Джорджетт Хейер - The Masqueraders

There was the tiniest pause. “I don’t know,” said Letty. “Just like anybody.”

“Short or tall?” Robin pressed.

“Oh, of medium height — rather tall! said Letty, blandly disregarding the truth. “And he had brown hair — and — and he was not at all out of the common way.”

There was nothing more to be got out of her. Her unknown hero had imposed silence, and silent she would be. Questioned, she had not the smallest hesitation in lying. If there was to be a hue and cry after the Unknown she would do all that lay in her power to throw dust in the eyes of his pursuers.

It was close on midnight when the chaise drew up at Sir Humphrey Grayson’s door, and no sooner had the steps been let down than both Sir Humphrey and Miss Grayson came hurrying out. There was at once a babel of exclamation.

“Letitia!”

“Thank God!”

“Oh, my child, where have you been?”

“Once more your good friends to the rescue!”

Robin leaned out to speak to Sir Humphrey. “I bring her back to you again, sir. I daresay she will tell you more than I am permitted to know. I don’t need to ask you to be kind to her.”

Sir Humphrey sighed. “Another scrape! I have to thank you once more ma’am.”

“There is not the necessity, sir. We happened to chance that way; we had been visiting at Barnet. Take her in, sir: she’s worn out, and, I believe, has suffered much. Drive on John.”

“You will not enter? A glass of wine — ?”

“I thank you, sir, but it grows late, and we must hurry back to my Lady Lowestoft’s. You’re ready, my Peter?”

Letty, clinging to her father’s arm, watched the chaise roll away down the street, with the neat figure of Mr Merriot riding behind it. She heaved a deep sigh, and whispered urgently: “Papa, papa, I must speak with you alone! Send Aunt to bed!”

Miss Grayson the elder was in a severe bustle. “Letitia, you pass all bounds! Come within doors, for heaven’s sake, brother. You will explain yourself, Letitia, if you please. How came you to be lost in the gardens, and where, pray, have you been?”

They stood now in the lit hall of the house. Letty shook her head wearily, and cast an appealing, urgent glance up into her father’s face. His mood was of annoyance at this fresh escapade, but he read such lingering horror in his daughter’s brown eyes that he silenced his sister. “I will have a talk with Letitia myself, sister, with your leave. Come into the library, child: you will be the better for a glass of Madeira.”

Miss Grayson was affronted. “As Letitia’s chaperon, brother, I feel I have the right to know more of this!” she declared.

“So you shall, Cordelia, but later. Do not let us forget that I am Letty’s father.”

Hearing that note in her brother’s voice Miss Grayson thought it as well to retire. She sniffed loudly, and saying that she hoped Sir Humphrey would read his erring child a sharp lesson, flounced off up the stairs to her own apartment.

Sir Humphrey took Letty into the library, where a fire burned still. With austere kindliness he forbade all attempt at explanation until she should have swallowed some wine. This was soon brought by a curious servant. Letty was obliged to drink, and her father had the satisfaction of seeing some of the colour return to her pale cheeks.

She put back her cloak, and with quivering fingers pulled the letter from the bosom of her gown. “Take it, Papa! Take it, and burn it!” she said in a voice of strong agitation.

Surprised he received the paper, and unfolded it. An exclamation broke from him; he stood with the letter in his hand, staring down at his daughter. “How came you by this?”

Her tired eyelids fluttered upwards. “Mr Markham had it.”

“That scoundrel! He gave it to you?” Sir Humphrey’s voice was sharp with anxiety. “Good God, child, don’t tell me — ” He broke off, afraid to put his dread into words.

“He said — he said he would expose you unless I would elope with him again. I could not think of a way out.” She clasped her hands nervously in her lap. “He said if I told you he would publish the letter. There seemed to be nothing I could do. I was to fly with him tonight: I did not want to, papa! I have been so miserable! We reached as far as to Finchley Common, and then — ” She stopped, and after a moment’s hesitation leaned forward in her chair. “Papa, if I tell you the truth, will you promise to keep it secret? I am bound to divulge nothing, but I must tell you. He could not have meant me not to tell you. If I don’t you could never understand. But you must keep it secret, papa, or I may not tell you!”

He put the letter into the fire, and watched it shrivel, and burn. “Hush, child! My poor girl, you suffer for my folly, but that villain imposed on you. There was not enough in that paper to send me to the gallows.”

“Was there not?” she had but a faint interest in it now. “I did not know. But you do not promise, papa! you do not promise!”

He sat down beside her and took her hand. “What is this secret? You won’t tell without my promise? Why then, I must give it you. Don’t keep aught back from me, Letty!”

“I must go back so far,” she said hurriedly. “As far as to the masked ball my Lady Dorling gave. You remember?” The whole story came tumbling out, and ended with the Unknown’s reappearance this evening.

Sir Humphrey was thunderstruck. A gasp escaped him at the tale of the duel; he put a quick question or two, and seemed to be almost incredulous. When his daughter came to the end he rose up from his chair, and took a turn about the room, his hands linked behind his back.

“Markham dead!” he ejaculated several times. “Good God, the scandal!”

“I know, I know, but I could not help it, papa!”

“No, it has been my fault,” he said sadly. “And but for this strange masked man you would be in a bad case now. We must brave it out. But have you no notion who your preserver may be? If he knows you, you must surely know him!”

“I do not, papa. He is not like any man of our acquaintance.” A blush flooded her cheeks. “Papa ...”

He observed her heightened colour. “Well, child?”

She looked frankly up at him. “I do not know his name, papa, nor anything about him, but I am going to marry him. He said — he said that next time he came it would be for me.”

