Lady Ellingham and the Theft of the Stansfield Necklace: A Regency Romance (2 page)

      Richard
frowned, for in truth he could not account for it, only his instincts had
warned him against her.  He had tried to scotch the friendship when his sister
had met the girl a few weeks ago but Felicity as usual got her way.  He knew he
had no logical argument and replied weakly. ‘I am not the only one of the same
opinion.’ Why only last week Lady Drummond Burrell refused her vouchers to Almack’s
and you cannot say she is not a good judge of character.’

      ‘Humph’! Felicity
retorted. ‘Lady Drummond-Burrell indeed!  And what has she to say to anything. 
You just have to look at her the wrong way and you would be blackballed.  She is
the most severe of critics; Princess Charlotte herself would not get past her
if it did not suit her.’

      ‘Well my
girl, do not let the patrons of Almack’s’ hear of you talking like that or you
may see yourself banned from those hallowed rooms, and then where would you be?’
he warned.

      Lady
Ellingham listened to a conversation that was fast descending into an intense
argument. ‘Now my children, I will not have harsh words in this house.’

      Felicity
looked contrite. ‘Sorry mama, I do not mean to quarrel but you know how Richard
goads me so.’

      ‘I refuse
to quarrel either mother,’ he retorted. ‘But mind this Felicity; you are not to
get involved with Emily’s machinations. Why if it got back to Thorndale that
this family was the source of such rumours, he would be likely to call me out. 
I would have no hesitation in defending my family, but for goodness sake Felicity,
please let it be for a cause that is honourable.’

      The Countess
gave Felicity a panic-stricken look at the thought of violence. ‘No Flick, your
brother is right, you are not to be involving Richard in things that are not
our concern and putting him at risk.’

      Felicity
patted her mother on the arm. ‘Do not worry mother, I would not dream of such a
thing but honestly, Richard makes Thorndale sound like a perfect paragon.  It
is a wonder that he cares to warn me against him.’

      Richard
bristled at that. ‘Do not fool yourself, he may keep within the bounds of
propriety but he has other vices that I hardly think are suitable for conversation
in this drawing room. One thing is for certain, he certainly does not care what
people think of him.’

      ‘His women
you mean?’ replied the Countess.

      Richard
was indignant. ‘Really mama, this is hardly a subject for ladies!’

      Sophia
Ellingham just smiled. ‘Oh Richard, do not be such a prude, everyone knows that
Thorndale is not adverse to a petticoat. Why only last week my dear friend Mrs
Haswell was telling me about the flirt he keeps in Russell Square.’

      Richard
gave a sardonic smile. ‘Quite,’ he said. ‘Up to now he has confined his
interests to women in certain circles, but still I would not trust him.  You
are to keep away from him Felicity.  I am putting my foot down this time and
that is all I intend to say on the matter.’

      ‘Well you have
no reason to worry Richard.  I have not even met the man. I doubt he even knows
that I exist.’

      ‘Good.’
Richard replied vehemently. ‘Then keep it that way!’

      Felicity
glowered at her brother getting herself into a temper over his rare display of
firmness. ‘And pray what am I supposed to do if the man asks me to dance,
should I be rude to him?’

      ‘There is
no need to be rude Felicity,’ he retorted. ‘You should just smile, thank him
and tell him that your dance card is full.’

      ‘I must
say Richard,’ remarked the Countess. ‘You seem to know the gentleman remarkably
well for all of your protestations to avoid him.’

      Richard
bowed his head to his mother. ‘I know him well enough and so I am well able to
advise you. He moves in similar circles but is not part of my set. You can find
him most nights in the clubs up until the small hours in the morning. I have met
him on many occasions at the card tables and I have sparred with him once or
twice at Jackson’s salon but other that I have little to do with him.’

      Felicity
bristled. ‘So it is alright for you to associate with him but not for me, is
that it?’

      ‘That is
different Felicity,’ he said defensively. ‘He is not the same danger to men as
he is to women.  He has done nothing to me that I should have reason to
ostracise him but mind you Flick, I have no desire to see you hanging off his
arm.’

      The Countess
watched as Felicity was about to retort and intervened.  ‘Let the matter drop Flick,
your brother is in the right of it, Alexander Sheraton is no fit company for
you.’

