Page 23 of Lady Ferocity (A Series of Senseless Complications #1)

A s Percy had not had plans to wed, he’d never bothered to envision what a proposal of marriage would entail. If he had envisioned it, he supposed he would have imagined some sort of suave speech on a dark balcony at a ball.

Nothing so regular could have ever been hoped for when it involved the duke’s family. He was not sorry for it, though.

Lady Felicity had accepted him, and they’d had a rather delightful interlude in Lady Marchfield’s dark drawing room. So delightful that he really wondered why he’d been so eager to avoid a wedding to begin.

They’d finally emerged to find the duke still guarding the door, Lady Marchfield retired, her guests gone, the ladies Grace, Winsome, Patience, Serenity, and Verity all helping themselves to Lady Marchfield’s desserts, and Lady Valor asleep on the housekeeper’s lap. Lord Marchfield sat on the stairs with a brandy bottle at his side. He rose and kissed his niece on the cheek in congratulations, which Percy did not imagine would endear him to his wife very much.

Before they retreated from Lady Marchfield’s house, there had been some debate as to whether Lady Felicity could ride her newly-acquired horse back to Grosvenor Square. The duke did not take issue with it, but the housekeeper wisely pointed out that as Lady Felicity was not in a riding habit, perhaps too much leg would be shown. Then, of course, Percy recalled that the horse was not properly saddled for a lady.

They compromised by the groom taking her horse and Percy riding his own next to Lady Felicity’s carriage window. It had not been the easiest thing to keep pace with the carriage while controlling his horse with one hand and holding Lady Felicity’s hand with the other. There were moments when it seemed he might pull her out the window or she might pull him through it. They’d managed it, though.

After a long goodbye, in which the rest of the family gave up and went inside, Percy finally took himself off when both of the duke’s coachmen started yawning, loudly. He made his way back to his own house in the best of spirits.

It would perhaps be tedious to recount the various shoutings and ravings that were heard in Mr. Stratton’s house when the news of the engagement was announced the following morning. Everybody in the house was warned loudly and repeatedly. And yet, the wedding would go forward.

In the end, the viscount found his son resolute. Confoundingly resolute. Percy claimed he would collect Lady Felicity and ride off to Gretna Green with her if his father attempted an impediment. The viscount, having been exposed to the duke and his lack of rationality, very much feared the couple would not even need to slip away under cover of darkness. That mad duke would probably pack them a basket from the kitchens and wave them off.

A scandal of that sort weighed heavy on the viscount’s mind. He could not escape his constant uneasiness over how new their title really was. One misstep could spell the end of all their progress. He could not escape the idea that if a viscount’s son were to elope with a duke’s daughter, it would be assumed that son was a grasping climber of the worst sort.

As well, he could not ignore that a proper wedding between his son and a duke’s daughter would more firmly cement his family as respected members of the ton . Even if that particular duke was known to be mad as a spring hare.

Those ideas caused him to put up with quite a lot and quell his querulous nature. That was well. With the duke involved in the negotiations, the haggling over the marriage contract had been as no other. The Duke of Pelham amused himself with various outrages and impossibilities, while the duke’s solicitor spent most of his time sighing. By their third meeting, though, a new and more rational duke turned up. It was discovered that Lady Felicity had banned her father from calling the viscount Sir Pineapple even one more time, and had scolded him over dragging his feet for his own amusement.

The contracts were signed and the wedding was on.

Seeing as events moved forward without the least consultation as to her opinion of them, Lady Marchfield did as matrons of the ton have done for time immemorial. She put it about that she had long hoped for the match and had been instrumental to its success.

The service was very well done—held at St. George’s and overseen by family and friends. The only flowers allowed anywhere near Felicity were tulips, and all the wedding party carried extra handkerchiefs just in case she was to get a whiff from an errant posy. The duke and the viscount were kept on opposite sides of the aisles so that all that could go on between them was glares on one side and laughter on the other.

Felicity wore a lavender silk dress and her mother’s diamonds. She had debated on the choice of a dress endlessly, but then was pleased with her decision when she noted Percy slightly stagger when he first saw her in it.

The breakfast that followed the ceremony, while suitably elaborate, was perhaps more eccentric than the ton was used to seeing.

The duke had employed the services of a certain Sergeant Major Philip Astley to provide the entertainments. As the guests dined, they were entertained by jugglers and acrobats. One of the jugglers even employed lit torches.

It might have been anticipated that a duke’s dining room was not particularly set up for such performances and there were moments that did give the diners pause.

