Felicia (18 page)

“Paul, my dear fellow, to what do I owe this honor? I have never seen you out of your place before late afternoon.”

Dr. Ross smiled. “I was hoping you would invite me to join you for a spot of lunch. And I do leave my offices, you know, on occasion.”

“Luncheon? What a splendid idea. Excuse me while I organize a table.” He clicked his fingers at a passing waiter and said something quietly. He nodded at the reply and turned back to Dr. Ross. “Follow me, Paul. It appears we can be accommodated immediately.”

Neither man spoke as they were ushered into the high-domed dining room and led to a solitary table in the far corner. Only after they had ordered did Dr. Ross break the companionable silence.

“Ian, I know it is presumptuous of me, but I beg your understanding and indulgence.”

“Whatever for, Paul. Surely we have known each other too long to be so formal. Whatever is bothering you so?” Dr. Ross hesitated for a moment. “I…I want to talk to you about Miss Richards.”

“Aha! Your favorite patient. Why the serious air?” Even though he tried to be casual, a note of resignation crept into his voice. It seemed everyone was conspiring to make it more difficult than he had anticipated to forget about Felicia.

“We had, at least from my point of view, a very good session this morning, in that Miss Richards remembered everything. She knows who she is, who her parents were and, more importantly, who Lady Ormstead is.” Dr. Ross sat back in his chair, wondering what it was that had prompted him to interfere and which was the best way to proceed now. The withdrawn expression on Lord Umber’s face indicated that his friend might well be relieved by Felicia’s decision to leave Lady Louisa’s household. “The result is that she has decided to seek gainful employment elsewhere.”

“I see,” Lord Umber said thoughtfully, wondering why this information displeased him. “She is quite determined this time, I suppose?”

Dr. Ross nodded. “My concern, of course, is for your mother, but Miss Richards feels that she cannot accept her charity indefinitely, even though she has grown extremely fond of Lady Louisa….”

“What prompted this decision, Paul?” Lord Umber broke in impatiently. “Something that happened in her past that makes her an unfit companion? Was I right, all along, about her true profession?” He suppressed a bitterness he suddenly felt with difficulty.

“No, indeed not, Ian. As far as I know she has impeccable credentials. But you must have observed how independent she is. It is this spirit of independence that is prompting her to make her own way in the world. In fact, the only reason I mention any of this is that I want your assurances you will not make her leaving any more difficult than it is going to be.”

There was a hidden meaning to the words that Lord Umber was astute enough to recognize, but not clairvoyant enough to understand. His only reaction was to raise an eyebrow as though in query. “Whatever do you mean by that, Paul? I can hardly chain her to my mother’s side, can I? If Miss Richards is really of a mind to leave, then I shall do my utmost to aid her. And by that, I mean I shall insure mama does not go to any great lengths to prevent Miss Richards from doing as she wants.” As he was speaking, his one hand was unconsciously stroking his cravat, which was the only sign to Dr. Ross’s trained eye that something was bothering him. But Dr. Ross was wise enough to know that he would have to content himself with these assurances. It would serve no useful purpose to probe Lord Umber’s feelings on the subject. “Good. Then I can put my concern aside for both my patients and do justice to this meal.”

Lord Umber watched his friend for a few moments while he struggled to appear calm. His earlier resolution of getting on with his own life suddenly seemed hollow as the knowledge that he would never see Felicia again penetrated. What nonsense had gotten into her that made her so independent? For someone as intelligent as he knew her to be, she was quite senseless at times.

“As a matter of curiosity, Paul, who is Lady Ormstead? I called on her this morning but was refused admittance.” Dr. Ross wavered for a second before answering. “Lady Ormstead is an aunt of Miss Richards, I believe. They are not very close.”

Lord Umber thought back to last night at the theater. “Judging from her behavior towards Miss Richards last night, I am inclined to believe you.” Again he appeared casual, but his senses were alert. Something was not quite right about the story that Dr. Ross was telling him. “I had intended calling on her again, but if you say that Miss Richards’ memory has returned, then I will gladly forfeit that dubious pleasure. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely, Ian. Another attempt seems quite unnecessary now. Also, I am sure Miss Richards would prefer that you didn’t.”

