Georgette Heyer - Powder and Patch

Cleone collapsed on to the couch.

“I’ll not see him! I-oh, I must go home at once! I must, I must! Everything is all my fault! I ought never to have-sent him away! And now-and now he despises me!” “Who says so?”

“I-how could he do else? Don’t-don’t you realise how dreadful I have been? And-and his face-when-when he-heard everything! He’ll never never believe-the truth!” “What matters it?” asked my lady carelessly. “Since you do not love him-” “Oh, I do, I do, I do!” wept Cleone.

François admitted Sir Maurice. His round face was perturbed. It cleared somewhat at the sight of Sir Maurice.

“Ah, m’sieur, entrez donc! M’sieur Philippe, he is like one mad!-He rage, he go up and down the room like a caged beast! It is a woman, without doubt it is a woman! I have known it depuis longtemps! Something terrible has happened! M’sieur is hors de lui-meme!” Sir Maurice laughed.

“Poor François! I go to reassure m’sieur.” “Ah, if m’sieur can do that!”

“I can-most effectively. Where is he?” François pointed to the library door.

Philip literally pounced on his father.

“Well? You have seen her? Is she in love with Brenderby? Is she to wed him? What did she tell you?”

Sir Maurice pushed him away.

“You are the second distracted lover who has clutched me today. Have done.” Philip danced with impatience.

“But speak, Father! Speak it!”

Sir Maurice sat down leisurely and crossed his legs.

“At the present moment Cleone is betrothed. Very much so,” he added, chuckling. “I am about to put the whole matter into your hands.”

“My hands? She wants my help?”

“Not at all. She is insistent that you shall not be appealed to. In fact, she was almost frantic when I suggested it.”

“Then does she not want to marry Brenderby?” “Certainly not. But she will do so if you fail to intervene.” Philip flung out his hands.

“But tell me, sir! What happened last night?”

“Sit down and be quiet,” said Sir Maurice severely. “I am on the point of telling you.” Philip obeyed meekly.

“And don’t interrupt.” Sir Maurice proceeded to relate all that he had heard from Cleone … “And she was so upset that she went with Brenderby, not caring what happened. That is the whole story,” he ended.

“Upset? But-was she upset-because I had offered and been rejected?” “Presumably. Now she is so hopelessly compromised that she daren’t face you.” Philip sank his head into his hands and gave way to a long peal of laughter. “Sacré nom de Dieu, the tables are turned, indeed. Oh, Clo, Clo, you wicked little hussy! And what was in that locket?”

“That you will have to ask her yourself,” answered Sir Maurice. Philip jumped up.

“And I shall. Mordieu, never did I dream of such a solution to my difficulties!”

“Perhaps she still will not have you, Philip,” warned Sir Maurice. Philip flung back his head.

“Thunder of God, she will have me now if I have to force her to the altar! Ciel, you have taken a load off my mind, sir! I thought she cared for Brenderby! She smiled on him so consistently. And now for ce cher Brenderby! I am going to enjoy myself.” “Remember, Philip! No breath of scandal!”

“Am I so clumsy? Not a whisper shall there be! François, François! My hat, my cloak, my boots, and my sword!”

Sir Deryk’s valet came to him, bowing. “There is a gentleman below who desires speech with you, sir.”

“Oh? Who is he?” “Mr Philip Jettan, sir.”

Sir Deryk raised his eyebrows.

“Jettan? What can he want with me? Ay, I’ll come.” He rose and went languidly downstairs. “This is an unexpected honour, Jettan! Come in!” He led Philip into a large room. “Is it a mere friendly visit?”

“Anything but that,” said Philip. “I have come to tell you that you will not be able to wed Mistress Cleone Charteris.”

“Oh?” Brenderby laughed. “Why do you say that?” “Because,” Philip smiled a little, “I am going to wed her myself.” “You? Oh, Gad, you make the third!”

“And there is, as you know, luck in odd numbers. Are you satisfied?” “Satisfied? Damme, no! The girl’s lovely! I’ve a mind to her.” “Even though I tell you that she desires to be released?” “Even though she told it to me herself!”

