The Black Moth 20The Reappearance of His Grace of Andover
18
Literature · Historical Fiction
The Black Moth 20
The Reappearance of His Grace of Andover
HeyerEnglish
It seemed to Richard in the days that followed, that Captain Lovelace was never out of his house. If he went to his wife's boudoir, there was Lovelace, hanging over her while she played upon the spinet or glanced through the pages of the Rambler. If Lavinia went to a ball or masquerade, the Captain was always amongst the favoured ones admitted to her chamber for the express purpose of watching her don her gown and judiciously place her patches. If Carstares begged his wife's company one morning, she was full of regrets: Harry was calling to take her to Vauxhall or to Spring Gardens. When he entered his door, the first sight that met his eyes was the Captain's amber-clouded cane and point-edged hat; and when he looked out of the window, it was more often to see a chair draw up at the house and Lovelace alight. After patiently enduring a week of his continued presence, Carstares remonstrated with his wife: she must not encourage her friend to spend all his time at Grosvenor Square. At first she had looked reproachful, and then she inquired his reason. His reluctant answer was that it was not seemly. At that her eyes had opened wide, and she demanded to know what could be more seemly than the visits of such an old friend? With a gleam of humour, Richard replied that it was not Captain Harold's age that he objected to, but, on the contrary, his youth. On which she accused him of being jealous. It was true enough, but he indignantly repudiated the suggestion. Very well, then, he was merely stupid! He must not be cross; Harry was her very good friend, and did not Richard admire the new device for her hair? Richard was not to be cajoled: did she clearly understand that Lovelace's visits must cease? She only understood one thing, and that was that Dicky was marvellous ill-tempered and ridiculous to-day. And he must not tease her! Yes, she would be very good, but so must he! And now she was going shopping, and she would require at least twenty guineas.
In spite of her promise to "be good," she made no attempt to discourage Lovelace's attentions, always smiling charmingly upon him and beckoning him to her side.
It was the morning of the Duchess of Devonshire's rout that Carstares again broached the subject. My lady was in bed, her fair hair unpowdered and streaming all about her shoulders, her chocolate on a small table at her side and countless billets doux from admirers scattered on the sheet. In her hand she held a bouquet of white roses with a card attached bearing, in bold, sprawling characters, the initials "H. L." Perhaps it was the sight of those incriminating letters that roused Richard's anger. At all events, with a violence quite unlike his usual gentle politeness, he snatched the flowers from her hand, and sent them whizzing into a corner.
"Let there be an end to all this folly!" he cried.
Lavinia raised herself on one elbow, astonished.
"H-how dare you?" she gasped.
"It has come to that!" he answered. "How dare I, your husband, try to control your actions in any way? I tell you, Lavinia, I have had enough of your antics, and I will not longer put up with them!"
"You--you--What in heaven's name ails you, Richard?"
"This! I will not countenance that puppy's invasion of my house!" He made a furious gesture towards the wilted bouquet.
"Neither will I permit you to make yourself the talk of London through him!"
"I? I? I make myself the talk of London? How dare you? Oh! how dare you?"
"I beg you will cease that foolishness. There is no question of my daring. How dare you disobey me, as you have been doing all this past week?"
She cowered away from him.
"Dicky!"
"'Tis very well to cry 'Dicky,' and to smile, but I have experienced that before. Sometimes I think you are utterly without heart!--a selfish, vain, extravagant woman!"
The childish lips trembled. Lady Lavinia buried her face in the pillows, sobbing.
Carstares' face softened.
"I beg your pardon, my dear. Mayhap that was unjust."
"And cruel! And cruel!"
"And cruel. Forgive me."
She twined white, satiny arms about his neck.
"You did not mean it?"
"No. I mean that I will not allow Lovelace to dangle after you, however."
She flung away from him.
"You have no right to speak like that. I knew Harry long before I ever set eyes on you!"
He winced.
"You infer that he is more to you than I am?"
