At the end of August, after having spent a moderately quiet summer in the country, Lady Lavinia was again seized with a longing for town and its attractions. She would not listen to Richard's warnings of the atrocious condition of the roads, declaring that she cared not one jot, and go to London she must. After that one protest he desisted, and promised to take her there the following week, secretly counting himself lucky to have kept her so long at Wyncham in comparative cheerfulness of spirits. Lavinia was overjoyed, kissed him again and again, scolded herself for being such a wicked tease, and set about making her preparations for the journey.
The roads proved even worse than Richard had prophesied, and twice the coach nearly upset, and times without number stuck fast in the mire, causing the inmates much inconvenience. Carstares rode by the side of the heavy vehicle, in which were his wife, her maid, her tiny dog, and countless bandboxes and small parcels. In spite of the worry the constant stoppages entailed, he quite enjoyed the journey, for Lavinia was in excellent spirits, and made light of their mishaps, receiving each fresh one with roguish laughter and some witty remark. Even when the chimney of her bed-chamber, at one of the inns at which they halted, smoked most vilely, she did not, as Richard quite expected she would, fly into a rage and refuse to spend another moment in the house, but after looking extremely doleful, cheered up and told dear Dicky that she would have his room while he should have hers. Then in the morning she would find him all dried up and smoked! In high good humour she went down to dinner with him, voted the partridges excellent, the pasties quite French, and the wine marvellously tolerable for such an out-of-the-way place, and kept him laughing at her antics until bed-time.
The journey was, of necessity, very slow, not only on account of the bad roads, but because whenever my lady caught sight of wild roses growing on the hedges, she must stop to pluck some. Then she and Richard would stroll along for some way, he leading his horse, the coach following at a walking pace. All of which was very idyllic, and had the effect of sending Richard to the seventh heaven of content.
When at length they arrived at Wyncham House, Mayfair, they found that the servants had arrived a week before, and had made good use of their time. Never, declared Lavinia, had the house looked so inviting--so spick and span.
One of her black pages proffered a small monkey with much bowing and grinning, and the murmur of: "Massa's present."
Lady Lavinia flew to embrace her Dicky. How did he guess that she had for so long yearned for a monkey? Surely she had but once or twice mentioned it? Oh, he was the very best of husbands! She danced off to her apartments in a state of ecstasy.
The beau monde was returning to town, and when, a few days later, Carstares conducted his wife to Ranelagh, they found the gardens fairly crowded and very gay. Lamps hung from tree branches, although it was still quite light; the fiddlers scraped away almost without a pause; fireworks shot up from one end; the summer-houses had all been freshly painted, and the Pavilion was a blaze of light.
Consciousness of her beauty and the smartness of her Georgia silk gown, with its petticoat covered in gold net, considerably added to Lavinia's enjoyment. Her hair she wore powdered and elaborately curled down on both sides with dainty escalloped lace half concealing it, and a grey capuchin over all. Her tippet was gold-laced to match her petticoat, and to fasten it she wore a brooch composed of clustered rubies. Rubies also hung in her earrings, which last were of such length that the other ladies turned to stare in envy, and the bracelets that she wore over her long gloves flashed also with the great red stones. She was well-pleased with Richard's appearance, and reflected that, when he chose, he could be very fashionable indeed. The claret-coloured velvet he was wearing was most distinguished, and the gold clocks to his hose quite ravishing.
They had not been in the Gardens ten minutes before a little crowd of men had gathered around them, professing themselves enraptured to behold the fair Lady Lavinia once more. One of them fetched her a chair, another a glass of negus, and the rest hovered eagerly about her.
Becomingly flushed with triumph, my lady gave her little hand to Mr. Selwyn, who had been once a very ardent admirer, laughed at his neat compliment, and declared that he was a dreadful flattering demon, and positively she would not listen to him!
Sir Gregory Markham, who brought her the negus, she discovered to have just returned from Paris. On hearing this, she broke off in the middle of a conversation with an enchanted French Chevalier and turned to him, raising her china-blue eyes to his face and clasping tight-gloved hands.
"Oh, Sir Gregory! Paris? Then tell me--please, tell me--have you seen my darling Devil?"
"Why, yes, madam," responded Markham, handing her the glass he held.
She sipped the negus, and gave it to the Chevalier to take care of.
"I declare, I quite love you then!" she exclaimed. "What is he doing, and, oh! when will he return to England?"
Sir Gregory smiled.
"How can I say?" he drawled. "I fear monsieur s'amuse!"
She flirted her fan before her face.
"Dreadful creature!" she cried. "How dare you say such things?"
"Belmanoir?" inquired Lord D'Egmont, twirling his cane.
