CHAPTER SIX
Felicity screamed and then covered her mouth as two men suddenly attacked each other and fell to the floor. She glanced around her, then remembered Auntie was upstairs. She’d claimed a headache after their outing and declined to come down for dinner.
Lady Blackstone’s face turned crimson as she started toward the two men. Mr. Ratley stood, but Mr. Merrick sprang forward, and he and another man pulled the two fighters apart.
Lady Blackstone said in a loud voice, “How dare you behave in such a way!”
“How could you disrupt the evening of my engagement?” Mr. Ratley said.
“You two don’t get to decide who is in charge of anything,” another man said, pointing at Sproles and then Rowell.
What were they talking of? It made no sense, but her uneasy feeling had been correct. Something was going on here, something subversive. But what?
She looked to her fiancé for answers, but he was stepping closer to the two men whom Mr. Philip Merrick was holding by the scruffs of their necks, keeping them separated by the span of his own arms.
“This is unacceptable!” Lady Blackstone was livid. “I shall not have this kind of behavior at my dinner table.”
Felicity’s stomach tied itself in a knot as several men looked angry or made a resentful remark. Then someone touched her arm. Mrs. Cartwright stood at her side.
“Perhaps we should go to our rooms and let the men sort this out amongst themselves.”
“Yes, perhaps you are right.” She couldn’t help staring at Mr. Ratley. Wouldn’t he notice that she was leaving? Could he not see how much she wished to talk to him? But as she and Mrs. Cartwright left, no one seemed to notice, and soon they were walking up the stairs and bidding each other a good night.
“Mrs. Cartwright,” Felicity called out from just outside her bedroom door.
“Yes?”
“What were the two men fighting about?”
“The two men?” Mrs. Cartwright bit her lip and did not look her in the eye. “Oh, who knows what men fight about? They are like children sometimes. I am sure they will have it all smoothed over by tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Felicity’s heart sank into her stomach. She and Aunt Agnes must be the only two people at this party who did not understand what was going on.
Felicity went down to breakfast at the time she thought Lady Blackstone most likely to be there, but she must have missed her. Instead, Felicity ate with Mrs. Cartwright and three men, who talked quietly amongst themselves.
“You look very bright-eyed and cheerful this morning,” Mrs. Cartwright said after she had seated herself directly across the table from Felicity.
Felicity almost said, “Even though I barely slept, my eyes are red, and I look rather pale?” But she refrained and finally answered, “Thank you.”
“I am eager for the ball tonight, though I’m a bit nervous about dancing.” Mrs. Cartwright smiled, but there was an almost brittle quality to her voice and a wariness in the way her eyes darted repeatedly to the men at the other end of the long table. “I am sure Mr. Cartwright will help me not to make too many mistakes, but I shall be too afraid, I think, to dance with anyone else. I do believe it rained last night.” She rushed into a new topic without even taking a breath. “The ground may be too wet to take a walk in the garden today, which will be such a shame.”
Obviously, she was trying to avoid speaking about what had happened the night before. Felicity did not wish to make her uncomfortable—she sensed the young woman might cry if she questioned her about the incident—so she ate her food, smiled reassuringly at her new friend, and asked the others in the room, “Do you know where I might find Lady Blackstone?”
They all answered in the negative, so she excused herself and left the room.
Felicity looked through all the rooms where the guests usually gathered, but she saw no one. Finally, she found a servant and asked her, “Do you know where I might find Lady Blackstone?”
“No, miss. Have you tried her bedroom?”
“I have not. Thank you.”
Felicity did not like to knock on her hostess’s bedroom door, but she went up the steps anyway.
“Felicity. Darling.” Mr. Ratley stood at the top of the stairs, then started down. “I was just looking for you.”
Felicity took a deep breath.
“Darling, is something wrong?”
When Mr. Ratley reached her, he took her hand between his. His touch was so gentle and his expression so attentive.
She took another deep breath and let it out. “I think something is wrong, but I don’t know what it is. And yet, I feel everyone else here does know.”
His gentle expression changed slightly, and he no longer looked her in the eye. He nodded. “I should have realized you were too astute not to discover the truth. Come with me.” He put her hand through his arm and led her into a nearby sitting room and closed the door.
“I am sorry the argument last night was disturbing to you. The truth is, we are a group of politically minded Britons, spread throughout the country, who are determined to right the wrongs of society.”
When he did not continue, she asked, “Right the wrongs of society? What does that signify?” The skin on her arms and the back of her neck tingled.
“I know that you are too kind and intelligent to misunderstand the wrongs I speak of. People are downtrodden and unable to feed their families. You are too shrewd not to have heard of the atrocities that are perpetrated by the rich and privileged. And nothing will change until we change it.”
Memories of hangings and transportations for treasonous activities and unlawful oath-takings in recent years flooded her mind. She tried to force her expression not to change, to listen calmly, but she felt the blood draining from her face.
“I’ve been told I’m not good at explaining things. I need Lady Blackstone to help me explain.”
