Джорджетт Хейер - Friday’s Child

“You won’t do it here,” said Sherry, with gloomy satisfaction. “Come to think of it, a pretty pair of cakes we must look, you and I, running after a couple of females who won’t have anything to do with us! And nothing to drink but this curst tea!”

“She will have Monty!” George said heavily.

“Not she!”

“She is going in his curricle on some damned expedition tomorrow. She told me so. I will not waste my time here any longer. I shall go back to the White Hart. They have a very tolerable Chambertin there.”

“Dashed if I won’t come with you!” said Sherry.

“You cannot. You are escorting Lady Sheringham and Miss Milborne.”

“I’ll come back in time to take ’em home,” said Sherry, “unless — By Jove, I might force Ferdy to give up his place in the cotillion to me!”

“What’s the use of that?” George said. “I’ve done much the same thing before now, but the fact of the matter is a ball is no place for private conversation. You are for ever being separated by the movement of the dance, and it all ends in a quarrel.”

“Well, I dare say you may be right,” Sherry said. “And if I bore Kitten off — ”

“You can’t do that!” George said, shocked. “Devilish strict at these balls! What’s more, if she refused to go with you, you’d look a bigger cake than you do now.”

“Yes, my God, so I should!” agreed Sherry. “I was a fool to have come! Let us go, George!”

So the two ladies who had spared no pains to demonstrate their indifference to their lordships had the doubtful pleasure of seeing them withdraw from the festivities. They should have been gratified to find their hints so well understood, but gratification was not the emotion uppermost in either swelling bosom.

After seeking a certain amount of relief in pointedly ignoring one another for the next hour, each lady developed the headache, and discovered in herself an ardent desire to go home.

HERO, WHO HAD PASSED A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, arose next morning with a headache indeed, and with suspiciously swollen eyes. Lady Saltash took one look at her, and sent her back to bed, recommending her to glance in her mirror, and decide for herself whether she wished to show her husband, or anyone else, that woebegone face.

“Oh, ma’am, do you think he will come this morning?” Hero asked. “I am persuaded he is thinking only of Isabella! When I saw him stand up with her for the country dance — Sherry! — I felt ready to sink!”

Her ladyship laughed. “Why, what else should a man of spirit do, pray, when you was flirting so scandalously with that boy out of the nursery? Silly puss! The affair is going on famously! Sheringham scarcely took his eyes off you the whole time he was in the Rooms!”

Hero’s lips trembled. “He left while we were having tea. I thought — I wondered if perhaps he would come up to me after tea, and make me dance with him, but — but — ”

“I dare say! And carry you off willy-nilly, perhaps? At a Bath Assembly! Unheard of!”

Hero smiled faintly. “I don’t think he would care for that. It would be just the sort of thing Sherry would do, if he wanted to. Only he didn’t want to. If — if he should come here this morning, ma’am, would you perhaps be so very obliging as to see him, and — and discover, if you are able, what his sentiments truly are?”

“Make yourself easy, my love: I will see him,” promised Lady Saltash.

But her ladyship was not called upon to see him. He did not come to Camden Place that morning, for Mr Ringwood had arrived in Bath by the night mail.

The mail coach having run punctually, he was set down at the White Hart a few minutes after ten o’clock, and found Lord Wrotham breakfasting. He joined him at this meal, as soon as he had shaved, and changed his travelling dress; and listened in stolid silence to the slightly disjointed account his lordship gave him of the imbroglio, which seemed hourly to be growing more complicated. A considerable part of George’s recital was naturally concerned with the behaviour of the Incomparable, but Mr Ringwood paid little heed to this. When he had heard George out, he grunted, and said: “Pack of gudgeons!”

“Who?” demanded George.

“You, and Sherry, and Ferdy,” replied Mr Ringwood. “Dashed if I don’t think Ferdy’s the worst of you! Take a look at that!”