"Enamoured of the Pompadour, is he not--saving your presence, Lady Lavvy!"
Lavinia let fall her fan.
"The Pompadour! He had best have a care!"
"I believe there has already been some unpleasantness between his Majesty and the fair Jeanne on the subject of Devil. Since then she is supposed to have turned on him a cold shoulder."
"I heard 'twas he wearied of madame," said Markham.
"Well, whichever it was, I am glad the episode is closed," decided Lavinia. "'Tis too dangerous a game to play with Louis' mistresses. Oh, mon cher Chevalier! if I had not forgot your presence! But I am sure you say dreadful ill-natured things of our George, now don't you? Oh, and have you held my negus all this time? How monstrous good of you! There, I will drink it, and Julian shall take the glass away.... Voila!" She handed it to D'Egmont and rapped Mr. Selwyn's knuckles with her fan, looking archly up at him as he stood behind her chair.
"Naughty man! Will you have done whispering in my ear? I vow I will not listen to your impudences! No, nor laugh at them neither! Sir Gregory, you have given me no answer. When will Tracy return? For the Cavendish rout on Wednesday week? Ah, say yes!"
"Certainly I will say yes, fair tormentor! But, to tell the truth, Tracy said no word of coming to London when I saw him."
She pouted.
"Now I hate you, Sir Gregory! And he has been absent since May! Oh, Julian, back already? You shall escort me to the fireworks then. Oh, my fan! Where is it? I know I dropped it on the ground--Selwyn, if you have taken it--Oh, Dicky, you have it! Thank you! See, I am going with Julian, and you may ogle Mrs. Clive, whom I see walking over there--yes, positively you may, and I shall not be jealous! Very well, Julian, I am coming! Chevalier, I shall hope to see you at the rout on Wednesday week, but you must wait upon me before then."
The Frenchman brightened.
"Madame is too good. I may then call at Wyncham 'Ouse? Vraiment, I shall but exist until then!" In a perfectly audible whisper, he confided to Wilding that "miladi etait ravissante! mais ravissante!"
Lady Lavinia went off on her gratified cavalier's arm, encountering many bows and much admiration as she passed down the walk, leaving her husband not to ogle the beautiful Kitty, as she had advised, but to saunter away in the direction of the Pavilion in company with Tom Wilding and Markham.
D'Egmont guided my lady into one of the winding alleys, and they presently came out on a large lawn, dotted over with people of all conditions. Towards them was coming Lavinia's brother--Colonel Lord Robert Belmanoir--very richly clad and rakish in appearance. When he saw his sister, a look of surprise came into his florid face, and he made her a sweeping leg.
"'Pon my honour--Lavinia!"
My lady was not fond of her brother, and acknowledged the salutation with a brief nod.
"I am delighted to see you, Robert," she said primly.
"The mere word 'delighted' in no way expresses my sensations," replied the Colonel in the drawling, rather unpleasant voice peculiar both to him and to the Duke. "Your servant, D'Egmont. I imagined, Lavvy, that you were in the country?"
"Richard brought me to town last Tuesday," she answered.
"How unwise of him!" taunted the Colonel. "Or had he no choice?"
She tossed her head angrily.
"If you are minded to be disagreeable, Robert, pray do not let me detain you!" she flashed.
D'Egmont was quite unembarrassed by this interchange of civilities. He knew the Belmanoir family too well to be made uncomfortable by their bickerings.
"Shall we leave him?" he asked Lavinia, smiling.
"Yes," she pouted. "He is determined to be unpleasant."
"My dear sister! On the contrary, I believe I can offer you some amusement. Lovelace is in town."
"Captain Harold?" she cried incredulously.
"The same."
"Oh, Bob!" Impulsively she withdrew her hand from Julian's arm, transferring it to the Colonel's. "I must see him at once! To think he is returned after all these years! Quick, Julian, dear lad--go and find him--and tell him 'tis I, Lavinia, who want him! You know him, do you not? Yes--I thought you did. Send him to me at once!--at once!"
D'Egmont looked very crestfallen at having his walk with the goddess thus cut short, but he had perforce to kiss her hand and to obey.
"Yes. I thought you would be pleased," remarked Lord Robert, and chuckled. "Allow me to point out to you that there is a chair--two chairs--in fact, quite a number of chairs--immediately behind you."
She sat down, chattering excitedly.
"Why, 'tis nigh on five years since I saw Harry! Has he changed? Lud! but he will deem me an old woman! Is he like to be in town for long, I wonder?--Dear me, Bob, look at the two ladies over behind that seat!--Gracious! what extraordinary coifs, to be sure! And cherry ribbons, too!... Tell me, Bob, where did you meet Harry Lovelace?"
