bed.”
“I gave her that money. I was sorry for her,” said Felicity.
“You shall have your money back, miss. Mr. Anderson has it in safekeeping. I would not feel too sorry for Bessie. She could be lazy and a bit cruel with some of her remarks.”
“But if she left the money and her belongings, something may have happened to her,” cried Felicity.
“That's what I thought. But Mr. Palfrey told me he saw her slipping out of the castle last night, and he says as how one of his silver snuffboxes has been taken.”
“And did he inform the parish constable?”
“No, miss. He said he didn't want any scandal.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jessop.” Felicity went up the stairs, wondering a little about Bessie's sudden turn to crime. Then her thoughts moved to her prospective marriage. She felt tired and beaten down, and weary with grief. She had not made any further protest about the marriage.
A little glowing image of Lord Arthur Bessamy's handsome face rose before her eyes.
She gave a resigned shrug. Dashing and handsome and tantalizing men were for more fortunate females. Best put him completely out of her mind. She had not really liked him very much, so it was odd how much the memory of him kept returning to plague her. She would, in all probability, never see him again.
But Felicity was wrong.
Chapter Four
“Got a letter from that old rascal in Devon,” said Mr. Charles Godolphin to his friend Lord Arthur Bessamy.
Both men were strolling along the pebbly beach at Brighton, having followed the Prince Regent to that famous resort after the Season finished in June.
“Your uncle?”
“Yes, him. A most odd letter. He wants me to go there.”
“Has he decided to leave you his moneybags after all?” asked Lord Arthur.
“No, he's going ahead with this marriage. Wants to marry the girl in September.”
“Miss Felicity Channing is the lady, if I remember correctly. Is she proving difficult?”
“Well, this Felicity has, quite rightly I think, demanded a look at the goods first, or, to put it less vulgarly, she wants to see her intended.”
Lord Arthur looked amused. “Do you mean they have never met?”
“Not even for a cup of tea. Whole thing was arranged by the girl's stepfather, Palfrey. The mother died last November and one would have thought they'd have waited until a year of mourning was over.”
“So why does Uncle Baron need Dolph?”
“He needs me because he says he's fallen madly in love with the chit.”
“A chit whom he has never set eyes on?”
“He's got her miniature,” said Dolph, “and gazes at it night and day. He says he feels like a lovesick schoolboy.”
“Touching.”
“It would be,” said Dolph, stooping down, picking up a stone, and shying it out to sea. “Only trouble is he's a satyr, a lecher, and a boor. Nevertheless, he wants me there to hold his paw and put in a good word for him with Miss Channing. I am to present myself at Dawdy Manor in two weeks’ time.”
“My dear Dolph, if you intend to go, you had better set out now. It will take you all of that to get there-with your driving, that is.”
“Hoping you would drive me,” said Dolph.
Both men came to a stop. The sun was setting, and a sea gull called mournfully over their heads.
Lord Arthur gave a slight shrug. “Why not, my friend? Why not? Nothing at all amusing has happened to me since I was last in Cornwall.”
Although it was quite cool within the thick walls of Tregarthan Castle, Mr. Palfrey was sweating profusely. He had just endured a terrible scene with his stepdaughter.
He had arranged a meeting for her with the baron, he had sent her measurements to London's finest dressmaker so that she might appear to advantage in the baron's eyes- and then he had commanded her to dye her hair brown, hoping to make her look as much like that miniature of Maria as possible.
And Felicity, who until that point had been meek, crushed, and biddable, with the one exception of demanding to meet her intended, had thrown back her head and let rip. She told him what she thought of him. She accused him of destroying her mother's health. The Holbein he had lately purchased would have repaired the tenants’ cottages on the whole estate and have left plenty to spare, Felicity had raged.
The whole unsettling scene had brought all Mr. Palfrey's fears about Bessie rushing back. What if Bessie had shown that will to the captain or to anyone on board? The cunning captain would soon see the value of it. Why had he not killed her?
But Mr. Palfrey realized that, although he did not mind a rap if she died on board of cholera or typhoid, he could never bring himself to directly take away another's life.
And those jewels! He was weary with searching the castle from cellar to attic. There was a long portrait in the morning room of the late Mr. Channing's mother. She was in court dress and had a diamond tiara on her head and a fine diamond collar about her neck.
Where were the Channing jewels?
He was so upset, he decided he would have to brave the baron's possible fury. The marriage settlement had been signed. Surely the baron would not back out of the marriage just because Felicity had red hair and was not precisely handsome.
All his worries swirled about his head and settled down to focus on Felicity. With that redheaded jade out of the way, he could begin to lead an orderly and carefree life. He had not worried so much about Bessie for some time. It was Felicity's vulgar scene, which had rattled him so much, and brought all the fears rushing back.
Felicity, on the other hand, felt better than she had since her mother's death. That scene, that angry release, had brought all her confidence rushing back. She rode out with Miss Chubb, contemptuously dismissing the escort of a groom as “one of Mr. Palfrey's more harebrained ideas.’
After they had gone a little way from the castle, Felicity slowed her pace to an easy amble and told Miss Chubb all about that splendid confrontation. “I know red hair is not fashionable,” said Felicity, “but to ask me to dye it!”
“He is very anxious for this marriage to take place,” said Miss Chubb.
“Pooh! It will not take place should I take this baron in dislike.”
“Have you thought, said Miss Chubb cautiously, “that should you decide not to marry the baron, and tell Mr. Palfrey about those jewels, he might simply claim them. He has every legal right.”
“John will swear to the codicil.”
“John Tremayne cannot read or write and has already sworn he did not sign anything. And Bessie has disappeared.”
Felicity frowned. Somehow, she had always regarded those jewels as an investment, as a dowry, as a trump card to slam down in front of her stepfather. How could she have been so naive?
Of course, she could take the jewels and run away. But what respectable jeweler was going to buy gems from a slip of a girl? And an unrespectable jeweler would belong to the criminal class and would no doubt pay her only a fraction of their worth.
“If I were a man!” she cried suddenly to the uncaring summer sky.
She thought of Lord Arthur Bessamy. He had probably never known what it was like to be pushed around in the whole of his pampered life. That was what gave him his great air of arrogance and command. That was why he chose friends of a lesser type of man, thought Felicity, her lip curling in contempt as she remembered the gentlemen who had stared at her through their quizzing glasses and had dismissed her as a bumpkin. Lord Arthur was no doubt as bad as Mr. Palfrey-only happy when in the company of toadies. She wished for a moment that she could see Lord Arthur again so that he might not go happily into his dotage without knowing how much she utterly
