“Yes, we could, couldn't we,” said Felicity miserably. She felt he was teasing her, playing with her. Well, she might as well accept his invitation and learn whether he planned to expose her.
“We shall be pleased to go with you,” she said.
He looked down at the downcast little face under the flashing tiara. “Then, I shall go and tell Dolph the good news.” He stepped back from her, bowing as he went, but before other guests could close in round Felicity, he suddenly said, “My goodness. How I have misled our Regent. I was thinking of another country altogether. I fear I had forgotten that I do not know Brasnia at all.”
Felicity looked at him sharply, but could see no guile or mockery on his face.
He bowed again.
At that moment, Miss Chubb finally reached Felicity's side. She hoped nothing had gone wrong. But Felicity was already talking to some of the other guests. She looked relaxed and happy-happier than she had looked all evening. Miss Chubb smiled with relief. For one moment, she had thought Lord Arthur must have said something to upset Felicity, but it was obvious from Felicity's manner that nothing had gone wrong at all.
“No, I shall not wear that wretched tiara again during the day,” said Felicity the following afternoon as she and Miss Chubb made ready for their outing. “It makes my head ache.”
“But you are supposed to be a princess,” protested Miss Chubb.
“I am sure princesses do not go about encrusted with jewels. Hand me that rope of pearls. They are magnificent enough on their own. And see, I have this pretty straw bonnet ornamented with silk flowers. Surely that is smart enough for an afternoon occasion? Besides, theTimes has been quite critical over the flamboyance of my dress.” Felicity picked up the newspaper and read, “PRINCESS FELICITY, DESPITE HER BEAUTY, PORTRAYS A CERTAIN EASTERN EUROPEAN BARBARISM IN HER DRESS. TOO MANY JEWELS CAN ONLY BE CONSIDEREDNOT TASTY. You see?”
“I suppose so,” said Miss Chubb. “You seem to have been accepted by everyone. Lord Arthur worries me, however. All that nonsense he told the Prince Regent about Brasnia…”
“But I told you, he said he had made a mistake. I thought he might be mocking me, but there was no mockery or teasing in his face. All the same, it is as well to make sure, which is why I have not cried off.”
“Do not waste too much time with Lord Arthur,” said Miss Chubb anxiously. “He is engaged, or had you forgot?”
“I am not interested in him. He is too old and sophisticated and makes me feel uncomfortable. I have not told you, my dear Miss Chubb, but I have decided I do not wish to be marriedat all! ”
Miss Chubb looked bewildered. “Then, what is all this agony about? All our preparations, not to mention the horrendous expense of that rout?”
“Well, I thought, you know, that after a few weeks of the Season, we should both retire somewhere in the country and be quiet and comfortable. But it would be pleasant to have a little fun first.”
“Fun?” echoed Miss Chubb in a hollow voice. She remembered her own stark terror when the Prince Regent had been announced, the worry and fret over the preparations, the skeleton of exposure as an impostor always standing in the closet waiting to leap out.
“Yes,fun, ” said Felicity firmly. “Now let us finish dressing, or we shall be late. It is nearly three o'clock already.”
But at three o'clock exactly, she and Miss Chubb descended the stairs just as Lord Arthur and Dolph arrived.
Felicity was wearing a blue muslin gown embroidered with little sprays of golden corn under a pelisse of gold silk. The Channing pearls glowed around her neck, and her jaunty straw hat was worn at a rakish angle on her red curls.
Miss Chubb, hoping to make up for Felicity's lack of display, was wearing a black velvet gown on which blazed an indeterminate number of jeweled brooches and pins. She was wearing a black velvet slouch hat that made her look like a highwayman.
She looked so worried and gloomy that Dolph, surveying the acres of black velvet, asked her whether she was in mourning.
“No, I am not,” said Miss Chubb sharply, “and do not make personal remarks, young man.” Dolph was crushed into silence. He bowed his way out of the house backward toward the carriage, tripped on the top step, and somersaulted onto the pavement. Spinks, the butler, picked him up, and said gloomily, “Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
“Where on earth did you find such a biblical butler, Princess Felicity?” asked Lord Arthur as he drove off.
“I hired him in London,” said Felicity, and added primly, “I am fortunate in having such a God-fearing staff.”
“What is the religion of Brasnia?”
Miss Chubb surveyed Lord Arthur with dislike. “Orthodox Brasnian,” she said repressively.
“Oh, don't let's talk about Brasnia,” said Felicity hurriedly, “or you will quite spoil my day. My poor country. So much turmoil. So many revolutions.”
Miss Chubb emitted something that sounded suspiciously like a groan.
“By George,” said Dolph. “Got the Jacobites over there as well?”
“You were not listening, Dolph,” came Lord Arthur's amused voice. “Princess Felicity does not want to talk about Brasnia!”
While Felicity was on her way to the balloon ascension, a portly gentleman called Mr. Guy Clough, a Virginian tobacco planter, was landing at Bristol. After a decent bottle of port at a good inn, he began to feel much recovered from the rigors of the voyage. He fished in his pocket and drew out a small oilskin packet and looked at it thoughtfully. A minister, the Reverend Hereward Harrington, had given him the packet before he sailed and had told him the strange story of the repentant kitchen maid, Bessie Redhill. Mr. Clough debated riding over to this Tregarthan Castle and confronting this Mr. Palfrey with the evidence of his crime. But a man who could half kill a servant and have her transported might not hesitate to shoot any bringer of bad news. Also in his capacious pockets, Mr. Clough carried several letters of introduction to people in court circles. The Prince Regent was also Prince of Wales and Duke of Cornwall. Tregarthan Castle was in Cornwall. Then it would be better to get word to the Prince of the evil that had taken place in his duchy and let him cope with it. Mr. Clough was a lazy man and preferred to put any action off to the last minute. He returned the will to his pocket and proceeded to forget about the whole thing.
And, also on that afternoon Mr. Palfrey was arriving in London. Life had been too uncomfortable of late, hounded as he was by the locals and reviled by the servants. He had decided to take himself off to London. Time was a great healer. He would visit the opera, see some plays, and generally enjoy himself. By the time he returned to Cornwall, he was sure the whole business would have died down.
The Belvedere Tea Gardens were crowded to overflowing. Felicity was glad of the crowd and the noise. Lord Arthur had talked generally about ballooning, plays, operas, and the balls to be held during the Season. He had not mentioned Brasnia. But there was a feeling of waiting about him, and every time his eyes fell on Felicity, they lit up with amusement.
When they had set out, the weather had been fine. But now a thin veil of clouds was covering the sun and a chill wind had sprung up. Lord Arthur solicitously produced bearskin carriage rugs for the ladies.
The great balloon had been already filled before their arrival, and its huge red-and-yellow-striped shape rose well above the crowd. The pilot balloon was sent off, then two carrier pigeons. The crowd, who had become bored with the long wait-for it had taken over two hours to inflate the balloon-cheered the pilot balloon and the pigeons wildly, glad to see some action at last.