Джорджетт Хейер - The Masqueraders

Over his fan Robin saw them. He rid himself of his elderly admirer with some adroitness, and came rustling forward. “My dear, I vow I am nigh to swooning from fatigue!” he told Prudence. He swept a curtsey to Sir Anthony, and flashed him a dazzling smile. “Give you good even, sir. I saw you a while back, but there was such a press of people then!”

Sir Anthony’s lips just brushed Robin’s hand. “All gathered about Miss Merriot,” he said gallantly.

“What, with the beautiful Miss Gunning in the same room? Fie, sir, this is flattery! Peter, of your love for me, procure me a glass of negus.”

Prudence went away to execute this command; Robin sat down with Sir Anthony upon a couch. When Prudence returned with the wine it seemed as though a good understanding had been established between them. Robin looked up brightly. “Sir Anthony tells me he is to steal you from me on Thursday, my Peter. Thus are we poor sisters imposed upon!”

“I want also to sponsor your Peter at White’s, ma’am,” Sir Anthony said, smiling. “Thus still more are you imposed upon.”

“Oh, these clubs! This means I shall see nothing of the creature.” Miss Merriot put up her fan to hide her face from Sir Anthony, in feigned indignation. So, at least, it appeared, but behind the fan that mobile eyebrow flew up for Prudence’s benefit, and the blue eyes brimmed with laughter. It was done in a trice, and the fan shut again with a snap. “Your kindness to Peter is much greater than your consideration for his poor sister, sir!” she rallied Fanshawe.

“Why, as to that I offer my apologies, ma’am. I stand somewhat in both your debts.”

“Ah, let’s have done with that!” Prudence said quickly. “There is no debt that I know of.”

“Well, let us say that what you are pleased to call my kindness is naught but a seal to what I hope is a friendship.”

“I’m honoured to have it so, sir,” Prudence said, and felt the colour rise, to her annoyance.

The large gentleman had a mind to befriend her, and there was no help for it. And was one glad of it, or sorry? There was apparently no answer to the riddle.

The morning’s ride sowed promising seeds of a new friendship. The Honourable Charles had an engaging frankness; he kept no secrets from those admitted into the circle of his acquaintance, and it seemed probable that his life might be an open book for Prudence to read if she had a mind that way. With admirable dexterity she steered all talk into channels of her own choosing. She was certainly not squeamish, but half an hour spent in the company of the expansive Mr Belfort was enough to show that the greater part of his reminiscences was calculated to bring a blush to maiden cheeks. Prudence maintained an even complexion, and had sense enough to think none the worse of him for all his lurid confidences. Sure, they were not meant for a lady’s ears.

The ride at an end, it was Charles and Peter with them; they might have been blood brothers. Prudence acquiesced in it, but grimaced to herself when she reflected that it had been in her mind to lie close in London. Evidently this was not to be. But there was nothing to be feared from Mr Belfort: the disguise was deep enough to hoodwink a dozen such rattlepates.

She came back to Arlington Street to find Robin posturing above a bouquet of red roses. Robin achieved a simper. “Behold me, my Peter, in a maidenly flutter!”

Prudence put down her whip and gloves. “What’s this?”

“My elderly admirer!” said Robin in an ecstasy, and gave up a note. “Read, my little one!”

Prudence gave a chuckle over the amorous note. “Robin, you rogue!”

“I was made to be a breaker of hearts,” sighed Robin.

“Oh, this one was cracked many times before!”

Robin tilted his head a little; the merry devil looked out of his limpid blue eyes. “I’ve a mind to enthrall the mountain,” he said softly.

“You won’t do it. He’s more like to unmask you than to worship at your shameless feet,” Prudence answered.

“Oh? Here’s a change of front, by my faith! Unmask me, is it? Now why?”

“John was right. The gentleman’s wide awake for all we think him so dull.”

“So?” Robin awaited more. She told him of the incident at cards the night before. He listened in silence, but shrugged a careless shoulder at the end. “I don’t see a great deal to that. Easy enough to see your game if he stood at your elbow. Did you fleece the wolf?”

“Some fifty guineas. We may stand in need of them if this is to continue long. But Sir Anthony — ” she paused.

“You’re bewitched. What now?”

“I believe we shall do well to preserve a strict guard before him.”

“As you please, but I think you rate a mountain’s intelligence too high. Consider, my dear, how should any man suspect what is after all the very light of improbability? Why should so wild a surmise so much as cross his brain?”

“There is that, of course. Plague take the man, he must needs load me with favours!”

Robin laughed. “He takes you to White’s, eh? Some little matter of a card-party too, I think?”

“On Thursday, at his house.”

Robin folded pious hands. “I believe my sense of propriety is offended,” he quoted maliciously.

The shot glanced off her armour. “You’ve none, child, rest assured.”

Robin let be at that, and went off to make ready for a call on Miss Grayson. My Lady Lowestoft’s town chaise bore him to the house, and a lackey in sombre livery ushered him into the withdrawing-room.

An elderly lady arose from a chair near the fire, and dropped a stately curtsey. Before Robin could return the salute Miss Letty bounced out of her chair and came running towards him. An embrace was clearly offered; Robin withstood temptation, and held out his hands. Miss Letty’s were put into them, and so he kept her at arm’s length.

“My dear, dear Miss Merriot! I have so hoped you would come!” Letty cried.

The elder Miss Grayson spoke an austere reproof “Letitia, your manners, child!”

Robin swept a curtsey to the lady. “Why, ma’am, I beg you’ll not chide her. I should be flattered indeed to receive such a welcome.”

“I fear, ma’am, our Letitia is a sad madcap,” Miss Grayson said. “Pray will you not be seated? My honoured brother told me we might expect the pleasure of this visit.”

