The Paper Princess (13 page)

In a loud voice, he demanded a carriage, any carriage, brushed aside the landlord's apologies that there was only a gig, said he would take it, and drove Felicity home, only breaking his silence once to assure her that Dolph could be trusted to protect her companion.

She was in such a nervous turmoil that she should have been glad to see him go, but when he swept off his hat and bent over her hand to kiss it, she found herself saying, “Shall we meet again?”

“Alas, I do not think so,” he said. “I shall return to the country within the next few days.” He half turned away and then swung round again. “But should you need any assistance, ma'am, tell Dolph, and he will know where to find me.”

Felicity trailed into the house and stood for a moment in the hall, dwarfed by all the rented magnificence of tiled floor, soaring double staircase, and oil paintings in heavy gilt frames.

Mr. Silver, a book in his hand, came out of the library at the far corner of the hall.

“Good afternoon, ma'am,” he said formally. Mr. Silver, like the rest of Felicity's employees, was well aware she was not a princess but always addressed her as if she were royal.

“Oh, Mr. Silver,” cried Felicity. “Is Madame Chubiski returned?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“She was with me at the balloon ascension when a wall collapsed. There was rioting, and we became separated. Lord Arthur's friend, Mr. Godolphin, was with her.”

“Would you like me to go to Pentonville to look for her?” asked Mr. Silver anxiously.

“No, I am sure she is unharmed. But join me in the drawing room for some tea, and tell me how John Tremayne's education progresses.”

They drank tea, and Mr. Silver reported that John was progressing favorably, but both strained their ears for a sound of the return of Miss Chubb. When a footman came in to light candles, Mr. Silver rose to his feet. “With your permission, ma'am,” he said, “I would like to go to Pentonville. I cannot feel easy in my mind. Madame Chubiski is rather shy and unused to London.”

“Shy? Unused to London, perhaps, but I would hardly call Madame Chub ... iski
shy.
”

“I can assure you she is too gently bred a lady to be wandering about with a young boy of whom we know very little.”

“Then, by all means go,” cried Felicity.

Evening settled down over London. The parish lamps in the street outside were lit, and still Miss Chubb did not return.

At last Felicity heard the sound of a carriage stopping outside the house and ran out onto the front steps.

But it was only Mr. Silver returning alone.

“I found no trace of her, ma'am,” he said, his lined face anxious. “There were two people killed when that wall collapsed, and many more were injured in the rioting.”

“Oh, what shall I do?” cried Felicity. “I cannot just wait here any longer, doing nothing. I know...”

She ran into the house and called for Spinks.

“Tell me,” she said to the butler, “do you know the address of Lord Arthur Bessamy?”

“Yes, ma'am. When you told me to invite him to your rout, I made it my business to find out,” said Spinks. “Lord Arthur lives in Curzon Street at Number 137.”

“That is only around the corner,” said Felicity, going into the drawing room and picking up her hat. Mr.

Silver followed her in.

“You cannot go to Lord Arthur's house,” he said severely. “That will not do at all.”

“Abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul,” intoned the butler from the doorway, making them both jump.

“Oh,
Spinks!
” said Felicity crossly. “Do behave yourself. I am only going to call on Lord Arthur to enlist his help in finding Madame Chubiski.”

“Then, I shall go,” said Mr. Silver quickly. “For you to call at a gentleman's town house for any reason at all is just not done.”

Mr. Silver departed quickly, and once more Felicity was left to wait.

In ten minutes’ time the tutor returned with Lord Arthur. “You are fortunate, Princess,” said Lord Arthur. “I was just leaving for my club when I received your message. I am sure you have nothing to worry about. Dolph is much more competent than he looks.”

“But you do not understand,” wailed Felicity. “This is not like my companion at all. She may have been struck on the head; she may have been abducted. Dear God, she was simply covered in jewels....”

Lord Arthur studied her distressed face and then said gently, “I see you would feel better if you took some action. Your carriage is outside. Would you like to go back to the Belvedere Tea Gardens yourself and make inquiries? I am prepared to accompany you.”

“Thank you,” said Felicity.

“Then, I shall accompany you as well,” said the tutor firmly. “You cannot go off alone with milord in a closed carriage.”

Lord Arthur nodded, and the three went out into the carriage and set off again in the direction of Pentonville.

“Tell me, Mr. Silver,” said Lord Arthur, “when you were making inquiries for Madame Chubiski, how did you describe her?”

In the light of the carriage lamps, Mr. Silver's scholarly face registered surprise. “Why, my lord, I gave a fair description. I asked if anyone had seen a handsome woman of regal bearing dressed in black velvet.”

Felicity felt she could sense Lord Arthur's amusement. What was there in Mr. Silver's innocent description that he could possibly find funny?

They traveled the rest of the way to Pentonville in silence. When they arrived at the tea gardens, Lord Arthur put a restraining hand on Mr. Silver's sleeve. “Let me try by myself,” he said. “You have already tried. I might have more success.”

Before the tutor could protest, Lord Arthur swung open the carriage door, stepped down, and strolled into the tea gardens. Waiters were still clearing up the mess left by the crowd. He went up to the nearest one and said, “Hey, fellow, I am looking for a missing lady.”

“Better have a good description,” said the waiter sulkily. “All the world and his wife were here today.”

Lord Arthur held up a guinea. “Now, think,” he commanded, “and this guinea will be for you. I seek a squat, somewhat elderly lady wearing a slouch hat like a highwayman, dressed in black velvet, and covered in jeweled brooches and pins. She is accompanied by a tubby, cheerful man.”

