Chapter 3

When Lucy Bingley walked down to the stables in the morning, she did so in the hopes of seeing Felton again. Part of the allure that the stables held for her was in the form of the intriguing head groom. She thought about him more than she ought to. Lucy knew that it was silly to look forward to those few moments of conversation with him. But Felton was certainly handsome in his own way, and since when had it been wrong to simply admire a good-looking man discreetly?

Felton was not outside the stables as he normally was. Lucy stepped inside to the horses' stalls. Duchess shifted eagerly at the sight of her, and Lucy stroked the horse before calling out. "Felton? Felton, are you here?"

"Miss Bingley?" The voice that spoke was not Felton, but Thomas the stable boy. He emerged from one of the stalls, carrying a grooming brush in one hand. He dipped into a low bow at the sight of Lucy and spoke in a trembling voice. "M-my apologies, Miss Bingley, Felton isn't here this morning. S-shall I have Duchess saddled for you?"

Lucy smiled at Thomas. He was very sweet; the boy was new to Netherfield and had quietly admitted to Lucy that he had never spoken to people so far above his station before. Thomas was terrified of giving offense to his masters and hence said as little as possible. "Yes, Thomas, if you wouldn't mind saddling her. May I ask where Felton is?"

Thomas moved to open Duchess' stall and bowed to Lucy once more, quite unnecessarily. Lucy wondered if the poor boy would put his back out bowing every few seconds in her presence. "Felton isn't well, Miss Bingley. He'll be down by the afternoon."

"Oh dear. What is the matter?" Lucy asked. Thomas brought Duchess carefully out of her stall and then bowed once more. Lucy wasn't certain if he was bowing to her, or the horse. "Has a doctor seen him?"

Thomas shook his head. "Just a bit o' sun stroke, Miss Bingley. He was out exercising the horses yesterday, and he fell off one. James and me, we half-carried him back. He wanted to work this morning, but I promised I would manage the stables."

"That's very considerate of you, Thomas. Are you certain that Felton does not need to see a doctor? It would be very little trouble to arrange one. I shouldn't have him falling off his horse again."

Thomas shrugged and then seemed to straighten up abruptly to make up for his slip. "Felton said he would be a' right, Miss Bingley. He only needed to cool down a bit. He's in his cottage at the moment. James said that he had to stay indoors."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Felton's cottage? Where is that?"

Thomas looked up. "Oh, it's here on the estate, Miss Bingley. Just down that lane, behind the clump of trees. Felton has been letting us eat lunch there in the summer, when it's too hot in the stables." He paused suddenly, wondering if he'd said too much. Felton had always told him to answer questions simply and curtly but Lucy was smiling.

"That's very kind of him," she said.

"It is, miss."

Lucy nodded, taking a seat on an upturned crate as Thomas saddled the horse. The first time she had done so he had gone running to bring a chair for her but Lucy had reassured him that it wasn't necessary. "Would you say that Felton is a good master, Thomas?" she asked curiously.

Thomas looked surprised. He bowed once more before nodding. "I think he is, Miss Bingley. He gets cross when we don't take good care of the horses, but as long as we do our work well, he's very kind to us. He's even been teaching James and me 'ow to read, when we get a bit 'o time."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Does he? That's very considerate of him. And who taught Felton how to read and speak, do you know?"

Thomas shifted uncomfortably. "Felton doesn't like to tell us about that, miss."

"But you must know something," Lucy prodded. She wondered if she was going too far with her questions, but Lucy was too curious to stop. Indeed, the well-spoken, educated head groom had been occupying much of her thoughts for some time. She wanted to see if she could substantiate Emma's story. "Has he spoken nothing of his past?"

Thomas shifted, looking unsure. He was contemplating whether he should answer the question; but he finally seemed to decide that to disobey Miss Bingley was far more dangerous than to speak of Felton, and so he nodded. "Only rumors, miss."

"Rumors," Lucy replied. "That his father was very rich and wrote Felton out of his inheritance because of a scandal, is that correct?"