"No! Though you try to make me hate you. No! I love you best. But I will not send Harry away!"
"Not if I order it?"
"Order it? Order it? No! No! A thousand times no!"
"I do order it!"
"And I refuse to listen to you!"
"By God, madam, you need a lesson!" he flamed. "I am minded to take you back to Wyncham this very day! And I promise you that, an you do not obey me in this, to Wyncham you shall go!" He stamped out of the room as he spoke, and she sank back amongst her pillows, white and trembling with fury.
As soon as she was dressed, she flounced downstairs, bent on finishing the quarrel. But Carstares had gone out some time since, and was not expected to return until late. For a moment Lavinia was furious, but the timely arrival of a box from her mantua-maker's chased away the frowns and wreathed her face in smiles.
Richard did not return until it was time to prepare for the rout, and on entering the house he went straight to his chamber, putting himself into the hands of his valet. He submitted to the delicate tinting of his finger-nails, the sprinkling of his linen with rosewater and the stencilling of his brows. He was arrayed in puce and gold, rings slipped on to his fingers, his legs coaxed into hose with marvellous clocks splashed on their sides, and a diamond buckle placed above the large black bow of his tie-wig. Then, powdered, painted and patched, he went slowly across to his wife's room.
Lavinia, who had by now quite forgotten the morning's contretemps, greeted him with a smile. She sat before the mirror in her under-gown, with a loose déshabillé thrown over her shoulders. The coiffeur had departed, and her hair, thickly powdered, was dressed high above her head over cushions, twisted into curls over her ears and allowed to fall in more curls over her shoulders. On top of the creation were poised ostrich feathers, scarlet and white, and round her throat gleamed a great necklet of diamonds. The room was redolent of some heavy perfume; discarded ribbons, laces, slippers and gloves strewed the floor; over the back of a chair hung a brilliant scarlet domino, and tenderly laid out on the bed was her gown, a mass of white satin and brocade, with full ruffles over the hips and quantities of foaming lace falling from the corsage and from the short sleeves. Beside it reposed her fan, her soft lace gloves, her mask and her tiny reticule.
Carstares gingerly sat down on the extreme edge of a chair and watched the maid tint his wife's already perfect cheeks.
"I shall break hearts to-night, shall I not?" she asked gaily, over her shoulder.
"I do not doubt it," he answered shortly.
"And you, Dicky?" She turned round to look at him. "Puce... 'tis not the colour I should have chosen, but 'tis well enough. A new wig, surely?"
"Ay."
Her eyes questioned his coldness, and she suddenly remembered the events of the morning. So he was sulky? Very well! Monsieur should see!
Someone knocked at the door; the maid went to open it.
"Sir Douglas Faversham, Sir Gregory Markham, Moosso le Chevalier and Captain Lovelace are below, m'lady."
A little devil prompted Lavinia.
"Oh, la-la! So many? Well, I cannot see all, 'tis certain. Admit Sir Gregory and Captain Lovelace."
Louisa communicated this to the lackey and shut the door.
Richard bit his lip angrily.
"Are you sure I am not de trop?" he asked, savagely sarcastic.
Lady Lavinia cast aside her déshabillé and stood up.
"Oh, 'tis no matter--I am ready for my gown, Louisa."
There came more knocking at the door, and this time it was Carstares who rose to open it.
There entered Markham, heavily handsome in crimson and gold, and Lovelace, his opposite, fair and delicately pretty in palest blue and silver. As usual, he wore his loose wig, and in it sparkled three sapphire pins.
He made my lady a marvellous leg.
"I am prostrated by your beauty, fairest!"
Sir Gregory was eyeing Lavinia's white slippers through his quizzing glass.
"Jewelled heels, 'pon my soul!" he drawled.
She pirouetted gracefully, her feet flashing as they caught the light.
"Was it not well thought on?" she demanded. "But I must not waste time--the dress! Now, Markham--now Harry--you will see the creation!"
Lovelace sat down on a chair, straddle-wise, his arms over the back, and his chin sunk in his hands. Markham leant against the garde-robe and watched through his glass.