The Colonel, who, far from attending to her monologue, had been sending amorous glances across to a palpably embarrassed girl, who hung on her papa's arm while that gentleman stopped to speak to a stout dowager, brought his gaze reluctantly back to his sister.
"What's that you say, Lavvy?"
"How provoking of you not to listen to me! I asked where you met Harold."
"Where I met him? Let me see--where did I meet him? Oh, I remember! At the Cocoa-Tree, a fortnight since."
"And he is altered?"
"Not in any way, dear sister. He is the same mad, reckless rake-hell as ever. And unmarried."
"How delightful! Oh, I shall be so glad to see him again!"
"You must present him to Richard," sneered the Colonel, "as an old flame."
"I must, indeed," she agreed, his sarcasm passing over her head. "Oh, I see him! Look! Coming across the grass!"
She rose to meet the tall, fair young Guardsman who came swiftly towards her, curtsying as only Lady Lavinia could curtsy, with such stateliness and coquetry.
"Captain Lovelace!"--she put forward both her hands.
Lovelace caught them in his, and bent his head over them so that the soft, powdered curls of his loose wig fell all about his face.
"Lady Lavinia!--Enchantress!--I can find no words! I am dumb!"
"And I!"
"In that case," drawled the Colonel, "you are not like to be very entertaining company. Pray give me leave!" He bowed and sauntered away down the path with a peculiarly malicious smile on his lips.
Lavinia and Lovelace found two chairs, slightly apart from the rest, and sat down, talking eagerly.
"Captain Lovelace, I believe you had forgot me?" she rallied him.
"Never!" he answered promptly. "Not though you well-nigh broke my heart!"
"No, no! I did not do that. I never meant to hurt you."
He shook his head disbelievingly.
"You rejected me to marry some other man: do you say you did not mean to?"
"You naughty Harry!... You never married yourself?"
"I?" The delicate features expressed a species of hurt horror. "I marry? No! I was ever faithful to my first love."
She unfurled her fan, fluttering it delightedly.
"Oh! Oh! Always, Harold? Now speak the truth!"
"Nearly always," he amended.
"Disagreeable man! You admit you had lapses then?"
"So very trivial, my dear," he excused himself. "And I swear my first action on coming to London was to call at Wyncham House. Imagine my disappointment--my incalculable gloom (on the top of having already dropped a thousand at faro) when I found the shell void, and Venus--"
She stopped him, her fan held ready for chastisement.
"Sir! You said your first action was to call upon me!"
He smiled, shaking back his curls.
"I should have said: my first action of any importance."
"You do not deem losing a thousand guineas important?" she asked wistfully.
"Well--hardly. One must enjoy life, and what's a thousand, after all? I had my pleasure out of it."
"Yes!" she breathed, her eyes sparkling. "That is how I think! What pleasure can one get if one neither hazards nor spends one's money? Oh, well!" She shrugged one shoulder, dismissing the subject.
"Have you seen Tracy of late?"
"He was at a court ball I attended at Versailles, but I did not have a chance of speaking with him. I heard he was very popular at Paris."
"Ay!" she said proudly. "He has the French air.... I so desire to see him again, but I fear he does not think of returning. I know he was promised for the Duchess of Devonshire's rout months ago--before even the date was fixed, she so dotes on him--but I do not expect to see him there." She sighed and drummed on the ground with her diamond-buckled shoe. "Harry, I am chilled! Take me to the Pavilion! I doubt they are dancing--and Dicky will be there."
"Dicky?" he repeated. "Dicky! Lavinia, do not tell me there is another claimant to your heart?"
"Wicked, indelicate creature! 'Tis my husband!"
"Your husband! Enfin--"
She cast him a sidelong glance of mingled coquetry and reproof.
"Your mind is at rest again, I trust?"
"Of course! A husband? Pooh, a bagatelle, no more!"
"My husband is not a bagatelle!" she laughed. "I am very fond of him."
"This grows serious," he frowned. "'Tis very unfashionable, surely?"
She met his teasing eyes and cast down her lashes.
"Captain Lovelace, you may take me to the Pavilion."
"Sweet tormentor, not until you cease so to misname me."
"Harold, I am indeed chilly!" she said plaintively and snatched her hand from his lips. "No, no! People will stare--look, there is my odious brother returning! I declare I will not stay to listen to his hateful, sneering remarks!... Come!"