“I trust you will allow me to persuade you?” Philip patted his sword-hilt lovingly. A light sprang to Brenderby’s eyes.

“Is it a fight you’re wanting? By Gad, no man has ever had need to challenge me twice! Here? Now? Help me push the table back!”

“One moment! You love a hazard, I think? I fight you for the right to wed Mistress Cleone. If I win you relinquish all claim upon her, and you swear never to breathe a word of what passed last night. If you win-oh, if you win, do as you please!”

“Ay, aught you will! I’ve been pining for a fight for many a long day. You’re a man after my heart, stap me if you’re not! Here, wait while I fetch my sword!” He hurried out of the room, returning in a very short time with a rapier. “I’ve told my man that you have come to fence with me. But we’ll lock the door in case of accidents. How does my sword measure with yours?”

Philip compared them.

“Very well.” His eyes danced suddenly. “Dieu! I never thought to fight so strange a duel!” He pulled off his boots. “We’ll fight in wigs, yes? One is so displeasing without a hair to one’s head.”

“A dozen, if you like!” Brenderby struggled out of his coat and vest. “You know, you are shorter than I am. We’re not fair matched.”

Philip laughed, tucking up his ruffles. “No matter. You see, I must win!”

“Why?” Brenderby made an imaginary pass in the air. “So much depends on it,” explained Philip. “Is the light fair to both?” “Fair enough,” said Brenderby.

“You are ready, then? Eh bien!” The blades met and hissed together.

Opening in quarte, Brenderby seemed at first to be the better of the two. Philip stayed on the defensive, parrying deftly and allowing Brenderby to expend his energies. Once Brenderby’s

blade flashed out and all but pinked Philip, but he managed to recover his opposition in time.

His eyes opened wider; he became more cautious. Suddenly he descried an opening and lunged forward. There was a moment’s scuffle, and Brenderby put the murderous point aside. Then Philip seemed to quicken. When Brenderby began to pant, Philip changed his tactics, and gave back thrust for thrust. His wrist was like flexible steel; his footwork was superb; the whole style of his fencing was different from that of Brenderby. All at once Brenderby saw an opening. He thrust in quinte, steel scraped against steel, and Philip’s point flashed into his right arm above the elbow.

Brenderby staggered back, clutched at his arm, and tried to raise his sword again. But Philip was at his side, supporting him.

“It’s only a flesh wound-painful now-bien sûr. It will-heal quickly. I do not-mistake,” he gasped.

“Damme-I’m not done for-yet!”

“But yes! I fight-no more. You cannot-keep your blade-steady-

now! Sit down!” He lowered Brenderby into a chair, and whisked out his handkerchief. He bound up Sir Deryk’s wound and fetched him a glass of wine from a decanter on the sideboard.

“Thanks!” Sir Deryk gulped it down. “But where are my manners? Pour some for yourself, Jettan! Gad, but you pinked me neatly!” He seemed to slip back into his habitual drawl. “As pretty a piece of sword play as I wish to see. But you fence French-fashion.” Philip drank some wine.

“Yes. It was at Paris that I learned. With Guillaume Corvoisier.”

“No!” Brenderby heaved himself up. “Corvoisier, forsooth! No wonder you’re so quick!” Philip smiled and bowed.

“You frightened me more than once, sir.”

“Faith, it wasn’t apparent then! You were so intent on winning?” “It means so much, you see,” said Philip simply. “My whole life’s happiness.” “What! You really intend to wed Cleone?”

Again Philip bowed.

“I have always intended to wed her.”

“You?” Brenderby stared. “I never knew that! What of that young sprig Winton?” “Oh, I think I can persuade James!”

“Like this?” Brenderby glanced down at his arm.

“No, not like that Tell me, sir, did you intend to wed mademoiselle?”

“Heaven forbid! I’ve no mind to tie myself up yet awhile. Your entrance last night forced me to say what I did to spare the lady’s blushes. I’d no notion of continuing the comedy, until young Winton thrust in with his prior claim. Gad, but ’twas amusing! Did you not find it so?” “I? No. But I was closely concerned in the affair, you see. I may take it that you will say naught of last night’s work?”