When the dress was at last arranged, the suggested improvements in the matter of lace, ribbons, and the adjustment of a brooch thoroughly discussed, bracelets fixed on her arms and the flaming domino draped about her, it was full three-quarters of an hour later, and Carstares was becoming impatient. It was not in his nature to join with the two men in making fulsome compliments, and their presence at the toilette filled him with annoyance. He hated that Lavinia should admit them, but it was the mode, and he knew he must bow the head under it.
My lady was at last ready to start; her gilded chair awaited her in the light of the flambeaux at the door, and with great difficulty she managed to enter it, taking absurd pains that her silks should not crush, nor the nodding plumes of her huge head-dress become disordered by unseemly contact with the roof. Then she found that she had left her fan in her room, and Lovelace and Markham must needs vie with one another in the fetching of it. While they wrangled wittily for the honour, Richard went quietly indoors and presently emerged with the painted chicken-skin, just as Lovelace was preparing to ascend the steps. At last Lavinia was shut in and the bearers picked up the poles. Off went the little cavalcade down the long square, the chair in the middle. Lovelace walked close beside it on the right, and Richard and Markham on the left. So they proceeded through the uneven streets, carefully picking their way through the dirtier parts, passing other chairs and pedestrians, all coming from various quarters into South Audley Street. They were remarkably silent: Markham from habitual laziness, Lovelace because he sensed Richard's antagonism, and Richard himself on account of his extremely worried state of mind. In fact, until they reached Curzon Street no one spoke, and then it was only Markham, who, glancing behind him at the shuttered windows of the great corner house, casually remarked that Chesterfield was still at Wells. An absent assent came from Carstares, and the conversation came to an end.
In Clarges Street they were joined by Sir John Fortescue, an austere patrician, and although some years his senior, a close friend of Richard's. They fell behind the chair, and Fortescue took Richard's proffered arm.
"I did not see you at White's to-day, John?"
"No. I had some business with my lawyer. I suppose you did not stumble across my poor brother?"
"Frank? I did not--but why the 'poor'?"
Fortescue shrugged slightly.
"I think the lad is demented," he said. "He was to have made one of March's supper-party last night, but at four o'clock received a communication from heaven knows whom which threw him into a state of unrest. What must he do but hurry off without a word of explanation. Since then I have not set eyes on him, but his man tells me he went to meet a friend. Damned unusual of him is all I have to say."
"Very strange. Do you expect to see him to-night?"
"I should hope so! My dear Carstares, who is the man walking by your lady's chair?"
"Markham?"
"The other."
"Lovelace."
"Lovelace? And who the devil is he?"
"I cannot tell you--beyond a captain in the Guards."
"That even is news to me. I saw him at Goosetree's the other night, and wondered. Somewhat of a rake-hell, I surmise."
"I daresay. I do not like him."
They were entering the gates of Devonshire House now, and had to part company, for the crush was so great that it was almost impossible to keep together. Carstares stayed by Lavinia's chair, and the other men melted away into the crowd. Chairs jostled one another in the effort to get to the door, town coaches rolled up, and having let down their fair burdens, passed out again slowly, pushing through the throng.
When the Carstares' chair at last drew near the house, it was quite a quarter of an hour later. The ball-room was already full and a blaze of riotous colour. Lavinia was almost immediately borne off by an infatuated youth for whom she cherished a motherly affection that would have caused the unfortunate to tear his elegant locks, had he known it.
Richard distinguished Lord Andrew Belmanoir, one of a group of bucks gathered about the newest beauty, Miss Gunning, who, with her sister Elizabeth, had taken fashionable London by storm. Andrew wore a mask, but he was quite unmistakable by his length of limb and carelessly rakish appearance.
Wilding, across the room, beckoned to Richard, and on his approach, dragged him to the card-room to play at lansquenet with March, Selwyn and himself.
