Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt 3, Ch21: Another Step Closer
So Ben Davidson learned all that Forsythe had done in order to get Felicity out of Williamsburg. All just so the little bastard could have her for himslef. But what Ben didn't learn was that Forsythe had succeeded in marrying her by devious means, at the church Ben had inquired about just earlier that morning. The Gooch purposely refrained from telling the young cavalry captain that bit of information because of the still bleeding hole in theback of his right knee. Such news would very likely result in getting his other knee shot out as well. Young Davidson already seemed to be on the edge of insanity as it was! And he had indeed reloaded his dangerous-looking flintock real fast, making good use of his war-time skills.
Why hadn't old Mr. Tweed heard the gun go off in the first place? The old bugger had just let him out of the gate! Certainly Tweed had been miffed about being roused from his min-morning nap, but that was no excuse for ignoring a gun going off so close by! Maybe old Tweed was deaf- No, if he was deaf he would not have heard the summoning bell clanging for attention. Blast! The Gooch glanced to his left, seeing that the Davidson lad was flanking him closely on the left, with that impressive peice pointed right at him, ready to be shot if its master got any angrier.
To make matters worse (for a Gooch), the younger fellow that Davidson had brought with him had both of the Gooch's flintlocks holstered about his skinny waist; one of which was drawn and loaded under Davidson's instructions. Damned if the boy wasn't a fast learner! Rollie Newton flanked him on the right as both the younger men forced him to lead the way to the village of Bel Hastings, which the Gooch was not looking forward to returning to. The road going to Bel Hastings was in better condition than the one going to and from the city. At least in the city there would be a better chance of getting one's self lost if one tried to escape certain punishments!
To make matters even worse (for a Gooch), his damned hands had been tied in front of him with his own rope. "Oh ho, what's the rope for, gooch?" Davidson had demanded ferociously while rummaging through the hunter's saddle bags. "To tie Felicity up if you happened to find her? You whoreson!" Davidson had spat, stunning the Gooch into wondereing how the young cavalry captain knew his mamma had been a prostitute.
Other reasons why Gooch did not particularly wish to return to Bel Hastings was that for one, he had worn out his welcome harassing the locals concerning the whereabouts of Lady Forsythe, and for another, he had insulted a woman at the local pub one night by calling her a "jabbering sow," which resulted in the woman's husband giving him a black eye. 'Twas only while taking off in a drunken sprint that he learned that the woman he had insulted was the wife of the town constable.
"You say you tracked Felicity to this village were coming upon?" Ben asked sharply, wincing with suspicion.
"Aye," groaned the Gooch painfully, feeling self-pitying because he couldn't even grasp his own wounded knee. "Just outside of it, anyway. Lost 'er tracks in the woods near to some fancy place."
'Fancy place?' Ben frowned and glared at the back of Gooch's scraggly head. "What do you mean by that?"
"Th' locals say its the home of the duke of Bel Hastimgs, but I don' know 'cause I didn' get to go up there. Aint no high-an'-mighty royal fella gonna bother with a runaway lass gone out of 'er mind from opiuhhhh...Oh law, I did it again!"
"What?" Incensed, Ben heeled his horse forward, up alongisde the cringing Gooch, holding that pistol up at the big man's head menacingly. "Tell me what you meant by that right now, Gooch! 'Gone out of her mind?' What in hell do you mean by that?"
"Th' powders! They gots opium in 'em! 'Is mother relies on 'em to get by, so 'e bought up a whole lot so's he could use 'em to make the girl insensible. Ye know, so's she wouldn' fight 'im. But she did anyway. Anyone could floor that lil' shit- "
"I don't care about Forsythe!" Ben hollored impatiently at him. "Not right now. I want Felicity back first, and then I'll get your employer! So do you mean to say that she was given these powders constantly?"
"Aye," Gooch moaned. "So she wouldn' feel strong enough t'run away. But she did."
Ben closed his eyes in shockened worry. Just when he couldn't hate himself for all of this anymore than he already did, he learned something else that deepend the guilt and twisted the knife in his gut even harder. What absolute hell his Felicity must hae endured! What was her physical condition at this moment? Was she ill? He'd heard about addictions to powders and so-called remedies in the war, where men would become addicted to the most outrageous things that were supposed to cure illness, numb pain, or relieve symptoms. These addictions were very hard to overcome once started, and some of them even died from overuse! What in Heaven's name was Felicity having to suffer?
