Gracious, that was what Valor wrote? She’d not mentioned anything about a drowning.
If I consider the matter based only on what you may know of my history, I would have to agree with those sentiments.
However, if you would indulge me in reading this letter, I would like to lay out the case of the thing.
I did come into this season announcing to my friends that I would not be chained. In part, this was because I came under terrible pressure from my viscount to speedily choose a wife. I suspect that, at your age, you can sympathize with my contrariness. It is a hard thing to be told what to do and one’s instinct is to announce that one will not do it.
Then, and this is where I really am at a terrible fault, I thought it would be clever to join forces with Lady Felicity. She wished to make Lord Rustmont jealous, and I wished to convince my father that my feelings were engaged where they could not succeed.
My fault is in not informing Lady Felicity of this at the outset.
As it happens, I have found my dedication to refusing to be chained on the wane. In fact, it seems to be gone altogether.
Alas, my crime of secrecy and the stupidity of announcing something to my friends that could not hold over time have both come back to haunt me.
My apologies, and I did enjoy our conversation about the weather. As well, give my regards to Mrs. Wendover—I hope that enchanting lady-rabbit does not hold a grudge.
Stratton.
Felicity did not know what to think. It was a fine letter, if she could believe it. Or even know what to make of it. It hinted thatshe might be preferred, but it did not come out and say so. All it really said was that his announcing he would not be chained was an idea he now recognized as foolish.
But who was the cause of this change of heart? Was it her? Was it someone else? Why did he not make himself more clear?
She tucked it into her pillowcase as she had no intention of allowing anybody else to read it. At least, not yet. She did not wish to hear anybody else’s opinion about it until she had formed her own.
Felicity would be happy to inform Valor of Mr. Stratton’s regard for her good opinion, and for Mrs. Wendover’s too, but that was all.
She had much to decide. She had been determined not to encounter Mr. Stratton again, but would that hold? Could she dare to trust him? He had lied once, perhaps this entire letter was a lie.
Felicity did not know what to do or how she felt, or whether she was cast down or buoyed up. All she could decide right this very moment, was to ring for her maid, get into her nightclothes, drink her half glass of Canary, brush her teeth, braid her hair, and go to bed.
Perhaps sleep might bring clarity.
*
Mrs. Right knewvery well that she would have an excellent night of repose. It was always so when she had accomplished her aim.
Her aim at this moment in her history was to enact retribution against Mr. Stratton and she had done a fine job of it. She’d discovered his butler’s name and she already knew where they lived, the rest was an easy walk down a shady lane. She set out to impersonate the household via letters to various places.
First to the grocer everybody in that neighborhood used, indicating that the regular order must be put aside. They had a great need for cabbages, as Lady Wentworth, whoever she might be, had decided to hold a cabbage festival for charity. Mrs. Right had even included the following: “As you might imagine, good sir, the race to locate a suitable number of cabbages will be furious. Please do secure three large sacks before there are none to be had.”
A person wishing for sacks of cabbages was the most absurd thing in the world, but thetonwere so known for their absurdities that the grocer would not blink over it. It would be just another amusing story he would relate to his family regarding the vagaries of the high and mighty.
For the wine merchant, she decided to go in a different direction. That letter she made appear as if it came from the viscount himself, accusing the merchant of overcharging and taking him for a rube. Viscount Denderby was not such a country turnip to be had in such a manner. He demanded the order be canceled, as he had secured a merchant who charged fair prices.
And then, the coup de grâce. Mrs. Right informed the laundress that serviced the house that the pile of clothes sent to her had been a mistake. That particular pile was meant for the poor. If she would be so kind as to forward them on to some reputable charity, the viscountess would be most obliged. Lord Denderby would, of course, honor the bill, as it had been their own mistake. The laundress would be delighted—she would sell the clothes for as much as she could get and then be paid the bill too. She’d never wish to question such a happy circumstance.
Mrs. Right suspected Mr. Stratton’s house to be in turmoil just now—full of cabbages, empty of wine, and short of clothes. That was exactly what she wished for. Let no person hurting one of her girls ever have a moment’s rest or peace.
If there were one thing niggling at her mind just now, one loose thread that had not been tied up, it was that letter from Mr. Stratton that Felicity had taken to her room.
Mrs. Right had the experience and good sense not to follow her up the stairs and pry into it, and she held the rest of the girls back from doing the same, but she did wish to know what it said.
She reminded herself that all things come in their own time. Sooner or later, Felicity would wish to discuss it, and then Mrs. Right would discover what Mr. Stratton had to say for himself.
*
Felicity had wokenjust as hazy-feeling as she had when she’d retired the night before. That was, her feelings were not clear, but rather hidden somewhere in a fog. Or perhaps it was not that. Perhaps her feelings wished to go one way, and her logic and sense wished to go the other way.
