CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Felicity awakened in her bed. Her head and eyelids were so heavy. Mr. Ratley was sitting beside her, his arms folded across his chest.
He fastened his gaze on her. “We were going to rule England together. How could you throw that away?”
She did not answer.
“Lady Blackstone says we should marry. But . . . I am unsure about you now.”
How very astute of you. But sarcasm would do her no good. God, help me.
“Why am I so thirsty?” Felicity said, her voice sounding weak. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Lady Blackstone gave you something to help you rest. She said . . . well, she said if you didn’t marry me, she could . . . she could make you go to sleep and never awake, and I would not have to worry about it anymore. But I still want to marry you, Felicity, if you still want to marry me.”
Felicity laughed. It was a weak, quiet laugh, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. Should she tell him she’d rather go to sleep and never awake? He would be so hurt. Poor man. He’d have to find someone else to marry. Why did she feel so strange? It must be whatever Lady Blackstone had given her.
The look on Mr. Ratley’s face, similar to that of a thwarted child who’d broken his favorite toy, made her laugh again, even weaker than before.
“Why do you laugh? I see nothing amusing.”
“It must be the laudanum,” Felicity said. “I always laugh when the apothecary gives me laudanum.” And she always hated it and refused to take it, even when the doctor insisted.
Mr. Ratley frowned. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Do you care for me at all, Felicity?”
“I . . . I do not think so clearly . . . at the moment. Perhaps you could come back later?” She could pretend the medicine was affecting her more than it was. And truthfully, she was not sure how much it actually was affecting her. But her life, and that of Aunt Agnes, was dependent on what she and Mr. Ratley said and did.
Philip McDowell sat at his desk, busily writing arrest warrants for all the men on the list Felicity had somehow managed to copy and send to him. He felt himself smiling at what ingenuity she must have employed to get the list to him. But his smile quickly faded as he considered what it might have cost her. Was she safe? Her family could have no idea what danger she was in. No, he was the only one who knew. And it grated on him that he was leaving her there, unprotected. The Home Office was scrambling to round up enough men—constables and the militia—to carry out the arrests of all those on the list, but they were not yet ready to go to Doverton Hall and seize Lady Blackstone, Ratley, and the rest of the leaders. It was thought they still had about ten days or so before those leaders would leave Margate to carry out their plans.
God, keep her safe. She is much too kindhearted, too brave, too good in every way to be harmed. Please don’t allow Ratley to force her into marrying. God willing, they still had a few days before the wedding.
He’d arrived back in London before sunset on Sunday, exhausted after riding hard half the night and all day. But he’d searched out the Home Secretary, the Viscount Sidmouth, at his town house to tell him what was happening at Doverton Hall.
Then late on Monday, the list he’d risked his life for had come by special courier, copied in Miss Mayson’s handwriting. His heart had lurched with admiration and triumph.
But today, Tuesday, he couldn’t dispel the feeling that her life was in danger.
He’d tried to ignore it, but it would not go away. He suddenly put down his pen, stood, and made his way to Lord Sidmouth’s office.
“Sir, I feel I must travel back to Doverton Hall and insure Miss Mayson is well.”
“I absolutely forbid it.” Lord Sidmouth stood and addressed him. “Those people will shoot you as soon as they see you.”
“I will not let them see me. The rector of the parish is the man who sent the list to me. He must be in the confidence of Miss Mayson. I can discover by or through him if Miss Mayson and her aunt are safe. And if I travel by coach, I can arrive there tomorrow evening.”
Lord Sidmouth frowned and stared at the floor a moment, then said, “Very well. I shall assign someone else to write the arrest warrants.”
“Thank you, sir.” Philip was so relieved at having decided to go back to Doverton Hall that he shook the viscount’s hand and had to stifle the whoop that had gathered in his throat.
He hurried out to make the necessary preparations.
“Felicity, wake up.”
Felicity opened her eyes to see Aunt Agnes standing over her.
“What? What is it?” Her voice sounded quite sleepy. Then she remembered why. Lady Blackstone had come into her room and forced her to drink more tea laced with laudanum. Felicity could taste it. She’d tried to refuse it, but Lady Blackstone had threatened her. Lady Blackstone would hold her nose and force it down her throat. So she drank it.
“Felicity.” Aunt Agnes was shaking her shoulder again.
“What? What?”
“I was afraid you would not wake up.” Aunt Agnes was crying. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “We have to get out of here.”
“I think I can get out of bed. I am sure I can walk.”
“You are too weak.”
“No, no.” Felicity raised herself to sitting, but her head began to spin.
“Darling, Lady Blackstone told me you were ill.”
Felicity opened her eyes to see Mr. Ratley sitting by her bed. Had she fallen asleep again? The last thing she remembered was sitting up, talking with Aunt Agnes.
“Where is Aunt Agnes?”