If he continued to dwell on what-if's another moment, he would just lose what little mind he had left to think with. He swallowed sullenly and looked to Rollie. "Where do we find the constable in this place?"
"We can ask someone at that house over there. Local folks know where everyone's at," Rollie assured him helpfully.
"Given the mood I'm in, Rollie, I don't think I can be very...er, patient or amiable at this moment."
But young Rollie understood immediately. He grinned, dismounted and handed his reins to Ben. "I see, sir. I shall find out where the constable is." And he laughed at the Gooch, who was groaning either from his shot knee, being back in Bel Hastings, or both. "If 'e tries to get away, sir, perhaps you should shoot his eyes out!" He took off for the front gate of the house.
"Oh law, don' do that!" Gooch cried out in his gurgeily voice. "I need me eyeballs!"
Ben sneered nastily. "You should have thought of that before you took up a mad man's offer! Now I have a new punishment to consider!"
"Ye wouldn'!"
"Wouldn't I?" Ben raised his pistol to Gooch's head. The burly hunter flinched and quivered in his saddle seat. Said Ben menacingly, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't!"
Rollie had already slipped inside the gate and disappeared behind the tall shrubs that lined the walk up to the little house's front called after him in a panic, "Boy! Don' leave me 'ere alone with this man! 'E'll kill me! Boy!"
Ben truly was considering shooting Gooch in the head. He thought about Felicity, pleading to be released, struggling, sick from those vile powders...believing no one in the world could find her, and that Ben himself wanted nothing more to do with her. Ever. Oh, how deep and horrible it hurt! And he knew he was to blame for it. "How many times did Felicity beg to be let go, Gooch? How many times did she have to struggle to get away from you? Did you hurt her, Gooch? If you did, I will find about it, damn you, and you will be as good as dead!"
"I didn' 'urt the girl! I didn'! If anything, she 'urt me!"
Ben's finger lessened on the trigger."How so?"
Gooch had his bound wrists up, attempting to sheild his face from sudden harm. "I was ordered to get 'er out of th' carriage 'cause she wouldn' come out on 'er own! But when I bent in to fetch 'er out, she slapped my nose red as a berry!"
At that, Ben smiled, proudly and sentimentally, tears rushing to his brown eyes. That was his Lissie, the fiesty, strong-willed girl who wouldn't give up without a fight! The ferocious longing to hold her, kiss her, smother her with all of the love in the world ate at him torturously, like his soul was being set upon by a pack of wolves. He had to find her today, he just had to! He could not eat, sleep. drink, or even take time to piss until he had her back! He was wound up more than ever, a powder keg about to blow. But there would be no release until Felicity was in physical contact with him once more.
Today had to be the day he found her. It had to be!
He had only been gone a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity until Rollie came jogging back from the house to the road. His eyes were bright with excitement. "We're very close to the constable's office, sir! We're to follow the very road we're on right now until we come to a pub called the Night Owl-" (Here the Gooch groaned dreadingly) "-and the office of Constable Poon is in the building across from it."
"Good," murmured Ben satisfactorily. "Mount up, Rollie. Let's get this jackass to a gaol and be rid of him."
"Yessir!"
So they followed the road further north into the hilly country. It had to be perhaps two o'clock, Ben reckoned, by the position of the sun. Elizabeth and Arthur would be worried, he knew, but they did not understand. Of course they loved Felicity as much as they would a sister, but Ben did not. His love for her was different, deeper, passionate and consuming. It was his life. For Felicity he had refused to take just any woman, he had kept his carnal longings controlled for the moment when he would take her for his wife and learn of the intimate expressions of that blessed union with her alone. And for her he'd wait as long as it took for her to heal from the nightmare she'd been through because of him. If there was a God in Heaven, she'd forgive him. He prayed that God and Felicity Merriman would both forgive him, because he could never, ever forgive himself.
