Georgette Heyer - Powder and Patch

“But no!” Philip waved him aside. “I am very interested in what m’sieur has to say.” “By name, Cleone. We have it from M. Bancroft that she falls in love with him for his beaux yeux and his so charming manner.”

“Ah!” Philip’s chin sank into his cupped palms. “Et puis?”

“It is further recorded that one M. Philippe Jettan importuned her with his clumsy attentions, so that M. Bancroft was compelled to teach this M. Philippe a sharp lesson. And when one asks, ‘What of the pretty Cleone?’ he shrugs his shoulders and replies, very superbly, that he wearied of her as of all others.”

Saint-Dantin’s crisp voice cut into the sudden silence.

“Philippe, fill your glass. Paul here tells me of a pass he conceived in his duel with Mardry

last month. A-”

“I will ask Paul to show me that pass,” said Philip. He leant back in his chair and laughed softly. A moment later he had resumed his interrupted discussion with De Bergeret. Afterwards Saint-Dantin took him aside.

“Philippe, I would not have had that happen at my table! Charles is incorrigible!” “On the contrary, I am grateful to him,” replied Philip. “I might not have heard else. Now I will shut that fellow’s mouth.”

“How?” asked Saint-Dantin blankly. Philip made an imaginary pass in the air.

“Short of killing him,” objected Saint-Dantin, “I don’t see-” “Kill him? Not I! I may count on you to-uphold me?” “Of course. But what do you mean to do?”

“First I will reverse the tables. I will punish him. Then I will assure him that my friends will espouse my cause if he again mentions my lady’s name in public.” Saint-Dantin nodded.

“I’ll vouch for those here tonight.”

“Wait! Any mention of her name will be reported to me, and I shall send François to administer a little beating. It is well.”

The Comte laughed outright.

“Oh, Philippe, thou art a young hot-head! Is this Cleone of so great account?” Philip drew himself up.

“She is the lady whom I hope one day to make my wife.”

“Comment? Your wife? Ah, voyons! cela change l’affaire! I did not know that. Stop his talk, by all means.”

“It’s what I am going to do,” said Philip. “Scélérat!” “With a vile taste for pink, hein? You’ll call upon me?” “If you please. And, I think, De Bergeret.”

“Saint-Dantin, a wager!” called De Vangrisse. “What are you talking of so earnestly?” “Of pink coats,” answered Philip. “Oh, my rondeau! Where is it?” “Devil take your rondeau!” cried the Vicomte, “Come and hazard a throw with me.” “A l’instant!” Philip untied the ribbon about his rondeau and spread out the parchment. “I insist that you shall listen to this product of my brain!” He mounted a chair amid derisive cheers, and bowed right and left in mock solemnity. “To the Pearl that Trembles in her Ear.” Cette petite perle qui tremblotte

Au bout ton oreille, et qui chuchotte

Je ne sais quoi de tendre et de malin, A l’air à la fois modeste et coquin, Si goguenarde est elle et si dévote.

regarder c’est toute une gavotte Où 1’on s’avance, se penche, et pivote,

Lors que tu branles d’un mouvement fin Cette petite perle.

’est une étoile dans le ciel qui flotte- Un vif éclair qui luit dans une grotte-

Un feu follet qui hors de mon chemin M’attire, m’éblouit, m’égare-”

Philip paused for his final effect. Arose Saint-Dantin, and like a flash interjected:

“Enfin,

Elle m’embête-saperlipopOtte!-

Cette petite perle

Outraged, Philip threw the parchment at his head.

“Philippe, do you go to De Farraud’s tonight?” asked De Bergeret suddenly. He was lounging on the couch in Philip’s room, watching Philip adjust his patches. “De Farraud’s? I’d not thought of it. Whom shall I meet there?” “Your very obedient,” said De Bergeret, flourishing his hat.

“The prospect does not entice me,” answered Philip. “No, don’t retort! Don’t speak. Don’t move!” He leaned forward, shifting a candle to throw its light on his face, and frowned at his reflection. The white hand that held the haresfoot wavered an instant, and then alighted at the corner of his mouth. Philip sat back, studying the effect.