"Scandal? Oh no, Miss Bingley, that's not what I've heard at all. Some 'o the other stableboys said that his father was a poor groom but Felton's mother was a highborn lady and she ran from home to marry him. It was Felton's mother that taught him to speak and read, Miss Bingley, but they never had much money, them."

Lucy stared for a moment. How could there be two completely different stories about someone's past? Although the idea that Felton's mother was a highborn lady who had married for love was a much nicer explanation than him being written out of his inheritance due to a scandal, it did not make it any truer.

"And who is this highborn lady who married a groom, do you know?"

"I don't know no names, miss," Thomas replied. He had finished saddling the horse and he bowed deeply once more. Lucy smiled t before allowing him to help her up onto the horse. Once she'd seated herself, she looked down at the stable boy. "Thank you, Thomas. I should be back in an hour or two."

Thomas bowed once more.

It did not take long for Lucy to find Felton's cottage. It was a tiny little thing and could not possibly have more than two rooms. She wondered why she had not noticed it before, but it was nestled behind a shady clump of trees and Lucy never rode in this direction. She slowed Duchess down as they approached it and within moments, the front door had opened. Lucy froze when Felton stepped outside.

"Miss Bingley," he greeted her with a smile. It was not his usual sparkling smile; his eyebrows were knitted together as though his head was pounding. Lucy flushed red at being caught outside his cottage. She had not meant for him to see her.

"Felton," she greeted, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I apologize; I had no intention of disturbing you. I had heard that you were not well and Thomas told me your cottage was here, so I..." she trailed off, unsure what to say next. Felton smiled at her again although he looked tired and his face was pale.

"Miss Bingley, you did not disturb me at all. I was on my way back to the stables. There is much to be done."

Lucy's eyes widened. "But you mustn't work! Felton, you look simply exhausted, you will only make yourself ill once more. My brother would be furious if he heard you were working to the point of exhaustion."

Felton laughed weakly. "I thank you for your concern, Miss Bingley. It is very kind of you but I believe Mr. Bingley would be more upset if his horses were not well taken care of. Thomas is a hard-working boy but he is not experienced enough to manage on his own."

"The horses will be fine if they are left alone for a day," Lucy replied firmly. She tightened her grip on Duchess' reins and steered her around. "I will be back in a few moments, Felton, I expect you to go back indoors and lie down. You may consider that an order."

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Felton went back indoors once Lucy had left, surprised at her actions. He was starting to believe that the rumors he had heard about her were entirely false. Most of Hertfordshire thought Lucy Bingley was a quiet, proud and arrogant girl who never spoke to anyone and thought herself above others. Her reputation almost matched Mr. Darcy's; although she had never spoken offensive words, her behavior was enough for people to take offense.

But Felton had never taken much stock in rumors. Lucy Bingley had proven herself to be a kind, sweet-natured girl who showed concern even towards her servants. Perhaps she did not speak much; but the pleasant pinkness in her cheeks showed that this was more out of shyness than arrogance. Felton wondered how society could be so mistaken about her.

"Are you lying down?" Lucy called out as she knocked on the door gently. Felton sat on his bed as she entered, wishing that he kept the cottage a little more clean. Lucy looked around with a smile on her face. It was small but delightfully cozy. She set down the pitcher she was carrying on a table covered in letters. "Felton, I asked you to lie down."

Felton stayed sitting and watched as Lucy poured some of the contents of the pitcher into a glass. Water droplets condensed around the outer surface, showing how cold the liquid was. He took the glass from her when she offered it to him. "What is this?"

"Only water," Lucy replied simply. "With a bit of lemon in it. I thought it would be good for you to drink something cold after you collapsed in the heat. Your cottage is extremely warm."

Felton nodded and sipped, finding that the cold liquid made his throat feel heavenly. He had been about to say something, but he forgot what it was. Lucy looked rather pleased with herself. "That made you feel better, did it not? This is why you should ask for help, Felton."

Felton looked up at Lucy's smiling face. He could see concern and relief in her eyes, as well as a tiny bit of smugness at having been right. Nobody had looked at Felton that way since he'd been a boy of 8 and had fallen in the river bank despite his mother's warnings. He had walked back to the house shivering in wet clothes and his mother had given him the very same look. "You look like my mother," he whispered.

