Kissed by Starlight by Cynthia Bailey Pratt Page B

Cook’s waist slender— too many years of good service had gone by for that.
    Shaking her head at her reflection, she said, “If I must choose between being mistaken for a wanton and suffering insanity, I wonder which is better.”
    The rest of the day was a trial. She could not hide in her room forever. She found herself feeling more secure around statues and shy of men. Even Justice Garfield, seventy if he was a day, seemed suddenly to possess the leering eyes of a satyr when he bowed over her hand. She found herself blushing when offered tea by the youngest footman, no more than sixteen.
    “It’s not like Sir Elswith to be so abrupt,” the Justice said, shaking back his sleeve for a pinch of snuff. “I trust you won’t hold it against him.”
    “No, indeed,” Lady Stavely said. “He’s been so very thoughtful. A most understanding gentleman.”
    Felicia didn’t have the heart to suggest that Mr. Ashton might be even more understanding. She felt as though her skin were unusually sensitive to every glance. It was almost possible to envy Clarice, who ate small pink cakes with the boundless appetite of a small child, quite unaware of her physical body.
    After a moment or two, however, Felicia noticed that Clarice’s body was about to force itself upon everyone’s attention. She stood up and crossed to her half-sister’s chair. “Come with me, dearest.”
    “I—don’t feel good.”
    The lovely face was pale. A line of sweat dampened the hair at her brow.
    Noticing her daughter’s distress, Lady Stavely started from her chair. The little table beside her rocked, spilling her teacup onto the carpet. The tea ran out in a brown pool, unnoticed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
    “Too many cakes,” Felicia said, firmly and rapidly assisting Clarice from the room.
    After the unpleasant aftermath, Felicia held Clarice on her lap and rocked her for comfort. Quite suddenly, the younger girl said, “You won’t leave me?”
    “No. I’ll stay until Nurse comes up.”
    “Someone said you were going to leave me.”
    “Who said it?” Had one of the servants overheard that interview in the small salon? Surely Lady Stavely wouldn’t risk disturbing Clarice before it was necessary. Though Felicia had little regard for her father’s wife, she did allow that Lady Stavely was truly fond of her daughter. Sometimes it seemed Clarice was the only thing of which Lady Stavely was fond.
    “Clarice, who said I was leaving you?”
    “Don’t know.” The fair face was fretful. “Don’t leave me, Felicia.”
    “I won’t.” The comforting promise fell too easily from her lips. Felicia tried to amend it. “That is, I won’t before I must.”
    “Don’t like ‘must.’ Nurse says. ‘Must drink milk. Must eat peas. Must go to bed.’ Don’t like ‘must.”
    “No one likes it. But sometimes, things happen and we must do the best that we can.”
    For a long time that night, Felicia paced up and down before her dying fire. It was impossible to stay here; even Sir Elswith had seen that. But how could she leave Clarice? What other tie of blood did she have in all the world?
    She remembered perfectly how her mother had disavowed owning any relation. Whether it was true that there simply was no one or that her mother had been disowned didn’t matter. If there’d been anyone she could have turned to in those last, horrible days, surely her mother would have reached out to them. Lucy Starret had not wanted her former lover to be burdened with their child. But when her coughing had reached the point where she could gain hardly any breath, she had written Lord Stavely. She had never expected him to come himself.
    But there would be no rescue now. Felicia had only herself to rely on. Unfortunately, she was not so natured that she could think only of herself. If Clarice were well, then she could go. If Clarice could only be the girl she’d been before—brave, headstrong, not only able but willing to stand up to her