The Night Owl was a very rural-looking building, somehow fitting in very nicely with the undemanding, quiet and peaceful village of Bel Hastings, which in Ben Davidson's opinion consisted of fewer buildings than there were on Duke of Gloucester Street back in Williamsburg. But he understood that there were the farmers, the hard-working denizens who did not live directly within the village, but farmed those patchwork fields and hillsides for their living, and quite likely attended the quaint brick church just a few yards away. Had he been in better spirits, Ben would have thought the place to be perfect.
The building across from the Night Owl looked like an ordinary shop of some sort, but without merchandise being displayed in the windows on either side of its door. As they rode up to the hitching post, it was easy to see that there was a note nailed to the door's middle. Without being told to, Rollie Newton slipped down from his saddle to run up to the door and see what the note was about. Ben had a sinking feeling all of a sudden...
"Sir! It says that Constable Poon is unavailable and will return by nightfall!"
"That's correct," said a voice from beihnd them. Ben, Rollie and even the Gooch turned their heads to see a middle-aged man with a pipe standing in the middle of the street watching them with mild interest. " 'E's gone to see about a dispute over a dowry. Seems as if a young man won't marry some lass unless a milking goat is made part of the deal. Say...haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
The gentleman indicated the Gooch with a nod of his tricorned head. The Gooch immediately turned his head away, pretending to be interested in the church not too far off. "Nay, sir. Can't say ye have."
Ben glared at the Gooch, then said to the gentleman, "You might have, sir. It is my understanding that he has been here before, asking around about a missing girl. It is imperative that we find her. She is my fiance."
"Ah, yes, I do remember him! Mr. Gooch! Insulted the constable's wife and made a nuisance of himself 'round and about! I was there at the 'Owl when said he'd arrest you if you ever came back! Oy, won't he be surprised!"
"Oh law," was all the Gooch could manage to mutter.
Ben got down form his horse, went to the gentleman and extended his hand. "My name is Ben Davidson, from the American Colonies. I'm here to find my fiance who was abducted late last year by a man named Forsythe. I must find her at once, sir, so if you know anything I'd be so grateful..."
"The colonies, eh?" Shaking ben's hand, the man looked him up and down, then smiled genuinely. "Not what I imagined a yankee to look like, but no matter. You're lookin' for your fiance, eh?"
"Yes sir."
"So was he." The man nodded at the Gooch again. "Only he was a damned nuisance about it. Can't say I know anything about the missing girl, lad, but you might want to speak to Squire Babcock about putting this villan in chains until Constable Poon gets back. The squire's a decent fellow, he'll help you as best he can. Heh! If he aint out whackin' moles somewhere."
"Thank you, sir!" The optimism was back in Ben's face and voice. "Where do I find this 'Squire Babcock'?"
The man took a pull on his pipe, then pointed west. "You take the cart path out to those hills, and keep going until you see a well-built cottage on your right. That's the Babcock house. Most likely there will be children playing in the barnyard. If you meet the squire, tell 'im ol' Smokestack Hanes wants to borrow a mole trap or two."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir!" Apparently the fellow was ol' Smokestack Hanes, Ben mused as he quickly remounted. Rollie pointed a pistol at the Gooch and forced him to take the lead again. The three of them set off for the home of the squire, and Ben's heart was banging wildly in his chest again.
His impatience was obvious in his deep frown, in his short sighs that were more like 'pressure-release breaths,' his frustration getting to be more than he could bear. The Gooch continued to huff and groan over his knee, which he continued to instinctively try to clutch at but couldn't because of his bound wrists. Ben was sorely tempted to question the burly hunter about Felicity some more, but felt for certain that the Gooch would only say something to get him riled up again, and he would have to shoot the idiot dead. As if he didn't deserve it already.
Ben found the road taking them into the hills, between which were lovely little valleys where a home or two was nestled, and every home posessed a certain quantity of sheep grazing in its fields or on one of the grassy hillsides sloping up into the grey afternoon sky. Everything he saw he wondered if Felicity had seen it, too. The further along they went, the closer Ben felt to her. His optimism and excitement waxed and waned like the moon, but suddenly he felt his spirits rise like never before. Today was surely the day.
