Kissed by Starlight (14 page)

Felicia reached out to grab hold of the back of a sturdy chair. “Clarice?”

The younger woman ran lightly down the rest of the stairs and took Felicia by the arm. “It’s been too much of a shock for you, coming on top of all that dreadful business. I shall find it hard to forgive Mama for her meddling. Come, sit down.” Over her shoulder, she said, “Bring the brandy, Doctor. Can’t you see she’s about to faint?”

“I never faint,” Felicia said. “Though I should be glad of a chair.”

“Sit then, my love.” With the grace that had marked her actions even while she’d been enchanted, Clarice sank to her knees as her sister sat down. She guided the small glass the doctor brought to Felicia’s lips. “Not too much at first. Carefully...carefully. There.”

The aromatic liquid burst in her throat like warming fire. Felicia blinked hard, half-expecting the vision before her to vanish along with the tears in her eyes. Clarice laughed. “We’ve thrown her into confusion, Doctor.”

But it was not Felicia’s pulse the doctor took. Clarice suffered him to hold her wrist only for a moment before she shook off his touch. “See to my sister,” Clarice said. “I shall take no hurt. The fire is quite warm, though smoky, and I am well.”

Felicia glanced up at the doctor, whose lips were tightly compressed. “What is it, Doctor?”

“If Clarice, Viscountess Stavely, is of the opinion that a ride in an open carriage in the depths of a black March night after an immersion in freezing water that is enough to have killed two healthy men isn’t going to do her any harm, what can a mere medical man say?”

Clarice laughed up at the doctor. “‘Tisn’t March anymore. ‘Tis April as of yesterday.”

It had been impossible to think of the Clarice she’d left at Hamdry as being the viscountess of anything. The restored Clarice, however, seemed to belong to the title. It had been a long time since a woman had held the title in her own right, but the patent allowed for it.

Felicia had seen the actual patent, covered over with the crabbed, black lead writing of an ancient age, and the language that guaranteed the direct survival of the title had been read out every year on the anniversary of Henry VI’s signing of it in 1453. Some said this eccentric clause was just the first sign of that king’s incipient madness, but the document had been upheld by all the kings of England thereafter.

Clarice laughed again and all her youthful charm came pouring into the room like a very real wave. The doctor coughed, turning away to busy himself with the contents of his bag. Looking at Felicia, Clarice allowed her left eyelid to flicker a trifle. Winking was something she’d learned during the last three years from one of the half-wild boys near the manor.

She said, “At first I thought all they told me was no more than an April Fools’ jest, but when they spoke of you being in prison for my attempted murder, I knew it was no fooling. So I came as ever soon as I could.”

“Dearest, what in Heaven's name..?’’ Felicia began.

Clarice shook her head suddenly, the ringlets flying. “Don’t ask me anything now. I’m all muddled up inside. Some things are bright, very bright, and others are dark. Father’s dying...” The ringlets flew once more.

“There is time to talk of that.”

“Yes, let’s put it off.” Her smile glittered upward. “We are together and all this folly of Mama’s shall be quite forgotten. I was most cross with her when I learned upon waking this morning what she had done to you.”

The youthful voice faded to a whisper, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop by several degrees. “She hates you, she truly hates you. I never realized that before.”

The doctor turned about again, all bustle. “That’s enough of that! Drink this down and let’s be practical.”

Standing up and giving an entirely instinctive shake to her skirts, Clarice took the small wineglass from his hand. “What is it? Is it nasty?”

“Never mind the taste; it’ll calm that pulse of yours. Most tumultuous.”

“Ooh, then it is nasty. Very well.” She raised the glass to her eye level. “To you, my dear sister, and to you too, best doctor in the world.” She tossed off the cordial-water as though she were a hardened toper, then strangled for a moment over the taste. “You mix them strong, Doctor.”

His lips twitched. “You never heard that from your mother.”

“I was ever my father’s daughter.” She smiled at Felicia. “You know I’m still a hoyden at heart. I shall miss my freedoms.”

“Not for long,” Felicia said. “You’ll soon steal them back again, if I am any judge.”

Clarice tilted her chin as though defying some opposition only she heard. A commotion in the tiny foyer outside drowned her next words, but Felicia knew what they were: “So I shall; indeed I shall.”

