CHAPTER SEVEN
Felicity watched them leave, then clutched at her throat, leaning forward. “What have I done, what have I done?” she mumbled, rocking forward and back.
She jumped up off the bed and paced to the window. She had to think, had to find someone who could help her escape. But to whom could she turn?
Aunt Agnes walked into the room holding a book.
“Oh, Auntie, I’m so sorry.” Felicity wrapped her arms around herself as the cold, weak feeling came over her again.
“Whatever is the matter?” Auntie put her eyeglasses on and came closer, peering at her.
“I have endangered us both by coming here and engaging myself to Mr. Ratley.” She spoke softly, just above a whisper.
“I don’t understand. Do you regret agreeing to marry Mr. Ratley? I’m sure it can be undone.”
“No, no. It is not only the engagement.” How could she tell her poor nervous aunt of the danger surrounding them? Of the nefarious plans of the people at this party? That they were now trapped?
“Auntie, haven’t you noticed something strange about this party? The men outnumber the women almost three to one. This is no party but rather a political meeting to plot how to overthrow the government.”
Auntie’s mouth opened. Her hands started twitching. “Surely you cannot . . . That cannot be. Lady Blackstone is your aunt. She would not be involved in such a plan.”
“We hardly know Lady Blackstone. She was married to my uncle many years ago, and we’ve hardly seen her since he died. She has been married and widowed since then and been amongst the Lord only knows who. She may have become enamored of these seditious ideas at any point in the last ten or twelve years.”
“Could your mother and father have been so ignorant of her character and activities?” Auntie’s hands plucked furiously at her sleeves.
“Lady Blackstone would of course take care to hide her unlawful activities. She must have deceived many people, including my family. I only wish she had left me out of her schemes.”
A pain stabbed Felicity’s midsection. If only she had refused to come to this party. If only she had not allowed herself to indulge Mr. Ratley’s attentions. If only she had not said yes to his proposal.
But it was all done now, and there was nothing she could do to change any of it. She simply could not imagine a way out of this situation, and yet she had to be wise and think of a way out for herself and her aunt. Poor Aunt Agnes.
“Forgive me for telling you all that. It could serve no purpose.” Felicity was speaking more to herself than to her aunt, who was now mumbling to herself and still plucking at her clothing.
“Do not worry, Auntie.” Felicity tried to get her attention. “I shall find a way out of this. We shall write to Father and ask him to bring the carriage and fetch us. Truly, all shall be well.”
She did her best to sound confident.
“I am not a child.”
“No, of course not. I just don’t want you to worry. Mr. Ratley may be persuaded to assist us. If he loves me as he says, I should be able to make him see reason.”
She would at least try, if she could think of no other way of escape. But if he was more loyal to Lady Blackstone than he was to Felicity, their likelihood of escape was quite small.
Felicity walked beside Mr. Ratley in the cool of the evening in an area where the servants had just lighted a few torches for them. Everyone else was changing for dinner, but she’d asked to take a private walk with her fiancé.
“Darling,” she said, “I don’t wish to be obtuse, but I am still confused about what is happening and about your role here.” She chose her words carefully, keeping her voice quiet and even. “When I agreed to marry you, I had no idea of any of this.”
He focused his gaze on her face, his brows drawing together. “It was a great deal for you to take in, I know, but consider the fact that we were actually sparing you, in many ways, in the future by allowing you to be acquainted with what is happening and what is about to take place.”
“How did you become involved?”
He seemed to think for a few moments, and he led her to a bench and seated himself beside her.
“It must have been a shock to you. Forgive me for not explaining my situation first, but I wanted to marry you so badly, I could not stop myself from asking you when I did. You are not sorry you said yes to me, are you?”
What could she say? “I enjoy talking with you and being in your company, and I was pleased to say yes to your proposal, but now I am . . . a bit afraid. As I said, I am confused.” God, please let him reassure me that we do not have to be here, planning an insurrection, that if I am uncomfortable with our involvement in this revolution, we can leave and distance ourselves from this.
“Darling, you must trust me.” He gave her that condescending smile she had not seen until after she’d agreed to marry him.
“Trust you? Believe me, I want to, but I am unused to . . .” Revolution? Unlawful plotting against king and country?
“You must try to understand and sympathize. Lady Blackstone doesn’t like to speak of it, but her sister married a man who forced her to work in a cotton factory, and she died in an accident in which she was crushed. The factory owner was so far from caring he left her on the floor and ordered everyone to continue working.
“And Lady Blackstone’s first husband beat her and starved her when she was with child. She lost the baby because of it and was destitute when he died. She credits your uncle, her second husband, with saving her life. It was very much like Mrs. Cartwright’s situation.
“When I met Lady Blackstone, I had just lost my father, and it was around the time Lord Blackstone died. We formed a bond, much like a mother and son, I believe—she being childless and me without a mother since I was five. So you see, we are fighting for the country’s freedoms together now, as she wishes to right some of the wrongs that have been done, preventing the type of terrible fate her sister met as well as her own early situation.”
“I am glad you and Lady Blackstone were able to form such a bond, and it is our Christian duty to help the poor. But how did you become interested in revolution?”
“How else are we to help the poor? Lady Blackstone has quite a vigorous mind, and she showed me how impossible it is to alter the way things are done in this country without a complete regime change—without revolution. I’m sure, once you hear all her plans and ideas, you will agree. But, Felicity”—he leaned toward her on the bench and took her hand in his—“I need you to pretend to agree with her, even if you do not yet understand everything. She can get very upset when she thinks someone is being disloyal.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Please, just tell her you approve of what we are doing. I promise you will agree with everything eventually.”