The mis-matched trio arrived at the gate of a fine-looking, one-story cottage, which was in their right as described by ol' Smokestack. Two children, a boy and a girl, were indeed playing in the baryard, entertaining a white goat that would chase them to the full extent of its rope then bleat for them to come back so it could chase them again. The children laughed fitfully, not yet seeing the three strangers arrive at their front gate. Ben felt most assured that this was the home of the squire, for there was a quaint but elegant 'B' carved into the top rail of the rustic front gate. It was a nice place, well tended and homey, cheerful, even if spring still had yet to arrive later in the month.
As Ben and Rollie dismounted and tied thier mounts to a gate post. Rollie asked helpfully, "Shall I go to the door for you again, sir?"
"Not this time, Rollie," Ben replied, his composure having temporarily settled, despite his insides twisting about in knots of utter anxiety. He holstered hi pistol beneath his cloak, indicating for Rollie to do the same. The last thing Ben wanted was to frighten the children with the appearance of weapons. He jerked a thumb back at the Gooch. "He's not going anywhere. But if he does manage to slip off his horse, then you may shoot his other knee out."
"Yes sir!" Rollie exclaimed with a toothy grin.
"Oh law, no more shootin'!" Gooch half-groaned, half-wailed. "I'm half dead as it is!"
Ben snorted. "Then you had better start making peace with the Lord, Gooch, or the Almighty Himself will just bypass your judgement and cast you straight on into hell where you belong." He nodded at Rollie and opened the Babcocks' gate. silently swearing that he had heard the burly hunter sob a time or two.
By now the rambunctious children teasing the goat had noticed the strange arrivals, and after watching two of them dismount, were scampering for the front door of their house yelling, "Mama! Papa! Visitors!"
A pleasant-face man with a belly and his equally amiable-looking wife both came to the door with curious expressions as Ben approached, trying not to seem so eager. But if he did seem so hurried and tense, he couldn't help it. Felicity was somewhere close- he could feel it!
Had she even come this way?
"Um, good afternnon, sir. Ma'am." He removed his tricorn, nodding in polite greetings. "Might this be the home of a...Squire Babcock?"
"Aye lad, that's me." Mr. Babcock came out on the stone path, smiling cordially. He had glanced past Ben at the younger male and the fellow slumped on ahorse who seemed oddly familiar and appeared to quite possibly have his hands tied together. "And who might I have the pleasure of meetin' today?"
"Captain Benjamin Davidson, sir. I've come all the way from the American colonies to find my abducted fiance, Felicity Merri-"
"Lady Felicity?" interrupted an excited squeak from the little girl, who had the same brown eyes and brown hair as her inquisitive-looking mama. "You know Faerie Lady Felicity?"
Ben's widened eyes were immediately asking the little girl the same question. 'Twas as if his heart had stopped mid-beat at the shock of hearing his beloved's name spoken by someone he had least expected it to come from. Bewildered, he looked from the girl to her parents and back again. Twice. "You-you know Felicity?" Good God, was she here?
"Pudding!" exclaimed Mrs. Babcock, a bit befuddled herself, having seen the man with the tied up hands on a horse. "Where's yer manners, child? Haven't I told you never to speak to strangers like that?"
"Is she here?" Ben blurted, his compusre slipping rapidly as his heart began to go off like a cannon, repeatedly, his brown eyes pleading with all the desperation in the world. 'Twas rude to interrupt a person, but when one's very dreams were about to come true, one tended to forget decorum and manners, lest one's heart explode."Where is she? You have to tell me, I have to get to her!"
"Now calm down, here, lad," said the Squire gently. "I can't just flap my jaws to anyone. who is that you've got with ye over there?"
Ben gulped, his throat suddenly having gone dry. "Th-that's my friend from the inn I'm staying at in Bristol, and the man on the horse is Mr. Ezekiel Gooch, a man hired by Lord Reginald Forsythe to help abduct Felicity Merriman. He has been here before, has he not?"
"Why yes!" The squire scratched his round chin. " 'E's been here before! Got the villagers quite ruffled with his persistant behavior, and insulting a constable's wife."
"Well Constable Poon was not available today," Ben babbled breathlessly, impatient to get back to the topic of Felicity. "So I was told to come to you, I was told you could help." He gestured urgently at the Gooch. "This man must be arrested! He aided and abetted an abduction, nearly killed an American merchant- Felicity Merriman's father- and is still in the employ of Lord Forsythe. Just this morning he was to go hunt for her again, he confessed to it!"