Carstares found the Earl in great good-humour, due, so Selwyn remarked, to the finding of an opera singer even more lovely than the last. From lansquenet they very soon passed to dice and betting, with others who strolled up to the table. Then Carstares excused himself and went back to the ball-room. He presently found himself by the side of one Isabella Fanshawe, a sprightly widow, greatly famed for her wittiness and good looks. Carstares had met her but once before, and was now rather surprised that she motioned him to her side, patting the couch with an inviting, much be-ringed hand.
"Come and sit by me, Mr. Carstares. I have wanted to speak with you this long time." She lowered her mask as she spoke and closely scrutinised his face with her bright, humorous eyes.
"Why, madam, I am flattered," bowed Richard.
She cut him short.
"I am not in the mood for compliments, sir. Nor am I desirous of making or hearing clever speeches. You are worrying me."
Richard sat down, intrigued and attracted by this downright little woman.
"I, madam?"
"You, sir. That is, your face worries me." Seeing his surprise, she laughed, fanning herself. "'Tis comely enough, I grant you! I mean there is such a strong likeness to--a friend of mine."
Richard smiled politely and relieved her of the fan.
"Indeed, madam?"
"Yes. I knew--this other gentleman in Vienna, three years ago. I should judge him younger than you, I think. His eyes were blue, but very similar to yours. His nose was almost identical with yours, but the mouth--n-no. Yet the whole expression--" She broke off, noticing her companion's sudden pallor. "But you are unwell, sir?"
"No, madam, no! What was your friend's name?"
"Ferndale," she answered. "Anthony Ferndale."
The fan stopped its swaying for a moment.
"Ah!" said Richard.
"Do you know him?" she inquired eagerly.
"Many years ago, madam, I was--acquainted with him. Can you tell me--was he in good spirits when last you saw him?"
She pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"If you mean was he gay, was he witty--yes. But sometimes I thought--Mr. Carstares, when he was silent, his eyes were so sad--! Indeed, I do not know why I tell you this."
"You may be sure, madam, your confidence is safe with me. I had--a great regard for this gentleman." He opened and shut her fan as he spoke, fidgeting with the slender sticks. "You, too, were interested in him, madam?"
"I do not think ever anyone knew him and was not, sir. It was something in his manner, his personality--I cannot explain--that endeared him to one. And he once--aided me--when I was in difficulties."
Richard, remembering scraps of gossip concerning the widow's past, merely bowed his head.
She was silent for a time, staring down at her hands, but presently she looked up smiling, and took her fan away from him.
"I cannot abide a fidget, sir!" she told him. "And I see Lord Fotheringham approaching. I am promised to him this dance." She rose, but Richard detained her.
"Mrs. Fanshawe, will you permit me to call upon you? I would hear more of--your friend. You, mayhap, think it strange--but--"
"No," she answered. "I do not. Certainly call upon me, sir. I lodge in Mount Street with my sister--No. 16."
"I protest, madam, you are too good--"
"Again, no. I have told you, I like a man to talk as a man and not as an affected woman. I shall be pleased to welcome you."
She curtsied and went away on the Viscount's arm.
At the same moment a voice at Richard's elbow drawled:
"Do I see you at the vivacious widow's feet, my good Dick?"
Carstares turned to face his brother-in-law, Colonel Belmanoir.
"Is not all London?" he smiled.
"Oh, no! Not since the beautiful Gunnings' arrival. But I admit she is a dainty piece. And Lavinia? Will she break her heart, I wonder?" He laughed beneath his breath as he saw Richard's eyes flash.
"I trust not," replied Carstares. "Are you all here to-night?"
"Our illustrious head is absent, I believe. Andrew is flirting with the Fletcher girl in the Blue Salon; I am here, and Lavinia is amusing herself with Lovelace. Yes, Richard, Lovelace! Be careful!" With another sneering laugh he walked on, bowing to Elizabeth Gunning, who passed by on the arm of her partner, his Grace of Hamilton, most palpably épris.