“Oh, them,” said the waiter.

“You know them?”

“I seen ‘em with me own eyes,” said the waiter gleefully, reaching for the coin. “I was over at The Black Dog—over there—for a pint of shrub, and there they were, singing their heads off.”

“And when was that?”

“'Bout ten minutes ago.”

Lord Arthur returned to the carriage. “I gather Dolph and Madame Chubiski are in the pub.”

He turned and walked off in the direction of The Black Dog. Felicity and Mr. Silver scrambled out of the carriage and ran after him. They caught up with Lord Arthur just as he opened the door of the tap.

Felicity peered over his arm and let out a gasp. Miss Chubb was standing on a table in the middle of the room, belting out the third verse of “The Gay Hussar.” She had a tankard in her hand and was being accompanied on the fiddle by a ragged Highlander. Dolph was sitting down at the table on which she was standing, looking up at her with rapt attention.

“Disgraceful!” cried Mr. Silver.

“Wait!” commanded Lord Arthur.

Miss Chubb finished her song to wild cheers and shouts and was helped down from the table by Dolph, who gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Well, Dolph,” said Lord Arthur, strolling forward. “Having fun?”

“Oh, the bestest ever,” said Dolph, peering at them blearily. “Let's have another chorus. Oh, with a tow, row, tow, row...”

“Silence!” roared Mr. Silver. “What have you done to this respectable lady, you ... you rake? You have debased her. You have made a spectacle of her. By God, you shall answer to me.”

“I ... I ... I,” babbled Dolph, goggling at the enraged tutor.

“No one is going to call anyone out,” said Lord Arthur soothingly. “All outside. All home. Come along, Madame Chubiski. Your mistress has been very worried about you.”

“Don't w-want to go home,” hiccupped Miss Chubb. “Less have ‘nother song.”

“We'll sing all you want,” said Felicity gently, “when we get home—you, me, and Mr. Silver. Come along; there's a dear.”

Miss Chubb allowed herself to be led out, grumbling under her breath, “You said I was to have fun. Said everybody mush have fun.”

“Yes, yes,” said Felicity, throwing Lord Arthur an anguished look. What if the drunken Miss Chubb forgot she was companion to a princess?”

But as soon as the carriage moved off, both Miss Chubb and Dolph fell asleep, both snoring loudly, their heads rolling to the motion of the carriage. Felicity had Miss Chubb's full weight pressed against her, which in turn forced her to press against Lord Arthur. He smiled down at her and slid an arm about her shoulders. “There, have you more room now?” he asked, as his pulse leapt at the feel of her body.

“Yes,” whispered Felicity dizzily.

Mr. Silver snorted, folded his arms, and glared grimly out the window.

As the carriage rattled through Berkeley Square, Lord Arthur found himself saying, “I have decided to stay a little longer in town. Would you care to come driving with me—say on Friday—in three days’

time? I shall call for you at five.”

He was not only a danger to this masquerade of hers, thought Felicity, he was a danger to her body, which seemed to be fusing hotly against the side of his own. When he smiled down into her eyes in that lazy, caressing way, as he was doing at that moment, he was a danger to her very soul. She must tell him she would never see him again. She must ...

“Yes,” said Felicity weakly. “I should like that very much.”

It took the efforts of three strong footmen to carry Miss Chubb upstairs to her bedchamber and four maids to undress her and put her to bed.

Felicity sat by the bed and held her unconscious companion's hand and looked down at her face. “Oh, Miss Chubb,” she whispered. “Why am I so very happy when it can all lead to disaster?”

Two days later Miss Barchester slowly lowered a copy of the
Morning Post.
It was a day old but carried a long description of the balloon ascension. The deaths of two people and the injuries of many only rated a small piece tagged on at the end. But the paragraph that riveted her attention went: THE

ASCENSION WAS GRACED BY THE PRESENCE OF THE DIVINELY FAIR PRINCESS

FELICITY OF BRASNIA. LORD ARTHUR BESSAMY IS THE ENVY OF ALL MEN, AS IT

WAS HE WHO HAD THE HONOR TO RESCUE HIS FAIR COMPANION FROM THE

VULGAR AND RIOTING POPULACE, BEARING HER BOLDLY FROM THE SCENE IN HIS

ARMS.

“Papa,” said Miss Barchester. “Would it not be splendid to travel to London this weekend? Poor Lord Arthur must be pining away without me.”

“Don't like London,” grumbled Mr. Barchester. “And if Lord Arthur is pining that bad, he's only got to come home.”

“Papa,” said Miss Barchester, a steely note in her voice. “I have said I wish to go to London.”

“Eh, what? Oh, very well, m'dear,” sighed Mr. Barchester, who had long ago given up arguing with his strong-willed daughter.

It was the fashionable hour in Hyde Park. Spanking carriages darted along in the hazy spring sunlight.

Dust rose from under hundreds of painted wheels. A carriage, particularly a lady's carriage, was not so much a means of transport as a sort of moving platform for the display of wealth. The more expensive the horses and carriage, the less used. No first-rate carriage horse was expected to travel more than fourteen miles a day at a maximum speed of ten miles per hour. In the wealthiest establishments, a large, expensive retinue of coachmen, grooms, and stable boys was maintained so that milady or milord could drive out in grand style for one and a half hours a day, six days a week. Some of the ladies, beautifully attired in the most expensive fashions of the day, drove themselves with a liveried groom sitting on the rumble seat behind, or, occasionally, following on horseback at a distance that was great enough to appear respectful but not so great that he could not afford immediate assistance with horse or carriage in an emergency.

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?”