The squire stared past Ben at Rollie Newton. "You there! Is all of this true?"
"Aye, sir! Captain Davidson and two of his friends are staying at my master's inn, the Stag's Head, in Bristol. They have come to find the lass and see justice done!"
"Well! That's good enough fer me!" Squire Babcock turned to his flabbergasted wife."What say you, Unguin?"
"I say we must fetch the Duke!" Mrs. Babcock cried joyously.
"By crackety, that ought to do it!" stated Felicity Merriman, rising up from where she had been kneeling at the bottom hem of a rather gorgeous dark red gown in the open-robe styyle. She had a pin clamped between her teeth in a corner of her mouth. She stepped back away from her work, eyeing it slowly up and down, nodding absently with her own approval.
"Oh Felicity, it is absolutely beautiful!" gushed Magdalene, standing beside the young red head. Together they cocked their heads to their left to admire Felicity's stitching with the silver thread. The dark red dress hung on the torso of a wooden dummy shaped like a woman so that a dress could be modelled more patiently than on a live woman. "And ye keep insisting that ye can't sew! I do believe yer the only one who thinks that!"
Felicity smiled slyly at her. "Truly, Maggie, you give me too much credit."
"Oh bosh! Juliette will simply love this!" Maggie said excitedly of her niece, who was to be wed in the spring in the very dress they had been working on. The half-done gown had been brought to Maggie in a panic because her sister was too ill with a cold to finish it for her daughter's ypcoming nuptuals. Felicity, desperately wanting to be kept busy, begged to help, then ended up spweing ideas that ultimately put her in charge of the dress's completion.
The dress hadn't been the only change to occur at the home of the Duke of Bel Hastings. Felicity Merriman seemed to have come into another phase of being; that of a cynical, skeptical temperamental. The duke had sent a letter, penned by himslef because felicity didn't know where or how to begin, to her family by packet ship to the colonies the very next day following felicity's arrival at Bel-Hall. Lord Eric read aloud to her what he had composed on her behalf, Felicity approved, and thus he sealed the official-looking letter with his family's crest stamped into the bright red wax. Felicity wondered what her family would think when they recieved a letter about her from an actual duke. In her opinion, it felt awkward and strange, like she had become a stranger to her own family. Yet to find the words to describe what all she had been through and her current state of mind was just impossible right now, so she was grateful to the duke for his intervention.
Lord Eric had learned from one of his warehouses' managers that of the two ships he still posessed, one was in the Carribean, and the other was sue to return from Denmark soon. The ship coming from Denmark would be the best ship for sailing the North Atlantic, for it was built just especially for cold climates and rough weather. The duke could have easily paid her way aboard another ship, but he would not hear of it, for even with a female companion a young lady like Felicity would be risking harassment. He did not, nor would not, trust a crew that was not of his employ; he personally felt the girl had already been through too much to risk more. He knew Evangeline would approve.
He had presented Felicity with options: risk a voyage with an unreliable crew, or wait for the return of the Denmark ship. Seeing his blue eyes pleading though his voice did not, felicity relented to wait. She herself trusted no one, but she was willing to give the duke the benefit of the doubt. After all, what had she left to lose but her life, and that she held in little regard. She was in a blue mood most of the time...except for when Magdalene or one of the servant ladies made her smile or laugh a little.
She had been a guest at Bel Hall for four weeks now. Although the duke's ship had returned from Denmark days ago, Lord eric wished to tell his ship's captain in person of the special voyage he was planning. The ship would need to make the necessary repairs, get cleaned out and re-fitted, and its crew given a brief rest. Ordinarily, a tired crew having just returned from one laborous trip would not be that eager to set out again on another one so soon, but when the duke himself promised them all handsome bonuses, they were ready to leave at once.
Of course Felicity desperately wanted to go home. But she wanted to be assured that she would truly get home. If that meant waiting for the re-fitting of a reliable ship with a trustworthy crew, then it would be worth the extra wait. 'Twas not as if she had to struggle to keep from being idle, and thus fall prey to the dangerous emotions she was trying to keep pent up within her. She insisted on making herself useful. The duke tried to protest that she was a guest and deserved peace and relaxation. She argued that she could never have either until she was back with her family. The duke relented. She was shown his stables per her request, and instantly fell in love with his horses. Thus she put herself to work grooming them daily.