At that moment two late-comers entered the room and made their way towards their hostess, who appeared delighted to see them, especially the taller of the two, whose hand she slapped with good-humoured raillery. The shorter gentleman wore no mask, and the Colonel recognised Frank Fortescue. His eyes travelled to the other, who, unlike most of the men who only held their masks, had fastened his across his eyes, and they widened in surprise. The purple domino, worn carelessly open, revealed black satin encrusted with silver and diamonds. The natural hair was raven-black, the nostrils were pinched and the lips thin.
"The Devil!" ejaculated Robert, and strolled over to him.
Fortescue walked away when he saw who approached, and his Grace of Andover turned slowly towards his brother.
"I rather thought you were in Paris," yawned the colonel.
"I am always sorry to disillusion you," bowed his Grace.
"Not at all; I am transported with joy at seeing you. As is Lavinia, it appears."
Lady Lavinia, on recognising his Grace, had dropped her partner's hand and fled incontinent towards him.
"You, Tracy!" She clasped delighted hands on his arm.
"This is very touching," sneered Robert. "It only needs Andrew to complete the happy reunion. Pray excuse me!"
"With pleasure," replied the Duke gently, and bowed as if to a stranger.
"He grows tedious," he remarked, as soon as the Colonel was out of earshot.
"Oh, Bob! I take no account of him! But, Tracy, how is it you have come to-day? I thought--"
"My dear Lavinia, do I wear an air of mystery? I imagined you knew I was promised to Dolly Cavendish to-night?"
"Yes, but--oh, what matters it? I am so charmed to see you again, dear!"
"You flatter me, Lavinia."
"And now that you have come, I want to hear why you ever went! Tracy, take me into the room behind us. I know 'tis empty."
"Very well, child, as you will." He held back the curtain for her and followed her into the deserted chamber.
"You want to know why I went?" he began, seating himself at her side. "I counsel you, my dear, to cast your mind back to the spring--at Bath."
"Your affaire! Of course! So the lady proved unkind?"
"No. But I bungled it."
"You? Tell me at once!--at once!"
His Grace stretched out his leg and surveyed his shoe-buckle through half-closed lids.
"I had arranged everything," he said, "and all would have been well but for an interfering young jackanapes who chanced along the track and saw fit to espouse Madam Diana's cause." He paused. "He tripped me up by some trick, and then--que veux-tu?"
"Who was it?"
"How should I know? At first he seemed familiar. At all events, he knew me. He may be dead by now. I hope he is."
"Gracious! Did you wound him?"
"I managed to fire at him, but he was too quick, and the bullet took him in the shoulder. It may, however, have been mortal."
"And so you went to Paris?"
"Ay. To forget her."
"And have you forgotten?"
"I have not. She is never out of my thoughts. I plan again."
His sister sighed.
"She is then more beautiful than the Pompadour?" she asked meaningly.
Tracy turned his head.
"The Pompadour?"
"Ay! We heard you contrived to amuse yourself in a pretty fashion, Tracy!"
"Really? I had no idea people were so interested in my affairs. But 'amuse' is an apt word."
"Ah? You were not then épris?"
"I? With that low-born cocotte? My dear Lavinia!"
She laughed at his haughty tone.
"You've not always been so nice, Tracy! But what of your Diana? An you are so infatuated, you had best wed her."
"Why, so I think."
Lady Lavinia gasped.
"Tracy! You do not mean it? Goodness me, but a marriage!"
"Why not, Lavinia?"
"Oh, a respectable married man, forsooth! And how long will the passion last?"
"I cannot be expected to foretell that, surely? I hope, for ever."
"And you'll tie yourself up for the sake of one chit? Lud!"
"I can conceive a worse fate for a man."
"Can you? Well, tell me more! 'Tis monstrous exciting. Do you intend to court her?"
"At this stage of the proceedings? That were somewhat tactless, my dear. I must abduct her, but I must be more careful. Once I have her, I can propitiate Papa."
"Tracy, 'tis the maddest scheme ever I heard! What will the others say?"
