All of the servants were dressed in colorful livery with gay vertically-striped waistcoats, though the footmen wore horizontal stripes indoors. Their coats were ornamented with silver or gilt livery buttons. The stable staff wore highly polished top boots, while the footmen wore white silk stockings that were usually padded out with false calves if their legs were thin. The coats of arms on the carriages were miniature works of art, and the whole display had an air of idle opulence.
But underneath all this atmosphere of languid elegance, each member of society was in deadly earnest. Mamas studied the faces of the eligibles for signs of interest while their daughters giggled and fluttered, and used fans and eyes to the best effect. Parvenus cut their country relatives dead as they fawned on the notables.
And Lord Arthur Bessamy was discovering, to his amazement, that one could make love to a lady with one's whole body without touching her or moving an inch. His eyes caressed the smooth pearl of her cheeks, his arms, correctly holding his cane and his gloves, were, in his mind's eye, clasped tightly about the slimness of her waist. His lips burned against hers in his imagination.
Felicity sensed a wave of sensuality emanating from him without quite knowing what it was, without knowing why her whole body seemed drawn to him, why her lips felt hot and swollen, and her breasts strained against the thinness of demure muslin.
Dolph was in good spirits, cheerfully waving to everyone he knew. Miss Chubb was downcast, her eyes red. Felicity had overhead Miss Chubb having the most terrible row with the tutor, but when asked about it, Miss Chubb had only sniveled dismally and refused to explain.
Felicity grew more uncomfortably aware of her own reddening cheeks and treacherously throbbing body. Lord Arthur was engaged to be married, she told herself firmly, and then wondered why that thought made her feel so depressed. When they stopped as a carriage full of Lord Arthur's relatives pulled up beside them, Felicity was glad of their company, glad to have Lord Arthur's disturbing attention taken away from her. But her peace of mind did not last long. One faded aunt with a long, drooping nose and pale, inquisitive eyes, said, “Bessamy, you have forgot your manners. Introduce us immediately to Miss Barchester-or do you mean to keep her away from us until the wedding?”
“This is not Miss Barchester,” said Lord Arthur equably. “Allow me to present Princess Felicity of Brasnia.” He then introduced his relatives to his party. Two aunts, two uncles, and two small female cousins bowed to Felicity and stared at her in open curiosity. “Charmed,” said the inquisitive aunt who had been introduced as Mrs. Chester-Vyne. “Do you mean to reside in London for long, Your Highness?”
“Only for a few weeks of the Season, Mrs. Chester-Vyne.”
“I am very good at geography and have a knowledge of the globes,” piped up a small cousin with a face like a ferret. “I have never heard of Brasnia.”
“Nor I,” said Mr. Chester-Vyne, who looked remarkably like his long-nosed wife.
“Dear me,” said Lord Arthur. “Never heard of Brasnia? I am ashamed of you all. It is quite lovely this time of year. They have the Festival of Manhood about now. All the young men in the villages are stripped quite naked and lashed…”
“Here, now!” protested Mr. Chester-Vyne. “Ladies present.”
"Stripped naked and lashed,"went on Lord Arthur firmly, “until the blood runs. They are then sponged clean by the village maidens who are bare to the waist. A most touching ceremony, and quite colorful.”
“Bessamy!” said Mrs. Chester-Vyne awfully. “We have no wish to have our sensibilities bruised by macabre tales of a barbaric race. Walk on, John.”
The coachman raised his whip, and the relatives drove off with many a backward offended glance.
“By Jove!” said Dolph. “You have found out a lot about Brasnia.”
“Not I,” said Lord Arthur cheerfully. “I merely wanted to be shot of them. You must tell me the truth about Brasnia someday, Princess.”
“Yes, I must, musn't I,” said Felicity in a small voice. She took little consolation from the fact that the encounter with Lord Arthur's relatives had had the same effect as a bucket of cold water being poured over her.
“Going to the opera tonight?” she realized Dolph was asking.
“We have no plans for this evening,” said Felicity.
“Then, you must come with us!” cried Dolph. “Lord Arthur has a box, and you would be delighted to take the ladies along, now wouldn't you, Arthur?”
A vision of his fiancée's pale, cold face rose before Lord Arthur's eyes.
“You simply must come,” he said. “Catalini is singing. We shall call for you at eight.”
“I don't think I should attend,” sniffed Miss Chubb. “I know Mr. Silver will be quite furious with me.”
Felicity looked at her in surprise. “What on earth has our tutor to do with where we go?”
“Mr. Silver,” said Miss Chubb heavily, “thinks I behaved in a most unladylike way after the balloon ascension.”
“Then, I suggest you put Mr. Silver firmly in his place,” said Dolph.
“Then, you will come?” asked Lord Arthur, saying to himself, just one more evening and then I shall behave myself.
Just one more time, thought Felicity.
“Yes,” she said. “And do not look so worried, Madame Chubiski. I shall talk to Mr. Silver most sternly if he makes any trouble.”
Mr. Palfrey was sitting at the toilet table in a room in Limmer's in Conduit Street, arranging his hair with the curling tongs, when a hotel servant arrived to say he had managed to secure Mr. Palfrey a seat in the pit at the opera.
Mr. Palfrey tipped him generously. His heart lifted. He was glad he had come to London. It was wonderful to be away from accusing Cornish eyes. Let the fuss die down, and then he could return to his search for the jewels. Somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, flashing fire in the green depths, lay the Channing diamonds. He had studied them minutely in that portrait at the castle until he felt he knew every stone.
As usual, he fussed a great deal over his appearance. Then he realized his cumbersome traveling coach was not suitable for a short journey, and besides, it was round in the mews and would take an age for the horses to be harnessed up. He debated whether to walk, but fear of arriving at the opera with muddied heels and possibly dirty stockings made him ring the bell and request a hack.
It was nine o'clock before Mr. Palfrey reached the opera house. The seats in the pit were simply long wooden benches, and they were already packed to capacity by lounging bucks and bloods by the time he arrived. He retreated from the pit and tipped an usher, who told him that a certain Sir Jeffrey Dawes would not be using his box that evening, and Mr. Palfrey would be able to use it.
Comfortably ensconced in a side box, Mr. Palfrey immediately raised his glass to his eye and scanned the house. He let out a slow breath of pleasure. This was where he belonged, not hidden away in some castle in Cornwall. Fans fluttered and jewels glittered on men and women alike.
His eye, magnified by the glass, traveled along the row of boxes opposite-and then he let it drop with a squawk and turned quite white under his paint.
“Shhh,” hissed a dowager venomously from the box next to his.
Mr. Palfrey sat trembling. Surely that had been Felicity Channing in the box opposite!
Catalini's lovely voice soared and fell. She had the power to make all these society members look at her and listen to her-a rare feat, as most attended the opera because it was fashionable to do so and were usually not in the slightest interested in what was taking place on the stage.
Mr. Palfrey took a deep breath and raised his glass again.
Itwas Felicity! And a Felicity blazing and flashing with diamonds, the Channing diamonds that he had come to know so well from studying that portrait at Tregarthan Castle.