Page 48 of A Game of Scandal

“And I’ll turn in.” I gave an exaggerated yawn, which immediately felt like a bad pantomime performance. Fortunately, Mother didn’t notice, already swept up in the excitement of preparing for another party.

I had to lie in bed for an awfully long time, waiting for her to leave. I spent half of that time fretting about Edward Laing and his intentions, and the other half in a state of dazed relief to be lying in a dark, quiet room rather than being paraded around a ballroom.

Finally, when I heard the front door close and decided enough time had passed to be safe, I got up and dressed myself quickly in a gown of dark navy silk – the best I could manage for a night-time excursion at short notice. Perhaps I should try and procure some boy’s clothes like Izzy had. I imagined that such a disguise brought with it a significant amount of freedom.

One quick trip down the pear tree later and I found myself slipping as inconspicuously as possible round Grosvenor Square. It wasn’t as if this was my first time sneaking out of the house at night, but for obvious reasons I felt more jittery than usual. There was none of the thrill – only a strange itch between my shoulder blades, where I was sure I could feel someone watching me.

I would have to be careful to avoid anyone Laing might have keeping an eye on the house, and I stood for long moments listening and observing before I moved. I stared into the darkness, focusing particularly on the spot where I had seen the glow of the cigarette, but it seemed totally clear. Once again I was forced to question whether I was only overreacting to a series of coincidences.

It was past midnight; certainly the street seemed deserted. Overhead, the moon was a silver crescent, sending long, sharp shadows slicing ominously across the paving stones. A shrill sound had me freezing, pressed against the wall of a nearby building, my heart pounding. It took me several deep breaths to realize it was only the call of an owl in the trees above me.

I took the most roundabout way to the Aviary that I could manage, checking back over my shoulder often, but I couldn’t see anyone following me. At one point, a noisy group of young men weaved their way down the opposite side of the street and I tucked myself into the darkened entrance to a narrow alleyway until they had passed. Aside from them, there was no one who caused any alarm.

When I reached the Aviary, I was relieved to see the lights upstairs. I wondered if there were always lights burning up there. The shop seemed like a lighthouse in the inky black sea of the night surrounding it, a beacon calling me towards safety, and given the work that the Finches did, I guessed that was rather the point. I was certain I wasn’t the first woman to arrive in the middle of the night, in need of help.

The door to the shop was locked and I had to ring the bell and wait, still looking back behind me as the feeling that I was being watched persisted, despite my careful efforts.

After a moment, it was Izzy who appeared, dressed not as a boy but in a plain dark gown similar to my own. Behind the glass window I saw her eyes widen.

“Felicity!” she exclaimed, wrenching the door open. “What on earth?”

“I wasn’t sure where you were,” I said, making my way inside, keen for her to close the door behind me, to shut the world outside. “I hoped I’d find you here.”

Izzy took my hands in hers. “Is it something to do with Edward Laing?”

“Yes, how did you—” I began, then shook my head.

“You spoke to Sylla. And you had someone watching him – they saw him talk to me in the park?”

“Right.” Izzy nodded, and I noticed that her face was pale. She looked tired. “Come upstairs,” she said, already heading for the hidden door. “Mrs Finch is here with Sylla. We can talk about it all together.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I followed, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. Somehow it felt as though everything would be all right now. I realized that, after only a brief acquaintance, I had absolute faith that Mrs Finch could fix any problem.

Upstairs, a handful of women were making use of the salon, and – had the circumstances been different – I would have wanted to linger, wanted to watch the furious chess match taking place in one corner, to listen in on the raucous story being told by the elegant woman in the dinner suit that reduced the group around her to hopeless laughter. I would have wanted to stay and hear the jaunty jangle of the piano, to drink one of the glasses of fine-looking brandy that had been handed around.

Here, it was easy to forget why I had sneaked out in the middle of the night, and I felt myself drawn to the thing I had been craving all along, a place where my awkward edges would fit perfectly, where I wouldn’t have to try to be anything other than exactly myself.

With a longing backwards glance, I followed Izzy up the second flight of stairs towards Mrs Finch’s office. The woman herself waited inside, poring over a map spread out across her desk, with Sylla beside her.

“Did you—” Mrs Finch started to say, and then her eyes fell on me, and a flicker of surprise showed. “Lady Felicity,” she said softly, any small loss of composure immediately smoothed away. She sighed. “It’s Edward Laing, I suppose?”

“You seem to know all about it already,” I replied.

Sylla frowned. “Only that he waylaid you in the park.”

“Waylaid me is right.” I slumped into a nearby armchair. “He asked me to marry him.”

For the first time, I got to see Mrs Finch look truly startled.

“He did what?” Izzy asked.

“Well, he told me that he intends to marry me, so I suppose it adds up to the same thing,” I said with a bravado I didn’t exactly feel. “I thought Sylla might have told you.”

“At the time we spoke, you seemed unsure whether or not a proposal had actually taken place,” Sylla said, flicking an invisible fleck of dust from her sleeve. “I simply told them that he had expressed an uncomfortable interest in you. Besides which” – she pinned me with a sharp glare – “I thought we had agreed that you were going to leave the situation alone.”

“I can’t believe Laing proposed to you.” Izzy worried at her bottom lip.