The commotion proved to be Justice Garfield and Mr. Ashton. Felicia stiffened as the solicitor came in. Clarice did not know of her mother’s disgraceful behavior, and it would not be for Felicia to reveal it. Yet being in the same room with Ashton was nearly enough to make her wish herself again in gaol.

Both gentlemen bowed to Clarice, who replied to this honor with a mere flick of her head. Mr. Ashton spoke first, entirely cutting off the older, more experienced but less effectual man. “My dear lady, as coroner I must investigate these things that have been charged. I pray you fully disclose your mind to me, with neither fear nor favor.”

Doctor Danby said, “Is this a formal inquest?”

Mr. Ashton pulled at a signet ring on his littlest finger. “No, indeed, Doctor, I hope to spare her ladyship that ordeal. These are a few private questions and she may answer as among friends.”

“I shall be happy to answer whatever questions you pose,” Clarice said. “At home tomorrow, after I have tended to my sister. This un—unconscionable arrest has pained my family deeply.” Only the stumble over the long word showed that she’d thought out this speech in advance.

Mr. Ashton stepped between Clarice and Felicia when the younger woman would have gone to her sister’s side. “I’m afraid I must insist. Miss Starret must return to the gaol pending a complete investigation. It’s the law that put her there; ‘tis the law you must trust to see her safely out.”

“She’ll do nothing of the kind!” Doctor Danby declared. “D’you want her dead of gaol fever before she ever comes to trial? That’s what it’ll come to if you keep a delicately bred girl locked up with the sweepings of the moor!”

Mr. Ashton coughed behind one of his flabby white hands while his thick lids shielded his eyes. “I’m sure Miss Starret is far less delicate than you believe, Doctor. The...ah...lessons learned in childhood are not so easily forgotten.”

When both Doctor Danby and Clarice would have rushed hotly to her aid, Felicia raised her hand to silence them. The swift change in her circumstances — from being locked up in gaol to seeing Clarice alive and entirely in her senses — had caused Felicia’s own brain to swim for a space. Now she felt herself once more in full command of her faculties.

She addressed Justice Garfield. “If you would consider releasing me into Doctor Danby’s care, I should undertake to appear at any trial. I have no reason to run away, you know.”

Justice Garfield looked as though he should be a miracle of judicial wisdom. He had a long nose, ideal for looking down on the criminal underclass, bright blue eyes, and a wisely furrowed forehead. He was approximately sixty years of age, though the gray periwig disguised some of his years. The late Lord Stavely had not held a high opinion of him, but since Garfield was a distant relation of Lady Stavely’s, he had been tolerated.

Now he shuffled his feet in his black and buckled shoes and looked sideways at Ashton. “It does seem harsh to keep her locked up with a lot we know to be guilty. Very low, some of them. Morris, for instance. A very bad man, that.”

Realizing that none of her former cellmates could expect a fair trial, Felicia felt helpless. Clarice, however, paid no attention to anything but the justice’s words about Felicia. “Good!” she said determinedly. “I shall take her home at once. Mama shall just have to look cheerful, that’s all!”

So it was settled. Ashton still murmured objections into the judge’s hairy ear, dancing around like a trained bear to first one side and then the other. The judge made burbling noises but did not summon the constable, who also served at bailiff, to stop Clarice and Doctor Danby from bundling Felicia into the carriage.

It was open, as he had said, and the fresh air felt like a divine draft. “I knew you should hate anything closed,” Clarice said.

“So would you,” Felicia answered. “I imagine I smell like gaol.”

“I told Mary and Rose to have a really steaming hot bath waiting for you the instant we arrive. You needn’t worry about Mama — she retired with a murderous headache as soon as she saw I was determined to fetch you home myself. I would have come much, much earlier today, I pray you believe me! But with Mama threatening hysterics and dear Doctor Danby foretelling death from inflammation of the lungs if I dared to stir out of doors, then came the cherry on top the blancmange — Liza had to go off in a strong convulsion and ‘a-babbling of green fields.’ Oh, ‘twas a giddy afternoon, I vow!”

Felicia laughed and felt so wonderfully free that she wanted to go on laughing. Doctor Danby, climbing up resignedly beside them, felt for her pulse. “Take her home and put her to bed. Treat those scratches on her neck before you do aught else.”

“A bath before all,” Felicia pleaded. “Doctor, please don’t sit down. I want you to do something for me.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, he asked, “And this would be?”

