Lady Ellingham and the Theft of the Stansfield Necklace: A Regency Romance (13 page)

The following day was
the day of the hunt and Alex invited all of the party to join them.  Much to
his disappointment Felicity declined.  She loved the thrill of the chase but
she could never quite stomach the kill.   The fox may be considered as vermin
but she could not quite bring herself to believe that the poor animal deserved
such an end, so she elected to stay at home with her mother and the Dowager. 
The three men had left after an early breakfast and the house seemed quiet. 
Felicity joined the ladies in the drawing room but very soon began to feel
restless.  She walked over to the window, leaned against the frame with folded
arms and looked out onto the vista. She gave a heavy sigh.  It was a mild
November day and she was beginning to wish that she had gone along after all.  At
a push, she could have held back at the kill so she did not have to witness it.
It was something she sometimes did at home but she never quite succeeded in
avoiding the unpleasant scene completely and it always distressed her.

The Dowager, who was
sitting with the Countess sewing samplers, noticed her restless behaviour.  ‘Have
you not got a sampler of your own you can work on Felicity?  I am sure I can
find something for you.’

Her mother looked up
from her own work. ‘When it comes to sewing Flick has two left hands.  She
could not set a straight stitch if she tried.’

Flick sighed. ‘I am
afraid it is true. I have neither the talent nor the inclination. Whatever I
attempt, it always turns out crooked.’

The Dowager smiled. ‘You
must have some talent Felicity, what would you like to do?’

The Countess eagerly
replied for her. ‘She is very good at drawing, and Latin and French and she has
a remarkable singing voice.’

‘You sing my dear,’
asked the Dowager quite surprised. ‘You must let me hear you.’ She pointed to
the grand piano.  ‘I would feel myself most privileged if you would consent to
sing a song for me.’

Felicity could hardly
refuse such a genuine request and walked over to the grand piano.  It was a
beautiful piece of furniture made from highly polished mahogany.  It was finer
than her own instrument at Lealholme Manor.  She sat down and ran her fingers
lovingly over the ivory keys to familiarise herself with the feel of the
instrument before she began.  With brilliant clarity and sweet melody, she
launched into the haunting melancholic tune of Greensleeves.  The Dowager, who
had not expected a voice so lovely, opened her mouth in total astonishment and
then changed her expression to that of admiring appreciation. ‘You have the
voice of an angel my dear and that gives me a very good idea.  I think we
should have a musical evening.  We shall invite some friends over and you can
sing for us.  I will invite one or two others to sing as well so you do not
have to sing the whole evening, but I swear you will put everyone else in the
shade.’

The Countess looked
delighted. ‘That is a wonderful idea. You would not mind would you Felicity?’

Felicity could hardly
refuse and nodded her agreement.  Having a good voice, she was quite used to
such requests and it compensated a little for the way she always seemed to get
herself into trouble.

‘It is agreed then,’
the Dowager said. ‘I shall arrange everything for Sunday evening.’

Felicity regaled the Dowager
with a few more songs then retired to the chair in front of the fire.  Tiber
who had been basking in front of the crackling flames pricked up his ears at
her approach, emboldened himself and jumped up onto her lap.  He curled on her
thighs in pure bliss and settled with his chin resting on her knees.  Felicity
tickled him under the ear and spoke to him. ‘What shall we do today Tiber?’ The
dog looked up with expectant eyes. ‘Shall we, mmm let me think - sew samplers?’
Tiber looked at her in disgust and settled his head again. ‘Shall we mmm,’ Tiber
looked up again expectantly with pricked ears, ‘sing some more songs,’ she continued.
 He gave her another pitiful look and turned away.  She laughed. ‘Shall we...’
the dog looked up again and watched her as she gave the matter some thought.

The Countess laughed.
‘Flick, do not tease the little fellow so.  He looks so forlorn.’

Felicity laughed and
looked at Tiber as he looked up expectantly again.  ‘Shall we go for a walk
then?’

Tiber jumped off her
knee and lolloped about her chair in excited anticipation, jumping up with his
forepaws, barking, and wagging his short stumpy tail.

