlemen than the average twenty-two-year-old in London society, but you would think I would have recognized at least one person.”
“I would have thought so.”
“You must come to dinner again tomorrow, Auntie, even though I know you do not like to. I need to feel a bit less outnumbered.”
“Oh, you are safe, surely. You have Lady Blackstone,” Auntie said. “But what of your Mr. Ratley? Was he as pleasant and agreeable as he was on our walk earlier?”
“He was.” Felicity couldn’t help smiling. He had been attentive and complimentary. She had only known him for one day, but she could not help feeling flattered by the attentions of a handsome young man, especially one who claimed to have such a large fortune that he did not need to marry well.
But that seemed a mercenary thought, as well as a hypocritical one, after all her self-assertions that she was no longer interested in getting married. The truth was, she would like Mr. Ratley even if he were poor. Still, happiness in marriage depended at least somewhat on being able to support oneself and one’s spouse. It would be unwise for her to marry a poor man with no prospects.
“Perhaps you should write to your father and mother to ask them to make inquiries about Mr. Ratley.”
Felicity hesitated, then said, “Yes, perhaps it would be good to see what we can discover about him and his family.” She disliked the thought of investigating his claims, but she also had no wish to form an unwise attachment to someone who was misrepresenting himself.
“I shall write the letter in the morning, then.”
Philip McDowell arrived at Doverton Hall while the sun was high, its rays sparkling off the gray stones of the massive Tudor-era house. The manor house’s three stories towered over even the trees in the old hunting grounds several yards to the west side of the house.
Wrangling an invitation to this party had taken months. He only hoped it would prove worth it.
As he was taking off his hat and handing it to the servant, Lady Blackstone appeared.
“You must be Mr. Philip Merrick! How delightful to welcome you to Doverton Hall.”
“Thank you, Lady Blackstone.” He already felt comfortable with his borrowed name. He took her extended hands and smiled. “It is so kind of you to invite me. I have been looking forward to meeting you and your guests.”
“Mr. Ratley and Mr. Cartwright have told me so much about you. How is your poor mother? Has her condition improved at all?”
“Sadly, no, but I thank you for inquiring.”
“Come. We shall make you merry, I dare say. Do you like to shoot?”
Lady Blackstone drew him forward, and soon he was meeting several of the guests who were playing billiards. He only knew a few of them but recognized many of the names that he had managed to learn from Oliver Ratley, and he noted the names he had not heard before, branding them on his brain so he could write them down later in his room.
After spending an hour with the other guests, Philip started up the stairs to his room where he encountered two ladies on the landing.
He was arrested by the green eyes of the younger lady whom he was certain he had seen at a ball, perhaps two years before. She had been standing and conversing with Nicholas Langdon’s wife, Julia Grey, before the two were married. But what was a respectable young lady, a friend of Julia Langdon’s, doing here? Had he been mistaken that this was to be a time of planning for the coming revolution?
No. He had heard the seditious words with his own ears, spoken by the very people attending this party. But surely Mrs. Langdon’s friend was not involved in an organized rebellion against the government and monarchy of England.
Whether she was or not, it was his job to discover the truth. The lives of many depended upon his being able to uncover whatever was happening here. And if he misinterpreted something or failed to convey correct information back to the Home Office, innocent people could be transported far away from their homes and families, or might even be wrongly executed. It had happened before.
But even worse was to allow an insurrection to endanger the safety of England’s government, monarchy, and people.
“All of the guests have now arrived, and you are certainly the most beautiful and ladylike of all.” Lady Blackstone had entered Felicity’s room rather suddenly.
Felicity looked up from where she sat at the little desk in front of her bedroom window and closed her book.
“And Mr. Ratley talks of nothing but you.” Her hostess clasped her hands and made a tiny noise like a muffled squeal.
“He does?”
“What is that you are reading?” Lady Blackstone stepped forward and picked up the book Felicity had been studying. She opened it and took a step back, her face going pale. “What is this?”
“It is a book on the Chinese language. I am trying to learn it, but I do not get on very well.”