“Those others in the gaol — I would like you to see to it that they are released.”

“Released? My good girl...”

“I know, I know. But if you can winkle Mr. Garfield away from Mr. Ashton, you can persuade him to let them go. Oh, I realize it’s not proper, but I couldn’t sleep knowing ...I can’t...I...” Suddenly she felt too exhausted to muster the words. She only looked pleadingly at the small, fretful man.

Clarice said, “Tell him, if you must, that I shall offer bond for them on this occasion.”

“You’re mad, the pair of you. There’s Morris, a man the poor constable’s trying to catch for months, and a couple of drabs Tiberius wouldn’t look at, but you two want me...”

Felicia leaned back against the leather cushion. With her eyes closed, she said, “It will do the constable good to chase Morris again; he’s too fat as ‘tis. As for the girls, they are no more than children themselves. How else can they keep themselves if not on the street? Help them most of all. One is about to have a child.”

Doctor Danby stepped down into the street and shut the door. “Mad as hatters, the pair of you. But I’ll do all I can.”

All the way from Hamford to the manor, Felicia kept her eyes tightly closed. Somehow she felt less disoriented that way. She kept the cloak Clarice had brought for her caught together at the throat with one hand. With the other, she clutched a white bag, embroidered with a B.

A bath sounded heavenly, and then a long sleep in a real bed. Felicia looked forward to these sybaritic pleasures almost as keenly as she anticipated seeing Blaic again. She had many hot words stored up to fire at him. She would demand answers from him and not rest until she found them, straightforward and clear.

Strange, though, how in the midst of her anger, she was aware that aside from all that she wanted just to see him. She hoped he’d not gone back into his Living Lands forever — and somehow, she guessed that she would indeed see him, if only once more.

Down beneath her anger and her anxiety, Felicia was aware of yet one more feeling. Bumping over the road to Hamdry, she tried to examine the emotion, but her feelings were in such confusion that she could make nothing come clear.

She looked at Clarice, the girl’s enchanting profile turned toward the window. What did she remember of Blaic? He had swept her up into his arms but had said nothing of Ancient Law or of becoming Clarice’s servant. Felicia was aware of something inside of her, very petty yet quite feminine, being glad of that. She could not say Blaic belonged to her — one might as well try to own the sky. Yet she felt a connection to him that was unlike anything she’d ever known before.

Looking up past the erect back of the coachman, she caught a glimpse of Hamdry Manor, standing like a paper cutout against the moonlit sky. The famous chimney pots, a freakish whim of the viscount who’d built the place, were shadows that almost seemed to move with the passing of the carriage. They were held up by mythical creatures, modeled on the monsters that lined the drive to Hampton Court. Griffins, unicorns, gargoyles stood upright, bearing the smoking pots on their heads or lifted up on straining arms. She recalled seeing them when she’d first arrived at Hamdry Manor as a child and thinking that they were not frightening but welcoming.

She smiled up at them, feeling for a moment as though she’d come home.

Chapter Eight

This feeling lasted for the entire length of the trip. Then, as the carriage made the turn from the high road into the drive, Clarice said, “I should tell you what I have told them all. So you’ll know what to say.”

Felicia could see little of her sister’s face, yet her tone was so matter-of-fact as to arouse suspicion. She said hesitantly, “I think that would be wise.”

“I told them that I, from pure caprice, decided to bathe in the stream. As everyone seems to think I’ve been entirely witless for the last several years, they accepted this tale without question. You followed me; naturally, I don’t know why or how you knew I was out of my room at such an unreasonable hour.”

“I heard you go past....” The lie fell from her lips in a murmur.

“Yes, that will do.” Clarice did not pause for Felicia’s surprise at the ease with which she accepted the lie and wove it into her own tale. Felicia wondered just how much of that evening’s doings Clarice recalled.

“At any rate, you followed me. The moment you tried to speak to me to persuade me to return to the house, I ran. I fancy I was laughing. On the very edge of the stream, you tried again to dissuade me from so unsuitable a bath. It is at this moment that the others must have been coming up. You reached out to keep me from jumping into the water but I evaded your hand. That is when I slipped and fell. Doctor Danby is of the opinion that I struck my head on some rocks just there and that is why I did not awaken for almost twenty-four hours.”