He handed over Mr Fakenham’s letter to him, which George perused in gathering amazement. “Bosky, I dare say,” he remarked. “Who’s this fellow he believes to be at the bottom of Sherry’s coming to Bath? That’s all a hum! I don’t know why he came, but there wasn’t any plot about it. And how the devil does Duke come into it?”

“Lord, I don’t know!” said Mr Ringwood scornfully. “You don’t suppose I wasted my time asking him for the name of a fellow I’m not interested in, do you?”

“No, but I’d give something to know why Ferdy thinks someone is behind it all,” said George, pondering the problem. “Hasn’t said a word to me about it. Couldn’t be Revesby, could it? Don’t see how Ferdy came to forget his name, if it was. I’ll ask him.”

“You may do as you please: I’m going off to see Sherry,” said Mr Ringwood. “Where is he lodging?”

“In the Royal Crescent. He’s in the devil’s own temper, I warn you, Gil!”

“There ain’t the least need to warn me,” said Mr Ringwood. “If you haven’t been able in five years to call me out, it ain’t likely Sherry will!”

He then pulled on his Hessians, which his man had lovingly treated with Spanish Blue King Polish, shrugged himself into his greatcoat, tucked a malacca cane under his arm, and set off for the Royal Crescent. He found Sherry just about to leave the house, to pay a morning call in Camden Place; but at the sight of him Sherry abandoned this immediate intention, and pounced on him with something of the growl of an infuriated tiger.

“The very man above all others I wish to see!” Sherry said menacingly. “You have the devil of a lot of explaining to do, let me tell you! Come upstairs!”

“I’m going to,” replied Mr Ringwood. “But as for explaining, seems to me you have some of that to do!”

“I like your curst impudence!” gasped Sherry. “What in hades have I to explain?”

“Well, you may begin by explaining what the deuce brought you to Bath,” said Mr Ringwood, following him up to the parlour. “If Lady Sheringham is at home — ”

“She ain’t,” interrupted Sherry. “Gone off to see some curst doctor or other. And the Incomparable set out for Wells a couple of hours ago, so you needn’t fear you’ll be obliged to do the civil to either of ’em!” He flung open the parlour door and ushered his friend into the room. “Now, then, Gil! A pretty way you have dealt with me all these weeks! What in thunder possessed you to hide my wife from me, and bam me into thinking you knew no more than I did where she was? By God, if I were not so well acquainted with you, I might have a very fair notion of what your intentions were towards her, so I might.”

“You’d have to be uncommonly disguised to fancy I should take your wife to live with my grandmother if I’d any dishonourable intentions!” retorted Mr Ringwood.

“There is that, of course,” Sherry admitted. “All the same, Gil, I don’t understand what game you are playing; and when I think of your gammoning me when you knew I was half out of my mind with anxiety over Kitten — ”

“Point is, I didn’t know it,” said Mr Ringwood. “Come to think of it, I still don’t know it.”

Sherry stared at him. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “What kind of a fellow do you take me for, in God’s name? My wife leaves me, and you don’t know whether I’m anxious?”

“Thought you would have been glad to know she was in good hands,” said Mr Ringwood painstakingly, “but didn’t know whether you cared much that she wasn’t living with you any more.”

“Not care!” Sherry exclaimed. “She’s my wife!”

Mr Ringwood polished his quizzing-glass, paying the greatest attention to the operation. “Going to be frank with you, Sherry,” he said.

“By God, I shall be glad of it!”

“Don’t fancy you will, dear boy, when it comes to it. Very delicate matter: wouldn’t mention it if I hadn’t got to. I know she’s your wife: came to the wedding. Point is, that was a devilish queer business, your marriage, Sherry. Never pretended you was in love with Kitten, did you?”

Sherry flushed, tried to speak, and failed.

