Chapter Three

Nobody could talk about anything but the upcoming Lanwood soiree. Only the Thornhills had been invited to stay for a few days, on Lucy's particular request, and there was no shortage of jealousy.

For the first time, Felicity wished she was a little more active in the gossip circles. She learned, with a measure of surprise, that the new earl was shockingly reclusive. Nobody had been to the house since the funeral, and even Lucy did not invite people over.

I hope they are taking care of her, Felicity thought, with a shiver. Lucy was so softly spoken, so kind, and it hurt to imagine her surrounded by cold strangers.

Daniel had tried to find out what Mrs Thornhill had said, but Felicity had neatly avoided the questions as best she could. She didn't particularly want to repeat what her mother had said, especially about Lucy's fate.

What would happen to me if Papa died? Felicity wondered, more than once. She'd assumed that she would simply receive her portion, as she would if she was married, but now she had doubts. What legal safeguards were in place? What would the executor of her father's will decide?

Perhaps I'd just end up poor, with a tremendous fortune just beyond my reach, a mere wedding ring's width between us.

That was not a particularly pleasant thought.

They waited in the carriage for Mrs Thornhill to join, Felicity and her father sitting in companionable silence. Daniel was travelling to Lanwood House separately.

"I hear your mama had a word with you earlier," Mr Thornhill said, after a long pause.

Felicity swallowed. "She said if I didn't apply myself to proper behaviour and find a betrothed, she will take my books and my gardens away from me."

Mr Thornhill sighed. "It seemed extreme to me, but your mother generally knows best about this sort of thing, you know."

Felicity pointedly said nothing. Her father shifted uncomfortably, and she found herself wondering whether this meeting had been set up deliberately, so that she could know that her father was united with her mother, and that there would be no appeal and no escape if Felicity did not oblige.

"Marriage is the best thing for a woman, you know," Mr Thornhill said, looking more and more uncomfortable with each passing minute. "You're twenty-three, and soon enough gentlemen won't be interested in you. Younger girls are coming out every year, pretty, na?ve young debutantes, some with fortunes of their own. The world isn't designed for ladies, my dear."

Another silence.

"The medicine worked, by the way." Felicity said, and her father frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the tea I made up for Susanna, who gets such awful megrims. I spent weeks researching it. I tried it on myself half a dozen times, but I don't really get enough headaches to test it properly. I gave it to Susanna just the other week, and she told me that it worked. Within half an hour, her megrim was gone. It tastes vile, she says, but it worked. She asked me to make up some more, a dried mixture, so she can make it herself next time she has a megrim. Cook asked for some, too. It works, Papa."

Mr Thornhill seemed to get even more uncomfortable.

"Well, well, very nicely done. If only you were a boy, my dear, you could become a doctor or an apothecary."

"Yes," Felicity murmured. "If only."

Then Mrs Thornhill appeared, trailing silk and strings of pearls, sailing out of the front door, down the steps, and across the gravel towards the waiting carriage.

"Here I am, here I am," she breathed, clambering up into the seat beside Felicity. "Come, Felicity, sit up straight. That pink satin becomes you very well, I must say. Now, I expect you to try your best to get gentlemen to dance with you."

"How am I to do that? Should I ask them?"

"Don't be silly. You must apply yourself, Felicity. I shall be watching," she added, in a cool tone.

Felicity swallowed.

***

Lanwood Manor was much the same as it had always been. Felicity noticed a few changes as they rolled up the drive. The garden was less manicured than before, for one, more natural. She liked it better that way.

Then the carriage lurched to a halt and it was time to get out. She did so, pointedly not looking at the hedges at one side of the carriage, in case she saw an interesting plant.

She would compliment the gardens, she decided, but in a light, casual, general sort of manner.

Yes, that might work.

"Welcome, welcome!" chirped a bird-like woman standing at the top of the steps, smiling. She was young-looking for a woman of her age – Felicity assumed that she was the new earl's mother – and dressed well and fashionably. Lucy stood beside her, and Felicity was relieved that her face looked smooth, calm, and content. Not at all as if she was being locked in her room and treated like a burden.

"I am Mrs Langley," the woman said, smiling. "Arthur is my son. Lord Lanwood, that is. I'm afraid he's a little indisposed at the moment, but I hope he'll join us soon. What a pleasure to meet you all!"