Lady Marchfield was unceremoniously knocked off her chair by a stray acrobat and there was much debate for months over whether the duke had paid the fellow to be so clumsy.

The juggler of the lit torches was very skilled indeed, but for the moment when he set a pair of curtains ablaze. The duke promptly threw a jug of water at the fire, which also managed to douse Lady Marchfield.

Then there was the fellow whose skill was walking on his hands. He was so accustomed to it that he found moments to grab at various lady’s ankles. Very naturally, Lady Marchfield’s ankles were among the grabbed.

The breakfast was capped off by a horse-riding display round the park of Grosvenor Square that served as a sendoff to the young couple setting out on their wedding trip. If certain individuals who were out for a stroll at that moment found themselves inexplicably knocked to the pavement, well, did they not know that the duke’s eldest daughter had been married that morning?

Before that blessed day had arrived, Percy and Felicity had debated at length on where they would go for the wedding trip. By happenstance, Percy’s friend Mr. Wiles had come up with a cracking idea. His family were connected to the O’Neils, that family having their roots in Ireland but long-established in Scotland. They had a lovely old castle in the Outer Hebrides.

Naturally, this struck the couple as quite the interesting adventure. As the negotiations between the duke and the viscount had dragged on, Mr. Wiles wrote to his relations. Word was received back that the family was not currently in residence there. The newly married couple were welcome to its use if they thought they could get by with a rather bare-bones staff to serve them.

They were entirely enthusiastic over the idea and neither of them gave a toss for how bare-bones the staff was. Felicity even speculated that she might be encouraged to learn how to bake a cake after all.

Percy was not so foolish as to spend the first night of his wedding trip at some inn arrived at through exhaustion and lack of choice. He promptly relocated his bride to a lovely place just ten miles out of London. It was small but well run and set in the prettiest little valley with green all round.

It was fortuitous that he did think to stop so early that first day, as it was not likely the couple would have made it another ten miles before doing something shocking in the carriage.

Felicity had never given too much thought to marital relations before she had fallen for Percy. Very naturally, once she had fallen, it had occupied her mind day and night. She’d even had some whispered conversations with Grace and a heart to heart with Mrs. Right. Grace had nothing much to offer, other than pressing Felicity to come back and tell her all she’d found out. Mrs. Right stuck to her original and only advice—things would naturally take their course.

As Mrs. Right was a long-time widow and the most experienced person she could speak to regarding such personal matters, Felicity took that advice.

It turned out that counsel was very apt. If one were to think of the whole thing at once, it was almost off-putting. But minute by minute, it was rather lovely.

This was also the moment when Felicity first saw Percy’s scars. She had of course been there when the attack occurred, she had seen the blood, it had soaked her dress. For all that, she had not imagined the severity of the scars left behind. Those scars would be there for the rest of their lives to remind her of what had happened. Each time she looked at them, she fell in love with Percy all over again. In truth, when Percy occasionally strayed into her bad books, he made a point of walking round without his shirt on, turning his back to her at every opportunity.

In these early days, Felicity discovered that marital relations became even more lovely as one became accustomed to it. By the time the couple came near their destination a fortnight later, Percy Stratton was rather exhausted.

They reached the coast and arranged transport to Barra by way of a fishing vessel. It was not glamourous by any means, and perhaps made less glamorous by Felicity’s heaving over the side for most of it, but they managed to dock without a worse disaster than seasickness.

That was when they discovered that Castle Kisimul was not actually located on the island of Barra. One must cross another body of water, albeit so narrow one could likely swim it if currents did not sweep one away.

This discovery led to a series of negotiations with the local fleet of fishermen. These negotiations were not friendly, as the local people did not seem very charmed to have newlyweds from London in their midst. One finally whispered to Percy that he would take them over under cover of darkness, albeit for an exorbitant price.

As Percy had begun to believe that their choices were narrowing down to a frantic swim while being dragged down to the bottom of the sea by their sinking luggage, he agreed. For the next hours until the sun set, they sat on the pier with their luggage, attempting to ignore the glares from passersby. It had been a long day, they were tired, hungry, and thirsty, Felicity was weakened from being sick, and the day was growing longer still.

These difficulties inevitably led to Percy’s first glimpse of his beloved wife’s renowned temper. First, she listed all the terrible things to be done to Mr. Wiles when they returned to Town. Some of them found Percy rather shaken, as he really did not see the need to burn Wiles’ house to the ground, especially since it was rented.

