I don't think this is the case at all. "It's no trouble," I say. "I've a previous engagement myself."
"Really?" Ann asks. "Yes, I'm to see Miss Moore," I lie. Their mouths hang open as I tell them of my encounter. I'm enjoying their astonishment very much. "I thought I would ask her about the Order. So you see I couldn't possibly . . ."
"You can't go without us," Felicity protests.
"But you're going to your mother's club without me," I say. Felicity has nothing to say to this. "Are we to go to Regent Street to the shops, then?"
"No," Felicity answers. "We're going with you to see Miss Moore."
Ann pouts. "I thought we were to find me a new pair of gloves. It is only nine days until Christmas, after all. Besides, Miss Moore must surely hate us for what happened."
"She doesn't hate you," I say."She has forgiven us all. And she was distressed to hear about Pip."
"That settles it," Felicity says, slipping her other arm through mine."We shall pay a call on Miss Moore. And afterward, Gemma shall come with us for tea."
Ann balks. "But what about Franny? You know she tattles over the slightest infractions."
"Franny shall be no bother at all," Felicity says.
The sun is high, the day bright and crisp when we arrive at Miss Moore's modest lodging house on Baker Street. Franny, Mrs. Worthington's lady's maid, is all ears and eyes, ready to take note of any indiscretion on our parts so that she may dutifully report to Felicity's mother and Grandmama. Franny isn't much older than we are. It can't be much fun to trail us, reminded daily of another
sort of life, one denied her. If she's bitter about her lot, she wouldn't dare speak it aloud. But it is there, nonetheless, present in the tight line of her mouth, in the way she forces herself to look through us while seeing everything.
"I was to accompany you to the shops, miss," she says. "There's been a change of plans, Franny," Felicity says coolly. "Mother asked me to look in on a friend who has taken ill. It is important to perform acts of charity, don't you think?"
"She didn't mention it to me, miss."
"You know how things slip Mother's mind. She is so very busy."
The coachman helps us from the carriage. Franny makes to follow. Felicity stops her with a cold smile. "You may wait in the carriage, Franny."
Franny's carefully trained, placid face flares to unrehearsed life for a brief moment--all narrowed eyes and half-open mouth--before settling into a hateful resignation.
"Mrs. Worthington asked me to accompany you everywhere, miss."
"And so you have. But the appointment is for three, not three and a servant."
I hate Felicity when she is like this."It's rather cold out,"I say, hoping she will take the hint.
"I'm sure Franny remembers her place." Felicity gives a smile that might pass for genteel if I didn't feel the cruelty behind it.
"Yes, miss." Franny dips her head under the carriage's top and tucks her body into the far corner of the seat to wait the hour.
"Now we can have a pleasant afternoon free of my mother's spy," Felicity says. So it isn't about being cruel to Franny; it is Felicity getting revenge on her mother for some reason that escapes me.
Ann stands uncertainly, her eyes on the carriage.
"Are you coming?" Felicity asks.
Ann marches back to the carriage, removes her coat, and hands it to the grateful Franny. Without a word, she sails past me and the astonished Felicity and rings the bell to announce our visit.
"There's gratitude for you," Felicity grumbles to me as we catch up."I bring her home and turn her into Russian royalty and now she's living the part." The door opens. A scowling, squinting old woman stands before us, hand on her ample hip. "ON Oo's there? Whatcha wont, then? 'Aven't got all day to stand 'ere lookin' at the likes of you. Got me 'ouse to run."
"How do you do?" I begin, but I am cut off by the impatient woman. She squints hard in my direction. I wonder if she can see at
"If yer collectin' fer the poor, you can clear off."
Felicity extends her hand. "I am Felicity Worthington. We are paying a call on Miss Moore. We are her pupils."
"Pupils, you say? Di'n't tell me nuffin' 'bout takin' in pupils," she harrumphs.
"Did I not mention it, Mrs. Porter? I was certain I did yesterday." It's our Miss Moore coming down the stairs to the rescue.