“Good as told us all you wasn’t,” pursued his friend. “Not that there was any need: plain as a pikestaff! Something else plain as a pikestaff, too, but whether you saw it is what I don’t know, and never did. Tried several times to give you a hint, but it didn’t seem to me you took it up. Thought the world of you, did Kitten. Wouldn’t hear a word against you: wouldn’t even admit you can’t drive well enough for the F.H.C. That shows you! Always seemed to me she only thought of pleasing you. If she took a fancy to do something she shouldn’t, only had to tell her you wouldn’t like it, and she’d abandon it on the instant. Used to put me in mind of that rhyme, or whatever it was, I learned when I was a youngster. Something about loving and giving: that was Kitten! Mind you, I don’t say you wasn’t generous to her, encouraged her to spend what money she liked, and — ” He stopped, for Sherry had flung up a hand. “Well, no sense in going into that. Dare say you know what I mean. Dashed if I knew what to make of it all! Then you had that turn-up with her over the race she meant to engage in, and she came to me, because there was no one else she could turn to. Sat in my room, with that curst canary I once gave her, and the drawing-room clock, and cried as though her poor little heart was breaking. Don’t mind telling you, I was dashed near calling you out for that, Sherry! Seemed to me you’d been a curst brute to the poor little soul! But she never blamed you: stuck to it everything had been her fault from the outset. Said something which made me think a trifle, said you had never loved her, and it was the Incomparable you had really wished to marry.”

“No!” Sherry interjected, in a strangled voice.

“I must say, I never thought you cared a button for the Incomparable,” agreed Mr Ringwood. “Thought maybe you cared more for your Kitten than you knew.”

Sherry had gone over to the window, and was standing with his back to his friend. He said curtly over his shoulder: “I did.”

“That’s why I brought Kitten down to my grandmother, and made Ferdy and George keep it from you they knew where she was. Thought if you felt you had lost her, it might make you think a trifle.” He paused, and glanced across at the Viscount. “Wouldn’t have betrayed her in any event, you know. At one time I’d a strong notion it was all going to be for the best. Haven’t been so sure of it lately. Don’t know why you’re setting Sheringham House in order, for one thing.”

Sherry wheeled round. “You fool, for Kitten, if ever I should find her! Do you suppose I have not had time to think as well as you? I see now what I ought to have done! I thought I could continue in the same way, even though I was married: had no notion of settling down! Well, I know now that it’s not possible, and, damn it, I don’t desire it to be! I thought, if I could find Kitten, we would start afresh: try to be more the thing! If I had not thought she might return there, I would have got rid of that curst house in Half Moon Street long since! God knows I have grown to hate it! But how could I do so? Suppose she had come back, only to find the shutters closed, or even strangers living there? I had to stay, though it has been like a tomb to me!”

“I see,” said Mr Ringwood. “Shan’t deny your setting Sheringham House in order looked to me as though you had different ideas in your head. When Severn fell out of the running — Well, couldn’t help wondering a trifle, Sherry!”

“If you mention Bella’s name to me again, Gil, I am likely to do you a mischief!” Sherry warned him. “I never cared the snap of my fingers for that wretched girl, and if you are not assured of that, ask her! Why, God save the mark, she may be a beauty, but give me my Kitten! Bella, with her airs and her graces, and her miffs, and her curst sharp tongue! No, I thank you! What’s more, no man who had lived with Kitten would look twice at the Beauty!”

“Then why the devil did you come to Bath, which we all know you can’t abide, only to be near her?” demanded Mr Ringwood, exasperated.

“To be near her? My God, is that what you think? You must be crazy! Nothing would have induced me to have come here, but one circumstance! When my mother asked me to go with her, I would not listen. Yes, and I told Bella if she thought she had the power to persuade me she was mightily mistaken! But something she said — or I said: I don’t recall precisely what it was — made me remember that it was to Bath that Bagshot woman had the intention of sending Kitten, to become a governess. I made sure I should find her here, in some seminary in Queen’s Square, and that is all the reason I had for coming to a place I never mean to set foot in again if I live to be a hundred!”