“Of course not. ’Twas a mad jest, but I’d not let it go so far as to damage a lady’s reputation. And you may tell Mistress Cleone that I apologise-for what happened before. She’s too damnably beautiful.”

Philip worked himself into his coat.

“‘Damnably’ is not the word I should employ, but n’importe.” He sat down and started to pull on his boots. “I have enjoyed myself. I said I should.”

“Tare an’ ’ounds, so have I! It’s an age since I’ve had a sword in my hand. I am indebted to you, sir.”

“Yes, you are out of practice. I thank the kind fates for that!”

“Ay, I’d have kept you at it longer, but I don’t know that the issue would have been different. You must go?”

Philip picked up his hat.

“I must. I have to thank you for-”

“Oh, stuff! I’d no notion of holding Cleone to her promise, but I could not resist the offer of a fight. I wish you could see how monstrous amusing it was, though!”

Philip laughed.

“Had it been anyone but Cleone I might have been able to appreciate the humour of the situation! I trust the wound will heal quickly.”

“Oh, that’s naught! A mere prick, but I was winded. Fare ye well, Jettan. My felicitations! You felicitated me last night, did you not?” He laughed.

“With black murder in my heart!” nodded Philip. “I do not say goodbye, but au revoir!” “Here’s my hand on it then-my left hand, alack!”

Philip grasped it. Brenderby accompanied him to the front door and waved to him as he ran down the steps.

“Bonne chance, as you’d say yourself! Au ’voir!”

Philip waved back at him and turned to hail a passing chair. He instructed the bearers to carry him to Jermyn Street.

It seemed that the luck was indeed with him, for he arrived just as James was descending the steps of his house. Philip sprang out, paid the chairmen, and took Winton’s arm. “My friend, a word with you!”

“Yes.?” said James. “You seem excited, Philip.” “It’s what I am, then. I’ve come to speak to you of Cleone.” James stiffened.

“I’ll not give her up to that fellow Brenderby!” he said fiercely. “It’s more than flesh and blood can bear.”

“Assuredly. But will you give her up to me?” James turned to stare at him. “You? But she is to wed Brenderby!”

“Ah, but no! that is at an end. Brenderby releases her. He is not so bad a man as you think. En effet, I like him.”

“I loathe the sight of him, drawling fop!”

“Today I have seen him in another light. But that is not what I have to say. Cleone does not wish to marry you, mon enfant, and it is churlish to persist.”

“I know she’ll never marry me,” answered James gloomily. “I only held her to her word because I thought she’d have Brenderby if I did not.”

“I understand. You’ll release her-for me?” “I suppose so. Why did you say naught last night?”

“There were reasons. They no longer exist. Come, Jamie, don’t look so glum! You are young yet.”

“It’s easy to say that. Oh, I knew I never had a chance with her! I congratulate you, Philip.” Philip pressed his arm.

“My thanks. You’re very generous! And now I must fly!” “Where? May I accompany you?”

“Again many thanks, but no! I have an engagement. Au revoir, mon cher!”

Once more Lady Malmerstoke’s page went up to the boudoir. “Mistah Philip Jettan is below, m’lady!”

Up started Cleone.

“I will not see him! Aunt Sarah, I beg you will go to him! Please spare me this-humiliation!” Lady Malmerstoke waved her aside.

“Admit him, Sambo. Yes, here. Cleone, control yourself!” “I can’t see him! I can’t! I can’t! How can I face him?”

“Turn your back, then,” said her unsympathetic aunt. “I wonder what he has done?” “D-do you think he-could have-arranged everything?” asked Cleone, with a gleam of hope.

“From what I have seen of him, I should say yes. A masterful young man, my dear. Else why

that chin?” She moved to the door. Philip came in, immaculate as ever. “Ah, Philip!” Philip shot a look past her. Cleone had fled to the window. He bent and kissed Lady Malmerstoke’s hand.