As the hours wore on, Felicity turned her ire toward the local people who glared at them as they passed by. If a local Hebridean had come under the notion that she was to put up with such nonsense when she was thirsty and tired and had been sick over the side of a boat, they were quickly informed of their mistake.

One after another of the glares was met with his delicate wife’s shouting that if they wished to say something, they ought to have the courage to step up to her and say it and they should be very glad she did not have her fowling piece on hand.

The shoreline slowly emptied, though Percy could see the white curtains of nearby houses being pulled back on occasion. He presumed they’d all been warned off regarding the mad Englishwoman on the pier who may or may not have brought along a gun.

Finally, the sun sank below the horizon. The fisherman who had agreed to take them over crept on his boat and cautioned them to be quiet.

This was, apparently, the last straw. Felicity picked up the nearest piece of luggage and threw it at him. They were ferried over to the castle in the bay in all haste.

Percy had rather serious doubts that the fellow would ever come back for them.

After the housekeeper, an old and wizened woman, took one look at Felicity, she said, “Ya poor thing, this ain’t no place for the likes of you. I’ll fetch you a whisky, that’ll help you forget whatever day you’ve gone and had for yourself.”

The old woman hurried off. Felicity burst into tears. “Now you’ve seen it,” she said. “My terrible temper. You’ve married an awful shrew.”

Percy took her in his arms and kissed her head. “You were hard-pressed.”

“Yes, I really was!”

“You were sick, then we had nothing to eat or drink and we were left in the sun all day and those people were giving us terrible looks.”

“Yes, all of that happened!”

“I suppose anybody would have reacted just the same.”

“Really?” Felicity asked.

“Well, perhaps not exactly the same,” Percy said with a snort of laughter. “But you were hard-pressed.”

The housekeeper, Mrs. MacLeod, returned with the whisky. Felicity recovered quite a bit of her spirits after downing that strong drink. The good lady set her up with a hot bath and then made them a simple but very good dinner accompanied by more whiskey.

Mrs. MacLeod explained that there was one other servant in the place, a young man named Angus MacCray who acted as man of all work.

Mrs. MacLeod wondered how they planned to occupy themselves on this little patch of rock as there was not much to do other than look out the windows. Even the little fishing boat the family used for outings on shore was gone for repairs.

Naturally, they had not considered that. They had both imagined a lovely castle on a remote beach where they might take long walks. They might even stop in at a friendly publican’s house of an evening. If there were a publican nearby, they did not suppose he would be friendly, nor could they walk there.

“Now,” she said, “what arrangements did you make with Finley MacDonald to come and collect you?”

“Finley MacDonald?” Felicity asked.

“The fellow who ran you over here.”

Felicity and Percy looked at one another. Felicity said, “I expect Mr. MacDonald will not have an interest in returning.”

“Finlay? Not get paid for a return trip?” Mrs. MacLeod said, her brow wrinkling. “That man would sell his wife for a shilling.”

“My wife was hard-pressed,” Percy said by way of vague explanation.

“I threw my luggage at him,” Felicity admitted.

“Oh aye,” Mrs. MacLeod said. “He won’t be back.”

Percy and Felicity retired that evening, their heads rather too full of whisky and dire ideas of never getting off the pile of rocks that had now become their home. They both stared into the darkness for some time before sleep overtook them.

The morning brought a better outlook. They had both been far too tired the evening before to be any good at rational thought.

The day was bright, Mrs. MacLeod made a fine hearty breakfast, and they discovered a sun-drenched balcony to sip their second pot of tea. The second pot restored them quite a bit and Percy speculated that lack of tea the day before had been responsible for… what happened.

They further investigated the castle and found a well-stocked library. One might not have imagined that reading would end up being a primary activity on one’s wedding trip, but they took to it. Lazy mornings on the balcony unless it rained, walks round the ramparts of an afternoon, simple but hearty dinners smoothed out with whisky, and cozying up in the library’s overstuffed settee of an evening before retiring early. On the nights they did not choose to read, they played cards and butchered the rules of piquet with abandon.

Perhaps the nights, with the heavy blackness enveloping them and only the sounds of the waves lapping outside the windows were their favorite. Neither had ever experienced the sort of silence that was to be had at Kisimul Castle. At home, one of Felicity’s sisters was always talking and Percy’s father was always shouting.

It was as if they were the only two people left in the world. They did not mind being the only two people left in the world, as they were well able to occupy themselves through those dark hours.

