“You do not seem to be enjoying our company,” said Lord Arthur, a mocking note in his voice.
“No, I am enjoying none of this,” said Felicity. “If you had not found it necessary to praise my appearance, Lord Arthur, then the baron might have cried off.”
“I am sorry, but then, I do find you beautiful, Miss Channing,” said Lord Arthur, a caressing note in his voice.
Felicity's face flamed, and she rounded on him. “But you do not like me well enough to marry me,” she said evenly. “Only to praise me in order to bait the baron.”
“I say,” bleated Dolph helplessly.
Lord Arthur looked down at Felicity with something approaching dislike. He had been toying with the idea of doing something in the way of knight-errantry. He had been considering proposing to Felicity himself, for she fascinated and intrigued him, and he was sorry for her.
But because of his wealth and his title, he was used to people toadying to him quite dreadfully. No one had dared to criticize him for years, except perhaps Dolph, but Dolph was a man. Men who were friends were allowed the occasional remark-but females, never!
“I should not for a moment consider marrying such a broad-spoken termagant as yourself,” he said, and then wondered why he immediately felt like a coxcomb. “After all,” he went on quickly, “I have no intention of marrying anyone. Dolph here will tell you I am a confirmed bachelor.”
“Then, since you have damned me as broad-spoken,” said Felicity, smarting with hurt, “I shall go further and tell you that I do not like you one little bit, Lord Arthur. You are making a bad day horrible by your sneering and indifferent presence. I wish… I wish you would go away.”
He looked down into her furious eyes and saw all the pain and fear them. His heart gave a lurch. “Miss Felicity,” he began, but another aged and bent maidservant of the baron's materialized at his elbow to say that Mr. Palfrey was ready to leave and would Miss join him immediately.
Felicity ran off in the direction of the house.
“Phew!” said Dolph. “I pity my uncle if he marries that shrew.”
“I behaved badly… very badly,” said Lord Arthur curtly. “We are going to ride over to Tregarthan Castle tomorrow so that I may make my apologies.”
“But, I say…” said Dolph.
“There's going to be a storm,” said Lord Arthur, beginning to walk back toward the house. “Clouds are piling up in the west.”
Dolph looked over to the west and saw a mountain of great, fat purplish clouds climbing up the sky. Then he hurried to keep up with his friend's long strides. Lord Arthur was behaving in a most odd way. Dolph began to wish he had not brought him.
Felicity and her stepfather each kept an icy silence on the road home. A great crashing peal of thunder rolled about the turrets of the castle as they entered the polished gloom of the hall.
Felicity was about to stalk off up the stairs, but Mr. Palfrey seized her arm in a vicious grip and started to call for his servants.
The butler, the footmen, the maids, and the housekeeper came hurrying into the hall.
Mr. Palfrey addressed them, still keeping tight hold of Felicity. “My stepdaughter has disgraced me,” he cried. “She is to be whipped!”
Felicity managed to pull free, and stood white-faced, looking at the servants.
Not one of them moved to obey the command. They stood stolidly, in a circle, looking at their master.
“Whip her!” screamed Mr. Palfrey, beside himself with rage.
Anderson, the butler, cleared his throat. “No, sir,” he said. “That we cannot do.”
Another great peal of thunder rocked the castle.
Mr. Palfrey stood panting with rage. He could not fire them all. And he longed for their admiration and respect.
He forced a laugh. “I was a trifle overset,” he said with a ghastly grin. “Get to your room, Felicity. I shall talk about this later.”
Felicity flew up the stairs, straight to the nursery, where she threw herself against Miss Chubb's well-upholstered bosom, and cried her eyes out. At long last, she calmed down and gave Miss Chubb the whole story.
“I have no hope,” said Felicity with a pathetic little sob. “No hope at all.”
“I have been talking to John Tremayne in your absence,” said Miss Chubb. “We have a plan. We are going to run away tonight-you, me and John.”
Chapter Five
“This is mad. Quite mad,” said Felicity Channing with a shiver. “How on earth did I agree to such a mad scheme?”
She stood on top of the cliffs, a little way away from the castle, while the wind howled and the thunder crashed and tumbled about the heavens. A blinding sheet of lightning showed a rope tied firmly to a rock. At the end of that rope hung John Tremayne, staging the “accident.”
Miss Chubb's plan was being put into operation. The governess had been planning it for some time, never really thinking they would do it, until Felicity's distress forced her to turn the dream into reality. The terrible weather conditions were perfect, and they might never again have such a good chance.
Felicity had left a note to say she could not bear to marry the baron and was running away with Miss Chubb and John Tremayne. They had packed one trunk with their clothes and another trunk that John had hurled over the cliff after opening the lid and removing some of the clothes.
They had gone to a part of the cliff that had fallen into the sea, the land broken away by the force of the deluge. John had noticed this section of cliff before and knew it was only a matter of time before it gave way. Before he had let himself down over the cliff, he had dug deep gouges in the earth with his hands to make it look like someone had desperately tried to save themselves. Now he was leaving torn scraps of clothing caught in rocks and bushes on the way down, as well as some of the contents of the trunk.
As abruptly as it had started, the storm stopped, the huge black mass of clouds sailing away overhead on a high wind. The moon shone down.
“Oh, hurry,” breathed Felicity.
But John's head was already appearing back over the cliff's edge. He clambered onto safe ground, untied the rope, and picking up the heavy jewel box, slung it up onto his shoulder. Felicity and Miss Chubb followed behind, carrying the trunk with their clothes between them.
Felicity and Miss Chubb were dressed in their men's disguises. The going over the soggy, uneven ground was rough, and Felicity was beginning to wish they had thrown this trunk over the cliff as well when they came to a carriage and horses, hidden behind a thick stand of trees.
“Where did you get this carriage, John?” whispered Felicity, trying to stop her teeth from chattering.
“I went over to Baxeter and bought the lot. I gave a false name, of course.”
“But where did you get the money?”
“Miss Chubb's savings,” said John.
“So, you had all this planned for some time,” said Felicity.
“Don't talk,” said John urgently. “Get in the carriage.”
Felicity and Miss Chubb climbed in. The carriage dipped and swayed as John climbed up on the box.
“Where are we going?” asked Felicity as the carriage moved off.
“Falmouth,” said Miss Chubb. “It is at Falmouth that you take up your new identity.”
“New…? Miss Chubb, you had better start at the beginning and tell me what you and John have planned.”
“Well, it's like this,” said Miss Chubb, her voice sounding oddly youthful and excited. “Although I hoped the baron might not prove to be too terrible, I heard no good of him at all. I remembered how you said we could escape with the jewels, but we would always be hunted and not be able to live openly, even though Mr. Palfrey did not know we had them. So John and I decided that if we could get you to London, and give you a new identity-one that would be grand enough, and would allow you to sell the jewels openly to the best jewelers-you could have a Season and find a gentleman to suit you.”