The response was too quick, but Lord Umber let it go. There seemed little point in pursuing something his friend quite obviously did not want to discuss. “If you say so, Paul,” he said smoothly, while vowing to himself to keep the appointment. Was there indeed something in Miss Richards’ background that needed burying? “What of this trip to Manchester, Paul? What explanation did Miss Richards have for that?”

“A fairly simple one, actually. She had the wrong address. When I confronted her with that, she was not at all perturbed, for it appears she has relatives there and would not have experienced any difficulty. Certainly none of the nature Lady Louisa envisaged,” Dr. Ross lied and was astonished that he should have done so. But as Ian seemed satisfied with his explanation, he felt well justified. All he had to remember now was to tell Felicia not to contradict his story.

“So all our concern was for naught, eh? What a bunch of worry warts we have been.” He raised his wine goblet in a toast. “Here’s to you, Paul, and for the remarkable success you have achieved. May Anton Mesmer be equally delighted.”

“Thank you, Ian. Thank you. I must confess to a great feeling of elation, for there were many times when I doubted my ability to break through that barrier. There were two main clues that
helped….”

Lord Umber sat still, giving every outward appearance that his full attention was with his friend. In truth, though, he was thinking of Felicia and the extraordinary behavior of Dr. Ross. There was something highly suspicious about the whole affair. Not that he doubted the part about Felicia’s memory returning. It was just a feeling he had, but nothing he could put his finger on. However, there was no denying the fact that Paul was bent on protecting her. What from, he could not fathom. But surely that was his prerogative. Surprised at the intensity of his feelings, he tried to channel his thoughts away from Felicia. Impatiently he took out his fob watch and saw that it lacked but forty minutes to three. “I hate to interrupt your dissertation, Paul,” he said hastily, “but I have a previous engagement. Please excuse me.”

“My dear Ian, I have been finished these last five minutes,” Dr. Ross laughed. “We have been sitting in silence ever since.”

Lord Umber had the grace to look sheepish. “Do excuse my apparent rudeness, it was not intended. I…I was planning a diversion for my mother to help her over Miss Richards’ departure.”

“I understand,” Dr. Ross said gently. “And please call on me if I can help.” He stood up and strolled out of the room, waving casually to a few acquaintances.

Lord Umber followed and, calling for his carriage, was soon on his way to Upper Grosvenor Street.

It was quite apparent that his second visit to Lady Ormstead’s was going to be more successful. For no sooner had his carriage come to rest outside the house, than the front door swung open and an immaculately dressed footman made his appearance. Lord Umber was hard put to recognize the lackey from his earlier visit, such was the change in that poor unfortunate’s countenance.

“I see I am expected,” he drawled, deliberately stating
the obvious. He tossed his hat and gloves into the outstretched hands.

Mr. Nestor stepped forward from a darkened recess, lending a surprisingly dignified atmosphere to the shabby interior, before any further exchange could take place. “This way, your lordship,” he intoned heavily. “Lady Ormstead will be with you momentarily.”

Concealing his distaste at the drab room he was shown to, Lord Umber walked over to the smoking fire and idly kicked at the sullen embers. The door, badly in need of an oiling, creaked to a close behind the butler, and he was left alone. “In many ways it is my own fault,” he mused. “If I had heeded Paul’s advice, I would be in much more comfortable surroundings.” He looked around the room with disdain. The cheap furnishings, the threadbare carpet, and the peeling paint denoted ‘genteel’ poverty and probably indicated that Lady Ormstead clung to the fringes of Society by a hair’s-breadth.
She might be more successful if she were more pleasant
,
he thought savagely. He crossed to the windows and stared out at a row of red brick houses, grimacing at the view. It was difficult to imagine Felicia in these surroundings. Tantamount to caging an exotic bird. But if what Paul had said was true, she was not very close to this aunt. However, he thought triumphantly, that did not mean she had not made her home here, for had not David said he remembered a Mrs. Richards had been in attendance when he had visited Lady Ormstead? He frowned at this recollection, wondering again why Paul had been so evasive at lunch. Protecting his patient’s confidence, no doubt. Nonetheless, it was provoking, and he should have guessed sooner that Felicia was behind it. Now why should she want her past kept a secret? What shameful act had she committed? He felt a momentary pleasure as he imagined the worst before rejecting the thought. No, she was incapable of doing anything so monumentally distasteful, he assured himself. The reason she wanted to seek employment elsewhere must have been caused by something her parents had done.