      Felicity
bit her lip.  She did not intend to encourage the attention of the man but she
was not going to oblige her brother by saying so. One thing was for sure. She
now knew that she could not rely on Richard to help Emily retrieve her missing
Sapphire and Diamond necklace.  She would just have to think of something else.

       The Countess
intruded on her thoughts.  ‘I think a cup of tea is called for,’ she announced
as she rang the servants bell. ‘Not for me mother,’ Richard smiled. ‘I am
meeting Jeremy Leighton at Manton’s to shoot some wafers, I shall return for
supper. Now if you will excuse me I must go and fetch my pistols.’

       He bent
over and kissed Felicity on the cheek. ‘I love you big sister despite your
stubborn ways so take care of what you are about, for I know you well.’

       Felicity
smiled at him. His sensible demeanour and is boorish ways frustrated her
immensely but she could not be mad at Richard for long.  All the same, in this
instance Richard was wrong, very wrong indeed.  The Marquis had behaved
intolerably and something had to be done.

      After tea,
the Countess excused herself to go in search of the housekeeper to discuss next
week’s menus. Felicity found herself alone again and picked up her copy of
Ambrosio.  The exploits of the wicked monk failed to seize her attention for
her mind kept wandering to Emily and the dilemma of the stolen necklace.  The
Marquis’s indefensible behaviour and the injustice of the matter began to take
possession her and she stood up and started to pace the floor.

      Felicity
was as impulsive as she was beautiful and as the minutes ticked by her brain
began to formulate a plan.  If she had no one to turn to, she would have to
take on the task herself.  She knew that Alexander Sheraton lived in Green
Street, just two streets away from her own home in Upper Brook Street.  Nevertheless,
even if she managed to gain entry, where would the Marquis keep a sapphire and
diamond necklace?  She asked herself, where did her brother keep his
valuables?  He usually kept them in his office or in his own bedchamber.  It
made sense that the Marquis would probably do the same.  It was not as if she
would have to search the whole house.  Earlier today her brother had as much as
told her that the Marquis spent most nights playing cards at his club and
stayed until the early hours of the morning.  How hard could it be to climb
through a window when he was not at home and steal a necklace back?

      Felicity
made a decision.  She could at least take a walk around to Green Street and carry
out a feasibility study.  She called for her maid. ‘Sarah, I have decided to go
for a walk, go and get your coat for I wish you to accompany me.’ 

      Sarah
looked dumbstruck. ‘But your Ladyship, it is pouring with rain!’

      ‘Never the
less Sarah, a bit of rain never hurt anyone. We can always take our umbrellas.’

      Sarah
looked aghast as if her mistress was mad and Felicity silently cursed at the
restrictions of London society and the requirement that she needed to take her maid
along at all.  How she longed to be back at the family countryseat in Richmondshire
where she had more freedom and she did not feel the restrictions of her
skirts.   She hated London and the rigid etiquette of the censorious ton but
her mother would insist on dragging her back every season in the hope that she
would find herself a husband. She smiled to herself.  It is not as if she had
not had offers.  She had refused two respectable gentlemen already in this the
small season. Her brother was beginning to despair but being of the same age
and single himself, he understood and would not coerce her into a disagreeable
marriage.

       She broke
off from her musings and looked at Sarah’s forlorn face. She felt guilty but it
was a good time to carry out her mission, for no one would be about in this
weather.

      Felicity
left the house, walked the length of Upper Brook Street and turned right into
Park Lane.   If she remembered correctly, Green Street was the second street on
the right. Her maid kept pace beside her but was decidedly puzzled at the
choice of direction. The usual choice for a walk was surely Hyde Park. Sarah
side stepped the puddles and ventured to ask. ‘My Lady, where are we going?’

      Felicity
was non-committal. ‘Nowhere in particular.  I am sorry Sarah but I am restless
and really need some fresh air to clear my head.’