He started to rise from his seat, but she grabbed his arm. “Tell me the truth. Are you trying to overthrow the government?”
He sat down beside her and took a deep breath. “Lady Blackstone warned me not to tell you all at once. She said you should learn everything gradually. I should have asked her to do it. But you must try to understand.” He pursed his lips together and rubbed his chin.
She whispered, “How will you mount this . . . this insurrection?”
“Darling, people are starving. The wealthy in this country do not care, and we must make them care.” He still would not look her in the eye, and his brow creased more deeply with every word. “You would not have people—innocent, good people and their children—starve in the streets, in the villages, because the mill owners and the masters refuse to pay them a decent wage. You are too kind and gentle to want to see that continue in our country.”
Of course she would not allow that if she could prevent it, but she stared back at him without speaking. Her mind was churning, searching for a way out. O God, help me be wise. Give me a glib tongue to say the right thing. What would he and Lady Blackstone do to her if she did not agree with them?
She had engaged herself to a man who was bent on revolution.
Still, might she not be able to persuade him?
“You cannot know what you are involved in,” she began, leaning close and practically forcing him to look her in the eye. “What you are plotting is sedition, and it is punishable by death. You will be hanged, or at the very least, transported to a faraway country for many years. Your actions could cause the death of innocent people—you amongst them.”
“Darling, you know I love you.” Finally, he was looking her in the eye as he caught hold of her upper arms. “Please do not be angry with me. All will be well. We have many, many followers. We are very strong, and once we are in power, we will make things better for all people.”
“And what if I do not agree with your methods for making things better?” She thought of her brother engaged in military service out of loyalty for his country, fighting Napoleon in a foreign land. She thought of the Prince Regent, King George III, and all the royal family. She thought of her friend Lady Withinghall and her husband, the viscount. Would they be murdered as the French revolutionaries had murdered thousands of innocent aristocrats and their families, even their young children?
Her fiancé suddenly looked like a stranger, and a dangerous one at that.
“Listen, darling. Our intentions are good. We would not hurt any innocent people.”
“Surely that is what the French revolutionaries said as well.”
“Please don’t look at me like that.” His voice turned wheedling. “I thought you would understand. Lady Blackstone said you were as tired of the hypocrisy as the rest of us, that you disliked society’s cruelties toward the less fortunate. Don’t you want to see people helped and lives made better? The hungry fed and the naked clothed?”
Felicity might have asked him how he planned to accomplish such things, but she didn’t trust her voice not to tremble and break. What had she stumbled into? To what had Lady Blackstone invited her? Had she truly seemed the kind of person who wanted to join with revolutionaries to overthrow the government?
“Darling.” He took her hand in his and leaned in close. “Together we will make this country a better place for all. Lady Blackstone says we are very close to our goals. We could make an advance on Parliament in just a month or so.”
“Make an advance on Parliament? What does that mean?”
Mr. Ratley actually smiled. “Now don’t you concern yourself about any of the details. Lady Blackstone and I and the rest of the men here will take care of the particulars.”
He bent and kissed her on the lips, a quick action that she had not anticipated.
“But I must ask your father’s permission to marry you. Isn’t that what society dictates?” His smug smile made her stomach churn. “A letter will be sufficient, don’t you think? No need to go all the way to London. Shall I write to him directly?”
She should say something. She should say, “I beg you will not write to him at all.” But fear gripped her, paralyzing her insides. She said nothing.
“Darling, you are not still worried, are you? Listen, we will go and find Lady Blackstone. By the time she is finished explaining it all to you, you will be as eager as the rest of us to begin at once. Lady Blackstone can use your sharp mind to great advantage in the planning. A woman who has the gumption to study Chinese on her own . . .”
He looked as if he might laugh.
“I beg you not to trouble Lady Blackstone. I believe I should like to go to my room and rest.” And write to her father to send a servant and the carriage for her and Aunt Agnes. Immediately.
Mr. Ratley squeezed her hand. “I shall escort you. But you must speak with Lady Blackstone now that I’ve bungled the business of explaining it all to you.”
He was not smiling now, and his eyes darted about as he stood and walked to the door.
They left the room, with Mr. Ratley holding her hand on his arm in silence.
Once they reached Felicity’s door, he looked into her eyes. “I love you, Felicity. You are just the sort of girl I always wanted to marry. Just know that I love you.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “You don’t even know me.” But she bit her lip instead. She nodded and broke away from his touch, entering her room and closing the door.
Felicity’s breath came faster as she closed her eyes. “Oh, what have I done?”
She walked to her bed and lay across it without a thought for wrinkling her dress.
She had pledged to marry a man who was involved in sedition. How could this have happened? And still, she wanted to believe he loved her and all would yet be well. How desperate for love was she to even hope . . . ? How desperate was she to engage herself to a man she did not know, had only been acquainted with for a few days?
Lady Blackstone, her fiancé, the people at this party, were all traitors to the Crown, to England.
She was cold all over, her mind numb with horror. She stared up at the canopy over her bed.
A knock sounded at the door.
She sat up. “Come in.”