“Whom else shall I meet, Jules?”

“The usual people, I fancy. And some others, no doubt.”

“De Farraud’s friends are so very mixed,” deplored Philip. “Do you suppose that De Chambert will be present?”

“Nothing is more certain,” yawned De Bergeret. “But it will be amusing, and the play will be high, which is all that matters.”

“But De Chambert wears puce small-clothes,” objected Philip.

“Does he? Mordieu, I’d like to see that! Puce smallclothes, forsooth! And what docs our Philippe wear?”

Philip glanced lovingly down at his pearl-grey breeches.

“Grey, and palest pink, with lacings of silver.” He slipped out of his gaily-hued robe, and stood up. De Bergeret levelled his eyeglass at him.

“Parbleu, Philippe! Grey lace!” Philip shook out his ruffles. “A sweet conceit, hein? But wait! François, my vest!”

His valet brought it, and helped Philip to put it on. It was a very exquisite confection of pink and silver brocade.

De Bergeret was interested.

“I’ll swear you designed that, Philippe! Now for the coat!”

When Philip had at last succeeded in entering into the coat it was some ten minutes later. François stepped back, panting; Philip arranged his sword to his satisfaction. “A careless sprinkling of rubies, hein! One in the cravat, one here, another in my wig. And on my fingers, so …!”

“Perfect!” applauded De Bergeret. “Tonnerre de Dieu, pink humming-birds on your stockings!”

François beamed and clasped his hands, gazing in rapt admiration at Philip’s startlingly clocked legs.

Philip laughed.

“Do they please your artistic soul, Jules? And are they to be wasted on De Farraud? I had intended to go to the Saint-Clammond rout, where I know I shall meet Clothilde. Come with me!”

De Bergeret shook his head.

“I promised De Vangrisse I’d be at De Farraud’s some time tonight. Forget the lovely Clothilde, Philippe. Bethink you, your so dear friend Bancroft will come to Farraud’s in De Chambert’s train!”

Philip was fixing a long ruby earring in his right ear, but he stopped suddenly, and looked over his shoulder at De Bergeret.

“Comment?”

“Why, you leap to my bait!” said De Bergeret, amused. “I thought you could not resist so great an attraction!”

Philip fixed the ruby and swept found for his cloak and hat.

“Faith, that can I not. I come, Jules, I come! François, thou rogue, my snuffbox! Would that he may be wearing that salmon-pink! François, my cane! Jules, you are sitting on my cloak!

Sangdieu! my new cloak!” He swept De Bergeret off the coat, and shook out the soft, rose-lined folds. “God be praised, it is unhurt!” With a deft movement he swung it over his shoulders and fastened it. “My hat! Jules, what think you of my hat?” “A grey hat! Philippe, what an audacity! You are really coming to De Farraud’s?” “To meet the so dear M. Bancroft. En avant, Jules!”

De Bergeret went to the glass,

“Cultivate a more restful manner, mon petit! I am not to be hurried. Do you like this mixture of violet and cream?”

“I like everything you have on, even the so badly arranged cravat! I am consumed with impatience! Come!”

“But why. Are you hasting to see the unspeakable Bancroft?” “But yes! Whom else? I will explain en route.”

De Bergeret suffered himself to be led to the door.

“Philippe, it is not convenable to display such enthusiasm. Languor is now the fashion.” “I am a fashion unto myself, me. I am an original. And I go to call out M. Bancroft!” De Bergeret stopped short.

“What! A brawl? No, then, I’ll not come!”

“A brawl? Is it possible? I shall conduct the affair with great douceur, I assure you! You and Saint-Dantin are to be my seconds.”

“Miséricorde! Philippe, you become more and more tiresome!” expostulated his friend. “Why must you fight this fellow?”

“An old quarrel-the settling of an unpaid score! Allons!” “Oh, the devil,” muttered Bancroft.

“Où donc?” inquired Le Vallon, who was sitting next him and who understood English. Bancroft shot an angry glance towards the door. Le Vallon turned to see what had excited his wrath.

