Chapter Two

The Thornhill Estate

Gingerly lifting her lace-hemmed skirt – a poor choice for today, but no matter – Felicity crouched down in the dirt to get a better look at the tiny plant.

She didn't recognise it, and none of the botanical books she'd consulted in the library contained the plant. It was small, growing low to the ground, with feathery pale green leaves and tiny purple flower petals. At first glance, it looked like a weed – or rather, what uneducated fools would call weeds.

Felicity, naturally, knew that every plant had a purpose and a use, and the only difference between dandelions and roses were that one was carefully cultivated and the other uprooted unceremoniously.

Oh, and you couldn't eat rose leaves.

Forgetting about her skirts, she knelt properly on the ground, gingerly lifting up a leaf to look underneath. She knew the plants were poisonous – the pigs had been eating them – but naturally that didn't mean she was going to take a bite. She had a theory about which plant this was, but she wasn't about to make a guess without the evidence to back it up.

The Thornhill gardens were remarkable among the town of Lanwood. They had a tremendous amount of land – most of farmland, of course, but a fair amount was used as gardens – and boasted no rose gardens whatsoever. It wasn't that Felicity minded rose gardens; it was just that they weren't quite so useful. Most of the garden was given over to her, to plant whatever she liked, and she prided herself on not allowing an inch of space to be wasted.

"I thought I might find you here," a familiar voice said, laughing.

She glanced up and smiled. "Hello, Daniel. Can you take a look at this plant and give me your thoughts? I can't find it mentioned in any of the books."

Her cousin, Daniel, was a tall and handsome man, much admired by the local ladies, and generally considered the catch of the county now that he was orphaned and left as Lord Thornhill. The two could be mistaken for siblings rather than cousins – the same large green eyes, the same chestnut hair, the same pale, oval faces. Although Daniel's recent travels had left him somewhat sunburnt.

"It was my mother who was the botanist, not me," he said, laughing, but obediently crouched down to take a look. "That reminds me, I picked up a few more botany books in Scotland last week, from Mother's old house. I'll bring them for you."

Felicity swallowed. "I feel guilty, taking all of Aunt Rose's books. You're her son, you ought to keep them."

Daniel didn't look at her, a sure sign he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"Mother and you shared a great deal," he said neutrally. "Not least of all your love of natural science and botany. Mother was always disappointed I didn't have a flair for gardening. You and she spent many hours together, studying and gardening, and I think she would like you to have those books. I would like you to have those books."

Felicity bit her lip. "As long as you're sure."

Daniel patted her shoulder. "Of course I'm sure. And no, I don't recognise that wretched plant. Did you think I would?"

"I just wanted another pair of eyes on it. It's not like I can ask Papa and Mama."

"That reminds me," Daniel said, with a touch of guilt in his voice, "Aunt Harriet collared me as I went through the house. They want to talk to you."

Felicity's heart sank. She might have known she wouldn't be permitted to enjoy all day free in the garden. She wouldn't have been surprised if Mrs Thornhill had been watching her from one of the windows, her lips pressing tighter and tighter together as they did when she was especially angry.

"How long ago was that?" Felicity said, trying to sound light and unconcerned. She didn't quite succeed.

"Only ten minutes ago. You might want to… to spruce yourself up a little before you go down."

Felicity stood up, glancing down at herself. Her hair was coming out of the simple knot she'd pinned it into, tendrils of chestnut falling around her face, disordered and tangled. Her gown was smeared with wet earth, two round stains on the front where she'd been kneeling. Her hands were dirty from where she'd been digging around in the earth, and Felicity was fairly sure there was a smudge of dirt on her face somewhere.

"I might wash my hands," she said uncertainly. "And perhaps brush my hair."

"A good idea," Daniel agreed. "I'll go down to the drawing room and keep them talking while you change. Don't take too long. Aunt Harriet seemed a little… well, a little peeved today."

"I told her I didn't want to join the Season this year."

Daniel blinked. "You told her what? Oh, Felicity, why?"

"I am twenty-three years old," Felicity said firmly. "I've endured four Seasons, and this will be my fifth. I'm starting to look silly. I don't enjoy it, and I don't particularly care to be married. I was very polite and firm about it, and rehearsed what I would say in advance."

Daniel sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Unlike his blowsy cousin, Daniel followed the fashions, and was currently wearing a very Dandy-ish blue suit, coupled with a canary-yellow waistcoat that was frankly hurting Felicity's eyes. He'd cropped his hair into the Brutus style, and it suited him rather well. He'd set all the local girls aflutter again, Felicity prophesied.

"And what did Aunt Harriet say?"

"Well, she flew into a rage, of course," Felicity muttered. "Said that I would do the Season regardless. I think I might be going after all, but not without a fight."

"So my stay here will be a pleasant and peaceful one?" he countered.

"Stop complaining," Felicity retorted, "or I'll give you a hug. Then I'll get mud all over that lovely waistcoat of yours, see how you like that."

"You, madam, are a scandalous wretch."

