The Sergeant Major's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

gentlemen concerned to new peaks of curiosity.
    The absence of any enlivening conversation enabled Felicity to watch entranced as dishes of turbot, salmon, and whitebait, each dressed in its own spicy sauce—together with truffled capons, bowls of asparagus, and tiny new potatoes—were removed and replaced with several roast duckling, two or three assorted raised pies, and a sirloin of beef, pink and succulent—all accompanied by a staggering variety of salads, vegetables, sweets, puddings, ices, sweetmeats, and a great bowl of strawberries and other fresh fruits.
    Mrs. Lipscombe, a near neighbor of the Earl’s, inclined her feathered, turbaned head in Felicity’s direction.
    “You seem bewildered, Miss Vale.” The overloud voice was patronizing in its graciousness. “You will not find better fare, anywhere, I believe, but I make no doubt you are not accustomed to such a superior table as his lordship is wont to keep.”
    Felicity saw the Earl’s sardonic glance flick down the table to observe her reaction. Some imp of perversity prompted her to simper: “Indeed, no, ma’am. Why—when the army is on the move, our meals are often frugal to the point of digging for roots to provide a little thin broth! If we are fortunate enough to procure a rabbit, there is seldom time to cook it. Have you ever eaten raw rabbit, ma’am? It is quite tolerably pleasant, though the limbs can be stringy.”
    There were muttered exclamations and one or two chuckles from those acute enough to recognize and appreciate what was happening. The Earl appeared to have lost interest, but on looking closer Felicity saw his mouth twitch.
    Mrs. Lipscombe was not universally popular. She had two children—a son, Torquil, the fashionable young sprig sitting opposite Felicity, and a daughter, Lucinda, a fair if slightly insipid beauty with an obstinate mouth. Lucinda was a frequent visitor to Cheynings, being friendly with Amaryllis—a friendship much fostered by her mamma, who cherished notions of seeing her daughter a Countess.
    Mr. Lipscombe was insignificant. His wife, on the other hand, was not. Her features would have done credit to a well-bred mare and complimented her decided air of consequence, which derived from the nice distinction of being remotely connected with the Wellesleys.
    Nor was Mrs. Lipscombe a fool. She was well aware that she was being roasted; her nostrils quivered slightly as she said, with a tinkling laugh, “My dear Miss Vale, such fare may satisfy the ordinary ranks, but I cannot think it would content my kinsman, the Duke of Wellington. I am sure I cannot count the number of times I have heard him express a partiality for good food.”
    Such a set-down would have silenced a more socially conscious protagonist, but Felicity had no such inhibitions; she persisted wickedly, “That may be the case at home, ma’am, but it is a different story when he is with his troops, I assure you. Many’s a time his grace has sampled my broth—and even complimented me upon it.” There were more stifled chuckles. Mrs. Lipscombe flushed and turned away, making no further attempt at conversation. Felicity knew she would be made to suffer for her impertinence, but she remained unrepentant.
    When the ladies retired to the drawing room, the outraged matron swept past her as though she were not there, the feathers of her turban threshing with the force of her displeasure. Felicity would have preferred to withdraw, having complied with the letter, if not the spirit of his lordship’s commands, but now pride—that sin of which he had already accused her—dictated that she must remain.
    She collected some needlework and took a quiet back seat. Amaryllis whispered crossly that she had better not cause any more trouble.
    Presently the gentlemen rejoined the party. To Felicity’s surprise, the Earl placed himself next to Lucinda Lipscombe, and when she was entreated to play upon the pianoforte, it was Stayne who turned the pages of her