Talking to De Farraud, with many quick gestures and smiles, was Philip. He had just arrived, and he was apologising for his lateness, throwing all the blame on De Bergeret, who accepted it meekly.

“Oh, the little Englishman!” said Le Vallon scornfully. “Always late, always eccentric. And grey lace! What an affectation!”

Philip cast a swift glance round the room. His eyes rested an instant on Bancroft’s face, then they passed on. Two or three men called to him, and he presently went to dice with De Vangrisse. But when Le Vallon left Bancroft to join a faro group, Philip swept up his dice, and with a laughing word to De Vangrisse, promising to return, he walked over to Bancroft’s table, and sat down in Le Vallon’s chair with a swirl of his full skirts.

Bancroft was about to rise. Astonished at Philip’s sudden advent, he sank back again. “To what do I owe this honour?” he demanded.

Philip dealt out the cards.

“I will tell you. A hand of piquet? You will declare?”

Bancroft sorted his hand rather sullenly. Not until he had declared and played his card did Philip speak again. Then he took the trick and leant forward.

“It comes to my ears that you have been bandying a certain lady’s name about Paris in a way that does not please me. You understand, yes?”

“What the devil is it to you?” cried Bancroft, crimson-faced.

“‘Sh, sh! Not so loud, if you please! Go on playing! I am informed that you speak of this lady as a pretty piece! It is not how I will have you speak of her. Also, you say that she fell in love with you en désespéré. Eh bien, I say that you lie in your throat!”

“Sir!”

“Doucement, doucement. Further, I say that if so be you again mention this lady’s name in public I shall send my lackeys to punish you. It is understood?”

“You-you-you impudent young cockerel! I shall know how to answer this! What’s Cleone to you, eh?”

The pleasant smile died. Philip leaned forward. “That name I will not have spoken, m’sieur. Strive to bear it in mind. I have many friends, and they will tell me if you speak of the lady when I am not by. And of the rest I have warned you.”

“Ye can understand this, Mr Jettan-I’ll speak of her how and when I like!” Philip shrugged.

“You talk foolishly. There is no question of refusal to comply with my wishes. If I so please I can make Paris very uncomfortable for you. You know that, I think.”

Bancroft was speechless with rage.

“There is another matter,” continued Philip amiably. “Once before I had occasion to complain of your manner. I do so again. And. I find the colour of your ribbons most distasteful to mine eye.”

Bancroft sprang up, his chair grating on the polished floor. “Perhaps you’ll have the goodness to name your friends, sir?” he choked. Philip bowed.

“This time, yes. It is a little debt I have to pay. M. le Comte de Saint-Dantin and M. de Bergeret will act for me. Or De Vangrisse yonder, or M. le Duc de Vally-Martin.” “The first named will suffice,” snapped Bancroft. “My friends will wait on them as soon as may be.” With that he flounced away to the other end of the room.

Philip walked back to De Vangrisse and perched on the arm of his chair. De Bergeret cast his dice and nodded at Philip.

“The deed is done?”

“Most satisfactorily,” answered Philip. “Throw, Paul, you can beat that.” “Not I! Jules has the devil’s own luck tonight. If it is not an impertinence, are you to meet M. Bancroft?”

“Of course. Oh, peste!”-as De Vangrisse cast his dice. “What did I tell you? May I second you?”

“A thousand thanks, Paul. But Saint-Dantin and Jules have consented to act for me.” “Well, I shall come as a spectator,” said De Vangrisse. “Jules, another hundred! I’ll not be beaten by you!”

Le Vallon, who had watched the brief encounter between his friend and Philip with great curiosity, now edged across to where Bancroft was standing.

Bancroft turned.

“Come apart a moment,” he said. His voice was still trembling with passion. He and Le Vallon drew near to the window.

“You saw that damned fellow come up to me just now?” “But yes! I watched very closely. What did he want with you?” “He came to impose his will-his will!-on mine. Curse his impudence!” “Why? What did he say?” asked Le Vallon inquisitively. Bancroft did not answer.

“I want you to act for me,” he said abruptly. “He insulted me, and I’ve sworn to teach him a lesson.”