"Bold words for a man who is too bright to look at."

They moved back towards the house together, talking and laughing. Felicity almost forgot about the upcoming meeting with her mother, and the tongue-lashing she was sure to get.

They parted ways when they reached the house, and Felicity's heart sank down into her stomach again. Hurrying up to her room, she began to wash with a vengeance, and combed the knots painfully out of her hair.

Better not give Mama anything to complain about, Felicity thought.

***

A freshly scrubbed, combed, and changed Felicity waited outside the door to the morning room, building up the courage to knock. Her muddy dress lay crumpled on the floor of her bedroom, waiting for the poor maid to come and do battle with it.

The morning room was Mrs Thornhill's domain. It was one of the brightest rooms in the house, designed in the latest fashions, and a remarkably pretty if uncomfortable room. One did not go in without knocking. Felicity tried not to go in at all.

She could hear the low murmur of voices – Daniel first, then Mrs Thornhill, responding.

Don't be a coward, she chastised herself. Get it over with.

Lifting a hand, she rapped smartly, and heard all conversation end inside the room.

"Enter," came her mother's clipped tones. Felicity drew in a breath and obeyed.

Mrs Thornhill, resplendent in pearls and blue-grey satin, held court in the centre of the room, with Daniel perched on a low sofa opposite. They both got to their feet as Felicity entered, and Mrs Thornhill glided towards her. She leaned forward, and another person might assume she meant to kiss her daughter, but Felicity knew better.

Dutifully, she held out her hands for inspection, and Mrs Thornhill eyed them suspiciously, checking for dirt under the nails.

"Humph," she muttered at last. "Your hands are getting coarse, Felicity."

"Sorry, Mama."

"Sit down and pour some tea for us all. I want to talk to you."

Felicity obeyed, dutifully sinking onto the sofa beside Daniel, and carefully poured three cups of tea. Usually, Mrs Thornhill had one of the servants do it, but she preferred to see Felicity doing domestic chores whenever she could.

Apparently, she did not do enough.

Mrs Thornhill's embroidery lay beside her, carefully laid down so as to display the rich colours and skill, but also seeming almost careless, as if she hadn't intended to display it.

It was almost funny. Felicity thought of her own embroidery, with the rough stitching and patchy parts, and suppressed a smile.

"What are you laughing at, Felicity?" Mrs Thornhill said, voice sharp. "I saw you digging around in the gardens this morning like an animal. It is truly shocking, I must say. I was ashamed for Daniel to see you in such a state."

Felicity's cheeks burned, but she was careful not to react.

She's only doing it because she cares, she reminded herself, although it was getting harder and harder to see it.

"And what's that smell?" Mrs Thornhill theatrically sniffed the air. "The herb garden is not doing you any favours. You smell like a farm kitchen."

"There are worse things to smell of," Felicity muttered, before she could stop herself.

Mrs Thornhill pressed her lips together. "Why can't you use rosewater, like other ladies? Oh, it hardly matters. I have some good news, Felicity."

Felicity finished pouring out the tea and sat back. She didn't dare hope that it was actually good news.

By way of answer, Mrs Thornhill pushed a gilt-edged invitation across the table towards her, not quite able to hold back a smile.

"Well?" she said, expectantly. "What do you think?"

"It's from Lanwood," Felicity responded, leaning over it. "We're invited to a soiree."

"Yes! Isn't that exciting? They've asked us to stay for a few days, in fact, since we were such particular friends of the old earl. Oh, Daniel, I'm not sure if you are up to date on all of this. Poor old Lord Lanwood died – the earl, you know – and naturally there was no son, only that ugly old spinster daughter of his. So, the title and the estate went to some distant cousin, some soldier that nobody has ever heard of. The county was in quite a flutter, I can tell you."

"I can imagine," Daniel said, keeping a firm smile on his face. "Can I assume he is unmarried?"

"He is," Mrs Thornhill said, barely able to contain her excitement. "An earl, naturally, is quite a catch. Indeed, all the neighbouring ladies shall undoubtedly be captivated by his charm, leaving poor Felicity without a chance. Nevertheless, it is of little consequence. The Langleys were always so social, always throwing soirees and balls. It was a good opportunity for a lady looking to be married, since they knew just about everyone. See, Felicity? If you can find somebody before the Season starts proper, you might not have to join."

Felicity bit her lip. She wondered, briefly, if there was any point saying that she didn't want to go to the soiree.

Soirees and balls were, in her opinion, a resounding waste of time. They were too crowded to really enjoy conversation. If you liked dancing – which she did not – you could dance through your slippers if you so wished. Ladies were there to be looked at, and Felicity did not much like that.

People were never interested in her favourite subjects. If she told people she was interested in botany and gardening, they would invariably point out the flower arrangements on the tables, as if those were the same thing.

"We're going, I assume?" Felicity managed. She hoped she didn't sound too miserable, but apparently not. Mrs Thornhill's face hardened.

"Daniel," she said curtly, "Do give me a moment with my daughter."