Introductions went around, with Daniel riding up at the perfect moment to join them. It was all very smooth and polite, and Mrs Langley chattered along so easily and in such a friendly manner that Felicity felt at ease soon enough. She watched the tension leak out of her mother's spine as she laughed at Mrs Langley's comments.

"Come along, come along," Mrs Langley said, good-humouredly herding them along a passage which Felicity recognized as leading to the good parlour.

"If you don't mind, Beatrice, Felicity and I will take tea in my parlour," Lucy spoke up, taking Felicity's hand. "We haven't seen each other in so long."

Mrs Thornhill frowned, but before she could voice an objection, Mrs Langley gave a tinkling laugh.

"Oh, of course, Lucy! How thoughtless of me, I never rang for tea in your parlour!"

"Not to worry, Beatrice. We'll see you soon."

Lucy looped her arm through Felicity's and led her away.

"Is it the same room you had when your father was alive?" Felicity asked in a low voice."

"It certainly is," Lucy said, grinning. "I have just as much space in the house as I did when Papa was here. More, almost – Arthur took it into his head that I should have a private study, too, and had one of the storerooms converted. It's a lovely little place, although I never use it."

"So they're… they're kind to you?"

"Very kind. Ah, here we are."

Felicity knew Lucy's parlour like the back of her hand. It was a small room, white-painted, furnished for comfort rather than style. A little fire was burning in the grate, and Lucy threw herself into a comfortable, well-worn armchair.

"It seems like forever since we've had guests," she said, with a sigh. "A lifetime ago. What have I missed?"

Felicity blinked down at her friend. Lucy lifted an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. You just seem so… so… happy."

"Would you rather I be in floods of tears? I can assure you, I've shed plenty of tears for Papa."

"No, no, of course not! It's just… well, this must be difficult for you. Living here, with them." Felicity sank down into a seat, shaking her head. For the first time, she realized just how bone-tired she was. "Mama is trying to pressure me into marrying. She threatened to take away my books."

"Oh, that's horrid!"

Felicity shrugged wearily. "There's not a great deal I can do. She told me what it's like for an unmarried woman as she gets older. She held you up as an example."

Lucy bit her lip, looking away. Felicity cursed herself for being so thoughtless.

Mama was right, she thought sourly. I never do look before I leap.

"Lucy, I didn't mean…"

"No, no, I'm not upset. The truth is, Mrs Thornhill isn't wrong. I don't have a great deal of money. I lost my father, which was awful enough, but I lost my protector, too. But I'm no pauper, Felicity. I'm not alone in the world. I'm fortunate that Arthur and Beatrice are so kind. She has no daughter, you see, and likes to pretend that I'm hers. I can scarcely remember my mother, but I like to imagine she was like Beatrice. Arthur supplements my allowance and has doubled the portion I'll get if I ever marry. They're good people, Felicity."

A flash of guilt stung Felicity, and she sank lower in her seat.

"I'm sorry, Lucy. I have not had the pleasure of your company in quite some time, and now I find myself making a blunder in my attempt to reconnect with you.."

"Don't have such thoughts. I'm thrilled to see you. Ah, here's the tea."

The butler appeared – the same faithful old Mr Podge who'd served the late Earl for years, which seemed like a good sign to Felicity – and placed down a tea-tray. He bowed officiously and left, closing the door softly behind him.

For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed between the two women.

"What is he like, then?" Felicity heard herself say. "The new earl, that is. I'm hearing all sorts of thrilling rumours. That he's got some kind of hideous deformity, or a wife in the attic, and of course he's the most eligible man in the county. Poor Daniel will be tipped off his perch."

Lucy took a thoughtful sip of her tea. "Well, I can assure you there's no wife in the attic. As to the deformity, do you mean his scar?"

You idiot, Felicity!

She winced. "I was only repeating gossip. I didn't mean to imply… I didn't know he had a scar."

Lucy nodded. "It's rather nasty. He got it in the war, I believe. He's a hero, if you believe Beatrice, but I think he would rather have not gone at all. Poor man. I like him very much, Felicity. A few neighbours have paid calls, and dropped hints that he should marry me – to set things right, they said – and I fairly died of mortification. I have no intention of marrying the poor man, but I daresay he'll be a target. He's barely thirty, and quite handsome, scar notwithstanding."

Felicity sipped her tea quietly for a few moments. They sat in companionable silence, each woman wrapped in her own thoughts. A weight had lifted from Felicity's shoulders that she hadn't even realized was there.