Sir Humphrey did not know what reply to make. At last he said: “That is for the tomorrow, Letitia. We must know something more of him. But certainly, provided his birth be respectable, he deserves to win you. I look forward to the day when I may have the honour of taking his hand.”

Whereupon Miss Letty promptly cast herself into his arms, and burst into tears.

There could be no evading a lively scandal; Sir Humphrey had foreseen it; Robin had a dread of it. By noon next day Society spoke of nothing but the sudden and horrid death of Gregory Markham, and the frustrated elopement of the pretty heiress. The news was all over the town; the Merriots’ share in the night’s work was known with the rest, for Mr Markham’s coachman naturally told it all to Mr Markham’s valet, who, in his turn, repeated it to Mr Devereux’s man. The ball once started rolled swiftly through London, and at length reached the ears of Sir Anthony Fanshawe. He had it from Mr Belfort at White’s club, and Mr Belfort was able to give him better information than most, for he had made a point of calling in Arlington Street as soon as he heard the strange story. Mr Belfort, never having been at all in sympathy with Markham, saw the happenings as a rollicking adventure, and was about to make a ribald comment on Miss Letty’s share in it, when he remembered Sir Anthony’s close friendship with the Graysons. He coughed, glared at Devereux, standing by, and relapsed into solemn silence.

“Very queer affair,” said Devereux, shaking his head. “Oh monstrous, Fanshawe! I did hear that there’s some doubt of the masked man being a highwayman. What do you say to a rival, hey?” He looked very knowing, and gave a prim smile. “Oh, quite shocking, my dear Fanshawe.”

Sir Anthony took snuff with a meditative air. “Who says they were not highwaymen?” he asked.

“’Pon my soul, I cannot quite recollect where I heard it first,” said Mr Devereux. “It might have been from Kestrel that I had it.”

“As to that,” Mr Belfort interposed, “I’ve seen Peter Merriot today, and he says Miss Grayson swore they were highwaymen. Her pearls were taken, y’know.”

“All the same, Bel, you must remember the duel! You must remember that. I never heard of a common robber offering to fight.”

Mr Belfort looked portentous. “Now I’ve a notion of my own as to it,” he confided. “What do you say to its being one of these escaped Jacobites, taken to the High Toby?”

Mr Devereux seemed greatly struck by this. “Ay, there might well be something in that, Bel. That’s an idea, you know. ’Pon my soul, that’s a devilish clever notion! What do you say to it, Tony?”

Sir Anthony would not volunteer an opinion. There might or there might not be some truth in it. He strolled away in a few minutes, and was very soon on his way to Arlington Street. Sir Anthony had a notion in his own head, but it was not for Mr Belfort’s delectation.

The lackey who admitted him into the house believed that my lady had gone out. Sir Anthony asked for Mr Merriot, and was conducted to the smaller withdrawing room.

Miss Merriot was seated in the window, supporting her fair head on one delicate hand. An enchanting profile was presented to the room. There was the straight nose, the beautifully curved lips, and the drooping eyelid. The light curls were unpowdered, and caught up carelessly in a riband of Robin’s favourite blue; there was a locket round the white throat, and a fan held in one hand. A gown of blue silk billowed about the lovely lady; the sleeves ended at the elbow in a fall of heavy lace. She did not look as though she could kill a man in a duel.

Mr Merriot stood in a truly masculine attitude, with a foot on the window seat, and an elbow resting on that bent knee. It seemed he had been riding, as was his wont each morning, for he wore shining top-boots, and buff small clothes. A coat of claret-coloured cloth set off his trim figure; his hand played negligently with the lash of his long whip.

Sir Anthony, pausing in the doorway, had a moment’s opportunity to admire a pretty picture. Then Robin looked round, and pulled a face. “Lord, Prue! The mountain.”

Prudence turned, and brought her foot down to the floor. “Give you good-day, sir,” she said.

Robin became impish. “Faith, the world’s full of curiosity!” he remarked. “Even the phlegmatic mammoth must needs come to visit us today.”

Prudence held up a finger. “Treat the gentleman with respect, child. I perceive he frowns on you.”

Robin sighed. “Alack, I could never succeed in captivating the mammoth,” he mourned. “I doubt I’m too flighty for a sober man’s taste.”

Sir Anthony put down his hat, and smiled placidly. “Quite right, Robin.” He looked keenly under heavy eyelids. “So you chanced to come upon Letty in this fresh trouble last night?”

“A most fortunate occurrence,” nodded Robin. “We were on our way back from Barnet.”

“Were you so?” Sir Anthony was all polite interest. “Fortunate, indeed!” He looked across the room at Prudence, tranquilly regarding him. “Do you credit me with any wits or bone?” he asked.

Prudence smiled. “Now how am I to answer that?”

“I beg you won’t flatter me,” said Sir Anthony sardonically.

“Impossible!” murmured Robin. “Prue, we distress the large gentleman.”

“You do. You may say that you annoy me.” Sir Anthony turned to face him. “You drag your sister from scrape to scrape.”

Robin bowed. “And out of them, sir. Do me that much justice.”

“Why, what’s this?” Prudence came to lay a hand on Sir Anthony’s arm. “You don’t know me, Tony, if you think I am dragged anywhere.”

He looked down at her with no smile in his eyes. “Ay, I’ll believe you went on that mad errand of your own free will.”

Robin’s brows went up; the laugh died on his lips. The gentleman was seriously annoyed, it seemed. Prudence met the hard look squarely. “You’re angry with me, Tony? Why?”

“You can’t guess? It did not occur to you that I might wish to be told of this escapade?”

“Yes, it occurred to me. But I have told you, Tony, that I do not desire to see you tread our maze.”

“I’ve the right, I think, to choose for myself. You must still exclude me?”