And then there was Magdalene herself, who had in a very short time become the wise, eccentric aunt Felicity never had. The woman fussed over Eric like a worried mother, claiming that somebody had to be after him to make him take care of himself. " 'E needs a woman to make him mond, that's what 'e needs," she said of him one day. "A man may brag an' boast an' strut about like the only rooster in the barnyard, but 'e's still just a chicken! Wot good's a rooster without a hen?"
Magdalene was very wise about men.
Maggie kept her lively chatter going constantly, spouting her wisdom and encouraging Felicity to be productive as she was. Lord eric began to believe that Felicity might have become an utterly withdrawn recluse if not for his beloved motherly-maid's attentiveness.
And it was not as if Felicity was completely rid of Reginald Forsythe yet, either. Different newspapers issued in Bristol ran articles on the reward still being offered for her return to Forsythe Manor. In these papers she was referred to as 'the Lady Forsythe,' her first name strangely omitted. Rather than be intimidated by these articles, felicity was greatly annoyed. Dining with Magdalene and the duke one evening recently she had grumbled, "How is it that a man who is broke can afford to put advertisements in four different newspapers?"
Eric had raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Perhaps it is not he who is having them printed. Forsythe Manor and the remnants of his vile slaving business officially belong to Reggie's uncle and cousin now. My lawyer sends me word that Tristan Forsythe is recuperating quickly now. Half of his face is quite burned, but he can speak plainly now without too much pain."
Felicity had looked nervous right away. "So why has he not come after me? I did not get that much acquainted with him, thank the Lord, but I quickly learned what sort of man he is, and I judge him to be the sort who seeks revenge on those he believes have wronged him. For something as startling as an injury to the face of someone who's vain- something that would scar him and make him grotesque to women he once charmed- I would think that Tristan Forsythe would want my blood to drink with his evening meal! So why hasn't he come pounding on your door with constables and sherrifs and all?"
The duke's chin had lifted defiantly, his smile amusing in a reassuring kind of way. "Perhaps it is simply because you cannot be located! And I believe that he cannot bring charges against you without implicating himself somehow. Notorious cad that he is, I am certain there are heartbroken, victimized women out there who would like to see him be brought to justice for various reasons."
"So, then...his revenge upon me will be private." She had not put it as a question, but a deep-seated worry expressed aloud.
"Nay, my dear, he shall do nothing of the sort," Eric had said firmly. "My household is loyal to me. They will not allow anyone to come onto the property without consequence or invitation. I assure you, Miss Felicity, you are quite safe here. And I am a peer of the realm. Even if you had shot the lowly louse in the head, I could declare you innocent regardless of any evidence or protest. A duke has the power to make things very miserable for the lower classes. 'Tis an abuse of power, really, but it has always been that way. As I've said afore, we are lucky that you are in the right."
Felicity had swallowed her pork dinner that evening with a dry throat. "I hope so, your grace."
"Take heart, dear," Magdalene had also assured her with a pat on the hand. "If the lad didn't speak the truth, I'd know it!" She had leaned toward Felicity and whispered (loudly), "When 'e lies, 'is face turns green."
The duke of Bel Hastings did not have a green face that evening.
So now four weeks into her stay at Bel Hall, Felicity Merriman had settled into a dedication to seeing that Magdalene's niece, Juliette, would have a splendid gown to wear upon her wedding day. On her own whim, she had added silver beading to the bodice and stomacher, details that Juliette's mother and Maggie had found to be awe-strikingly approving, having not thought of it themselves. Maggie gave Felicity free run of her personal sewing supplies, and in that Felicity had found a great deal of unused threads, trimmings and beads from broken necklaces and other jewelry that spawned all sorts of decorative ideas.
Felicity believed that a girl had a right to feel like a princess on her wedding day. She was assured that that day would never come for her now, but she could at least help make some other young lady's dreams come true. Also in the lovely upstairs dressing room with her and Magdalene was Marvel-Anne and Poppy Babcock, who having taken quite a liking to 'Faerie Lady' Felicity, as they dubbed her, wanted to watch her sew and help with everything from picking up trimmed off thread to collecting dropped beads. "Well, little elves, what do you think?" Felicity addressed them importantly, for they were thrilled to death that The Lady considered their opinions.
