Chapter Thirteen

They'd chosen a sunny, leafy spot by Lake Erving for their picnic. It was Lucy's suggestion, and Felicity had to admit it really was a perfect location for a picnic. The weather was good, warm enough today to sit out on blankets and admire the view, and everybody seemed to be in good spirits.

The Langley blanket, as they were calling it, was large enough for Mrs. Langley and Lucy, as well as all three Thornhills. Daniel had brought his own blanket and picnic, and Lord Lanwood was said to be coming along later. Judging by the way poor Mrs. Langley kept craning her neck and looking around, it seemed that she didn't have much faith in his arriving at all.

In groups and by twos, the guests arrived, chattering and laughing while their servants set out the blankets and picnic. Felicity was aware of her mother's eye on her and made sure to keep a pleasant smile on her face and never slouched, even though sitting upright on a picnic blanket wasn't exactly easy.

It had been made very clear to her that just because she wasn't having her books and studies taken away did not mean that she was permitted to talk freely about them.

"You shame me again and again, Felicity!" Mrs. Thornhill had hissed, fingers digging into Felicity's arm, hauling her close enough to smell her mother's breath. The offending sketch book had been yanked away, the smudgy block-drawing torn into pieces, and she was commanded to produce a half-decent sketch by the end of today, or else.

It wasn't specified what the or else would entail, but Felicity preferred not to dwell on it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Sinclair approaching, and Lord Vincent bringing up the rear.

Wonderful, she thought sourly.

Miss Sinclair was wearing a beautiful pink satin gown, one that flattered her form and complexion perfectly. It made Felicity's blue-ribboned white muslin seem entirely boring and very childish.

Lord Vincent pushed past her, heading straight to Felicity with a wide grin.

"Hello, Miss Thornhill. You're looking very fresh and pretty. May I join you?"

Felicity was about to say that there wasn't really enough room, but Mrs. Thornhill spoke up first.

"Oh, yes, do join us, Lord Vincent! Felicity was thinking of doing a little sketching later, you know how she loves to draw. There are so many fine views around here, but I have been looking at the lake and wondering if some of the young people might want to go for a boat ride. There are boats for hire, I see, and I'm sure a pretty view would present itself out there on the lake. What do you think, Lord Vincent?"

No, no, no, no, Felicity thought, panicking. The implication was clear. Mrs. Thornhill was hinting for Lord Vincent to take Felicity out on the lake, just the two of them, in a boat, where they could chat to their hearts' content.

And there would be no way of her getting out of it.

Lord Vincent was grinning like a crocodile, clearly understanding the hint.

"Why, what a capital idea, Mrs. Thornhill. I should certainly love a little row-boat trip across the lake."

"As would I," came a deep, familiar voice from behind. The three of them flinched, twisting around to find Lord Lanwood standing over them, face blank, arms tucked behind his back. Felicity was perfectly placed to see Lord Vincent's face drop in dismay, which was really pretty funny. Lord Lanwood glanced at her, and one eyebrow arched.

"What do you say, Miss Thornhill? Would you care to accompany me on the lake?"

"Yes," she said, relief flooding through her. "I'd like that very much."

Lord Vincent looked as though he'd bitten into a lemon. Mrs. Thornhill seemed confused as to whether she should be pleased or dismayed.

Before anything else could go wrong, Felicity scrambled to her feet, almost tripping over her skirts in her keenness to get away.

As Mrs. Thornhill had said, plenty of other people seemed to have the same idea. The rowboats for hire down by the pier were only really large enough for two, so people were dividing themselves into twos, climbing gingerly into the boats, and pushing off from the shore.

Lord Lanwood glanced over his shoulder once, briefly, to check that she was following, then didn't look back again.

Felicity scurried after him, feet slipping on the grassy slope, occasionally looking back to make sure that Lord Vincent wasn't following, although what he would try and do was beyond her. She spotted Miss Sinclair among the group of people waiting for a boat, although she seemed to be unaccompanied. Was she going to row herself?

At the pier, Lord Lanwood spoke briefly with the boatman, who pointed out a neat little rowboat for them.

"Ladies first," Lord Lanwood said, with something she might have taken for bashfulness if she hadn't known better. Accepting his hand, she stepped gingerly into the rocking boat, and thumped down onto the hard seat. He climbed after her, with more balance and confidence than grace, and then they were pushing off from the moorings.

"I should have asked before we left," Lord Lanwood remarked, rowing strongly and propelling them easily out into open water, "but can you swim?"

"Yes, I can swim," Felicity responded. "Not well, but I can get myself to shore should we go in."

"Good, that's good. Not that we will. Boats like this don't capsize easily."

They sat in silence for a few moments, pulling further and further away from the retreating shoreline with every passing second. Felicity couldn't help but notice how easily Lord Lanwood handled the oars. Some of the other gentlemen in other boats seemed to be having a difficult time of it, turning their boats in circles or simply pulling weakly. Lord Lanwood had propelled them out into the centre of the lake within minutes, outstripping the other boats without even trying.

For the first time, she noticed the way the shoulders of his coat required barely any padding, and the muscles in his arms strained against the fabric, his chest firm and rounded underneath the layers of coat and waistcoat.