‘You know that word,
don’t you?’ she laughed. ‘I wonder who taught you that.’  She looked at the Dowager
rather apologetically. ‘Would you mind dreadfully if I took Tiber for a walk?’

‘Not at all dear,’ the Dowager
replied, ‘but I would stay within the grounds if I were you. Remember the hunt
is out and if Tiber should get in the way, the hounds may tear him to pieces
and I would not want you to get lost.’

Felicity jumped up, she
was nearly as excited as the dog at the prospect of going out in the fresh air
and ran off to get her pelisse.  The Dowager shouted after her. ‘Go to the
stables and the stable boy will give you a dog lead dear.’ She turned to the
Countess. ‘A charming girl and I can see that she loves the great outdoors.’

‘Yes,’ the Countess
sighed. ‘She is a constant worry to me. She is never as happy as when she is
outdoors gallivanting across the countryside. I am forever on tender hooks when
we are in London, fearful of what she will do next.’

The Dowager looked
sympathetic. ‘You should not worry so Sophia. There is nothing as fickle as the
London ton and it is only natural that Felicity should feel stifled.’

Felicity spent a good
hour walking around the gardens.  Even at this time of year they were lovely. 
She made a circuit around the ornamental lake and made her way up to the little
folly situated on a small mound.  Tiber engaged in his favourite pastime of searching
out rabbit holes and chasing crows or anything that moved.  She walked through
the small orchard and eventually found herself in the most wonderful rockery
she had ever seen.  The rocks rose far above her head and were covered in fern
and moss. They twisted and turned carving out secret pathways rather like a
fairy dell.  Each little path led her to a perfect little spot each with a
delightful surprise, a flowerbed, a small waterfall or a pond with carp. There
were nooks and crannies, and in the middle was a small stone bench, where one
could sit peacefully and contemplate.  She was carried away by the magic of the
place for she had never seen anything quite like it before.  She sat there for
a good 20 minutes while Tiber sniffed around the rocks, pawing at insects and
spiders in the undergrowth and crevices.

 She began to feel cold
and regretfully had to move on.  She was not quite ready to go indoors yet but
she had exhausted the grounds.  She decided that she would go down to the
river.  Having been there before she remembered the way and recollected the Dowagers
warning she put Tiber on the lead. The little dog looked at her mournfully, not
at all happy with finding some strange object around his neck. ‘I know,’ she
consoled him; ‘it reminds you of that horrid rope when I pulled you out of the
river, but I promise you it is for you own good for the hunt is out.’

Felicity made her way
down to the river where she found a little riverside path and was strolling
blissfully along when she heard a noise in the distance.  She strained her ears
to listen. It was the sound of barking hounds and what is more they were
heading her way.  She stepped to shelter behind a tree and watched as the
hounds approached.  The pack was getting closer and then to her horror, when
they had arrived at the point where she had intersected their path, half a
dozen of the hounds broke off from the main pack and headed in her direction. 
She did not stop to think.  She picked Tiber up and threw him up onto the
overhanging branch of the tree.  She quickly scrambled her way up after him and
then climbed up onto a higher branch.  She made it just in time as the dogs had
reached the base of the tree and were barking and jumping up in an effort to
reach them.

The hunt was following
closely behind. Alex noticed that the dogs had branched off and waved the rest
of the hunt on. ‘Go ahead,’ he shouted over the din. ‘I will go and guide them
back.’  Alex divided off from the rest of the hunt and followed the errant dogs
until he reached the base of the tree.  He looked up to see what the dogs were
barking at and to his consternation saw Felicity sitting on an upper branch,
legs swinging and staring down at him. Tiber was sitting on her lap yapping at
the foxhounds beneath them.

‘Good Lord Felicity,’
he exclaimed. ‘What are you doing up there?’

Felicity peered down at
him and waved towards the barking hounds. ‘I would have thought it was quite
obvious,’ she said acerbically.  Alex just gave a patient sigh.  ‘Should I
rephrase myself and ask
how
did you get up there? This first branch must
be nearly above your head.’

‘Oh,’ Felicity replied,
in playful cajolery. ‘It is amazing what you can achieve when you have a pack
of hounds snapping at your ankles.  I must say your hounds are not particularly
bright when they cannot differentiate a fox from this dear little dog.’  She
sighed and waved at them. ‘Well don’t just sit there as if you have caught a
cold.  I would like to come down and preferably today if it is no trouble.’