      As they approached
the home of the Marquis, Felicity surreptitiously noted the surroundings. 
There appeared to be no way around the back but there were steps down to the
basement level, with its own door and window. The window looked as if it would
be easy enough to open with a jemmy. The only problem she could foresee was the
possibility that Thorndale’s Valet would be waiting up for his master to return
home.  She would need to be careful.  After an hour walking the streets,
Felicity returned home with a baffled maid but at least Felicity’s head was
clear.  Her decision made, she made preparations for that night for she could
not delay too long. The sooner the better before her courage failed her and
more importantly, before Thorndale had time to dispose of his ill-gotten
spoils.

      Felicity
knew she could not venture into the streets alone at night in her skirts so she
would have to acquire some men’s clothing.  Richard was well over six foot and
his clothing would be far too big, besides which, he may just miss something. 
She decided to raid the wardrobe of her younger brother Harry.  He would not
miss anything as he was up at Oxford, and when he was not studying, he often
stayed with friends.  He was only 16 and his clothes would be a better fit. 
She chose a pair of nankeen breeches, a white linen shirt, a black kerseymere
Jacket, a pair of black leather gloves and a black silk scarf to cover her
face.  The breeches fit well as she and Harry were the same height and Harry
had not yet stopped growing. The jacket was a little large on the shoulders as
her little brother was looking to grow even broader than Richard but it would
have to do. As for the shoes, she would have to wear her own but hopefully no
one would notice them in the dark.

      Felicity
could not discount the possibility of encountering footpads but she would have
to take the risk. It was only a short journey but it would not hurt to take a
weapon for protection.  She took the small jewel encrusted pistol, which she
kept in her dresser and slipped it into the pocket of the jacket together with a
jemmy she would need to force the window. All that was now left to do was to
wait for night time to fall.  

      It was
well after midnight when the house settled and everyone was in bed.  Richard
had not yet arrived home but she was not concerned about that.  He would not be
due for another couple of hours and when he did, he would go straight to bed,
as was his custom.

       Felicity
donned the clothes she had acquired, crept down the stairs and was soon out on
to the front street. At least for the moment the rain had ceased. The atmosphere
felt eerie but that was because she had never been out on her own after
midnight before.  She made her way to Green Street without incident and it was
not long before she reached her destination.

        She
slipped through the Iron Gate and climbed down the stone steps to the basement
window.  Peering through the glass, she thanked God that the room was empty. 
All was quiet.  Felicity took the jemmy out of her pocket and got to work
prising open the window.  The catch gave way easily enough and she climbed
through the window with an easy grace, into what appeared to be a large kitchen. 
She crept stealthily across the kitchen and opened the door onto a dark
deserted landing.  She would have to be careful, as there was still the risk of
the valet being awake.  Felicity knew that she needed to be on the floor above
if she was to find the Marquis’s study.  The layout of the house was smaller
but not so different from her home in Upper Brook Street. 

      At last,
she was on the ground floor with rooms opening off from the hall.  She started
to open doors. The first door led to the dining room and the second door was
just a cupboard.  It was third time lucky as she opened a large oak door to
find herself in Thorndale’s study.  It was dark but she could not afford to
light a candle.  She would just have to make do with the dim glow of the light from
the moon shining through the window. She thanked god that she had a brief
reprieve from the heavy rainclouds. She began systematically to look through
the drawers and cupboards, taking care to leave things as she found them. 
After twenty minutes she gave up, she was not going to find the necklace here.  

      As Felicity
was rifling through the study, Alex Sheraton was leaving Whites Club in St
James Street.  It was a damp and crisp night and miracle of miracles it was not
raining. He decided to walk home with his winnings carefully stowed in his
pockets.  People said that he had the devils own luck with cards but the truth
was, that he was just astute and knew when to stop.  He certainly never dipped
too deep at the card tables or played when in his cups.  Many a Jonny raw had
lost a fortune that way and being no greenhorn he had decided to call it a
night.

      Young Lealholme
had held the bank tonight.  He was just a young man but Thorndale had respect
for Lord Richard Ellingham and as he recalled, he had a damned lovely sister, a
diamond of the first water as he recollected.  He had never approached the
chit, he would certainly have to remedy that, he thought to himself as he
sauntered along and turned into Berkeley Square.  Lately he had had other
things on his mind, not least the problem of Emily Entwhistle, but now that he
had dealt with that matter to his satisfaction, he intended to focus his
attention on the lovely Lady Felicity Ellingham.