"Oh its a dream!" swooned Marvel-Anne.
"Queen Charlotte would be sooo envious!" sighed Poppy adoringly.
Felicity snickered a little bit. "Indeed! But this gown is meant for Juliette, who will be royalty herself on her wedding day, as all ladies should be."
"Even you, dear," added Maggie pleasantly.
And immediately Felicity turned obviously doubtful. "Oh Maggie, I shant ever get married. I missed my chance. I do not need a man to be happy, though. I can be content to do for others."
"What nonsense!" Magdalene's hands went to her hips as she slipped into her scolding-mother attitude. 'Ye aint even eighteen! And no woman truly needs a man, that is for certain! But 'tis the way of things. We weren't meant to be alone, man nor woman. It's nice to 'ave someone to share yer life with."
Felicity shrugged indifferently, not really feeling up to a 'men are nothing but idiots' talk. Her father wasn't an idiot. He was the best man in the world. But Father was so far away right now...maybe even dea-
No! She wasn't going to think it. That was the path to insanity. She rubbed the back of her neck tiredly. "It must be getting on toward five o'clock. Shall we go start supper, Maggie?"
"Wot d'ye mean, 'we'? Ye've worked hard on this dress all day! Ye deserve a break. Why don't ye lie down for a bit an' I'll fetch ye when dinner's ready."
Felicity contemplated it, then said, "Actually, a nice walk outside in the garden would be nice. What I need is some fresh air."
"All right, then, if'n ye feel like it." Maggie wagged a motherly finger at her. "But ye 'ave to take someone with ye if ye go out. Ye don' go nowhere ouside unescorted because ye never know what might happen."
"Yes'm," Felicity said, smiling at the older woman's protectiveness. "I'll get Flora to go with me, she likes to talk about animals that happen to not be men."
Maggie's head went back as she laughed riotously.
"Oh may we come, too, Lady Felicity?" asked Poppy, bouncing up and down like a hyper rabbit. "May we, may we, may we?"
"Oh yes, may we?" chimed in Marvel-Anne. "We want to talk about animals, too! Not the man-animals, but the regular ones."
Felicity and Maggie exchanged an irresistable grin. But the older woman knew best when one had been set upon by energetic children long enough. "Now shush, the both o' ye! The lass needs some fresh air, And the two o' you little mice need to get home an' help yer own momma with yer dinner!"
"But Mrs. Mag!" the girls wailed insistently.
"Run along now, before yer Papa has to come fetch ye hisself! 'E'll be right put out if ye interrupt 'is bloddy mole whackin'!"
"Actually, Maggie, mole-whacking is not so bad," commented Felicity airily with a smile. She had been twice invited for mole-whacking lessons with the squire and his son. The experience proved to be a good way of relieving stress. "The squire says for every one you whack there are ten more the next day."
Maggie rolled her eyes and shook her head. " 'Tis a wonder there's a mole left in Bel Hastings at all! Not that I care for the lil' nasties, but a gentlewoman ought not to be out whacking the heads of pests!"
"Then its a good thing I'm not a gentlewoman, because I found the whacking to be enjoyable." When Felicity said this the two girls giggled approvingly.
"Ah, enough with ye! Go for your walk, girl! And as for you two, if'n I give ye both a piece if the duke's taffy will ye get along home?"
"Yes Ma'am!" said the Babcock sisters, entranced by the thought of sweets, as all good children should be.
Felicity laughed softly at them and wnadered down to the inside kitchen to find Flora, the young maid who often accompanied Felicity on her walks in the duke's garden. Flora was a true English country girl of Felicity's age, unmarried but hoping to win the heart of the villiage pastor's son someday. Flora loved animals of every kind, so Felicity had to be careful of mentioning the mole-whacking around her, lest the sensitive girl busrst into tears. Felicity found her having just finished mending an apron when she came into the servant's dining area. As Felicity assumed she would, Flora dumped her sewing aside to jump up and go.
Little did she know that just as soon as she and Flora went out the rear doors of the manor, an unexpected (and very eager) arrival had just come to the front.