Miss Grayson’s honoured brother at that moment made his entry and stayed some little while in converse with Miss Merriot. When he went out again he took his sister with him. Robin enjoyed an hour’s tête-à-tête with Miss Letty, at the end of which time the lackey came in to announce the arrival of Mr Merriot to fetch his sister.

Mr Merriot must come in, Letty declared. Her greeting was scarcely less warm than had been her greeting to Robin. Sir Humphrey, reappearing, was cordial enough, and had to endure a rapturous hug from his daughter upon his announcement of an invitation but this instant received from my Lady Dorling, for a masked ball. My Lady Dorling begged the pleasure of the Misses Grayson’s company, and Sir Humphrey said that Letty might go.

Would Miss Merriot be there?  — Miss Merriot could not answer with certainty.

“I wonder, will Miss Merriot be there?” Prudence said when they sat together in the coach.

“Don’t doubt it, child. A masked ball... Well, we shall see.”

There was that in the tone which made Prudence look up sharply. “What devilry’s afoot?”

Robin’s eyes mocked from beneath long lashes. “You would give much to know, would you not?” he taunted.

Prudence declined to encourage this spirit in her brother. “What’s the upshot là-bas?”she inquired. The jerk of her head might be supposed to indicate the direction of the Grayson abode.

“Letty’s to appear in Society. My doing.”

“And the Markham?”

“I’m somewhat at a loss. I might gather a word here and there, you understand: not many. I take it there’s a deadlock. All Sir Humphrey’s concern is to keep the affair dark. Wherein I am to suppose Fanshawe with him.”

“There’s to be no meeting?”

“What, are you in a flutter?” Robin gibed.

“As you see,” was the placid rejoinder.

“Ay, you’re a cold-blooded creature, a’n’t you? There’s to be no meeting. I had thought it might easily be arranged, but it seems the Markham is an ambitionless creature, and lacks the desire to meet your mountain. There was some little talk of Fanshawe’s swordsmanship.” He pursed his lips. “As to that, I crave leave to cherish doubts.”

“They say he’s a swordsman?”

“So I was given to understand. It’s my belief the English don’t understand the art. There’s some mobility required. Do you see the mountain on the skip?” He laughed gently. “With pistols I will believe him an expert. It’s a barbarous sport.”

Prudence frowned. “You would say there can be no meeting for fear of the Markham making a disclosure?”

“I apprehend the matter runs something after that fashion.”

“Faugh! It’s a very cur.”

“Certainly, child, but curs may snap. I need not tell you to step warily, I suppose.”

“I stand in some danger of being called out, you think? I shall be all conciliation. It’s possible the dear soul may himself step warily. That blow in the coffee-room — a child’s trick, egad!  — would make pretty telling.”

“Just, my dear, but run no risks. There are pitfalls on all sides.”

“You do perceive them, then? I’ve trod no trickier maze. And we plunge deeper and deeper.”

“There is flight open to us if need arise. I console myself with that thought.”

Prudence crossed one leg over the other. “And the old gentleman?”

“Oh, the devil take him! This is in part a maze of his making. Have you considered it?”

“Of course. There should be word from him soon. I suppose we are to be swept back to France to await the next mad freak.”

“You don’t want that?” Robin looked sideways.

“I’m in love with respectability,” said Prudence lightly.

There was a teasing word ready, but Robin forbore to utter it. This change in his sister promised to complicate things still further. Not a doubt of it, the mountain had caught her fancy, but there could be little hope of a happy ending. Gentlemen of Sir Anthony’s stamp did not marry daughters of — egad, the daughter of what was she? There was no saying, but “rogue’ might serve as a general term. Cast off the old gentleman, and all his wiles. A shabby trick, that: she would never hear of it. Nor would they be in much better case. A girl must have some parentage, after all.

They came back to Arlington Street to find Sir Anthony himself paying his duty to my lady. It appeared he had come to fetch Mr Merriot to White’s, hard by in St James’s. He bore Prudence away with him; she felt herself powerless to resist.

There was quite a sprinkling of people gathered at White’s, and amongst them was Mr Markham in conversation with a sandy-haired gentleman of some forty years. Prudence caught the sound of a name, and looked again with some interest. So the sandy gentleman was the new Lord Barham, of whom Lady Lowestoft had warned them? Certainly there was no great good to be observed in the heavy jowled face. She remembered some snatches of Belfort’s talk that morning. There was a suspicion, so the Honourable Charles hinted, that Barham’s methods of play were not quite impeccable.

Mr Molyneux came in, and had a pleasant greeting for Sir Anthony and his companion. After a moment Lord Barham walked across to say something to Mr Molyneux, who made Prudence known to him.

My lord stared upon the stranger and slightly inclined his head. It was evident that his lordship had no intention of wasting civilities upon an unknown gentleman; he turned a broad shoulder, and made some idle observation to Sir Anthony.

Fanshawe looked sleepily through his eyeglass: it was wonderful what an air of lazy hauteur the large gentleman could assume. “You lack finesse, Rensley,” he said in a bored voice. “I see my friend Devereux by the window, Merriot. Let me present you.”

My lord flushed angrily. As she followed in Fanshawe’s wake Prudence heard him say to Markham — “Who’s that cockerel Fanshawe’s befriending?”

Mr Markham’s reply was lost to Prudence, but she had seen the scowl on his face when he had first perceived her. But a little while later he came up to her, and exchanged a greeting, and a smile had taken the place of the scowl. Prudence liked it no better; she had a notion Mr Markham meant mischief. There was not a word spoken of the disastrous meeting on the road to Scotland; all was politeness and affability. Upon the approach of Sir Anthony, however, Mr Markham fell back.