Her image flashed in front of him and he felt an odd choking sensation constrict his heart. Confound the girl, would he ever forget her?

His musings were rudely interrupted at that point, as the creaking door announced the arrival of Lady Ormstead. She bustled into the room, smiling grandly. “I do beg your pardon, Lord Umber, for keeping you waiting. Pray be seated.” She indicated a most uncomfortable-looking chair right beside the smoking fire, while she herself took what had to be the only commodious seat in the room.

Lord Umber glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf and saw with surprise that he had been kept waiting fifteen minutes. He turned a bored look on his hostess. “Thank you, but no. I do not intend making this a long visit.” He arched one eyebrow as he spoke, unconsciously presenting a formidable appearance. “I merely came to enquire about Miss Richards. Your niece, I believe?”

Lady Ormstead stared at him in fascination. His immaculate dress gave him an indefinable air that was almost intimidating. It was only her secret knowledge of Felicia’s whereabouts that bolstered her spirit. “What has my niece been doing now, pray? Not, I hope, causing more embarrassment for my family.” There was a long-suffering edge to her voice, as though she were trying to convey to her audience how ill-used she had been.

“Your niece, ma’am, was injured in an accident which caused the loss of her memory for a short period.”

“How inconvenient,” Lady Ormstead murmured unsympathetically. “She is recovered, I take it?”

Lord Umber noted the nervous way this question was asked and replied grimly. “Totally. You do not seem overly concerned that your niece was injured.”

“And I do not see that that is any concern of yours,” Lady Ormstead snapped, wondering how this gentleman had met Felicia and just what he knew. Far better to attack than defend, she thought as she continued briskly. “I will say one thing, though, and that is her ingratitude at the hospitality I showed her—and her mother—seems to have been well rewarded. I have not seen her since she ran away several weeks ago.”

“Until last night,” Lord Umber reminded her.

“Or someone who bore a resemblance, my lord. One thing I know for a certainty, my niece never owned such finery as that girl wore. And if that was she, it can only mean that she did not come by it honestly.”

Lord Umber looked away in disgust at the implication of her words but did not yield to the temptation of telling her the truth.

“One thing you may be sure of, Lord Umber,” Lady Ormstead continued maliciously, “I will never recognize her again. And should she try and worm her way back into my household, I will personally see to it that she is put back out on the streets—for that is where she belongs. And why a fine young gentleman like yourself should be bothering about such a good-for-nothing girl as Felicia, I’ll never know.”

The raw-edged bitterness of her voice puzzled Lord Umber. He had not said anything to provoke such an outburst, and yet this crazed woman had made it quite clear that she regarded Felicia as little more than a slut. “’Tis no more than a kindness I would show any stray animal,” he replied suavely. “However, I shall not take up any more of your time, for the purpose of my visit was to enquire about Miss Richards’ relatives and possibly restore her to them.”

A relieved look tinged Lady Ormstead’s plump features as the realization came to her that Felicia had not spoken of the five years spent at Graystones. She suppressed a satisfied grin with difficulty. “I’ll bid you good day then, my lord. I am sorry your journey has been for naught, but I do not expect that Felicia will ever come here again, begging for help. Especially after what she did before she ran off.”

Malicious as well as stupid, Lord Umber thought disdainfully. Does she not realize that her disinterest in the whereabouts of Felicia strikes me as suspicious? That her determination to smear Felicia’s name makes me mistrust her even more. He drew himself up to his full height, looking down on her with contempt. “I will personally insure that Miss Richards does not bother you again, for it is quite obvious that she is better off where she is.” So saying, he took out a delicate, blue enamel snuff box from his vest pocket and opened it expertly with one hand. He took a small pinch and inhaled it deeply. His gaze, however, did not waver from Lady Ormstead’s face so he did not miss the exultant look that lit her eyes. Now, what the devil can have caused that? he asked himself uneasily. She was altogether too complacent. Had Felicia already been to see her to ask for help?