Her friend was safe, and happy. She wasn't alone. She was still grieving her father, naturally, but it was clear that Mrs Langley cared for her, and the Earl had taken on the role of her protector.

I had nothing to worry about, Felicity thought, feeling just a little silly.

"I've missed you," Lucy said, breaking the silence. "Beatrice told me I could have guests over, many times. I even wrote out the notes more than once. But…" she trailed off, and Felicity frowned.

"But, what?"

"Well – and please don't repeat this – Arthur is somewhat reclusive. He wasn't always like this. He's never been fond of society, but Beatrice tells me that he came back from the war a different man. He can't bear too much noise, too much excitement."

"How will he manage the soiree?"

"Frankly, I don't know. We decided to have a few guests over first, to get him used to it – that's where you all come in – and he's promised to try. Beatrice is worried about him, and so am I. He's a good man, and he doesn't deserve to suffer."

Lucy stirred her tea with a little too much energy, clanking the spoon off the side of the cup.

She changed the subject from Arthur after that, talking instead about what had happened in the county, about the upcoming Season – Felicity didn't much want to talk about that, but it seemed to interest Lucy, so she forced herself – and various other topics.

They'd been sitting in the parlour for a full hour, their tea gone cold, by the time Lucy finally glanced at the clock, sighed, and got to her feet.

"We should go back and join the others, I suppose."

"Oh, naturally. I was wondering if I could get that book from your library first, though?"

The book in question was a volume on botany, of course. The late earl had promised Felicity she could have it, but had died before she could pick it up. Of course, then all thoughts of the book went out of her head, and she'd only remembered recently.

Lucy chuckled, eyes misting over with a memory. "Of course you can, dear. Meet me back in the main parlour, won't you?"

"I will."

Felicity knew the way to the library, of course she did. The Lanwood library was larger even than theirs, with books from all over the world. There was a whole section on botany, which Felicity had read through at some time or another. There were books on natural history, on literature, on every conceivable subject and science.

The Lanwood library was less well-read than the Thornhill one, but that was hardly the point.

Humming to herself, Felicity all but skipped down the halls. It felt good to be back here again, the house which had felt like a second home to her. She had no sisters, so Lucy had always felt as close as a sister. They had that in common – they were both only children, with all the troubles that entailed.

The library door was a huge, arched thing, made of carved wood and shockingly heavy. Nobody used that door, of course. A smaller door opened up in the side, which Felicity ducked to get through and then she was inside.

Light spilled generously into the library, the bookcases set out almost haphazardly, like a maze, with chairs sitting at random. A huge fireplace dominated the wall nearest the door, although it was unlit. The sun warmed the library enough for most of the day, and the bookshelves were carefully turned away from the window to prevent the covers fading.

She stopped for a moment, breathing in the delicious, dry scent of paper and furniture wax, watching dust motes dance in sunbeams. It was really picturesque. If Felicity had any talent with drawing or painting, she might try to capture it.

No time to waste, she reprimanded herself. Remember what Mama said about making a good impression, or else there'll be no books at all.

She hurried across the room, heels clunking on the rough wooden floor, to the section marked Botany. Fingers skimming over the spines, she looked out for the title she was here for. She would just grab it, dart up to her room to secure it, and then…

A floorboard creaked behind her, and Felicity froze.

Holding her breath, she risked a glance over her shoulder.

A man stood there, tall and dark and severe-looking, with a pixie-like nose and smooth, handsome features that were marred by a vicious-looking scar. The scar was vivid red and raised and went from his hairline to his cheek. Felicity had never seen a person with such a nasty mark.

He cleared his throat, and she realized she was staring. Colour leapt to her cheeks. With her fingers around the spine of the book she wanted, Felicity began to wonder whether she should have secured Mrs Langley's permission first.

Did he think she was stealing?

"I… I thought nobody was here," she heard herself say, thinly and nervously.

The man didn't smile. She had already guessed who he was, even without the tell-tale scar.

What is the Earl of Lanwood doing in here, hiding, instead of greeting his guests? She thought.

He didn't speak, and she licked her lips nervously.

"I… I am Miss Felicity Thornhill. Who are you, might I ask?"

"I am Lord Arthur Langley," he said, his voice a deep, disapproving rumble. "I am the earl of Lanwood. I don't think you should be in here, Miss Thornhill."