“Darling, I’m sorry,” Mr. Ratley said, “but we cannot risk calling the doctor. Our plans are coming to fruition very soon. But Lady Blackstone says she is taking good care of you, giving you the medicine the doctor gave her when she was ill with the same malady. I’m sure you will be better very soon.” He picked up her hand and patted it in a most annoying way.
“I am very sleepy, and so thirsty. May I have some water?”
“Here is your tea Lady Blackstone sent up,” Mr. Ratley said.
“No!” Aunt Agnes stepped into her line of vision. “Lady Blackstone is . . . um, that is, I don’t think tea is the best thing for Felicity in her condition. Water is the thing for her.”
Aunt Agnes seemed to be pouring a glass of water for her.
Someone was helping her sit up.
“Here, drink this water,” Auntie said.
Felicity gulped the water, afraid it might be taken away at any moment.
She must have fallen asleep again, because when she opened her eyes, Lady Blackstone was standing over her, holding a cup in her face, while Mr. Ratley was holding her up in a sitting position.
“Drink it.” Lady Blackstone pressed the cup to her lips.
Felicity was too tired to argue or fight with them. She drank it.
“Miss Appleby doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Everyone knows she’s too weak-minded to know what is going on,” Lady Blackstone said, apparently speaking to Mr. Ratley. “Keep drinking, dear Felicity,” she crooned in her sweetest voice. Felicity drank it, even as her heart filled with dread. Lady Blackstone was poisoning her with laudanum, either so she would not protest or cause any problems, or with the intent of killing her.
“Please don’t kill me,” Felicity mumbled. “I want to see my mother again.”
“My dear,” Lady Blackstone said, amusement on her face and in her voice, “no one is killing you. This is for your good, some good medicine for you. You mustn’t mind her, Oliver. She is confused, that is all. I know you wish to help her, but the best thing for her is to sleep. Come. We will be back soon to look in on her.”
Before they exited the room, sleep was already dragging Felicity back under.
Philip went to the rector’s house when he arrived in the little village outside Margate near Doverton Hall. He leapt from his hired carriage and hurried to knock at the front door.
The servant who answered showed him into a sitting room. He stood until Mr. Birtwistle came into the room.
“Mr. McDowell. I am Jonathan Birtwistle.”
“Very good to meet you, Mr. Birtwistle. I am grateful for the information you sent to me. You cannot know how important and essential it was to the safety of this country and its people.”
Mr. Birtwistle’s brows rose dramatically. “I am dumbfounded. I never imagined anything so dangerous could be found in our little village.”
“At Doverton Hall, specifically. And can you tell me if any other messages have reached you from that house?” Philip’s heart pounded hard, as he was finally to discover if Felicity Mayson was safe.
“That is what I wrote to you of.”
“You wrote to me?”
“Yes, I took the letter to the village myself to post. But I don’t suppose it could have reached you yet. You see, I believe Miss Mayson and Miss Appleby may be in some danger.”
“Why? What do you mean?” Philip wanted to grab the man’s shoulder and force him to speak faster, but he caught hold of the back of the chair beside him instead.
“I’m not exactly sure myself. I called on Miss Appleby yesterday morning. We were having a pleasant visit, and nothing seemed amiss. Then Miss Appleby tried to pass a book to me, to return it. Somehow I dropped it. When I picked up the book, a piece of paper fell out of it. Lady Blackstone snatched the paper and read it. She seemed quite shocked and angry.”
“Do you know what the paper said?” His stomach had sunk to his toes.
“I was not able to read it. I cannot fathom. The only thing I saw was ‘26 April.’ Their first message was also passed to me in a book. Those were the papers that I sent to you, with the names and places, and there was a smaller piece of paper saying please send these papers as quickly as possible to Mr. Philip McDowell at the Home Office, Horse Guards, Whitehall, London. So I did. I sent it by special messenger so it would get to you as quickly as possible.”
“I greatly appreciate that, sir. And what happened after Lady Blackstone read the new paper, the one which said the twenty-sixth of April?”
“She waved the paper in the air and said, ‘What is this?’ Poor Miss Mayson turned as white as a cloud on a sunny day. Then Lady Blackstone asked me if Miss Mayson and Miss Appleby had been sending messages to you through me. I did not answer her but simply said I had to go, and I showed myself out as quickly as possible. But ever since then, I have worried that my action was cowardly. Truly, I did not know that anything nefarious was happening at Doverton Hall, though it is always suspicious when a household so rarely attends church of a Sunday.”
Heat spread through Philip’s body. “Thank you, Mr. Birtwistle. I must go.” He turned to leave.
“Where are you going, if I may ask?”
“To Doverton Hall. I need to rescue Miss Mayson.” If it wasn’t already too late. Please, God, let it not be so.
“Shall I come with you and offer my assistance?”
Philip considered the balding, slightly paunchy rector in front of him. His expression, at least, was very sincere.
“I would be pleased to have your help, Mr. Birtwistle.”