“If she doesn’t like people disagreeing with her, I wonder that she invited me to this party when I was completely ignorant of what she and the rest of you were plotting.”
Mr. Ratley pursed his lips. “I hope you are not going to be difficult about this.”
A cold tingling spread to her fingertips.
“I am trying to be patient,” he went on, his dark eyes boring into hers. “You must understand the seriousness of our situation. Everything, even our very lives, depends on everyone’s discretion. We must remain united, and above all, we must not allow anyone to hear of our plans, or all will be lost. You understand that, do you not?”
Indeed, she did. “Yes.”
“That’s a good girl.” He patted her on the hand. “Now kiss me like a good fiancée.”
She leaned away from him. It was an involuntary reaction, as her skin crawled at the thought of kissing him now.
His expression changed from satisfaction to disapproval.
“Someone might see us here. Hannah More says engaged couples must be discreet until the wedding day. Please humor me.” She forced her lips into a smile. Truly, she did not know if Hannah More had ever said any such thing, but it seemed to mollify him.
“I suppose young ladies are often sensitive to such things—not wishing anyone to see them display affection with their sweetheart.” He smiled condescendingly. “Very well. I shall humor your sensibilities.”
He stood and tucked her hand inside his arm.
Being so near to him set all her nerves on edge. Her limbs ached with the tension.
They joined the others who were awaiting the announcement that dinner was served.
She needed to hold herself together through the next few hours of tedium and conversation. She had to stop her mind from dwelling on the facts of her situation. But most of all, she must not let Lady Blackstone and Mr. Ratley see the fear and dread and panic in her heart.
Philip watched Lady Blackstone and Mr. Ratley both glancing often at Felicity Mayson—Lady Blackstone with shrewdness and suspicion, and Mr. Ratley with a bit of fear and perhaps even anger. Had something happened? Was Felicity a potential traitor to their cause?
Or was it only wishful thinking on his part?
Felicity Mayson, on the other hand, was quick to laugh at the other guests’ jokes, and she avoided eye contact with both Mr. Ratley and Lady Blackstone. There was a strange tension in the way she held herself erect and in her jerky movements.
After dinner, when the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, he watched Felicity Mayson get up from her seat and sit next to Mrs. Cartwright on a settee that was made only for two, as if she was trying to prevent any of the men from sitting too close. But Mr. Ratley pulled a chair up next to her.
What newly engaged woman would try to avoid sitting with her fiancé?
Philip noticed Miss Mayson only spoke when Mr. Ratley spoke to her first. Then she slipped away before anyone else, and Mr. Ratley said, “Miss Mayson had a headache and went to bed early.”
He did not look concerned about her and immediately joined a conversation between Lady Blackstone and two of the men.
Philip would not be able to solve the mystery of Felicity Mayson and her loyalty tonight, so he drew near to Lady Blackstone’s group to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Felicity got up as soon as it was light and took out a sheet of paper and pen and ink, sitting down at the little desk in the bedchamber she shared with Aunt Agnes. She’d been writing this letter in her head for the last hour and a half, changing her mind every minute as to how much to say and how to say it.
Dear Mother,
I do not wish to alarm you, but I need you to send Father and the carriage at once to take Aunt Agnes and me home. I don’t want to say too much in a letter, but there is danger here, and I’m very afraid.
Felicity’s hand shook as she wrote. What if Lady Blackstone came into the room and read her letter? Would she murder her and hide her body? What would happen to poor Auntie?
Felicity closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing.
She would finish the letter, seal it, and place it downstairs with the outgoing mail. All would be well. But what if they opened her letter and read it? Surely they would not do that. What other choice did she have but to send the letter? She could think of no other way to escape from the nightmare in which she had found herself.
She continued her letter, her hand still shaking.
When she finished, she read over it. The handwriting was not the steadiest, but it was legible. She folded the paper, held her stick of wax over the candle to melt it, and sealed the letter.
Should she take it downstairs now while everyone else was still asleep? That would give her hostess more time to get suspicious, take her letter, and read it. Perhaps she would wait until it was almost time for the servant to post the letters.
Felicity set the letter down on her desk, but it looked so incriminating lying there. She covered it with some paper.
But what if her letter was the only one going out? What if the servant waited until more letters had been brought down before taking the trouble to post them?
Her chest began to ache, and she felt as if she could not breathe. Never had she been so frightened in her life. Her gaze caught upon a copy of the Book of Common Prayer lying on a shelf.
Oh. I should pray. Why had she not thought of that sooner?
Felicity knelt by her bed and clasped her hands, then whispered, “O God, I beseech thee to hear my prayer and save me from this danger. Let this letter go safely into the post, be sent quickly to my mother and father, and let them come and save me. And please, please, do not let my letter be intercepted. Let it be invisible to those who would do me harm if they were to read it. In the meantime, let them not despise me, but let me be safe from the wrath of these insurrectionists. Truly, I am sorely afraid. Please save me.”
She was becoming even more afraid as she prayed. Instead of letting anxiety overwhelm her, she should make a statement of faith.
“O Almighty God, you are not without strength and power to save. Save me with thy mighty right hand. Send your angel with his flaming sword to defend Auntie and me and keep us safe. For yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory. Amen.”
Feeling encouraged, she got up, took her letter from the desk, and went downstairs. She would trust God to keep her letter safe and carry it to her parents in London.