This didn't seem like a very ladylike thing to notice, so Felicity cleared her throat and stared out over the lake.

"I suppose now is a bad time to say that I forgot my sketch book, then?" she said, meditatively.

Lord Lanwood gave a low, hoarse chuckle, and that was a surprise. Felicity didn't think she'd ever heard him laugh, and shot him a quick, pleased glance. He seemed just as shocked as she was.

"I didn't think you were very fond of drawing," he remarked.

"It's not for everyone," she answered, leaning back to rest her elbows on the side of the boat. "Mama wants a drawing done today, though. I'd much rather be reading."

"Have you had the time to read the book from the Langley library yet, by any chance?"

"I'm at least a quarter of the way through. It's fascinating, truly. An excellent book."

"I am glad you're enjoying it."

More silence. Felicity could see Miranda Sinclair now, rowing herself out into the middle of the lake, brow furrowed with effort. Was she trying to catch them up? What did she intend to do if she did?

"I was hoping to talk with you," Lord Lanwood burst out, after a moment of quiet. "About what we were discussing before Mrs. Thornhill interrupted. Your herbal remedies."

A flicker of excitement rolled through Felicity. She'd assumed, naturally, that he either wouldn't remember, or wouldn't care to remember. After all, she was a woman, and a young one at that, so why should what she had to say be considered?

"Oh?" she said, trying not to sound too excited.

He paused in his rowing, leaning forward and resting his arms on the oars. He took his time in gathering his thoughts, and Felicity forced herself to be patient.

"Did they really work?" he said at last, voice small.

She straightened up a little.

"Yes," Felicity responded. "They took some time, at first. They tasted vile, everybody said so, but I had the servants who took the teas write down everything they felt and experienced. I have notes, if you'd like to take a look. After about half an hour or as little as five or ten minutes, they recorded a cooling sensation in their forehead, and soon after were able to sleep. They would sleep for an hour or so and wake up with the headache gone. More research needs to be done, of course, but I had a few physicians look over the mixture to make sure it was harmless. They all agreed that it was. I've made herbal treatments for stomach aches and cramps and so on, and they worked pretty well."

He listened carefully, nibbling his lower lip.

"If you have the time, or the inclination," he said, slowly and hesitantly, "would you consider making some of this treatment for me? I would like to try it, if you're willing to let me."

A warmth sparked up in Felicity's chest. He trusted her. He thought her remedies might work, and he was willing to try them.

Was it the first time she had been taken seriously like this? Felicity thought so. The servants had a high opinion of her intellect and were happy enough to try the remedies she suggested, but others seemed to think that it was… well, it was almost funny.

To her horror, Felicity found a lump lodging itself in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to clear away the lump.

Lord Lanwood was looking at her, a strange, intent expression in his eyes. Try as she might, she couldn't look away.

"I'd be pleased to make you some," Felicity heard herself say, risking a small smile. "You seem to be in a great deal of pain with those megrims, and that's a terrible shame."

A smile spread over his face, mirroring hers.

He looks so handsome and young when he smiles, Felicity found herself thinking. I would like to see him smiling more.

He was still looking at her, and the pressure in her chest was intensifying, leaving her feeling breathless, fluttery, and…

A woman's shrill scream split the air, making both of them almost jump out of their skin.

Felicity spun around, making the boat rock. Behind them, she could see other boaters staring in horror, and people clustering on the pier, talking frantically and pointing.

It didn't take long to work out what they were looking at.

A boat floated, upturned, in the middle of the lake, ripples spreading out around it. A single oar floated beside it, its green-dappled keel pointing up to the sky.

"She's gone in!" shouted a woman on the pier. "Oh, who will help her? She'll drown!"

"Somebody's capsized," Felicity said, glancing over at Arthur.

Later on, she would realize that she knew exactly who had been capsized, even before a flailing, sodden figure broke the surface of the water.

Miranda Sinclair surfaced, hair plastered to her head like a seal, soaked veils of fabric clinging to her splashing arms. She drew in a frantic breath, then sank again.

"Her dress," Felicity heard herself say, thinking of her own layers and layers of fabric, petticoats, and corsets. "Her dress will drag her down. She'll drown."

The nearest boat, containing an elderly reverend and his wife, was making a valiant effort to row towards where Miss Sinclair had disappeared, but the man seemed to have difficulty in managing the oars, and was currently turning his boat around and round in slow, dignified circles.

Felicity turned to Lord Lanwood, not entirely sure what she was intending to say to him.

There was no need to say anything, as it turned out. He was stripping out of his coat, tossing it unceremoniously into the bottom of the boat.

"Can you row yourself to shore?" he asked, tearing off his cravat.

"Yes, I can," Felicity responded.

"Good. Be careful, won't you?"

Without waiting for a reply, Lord Lanwood dived over the side of the boat, leaving the vessel bouncing and rocking, and began to plough his way through the water towards the capsized boat. Gripping the oars, heart pounding, Felicity began to row. She noticed that the ripples left by Miss Sinclair coming up for air had all but disappeared, and she hadn't come up again.