Philip and Mr. Birtwistle stood behind some trees, watching the house. Philip was fairly certain he knew which window belonged to Miss Mayson and Miss Appleby’s room. It was dark now, and the grooms seemed to have already retired for the night.
“It is time. All seems quiet.” Philip looked at Mr. Birtwistle. “Are you sure you wish to come with me? The risk is great. They are desperate and have already committed murder. I am sure they would do so again.”
“Yes, yes. I shall hold the ladder and assist the ladies.”
“Very well. May God save us all.”
“Hear, hear!” Mr. Birtwistle had the vibrant, wide-eyed look of a man going into battle for the first time.
Philip hoisted the ladder he had borrowed from the parsonage. He skirted around the stables, doing his best to stay in the shadows and away from the light shining from the house. Only a faint light shone in Miss Mayson’s window, and he hoped that meant she was there.
He reached the spot underneath her window and placed the ladder against the side of the house, pressing it down into the soft earth and testing it to make sure it was level and steady. Then he started up, with Mr. Birtwistle holding on to the sides to keep it from toppling.
As he raised his head above the windowsill, he stared in through the glass panes. Inside, a candle was burning on a bedside table. Someone lay on the bed. Was it Miss Mayson? Then he saw Miss Appleby’s small form standing beside it.
He grasped the window and pushed it open. He climbed up one more rung, and then sat on the windowsill before swinging himself inside, his boots making a light thud on the floor.
“Oh!” Miss Appleby seemed to shake all over, staring at him.
“Sh!” Philip put a finger to his lips, then whispered, “Gather as many of your and Miss Mayson’s things as you can fit into two bags and throw them out the window.”
“Oh!”
“Miss Appleby, I am taking you and Miss Mayson from this house immediately, but you must allow me to take you down the ladder.”
“I am most agreeable to leave this place,” Miss Appleby said, her eyes wide.
He strode to the bed. “Miss Mayson?” When she didn’t look at him, he touched her shoulder. She opened her beautiful green eyes, and his heart started beating again. “Can you walk? Is something the matter?”
“Lady Blackstone has been giving her laudanum,” Miss Appleby said. “I have been so very worried she’s trying to poison poor Felicity with too much.”
“Miss Mayson, are you able to walk?”
“I think so.” She was rather pale, but still lovely, with her reddish-blond hair spread across her pillow.
“She cannot even sit up.” Miss Appleby came hurrying over with two large carpetbags, one in each hand. “I have been packed these two days, hoping we would be rescued, just as in the novels I’ve read.”
He imagined he saw a twinkle in her eye at that last declaration.
“And here is Miss Mayson’s cloak.” She took the dark-colored garment that had been draped over her arm and held it up.
Philip took it and laid it on the bed. “Miss Appleby, do you think you can make it down the ladder with my help?”
“Oh.” Felicity’s aunt stood at the window and looked down. “It’s Mr. Birtwistle.”
“Come.” He took Miss Appleby by her waist and lifted her onto the windowsill. “I shall step out onto the ladder, and you step out after me.” He quickly let himself out the window and climbed down to the second rung from the top. “Now step out onto this first rung, and I shall not allow you to fall.”
To his surprise, the lady stepped out rather nimbly, placing first one foot and then the other onto the top rung. Philip held on to her side with one hand as they began making their way down the rungs of the ladder.
As soon as Miss Appleby’s feet were on the ground, Philip climbed back up and through the window.
Miss Mayson’s eyes were closed again, as if she had no idea he was there, or ever had been. Philip had a fleeting thought of the “Sleeping Beauty” fairy tale, imagining kissing her lips and awakening her, dispelling the effects of the laudanum.
Instead, he touched her shoulder and said, “Miss Mayson, please forgive me.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Mr. Merrick?”
“Here is your cloak.” He pulled the covers back and laid it over her. “I need you to put your arms around my neck. I’m carrying you out of here.”
She blinked but then lifted her arms. He slid his arms underneath her and picked her up.
“You are always carrying me, Mr. Merrick.” Her voice sounded groggy and weak.
“I hope you will not be too scandalized.” He felt himself smiling. He had her in his arms again, and he would not rest until he had brought her safely home, God willing.
“Scandalized?”
“Yes, especially since you are still in your nightdress. Please forgive me for not allowing you to change first, but we must be quick.”
He sat her on the windowsill, and, holding her arm so she wouldn’t fall, he quickly wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and fastened it under her chin. Then he looked down. He’d have to carry her down the ladder.
With a hand against her back, he quickly climbed out the window and stood on the second rung. He carefully pulled her into his arms, then shifted her forward and over one shoulder. Holding on to her upper legs with one hand, he held on to the ladder with the other and made his way slowly but steadily, one rung at a time. Miss Mayson did not protest or even make a sound. He wondered if she was already asleep again.
How much laudanum had they given her? Had he come so close to saving her only to have her perish now?