Eventually, these halcyon days began to wane. It began with noticing the breakfasts had started to get a little sparse. Then the dinners were served on smaller plates. The dinner the evening before had been entirely devoid of meat and the housekeeper had called it a traditional Scottish Pinch in honor of Saint Monroe Day.

Then Mrs. MacLeod gave them the bad news.

There was no such thing as a Scottish Pinch, or Saint Monroe, or a Saint Monroe Day. They were running out of food. A grocer was meant to come every fortnight by boat, but he’d been due eight days before and had not turned up. As the grocer was long known to her and as reliable as the rain, Mrs. MacLeod guessed that they were being ostracized. She speculated that the local people had found too much time to discuss Lady Felicity’s issuing challenges to various people to approach her and speak, and possibly having a gun, and her throwing her luggage, and then the fact that they were English and not particularly wanted in the first place.

As the food stores dwindled, they took to rationing their supplies and attempting to send smoke signals from the ramparts. Day after day, they watched fishermen with weathered faces hoist their sails and tack by the castle, refusing to even look in their direction.

They were down to their last few pieces of stale bread when a distant relation of the O’Neils turned up. Somebody had sent him word that an English couple was being held captive in his cousin’s castle and he’d arrived prepared to do battle with criminals. He was rather surprised to find that the enemy to be thwarted was only a handful of offended fishermen.

Nevertheless, he got them off safely and saw them all the way to Glasgow. The adventure was to stay with Felicity always. Whenever she felt her temper beginning to bubble, she reminded herself that it had once led to her being starved in the Outer Hebrides. It also reminded her to send a Christmas gift to Mrs. MacLeod each year, for as long as that lady lived.

The couple sped their way out of Scotland as quickly as possible. Percy’s viscount had remained in London, and so they made their way to the estate. Along the way, Felicity wrote long letters to her sisters, her father, and Mrs. Right, detailing their experiences. She was well aware that the duke would laugh all his life long over their wedding trip to the Hebrides.

Felicity and Percy made a short stop at the viscount’s main house, which was really very fine. They did not even stay the night, though, as they had only come to collect Blueberry and take him to the lodge.

That cat would not prove to be much of a mouser, though the lodge urgently needed a mouser. It was a commodious sort of place reached by a narrow track of road and set in a pine forest. Blueberry was more of a lounging sort of cat. An impudent mouse, of which it seemed they were well supplied, might march up and tap him on the nose and not get much of a reaction.

Still, Felicity, Percy, and Blueberry settled in with a small staff. The viscount and his viscountess eventually returned to their house and the couple fell into the habit of dining with them once a week. As was inevitable, the viscount one night lost his temper over something or other.

His shout of “I warn you!” was met by Felicity shouting back, “I warn you more!”

The viscountess became hysterical with laughter and she and Felicity became firm friends after that. As for the viscount, he had never in his life been warned back and he gained a wary respect for his daughter-in-law. He became leery of crossing her and satisfied himself with crossing the duke, though he was nowhere in the vicinity. If one listened closely to his mutterings, one would likely hear: “For all I know, he’s dead on the moors by now. It’s pleasant to think about.”

When children made their appearance, those children found themselves the owners of two entirely strange grandfathers. One they saw a few times a year and he was always threatening to throw them out the doors, and they would not even be allowed back for Christmas. This was at least more specific than the shouted warnings from their more local grandfather, as it was never explained what they were warned of. In both cases, the children were highly amused and bet with one another over who could set off one of the old gentlemen first.

Daisy was usually the most successful, as she had inherited Felicity’s quick, off the mark temper. Felicity spent long hours in consultation with her daughter regarding it, and the mishap in the Hebrides was often discussed.

As for Felicity’s own temper, that was mellowed over time by two things. One, her children. And two, her husband.

Her children were dear little persons, but even dear little persons were known to accidentally set a fire, or drag in somebody else’s dog, or break only the most expensive items in the house. She could not bear to be cross with them.

And then her husband’s more easygoing temperament began to influence her. She could not help but notice that a temper rarely affected the outcome of anything, other than to make everybody in the vicinity uncomfortable.

Of course, most of those things were still to come. For now, the newlyweds feathered their private little nest and made plans for the next season. They were determined to be on hand for Grace’s debut season. Felicity was looking forward to helping her sister and Percy was interested in viewing what went on.

He was not at all certain what would go on, but as it was the Nicolet family he was sure something would go on.

Mr. Stratton was very perceptive.

The End