      Thorndale
had now reached Grosvenor Street and he would soon be home.  He was certainly
not foxed but he had to admit that on the equivalent of a bottle of wine and
two brandies,  he had certainly drank enough to affect his judgement and when
he had made a mistake on his last hand, he decided to call in the chips and
return home.  As he made his way to Green Street, Felicity could not be aware of
the danger she was in.

      She slowly
eased her way back into the hall.  There was nothing else to do but to ascend
the stairs to the upper floors in search of the Marquis’s bedchamber. She
reasoned that he would choose one of the larger rooms at the front of the house
and it did not take her long to find it.  She thanked God that his Valet must
have decided to go to bed for the house was silent.

      She
entered the bedchamber and closed the door.  The room was eerily masculine with
the scent of mixed spice, polish and leather.   She padded across to the
window, opened it and looked out.  The window opened out onto a small balcony
and just beneath it and to the right, was the canopy over the front door.  She tried
to memorise her surroundings in case she needed to make a quick exit. On all accounts,
he would not be home before three in the morning but it would not hurt to take
precautions.

      She
started again to make a systematic search and after ten minutes, she found the
necklace.  It was nestled on top of a large bundle of cash and was encased in a
black velvet pouch in the dresser. ‘Got you,’ she whispered triumphantly to
herself. ‘He does have it, I knew Richard was wrong.’  As she slipped the
necklace into her pocket, she heard a noise as the bedchamber door swung open. 
Felicity twisted around to see the tall, dark figure of the Marquis of Thorndale
standing ominously in the doorframe, with lit candelabra in hand and staring at
her with fury in his eyes.

      It was too
late, he had seen her and she had no time to run to the window. If she ran now
he would easily catch her before she had time to slip through.  As Thorndale
stepped forward to grab her, she suddenly remembered the small pistol in her
pocket and levelled it at him. ‘Stay where you are,’ she demanded as gruffly as
she could.  He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the pistol and placed the
candelabra slowly and deliberately on an occasional table, quickly summing up
the situation and planning his move.

     The split
second gave her time to retreat to the window. Felicity quickly slipped though,
pocketing the pistol as she nimbly swung to the right and out over the balcony.
She was just about to slide down onto the canopy over the front door when she
felt an iron like grip on the wrist of her right hand.  She felt herself being
slowly hauled up.  What was she to do?  Frantically she grabbed the jemmy out
of the pocket with her left hand and brought it down as hard as she could on Thorndale’s
knuckles.  He winced with pain but he did not let go.  She looked up into dark
eyes blazing with anger and his face was so near, she could smell the pungent
aroma of brandy on his breath. He could see the whites of her terrified eyes,
with irises violet blue in the moonlight, but blast the boy, his face was
wrapped in a large black scarf and hiding the rest of his features.

       No matter,
he would find out soon enough who had dared to enter his home and attempt to
rob him as soon as he had hauled him up.  Felicity was undone, then all of a
sudden, she felt the black leather glove sliding slowly down her wrist, and as
if by a miracle, she was free and dropped down onto the canopy. Alex Sheraton
stood there exasperated, peering over the balcony with the leather glove in hand,
as she disappeared over the side and dropped silently down onto the street; but
not before, he saw the large unsightly scar that adorned the underside of her right
wrist.

      Thorndale
poised to give chase but stopped himself.  It was obvious that the lad had not
had time to take anything.  Never the less he cursed; the rogue would not have
gotten away so easily if he had been totally sober.  He made a note however, to
keep his eyes open for a young gentleman with violet blue eyes and a tell tale scar
on the underside of his right wrist. 

      It was
clear that the lad was no normal thief.  His jacket was of the finest
kerseymere and the scarf that wrapped his face was of the finest silk.  He
examined the glove in his hand; it was crafted in best quality black leather
and no doubt purchased in Bond Street itself.    No this young man was a member
of the quality, but what he was doing in his apartment trying to rob him, was a
most perplexing conundrum.  He almost regretted his decision not to give chase,
if only to satisfy his curiosity.  The Marquis, a renowned Corinthian and keen
sportsman would no doubt have caught him.  Ah well in was too late to have
regrets and be hopping over the balcony now, the lad would be long gone.