Alex climbed down out
of the saddle and reached into his saddlebag to pull out a scented cloth.  He
held the rag to the hound’s noses to familiarise them again with the aroma of
the fox.  They began to sniff at the ground and with a little coaxing from Alex
recovered the scent and hurried on their way.  He peered back up into the tree.
‘You can come down now they are gone.’

Felicity climbed down
on the lower branch of the tree, her petticoats gently sliding up as she did
so. Alex could not help but admire her smooth calves and the shapely turn of
her ankles as she nimbly stepped down onto the lower bough.  She stood on her
tiptoe and reached up to collect Tiber. ‘Here,’ Alex said, ‘hand him down to
me.’  Felicity lowered the little dog carefully into Alex’s hands. He put it
gently down on the ground, and then he reached up with both his arms. ‘And now
you,’ he ordered firmly.

‘I can quite manage,’
she said, as she sprung down from the branch, but he stood resolutely in front
on her to break her fall, catching her by the waist and guiding her to the
ground.  He gave her a mischievous grin, ‘Why I do not remember the last time I
went fox hunting and caught something so divinely lovely.’  He did not
relinquish her but drew her to him.  ‘I do believe I am going to kiss you.’

She did not pull away
but looked up with bated breath and a pounding heart as he lowered his head and
brushed his lips against hers, only this time it was no fleeting kiss like the
one he had bestowed in Knaresborough but passionate, intense and full of tender
feeling.  Alex finally pulled away and trailed his lips across her cheek and
down her neck savouring her soft, warm flesh.  Felicity succumbed to the
excitement of his touch and felt her body crumble under the fervour of his
passion.  Tiber recognising this unfamiliar behaviour as an assault on his heroin’s
person began to snap at Alex’s legs.  Getting no response the little dog became
emboldened and began to jump up scratching at the Marquis’s riding Jacket.  Finally,
Alex pulled away in irritation and cursed. ‘I do swear that one day I will lose
patience with this little fellow.’ He raised his voice. ‘Down boy!’  The dog
sat back on his haunches with his ears pinned back and whined, not daring to
disobey the imperative tone.  Alex could not help but laugh. ‘I think you found
yourself an adoring slave the day you pulled that little fellow out of the
river.  I am sure he just exists to thwart me.’ He sighed. ‘You know I would
much prefer to stay here with you but if I do not make tracks and rejoin the
hunt, they will be sending out a search party.  Come I will escort you back to
the gate.’

‘No, that will not be
necessary,’ she replied, ‘You had better join your party.  I can easily make my
own way back.’

 Alex hesitated. ‘Well
if you are sure,’ he replied, ‘but make sure you do because I cannot guarantee
that the hunt will not return this way.  ‘And oh,’ he added. ‘Try to keep
yourself out of trouble for the rest of the day if you possibly can manage it.’

Felicity opened her
mouth to reply but he bent down to thwart her with one final kiss. He jumped up
into the saddle, steered his horse in the direction of the hunt and before she
knew it he galloped on his way.  Felicity watched him until he was a speck in
the distance and then flushed with exhilaration she turned to walk back to the
house.

******

It was late afternoon
when the men returned to Stansfield Park and walked into the drawing room.  Alex
was holding Richard upright as he leaned against his shoulder.  He was hopping
on one foot and his face was as grey as parchment.  Felicity quickly got up out
of her chair where she had been quietly sitting reading and ran to her
brother’s side.  ‘Goodness Richard, whatever have you done?’

‘I caught my foot in
one of those damn rabbit holes and twisted my ankle,’ he cursed in pained
annoyance.

Alex escorted him over
to the chaise long and deposited him upon it.  ‘My father has ridden out for
the doctor; hopefully he will be here soon.’ He slowly removed Richard’s boot.
Richard winced in pain but bore the indignity magnanimously.  Alex examined the
ankle that had swollen to twice its normal size and observed with exasperation.
‘I would say at the very least he has sprained it badly.  Hopefully the doctor will
be here soon and give a diagnosis.’