“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 lesswell-readthan 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 usedthatdoor, 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.