Daniel hesitated, as if he didn't much want to leave Felicity alone.

There was of course nothing he could do but reluctantly got to his feet and shuffled off, closing the door behind him.

It was suddenly very quiet in the morning-room, with only the heavy ticking of a grandfather clock to break the silence.

"Your father and I have remarkably understanding of your… foibles," Mrs Thornhill said at last. "Digging in the dirt, preparing tinctures for the servants, endlessly with your nose in a book, wasting away in the library. You don't practice your pianoforte, you don't paint, I can scarcely get you to embroider two stitches together. How do you intend to get a betrothed, Felicity?"

She nibbled her lip, staring down at her hands, folded in her lap.

"Would it be the worst thing if I never found a betrothed, Mama?"

Mrs Thornhill recoiled as if her daughter had slapped her.

"Really, Felicity! Do you need to ask?"

"I will have a great deal of money when I marry," Felicity tried again, desperation creeping into her voice. "If I could have it now, I could live an independent life, I could…"

"Don't talk of money, Felicity, it's unbelievably vulgar, and quite unforgivable in a young lady."

Silence bloomed between them again. Felicity scarcely dared speak in case she said the wrong thing – something which happened quite frequently. She was careful to keep her spine straight – Mrs Thornhill was a great advocate for Proper Posture – and didn't allow her mouth to turn down at the corners or anything like that. A lady, Mrs Thornhill said, must always be composed and placid, always ready to be Fascinating, whatever that meant.

Actually, that wasn't true. Felicity knew what Being Fascinating did not mean. It did not mean talking about oneself or one's own interests, if one was a woman.

"Have you considered," Mrs Thornhill said abruptly, switching tack, "that your refusal to settle down and behave properly reflects badly on Daniel?"

Felicity flinched. "What do you mean, Mama?"

That was nonsense. It had to be. Gentlemen's reputations were sturdy things, able to weather just about anything. A lady's reputation was like wet paper, crumpled into smithereens after one unchaperoned conversation. Even balconies were frowned upon – it was exhausting.

Mrs Thornhill pursed her lips, inspecting her nails.

"It won't do him any good to have a positive harridan as a cousin. Besides, there are rumours about the two of you. That Daniel intends to get the rest of the Thornhill fortune by marrying you, which is why he is not married, and why you do not concern yourself with acting like a proper woman – you know your marriage is all arranged."

Felicity recoiled. "People can't possibly think that. Marrying Daniel would be like marrying a brother."

"Yes, well, I think on that, at least, we agree. But you must see my point, Felicity? People are beginning to talk. You don't want to end up like Lady Lucy, do you?"

Felicity curled her fingers into tight fists, pressing until her nails left red crescent-moons on her palms.

"Lucy is my friend, Mama. I know you don't think well of her, but…"

"But what, Felicity? Lucy was once the foremost lady of Lanwood, and now she's reduced to a guest."

"That's not true. She's written to me often and says that the new Lord Lanwood and his mother are very kind. She's part of the family, she said."

Mrs Thornhill gave a derisive snort. "You are a fool, Felicity. Now, listen. Think. Lucy has a small amount of her own money, but she is heavily dependent on her new benefactors. They can make her life very uncomfortable, if they wish."

Felicity swallowed hard. She would be lying if she hadn't thought of this before. The late Earl had doted on his daughter, and Lucy had adored him in turn. Now, she was thrown on the mercy of strangers, with a portion waiting for her only if she married. If she chose not to marry, she would be in a difficult position indeed. What about if and when the new earl married? What would her position be then?

Heaving a sigh, Mrs Thornhill moved from her armchair, plumping down on the sofa beside Felicity.

"I know you think I am too hard on you," Mrs Thornhill said quietly. "And it's even more obvious by your father, who can't bestir himself to even join us at mealtimes. He's not a bad man, but… my point is, Felicity, if I hadn't married your father, I would be nobody and have nothing. In our world, women marry. That is the only choice left open to them. I have seen it again and again, when spinsters are turned out of their homes when their fathers die, thrown on the mercy of unfeeling relatives, forced to live on a fraction of the income they are used to, removed from their friends and the lifestyle they are accustomed to. It can happen far too easily, Felicity. You have no brothers to care for you. You are wasting time."

A lump rose to Felicity's throat. To her surprise, Mrs Thornhill took her hand in a cool, loose grasp.

"You are going to the earl's soiree," Mrs Thornhill spoke again. "You will act like a lady. You will apply yourself to finding a match. If you do not, your father and I will be forced to take extreme measures to make you pay attention. Your books will be taken away. You will not be allowed to go into your garden. If you continue to be stubborn, I will have all of your plants pulled up and burned. Do you understand me?"

Felicity's hand lay in her mother's like a dead fish.

"Yes," she whispered, her tongue heavy in her mouth.

"Good," Mrs Thornhill gave her hand one last squeeze and let it go. "And your hands really are getting too coarse. I'll pick out a balm for you to try."