They walked across the grass together, keeping up a running fire of raillery, punctuated on his side by extravagant compliments filled with classical allusions, all more or less erroneous, and on hers by delighted little laughs and mock scoldings. So they came to the Pavilion, where the musicians fiddled for those who wished to dance, and where most of the company had assembled now that it was growing chilly without. Down one end of the hall, card-tables were set out, where members of both sexes diced and gambled, drinking glasses of burgundy or negus, the men toasting the ladies, and very often the ladies returning the toasts with much archness and low curtseying.
Lavinia cast off her capuchin and plumed her feathers, giving a surreptitious shake to her ruched skirts and smoothing her ruffles. She rustled forward with great stateliness, fan unfurled, head held high, her gloved fingers resting lightly on Lovelace's velvet-clad arm. Richard, hearing the little stir caused by her entry, glanced up, and perceived her. He did not recognise her companion, but the sparkle in her eyes and the happy curve to her full lips were quite enough to tell him that it was someone whom she was very contented to have met. He had ample opportunity for studying Lovelace as the good-looking pair drew near, and he could not but admire the delicate, handsome face with the grey eyes that held a laugh in them, the pleasure-loving, well-curved mouth, and the chin that spoke of determination. Here was not one of Lavinia's lisping, painted puppy-dogs, for in spite of the effeminate curls, it was easy to see that this man had character and a will of his own, and, above all, a great charm of manner. He saw Lavinia blush and rap the Captain's knuckles in answer to some remark, and his heart sank. He rose and came to meet them.
Lady Lavinia smiled sweetly upon him, and patted his arm with a possessive little air.
"Dicky dear, I have found an old friend--a very old friend! Is it not agreeable? Captain Lovelace--Mr. Carstares."
The two men bowed, Richard with reluctancy, the Captain with easy bonhomie.
"Sir, I claim to be a worshipper at the shrine of which you, I believe, are High Priest!" he said impudently, and bowed again, this time to my lady.
"You are one of many, sir," smiled Richard.
Lady Devereux came tripping up to them, and kissed Lavinia with a great show of affection.
"My dearest life! My sweet Lavinia!"
Lady Lavinia presented a powdered cheek.
"Dearest Fanny, how charming to see you again!" she cooed. Through her lashes she gazed at her friend's enormous headdress, with its rolls of powdered curls and the imitation flowers perched upon the top of the erection.
"But, my angel!" exclaimed Lady Fanny, stepping back to view her, "surely you have been ill?"
"How strange!" smiled Lavinia. "I was about to ask you that same question, my dear! 'Tis age, I doubt not. Do we both look such dreadful hags?" She turned her bewitching little countenance to the men, and smiled appealingly.
Compliments showered upon her, and Lady Devereux, who was conscious that her own sallow countenance, in spite of rouge and powder, must appear even more sallow beside Lavinia's pink-and-whiteness, flushed in annoyance and turned away, begging her dearest Lavvy to come to the faro with her. But Lavinia, it appeared, was going to watch the dicing at Richard's table: she vowed she should bring him monstrous good luck.
"I don't doubt it, my dear," replied her husband, "but I am not playing to-night. Will you not take your luck to Bob?" He nodded to where the Colonel was lounging, dice-box in hand.
Lavinia pouted.
"No, I want you to play!"
"'Tis of no avail, Lady Lavinia!" drawled Sir Gregory. "Richard is the very devil to-night."
Selwyn, rattling his dice, paused, and looked round at Markham with a face of innocent surprise. Then he turned slowly and stared at Carstares' grave, almost stern countenance, with even more surprise. He started to rattle the dice again, and shifted back to face his opponent, with pursed lips.
"Is he?" he inquired with studied depression.
Even Lavinia joined in the general laugh, not so much at the wit's words as at his comic expression, and the extreme deliberation with which he had enacted the little scene.
Someone cried a bet to Lovelace, which was promptly accepted, and Lavinia's eyes glowed afresh as she followed the Captain to a table.
Richard went to fetch her some refreshment, and on his return, found her leaning over Lovelace's chair, her hand on his shoulder, eagerly casting the dice on to the table. He was in time to see her clap her hands and to hear her cry of: "My luck! Oh, my luck is in! I will throw again!"
Glancing round she caught sight of her husband, and her face fell.
"Do you mind, Dicky?" she pleaded.
He did mind, but he could not appear churlish before all these men; so he laughed and shook his head, and went to her elbow to watch her play.
When she at length ceased, her luck had run out, and she had lost her much-prized ruby earring to Mr. Selwyn, who placed it carefully in his vest pocket, vowing he should wear it next his heart for ever. Then, and then only, did she consent to leave the gaming tables for the dancing hall, and for another hour Richard had the felicity of watching her tread the minuet with various young bloods, but most often with her new-found Harry Lovelace.
