“A duty to one’s mother is hardly the ideal recipe for contentment, let me tell you! Women are not fulfilled by some endless drudgery of domestic servitude, you know. I will confess, she arouses some conflicting feelings in me. I like her and I also dislike her. So she interests me. And I don’t like to see a clever woman wasting away. The Countess can be nursed by a professional rather than her own daughter. Indeed, you will surely see the logic of this. The woman is ninety-three; she will need a special nurse before long. Lady Agnes’s daughterly devotion is admirable but surely will become impractical very soon.”
“You ought to get Lady Agnes’s permission before you embark on this quest,” he said. “And so you think that getting involved in the committee for the ball might help? You think you could find some old sailors for Lady Agnes? Salty old tars with only one leg and plenty of gold in their ears?”
“It might help. And I am thinking of officers, dear heart, not sea dogs with beards one could lose a badger in; she is a lady and the daughter of an Earl, after all.”
“My dear, might I request one thing?” he said.
She grew serious again, and listened to him.
“You have convinced me of a problem at the heart of Felicia’s life. Let neither of us get distracted by other things. The ball, the curse, the husband-hunting, none of it truly matters. We are here at the castle for our daughter. We both, I think, have a tendency to bounce off the cushions like an errant billiard ball but we ought to be steadfast and direct while we are here. I shall keep you focused if you will do likewise for me. We ought to steady one another and keep one another on course.”
“Theodore, you speak sense.”
“Don’t sound so surprised! I am hurt.”
She laughed, and they embraced, and she lingered, pressed against his comforting chest, and worried about their daughter and what could possibly be clouding Felicia’s thoughts.
It didn’t take a clever woman to work out what the “event” might have been. Her heart ached for her daughter.
Three
Yet for the remainder of that afternoon and evening, Felicia appeared to behave perfectly normally. She sat in the garden room with Adelia, and was happy to have the glass doors flung open without making a single murmur about swamp air. Before Adelia could speak about the things that were bothering her, Lady Agnes joined them and stayed for half an hour, working diligently on her needlework and not speaking. The air was indolent and heavy, and Adelia nearly nodded off while Felicia sat by a stack of ladies’ journals and cut out pretty pictures for her decoupage hobby. Various maids flitted in and out with cool drinks. When Lady Agnes left to attend once more to The Countess, Adelia tried to engage Felicia in deeper conversation but every enquiry was met with a light “oh, no, mama, everything is just wonderful!” said so innocently that Adelia began to think she had been hallucinating the morning’s hysteria. Any attempt to find out about the “event” the housekeeper had alluded to was deftly batted to one side. When Adelia mentioned The Countess and her abrasive manner, Felicia merely praised the old lady’s stoicism.
I have taught this girl the art of polite conversation, Adelia thought grimly, and I have taught her too well.
Only mentioning Felicia’s sister Mary brought any sparkle of genuine emotion to Felicia’s face. “Yes,” she said. “I have received letters from her and mama, I am so proud of what she’s doing now!”
“Do you feel inspired to follow her example?”
Felicia laughed and bent her head, concentrating on clipping her way around a picture of blooming rhododendrons. “The horse business, mama? Certainly not.”
“Any business?”
“Trade,” Felicia said, “Is not considered a necessary topic in this household. Oh, look at this, mama! Lilies, a great spray of them. This shall take me simply ages to cut out, but I know exactly what I shall do with them. A tray, a tray for taking tea in the garden...”
Adelia grimaced and listened politely to ideas about the merits of a few red flowers against a backdrop of white lilies, or one white lily against a sea of red.
TO ADELIA’S RELIEF, The Countess took her meal that night in her own wing, and Lady Agnes stayed with her. Felicia was still sparkling in her conversation at dinner but only had Adelia and Theodore to sparkle at, and Adelia was somewhat wearied of Felicia’s particularly shallow sparkles; the meal went swiftly and they all had an early night.
Everything, in its very perfection, seemed askew, somehow. Too polished, too painted, too just so.
On Sunday, the next day, almost the entire household trooped down the stony track away from the castle and to the local church. The castle was surrounded not only by swampy areas, but stands of trees, half-hearted attempts at gardens, walled-off areas, hidden paths, tumble-down stone walls, random heaps of granite, and what might have once been a moat. Though the living accommodation was in reasonable repair if not quite at the height of luxury and comfort, everything else had been left to essentially rot. While Percy was away, Felicia seemed disinclined to do anything about it. Many ladies would take control of the landscaping, drawing up great plans of works for gardeners, but not Felicia. She walked with Adelia and they were followed by Theodore at a distance, who was grumbling about the state of the hedges. The Countess tended to pray privately in her own rooms these days except for special occasions, when she would be helped into a low gig and driven to church. Lady Agnes remained at the castle with her.
As they passed the gatehouse which squatted between the castle grounds and the main road, Adelia asked if Lady Katharine would be coming with them. Felicia shook her head