Lady Blackstone swung open the door and strode in even before the summons was out of Felicity’s mouth.
“Felicity, my dear.” She moved to stand in front of her. Lady Blackstone’s expression seemed chiseled from stone. Her eyes were dark, almost black. But then she pasted on a brittle smile.
“Mr. Ratley tells me you are confused about our ideals and plans.” She moved a stool closer to Felicity and sat down. Only then did Felicity notice that Mr. Ratley had also entered the room and was standing near the door.
“You may not realize it, but there are many atrocities being visited on the people of our great nation. You also may not realize that there is a movement afoot to make right the wrongs that have been done. Now, I knew you were an intelligent, kindhearted girl, just the sort of person who would understand what we were trying to do and would join us, seeing the rightness of our actions and our ideals. I saw in you the kind of courage and dignity that would stand up to tyranny of every kind.”
Fierceness seemed to flash from Lady Blackstone’s eyes. Felicity got the impression that she was exerting extra effort to soften her tone, as it went from strident to quiet and back to strident again.
“I also saw in you the perfect soul mate for my dear friend, Mr. Ratley, who wished for a wife to be by his side, supporting him in his noble fight. He wished for a sweet girl, a compliant but wise woman who would love him and receive his love in return. And you are that woman, Felicity.”
Lady Blackstone took hold of Felicity’s hands. Her touch was icy cold. Felicity shivered.
“We have brought you into our fellowship, believing in you, trusting that you would see the good in what we are attempting to do.” Lady Blackstone drew her hands in closer, forcing Felicity to lean in, bringing her face within inches of Lady Blackstone’s. “You will not disappoint us, will you, my dear?” She said the words in a quiet, steely tone.
“As . . . as you said, I am confused. Please explain things.”
Lady Blackstone did not release her hands or even loosen her grip. “Mr. Ratley told me he botched the explanation. But just know that all will be done in an upright manner. We shall not allow the kind of confusion and barbarity of the French Revolution. Robespierre was unable to gain control. We shall not make the same mistake, I assure you. Our objectives are clear, our plans are precise, and we will not allow anything . . . anything . . . to prevent us from attaining our goals.”
Felicity swallowed. A response seemed to be required, so she said, “I see.”
“And since you are engaged to our dear Mr. Ratley, and since you are now privy to our intentions, you must realize . . . you are one of us now. You may as well embrace us.”
Lady Blackstone’s smile sent a chill down Felicity’s spine.
Mr. Ratley stepped forward, his eyes wide and his lips parted. He knelt in front of her beside Lady Blackstone and reached for her hand.
“Darling, as I know you love me, I also ask that you trust me. Our cause is noble. Truly, it is. If you will only trust me, I shall protect you, and when our group is in power, we shall be rulers, and your own ideas will be considered and respected in the decision-making of our country. How many other women in history have had such privilege?”
“Of course, of course,” Lady Blackstone said, her voice suddenly placating. “Felicity cares about the poor, and she is loyal to me, but most of all, she is loyal to her husband-to-be.”
Her hard eyes seemed to bore into Felicity’s thoughts.
What could she say? What should she say? The thought of marrying a revolutionary made her feel sick, but what would they do to her if she refused her loyalty to Mr. Ratley, Lady Blackstone, and their cause? People’s lives were at stake, not to mention their precious cause, if she should leave there and alert the authorities. They would all be hanged for treason.
“Why me?” Felicity spoke carefully, trying not to betray her true thoughts so as not to stir their suspicions. “Why did you ask me to come here when I had nothing to do with your cause and you did not know if I would support it?” And why persuade Mr. Ratley to fall in love with me?
“When I was visiting in London, you said some things about society’s rules and the way the aristocracy treats its women and the poor that led me to believe you would be very receptive to our ideas.”
She tried to recall to what Lady Blackstone was referring. Felicity must have been talking about her favorite author Hannah More’s latest book or treatise, of the hypocrisy Miss More always pointed out.
“I saw a kindred spirit in you, Felicity.” Lady Blackstone’s expression became fiercely earnest.
Felicity could almost believe in her sincerity.
“I also knew”—Lady Blackstone glanced away as she spoke—“that Mr. Ratley would fall in love with you, and you with him, if only you had the opportunity to form an attachment. And my party was that perfect opportunity. You are so well matched, and it gives me pleasure to make others happy.”
“But are you quite certain,” Felicity said, still carefully weighing her words, “that this will all end the way you intend it—the revolution and the overthrow of the government?” She couldn’t even say the words without her throat going dry. “I am concerned for your safety.”
“Do not forget,” Lady Blackstone said with a sly smile, “that our safety is your safety. You are a part of us now.”
“Of course.” Felicity’s voice sounded strangled.
“But you are tired.” Mr. Ratley squeezed her hand and rose to his feet. “I think we should leave her to rest, as she had asked to do.”
Lady Blackstone reached out to pat Felicity’s cheek. Felicity forced herself not to cringe.
“Mr. Ratley will come and check on you later. Rest well.”