“Why in heaven’s name would you want to do that? Learn Chinese?” Lady Blackstone laughed—a harsh, brief sound.
Felicity’s cheeks burned. “I thought perhaps I might be a missionary there someday.”
“My dear, you cannot be serious.” She barked another laugh. “Only plain girls become missionaries. Besides, you would not be allowed in the country. They would cut off your head and eat you.” She handed Felicity her book back and continued smiling, as if amused.
Felicity cradled the book to her chest, her cheeks burning even hotter. “Perhaps.”
“Oh, forgive me, my dear.” Lady Blackstone turned back toward her. “I am insensitive sometimes. But I came here to tell you what a very good impression you have made upon our Mr. Ratley.” Her smile left her face, and she put her hands on her hips. “But you look as if the news does not please you. Perhaps you have handsome young men with large fortunes fall in love with you every day.”
Felicity did not speak for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I did not mean to offend.”
“Pishposh. What do you say of Mr. Ratley’s love for you?” Lady Blackstone leaned forward, her eyes wide again and her mouth agape.
“I . . . I say he does not know me yet. Not very well, at least.”
“Are you always so guarded? Cannot a man admire a girl he has just met?”
“Yes, of course. That is, of course a man can—”
“I can easily imagine men falling in love with you, for you have the prettiest, most delicate features—so irresistible to men—and the most beautiful green eyes. But tell me truly, how many men do you know who are completely disinterested in the fortune of the woman they will marry? Do you not think it does Mr. Ratley credit that he cares not a whit that you will bring no money or property into your marriage? But perhaps you do not care for his company.”
“On the contrary, I enjoy his company.”
“Yes. I knew you would.” Lady Blackstone’s full smile returned, showing remarkably well-looking teeth for a woman of her age. “I knew just how it would be,” she went on. “I saw the two of you in my mind’s eye, as Shakespeare says, and could see how happy you would be together. But I am pushing too hard. You must forgive me for being overly romantic. I simply cannot help it. Romanticism must always be forgiven.” She clasped her hands together again.
Just then Aunt Agnes entered from the dressing room wearing her spectacles and carrying a book.
“There you are, Miss Appleby. We missed seeing you last night at dinner, and it is such a shame you were not there. Mr. Ratley insists you come down for tea, as he wishes to become better acquainted with Felicity’s dear aunt.”
“Oh. Well, I am not certain I can . . .”
“But you must. What enjoyment can you have hidden away in this room? I insist you come down for tea and talk with our guests.”
“Oh.” Auntie was glancing about the room in that darting way of hers. “I am certain Mr. Ratley cannot . . . That is, he does not wish to speak with me. It is Felicity he wants, wants to—”
“Please do come down and join us for tea, Miss Appleby, if you are able.” Lady Blackstone’s tone was considerably gentler. “I promise there are no monsters or fiends amongst my guests, though they are mostly men.”
Auntie chuckled, then nodded, plucking at her sleeve. “Yes, of course.”
Lady Blackstone said a few more words before squeezing Felicity’s hand and telling her she would see her at tea.
When she was gone, Felicity turned to her aunt. “You do not have to go down to tea if you do not wish to.”
“No, it will all be well. I shall bring my book and sit in an out-of-the-way corner. Lady Blackstone was so insistent, but no one ever minds me when there are lovely ladies about—such as you, Felicity.” Auntie smiled. “I am pleased you have found a young man who seems worthy of your attention.”
Felicity suddenly remembered something. “Auntie, did you notice the young man we saw on the landing earlier?” He was so tall and handsome, she’d realized too late that she had been staring at him.
“I did not have my spectacles. Wasn’t he young and handsome, with red hair?”
“Yes, and I believe I have seen him before.” He had looked surprised to see her. Why should he have looked so surprised?
“He did not speak to you as if he knew you.”
“We have never been introduced, but I believe he was at a party or a ball some time ago that I attended. I think he may be acquainted with Nicholas Langdon.”
“I suppose you shall meet him very soon.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”