Lucy was surprised, and she did not speak for a moment. Then she set the pitcher down and moved closer to the bed. There was a look of vulnerability in Felton's eyes as he realized what he had just spoken. "Your mother?" she asked hesitantly.

Felton nodded, standing up to replace the empty glass on the table. Lucy took it from him quickly and refilled it, her eyes watching him carefully. "Yes, I… she would give me the same look whenever I did not heed her advice and got myself into trouble. The last time I saw it on her face was when I was eight. I'd just fallen into the river and come home drenched and freezing."

Lucy wanted to laugh, but the expression on Felton's face prevented her. For a few moments, he looked like an eight-year old boy who had just lost his mother. She smiled kindly instead. "Was she very strict?" Lucy asked as Felton drained the second glass of cold water.

"Not at all. She would only tell me not to do something once. If I did not listen to her, I would have to learn the lesson the hard way. More often than not, I did. She was always right but she would never scold me. She would simply give me that look and I would know I had been a fool."

"You must miss her terribly."

"Whenever I do something wrong, I feel that had she been there, she might have warned me against it." Felton smiled sadly. "Perhaps she would have told me not to take the horses out in the sun yesterday and I would not be in this condition."

"I could have told you that," Lucy replied with a smile. "You work yourself too much, Felton. I don't think I've ever met anyone as hardworking as you. Your mother would have been proud."

Felton smiled wistfully. "I don't believe she would." He paused for a moment until he noticed a small bundle of rags in Lucy's hands. "What are those for?"

Lucy suddenly remembered the pieces of cloth and opened them to reveal small chunks of ice inside. "I had the cook get them from the ice cellar. She says that if you wrap them in a cloth and put them on your forehead, your body will cool down and you'll feel better. You will have to lie down."

"Miss Bingley, you've done enough, you needn't-"

"Felton, lie down," Lucy told him firmly before smiling. "I'm afraid you will have to indulge me. I fancied myself as a nurse when I was younger, but Caroline and Louisa would never let me near them when they were ill. They always sent for a proper doctor and he would shoo me away."

Felton smiled and lay down on the bed as Lucy adjusted the pillows for him. "Most young girls fancy themselves as princesses."

"I fancied myself as a number of things," Lucy admitted as she gently placed the damp cloth filled with ice on Felton's forehead. He closed his eyes in pleasure. "There was a time after I first received Duchess that I imagined her to be a unicorn and myself a princess. If you must know, I tried to tape a paper cone to her face until Charles stopped me."

Felton chuckled, his eyes still closed. Lucy gently brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead. "Perhaps we were both foolish as children, then. I wanted to be a soldier at one point. I fancied myself riding into glorious battle on horseback but those dreams were shattered."

"Why?" Lucy asked curiously.

"Perhaps for the same reasons you could never be a nurse and Duchess could never be a unicorn."

"I could never be a nurse because nurses don't come with dowries of twenty thousand pounds," Lucy mumbled to herself. She would never have said this to anyone else, but with Felton, it did not matter. "I would have made a dreadful nurse. My father would tell Charles stories about war and they always terrified me. Caroline was right in saying the closest I would ever come to being a nurse was being a mother."

Felton opened his eyes slowly and looked up at her. Her fingers were resting gently above the cloth on his forehead and she was looking down at him with thoughtful gaze. Felton briefly wondered what such a beautiful woman was doing here, in his cottage, nursing him back to health and sharing her dreams. "I think you will make an excellent mother, Miss Bingley."

Lucy laughed. "Oh, Felton, you needn't say things like that! I don't mind, you know. I can't stand children. It's a terrible thing for a woman to say, but they're absolutely dreadful. I never quite know how to manage them."

"Perhaps it will be different when the child is your own."

"Perhaps."

There was a small pause before Lucy moved away. "I shall leave you to rest now. You won't go to the stables unless you're feeling completely well, will you? If you do not get better by tomorrow then I shall ask Charles to send a doctor."

"That's very kind of you, Miss Bingley, but there is no need. I am feeling well already."

Lucy smiled and said goodbye before exiting Felton's cottage and closing the door behind her softly.

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