"Do you really suppose I care?"
"No, I suppose not. Oh, will not Bob be furious, though!"
"It were almost worth while--just for the sake of foiling him. He would so like to succeed me. But I really do not think he must." His elbow was on his knee, his chin in his hand, and a peculiar smile on his lips. "Can you imagine him stepping into my ducal shoes, Lavinia?"
"Very easily!" she cried. "Oh, yes, yes, Tracy! Marry the girl!"
"If she will."
"Why, 'tis not like you to underrate your persuasive powers!"
His Grace's thin nostrils wrinkled up in a curious grimace.
"I believe one cannot force a girl to the altar," he said.
"Unless she is a fool, she'll have you."
"Her parent would be influenced by my dukedom, but she, no. Not even if she knew of it."
"Does she not know?"
"Certainly not. I am Mr. Everard."
"How wise of you, Tracy! So you've nought to fear?"
"Fear?" He snapped his fingers. "I?"
The heavy curtain swung noiselessly aside. Richard Carstares stood in the opening.
Tracy turned his head and scrutinised him languidly. Then he put up his hand and removed his mask.
"Is it possible the husband scented an intrigue? It seems I am doomed to disappoint to-night."
Lavinia, smarting from her morning's wrongs, laughed savagely.
"More probable he mistook me for someone else!" she snapped.
Richard bowed, his hand on the curtain. He had shown no surprise at seeing the Duke.
"Far more probable, my dear. I thought you Lady Charlwood! Pray give me leave." He was gone on the word.
Tracy replaced his mask, chuckling.
"Honest Dick grows cold, eh? But what a snub, Lavinia!"
Her little hand clenched.
"Oh, how dare he! How dare he insult me so?"
"My dear sister, in all justice to him, you must admit the boot was rather on the other leg."
"Oh, I know--I know! But he is so provoking!--so jealous!--so unreasonable!"
"Jealous? And why?"
With an impatient twitch at her petticoat she made answer, not looking at him.
"Oh, I do not know! Nor he! Take me back to the ball-room."
"Certainly, my dear." He rose and led her out. "I shall do myself the honour of waiting on you--to-morrow."
"Yes? How delightful 'twill be! Come to dine, Tracy! Richard is promised to the Fortescues."
"In that case, I have much pleasure in accepting your invitation.... In heaven's name, who is this?"
Lovelace was bearing down upon them.
"Lavinia! I have been seeking you everywhere!--ah--your servant, sir!" He bowed to his Grace, and took Lavinia's hand.
"Oh--oh, Harold!--you remember Tracy?" she said nervously.
"Tracy! I did not know you masked! I saw you last in Paris."
"Really? I regret I was not aware of your presence. It is a good many years since I had the honour of seeing you."
"Five," nodded Lovelace, and sent a smiling, amorous glance at Lavinia.
"Exactly," bowed his Grace. "You have, I perceive, renewed your acquaintance with my sister."
When they were gone he caressed his chin, thoughtfully.
"Lovelace ... and Richard is so jealous, so unreasonable. Now I do hope Lavinia will do nothing indiscreet--Yes, Frank, I was talking to myself; a bad habit."
Fortescue, who had come up behind him, took his arm.
"A sign of lunacy, my dear. Jim Cavendish demands you."
"Does he? May I ask why?"
"He is in the card-room. There is some bet on, I believe."
"In that case I shall have to go. You had best accompany me, Frank."
"Very well. You have seen Lady Lavinia?"
Beneath the mask his Grace's eyes narrowed.
"I have seen Lavinia. Also I have seen an old friend--Lovelace by name."
"The captain with the full-bottomed wig? Your friend, you say?"
"Did I say so? I should correct myself: a friend of my sister's."
"Indeed? Yes, I believe I have seen him in her company."
Tracy smiled enigmatically.
"I daresay."
"And what of you, Tracy?"
"Well? What of me?"
"You told me this morning that you had at last fallen in love. It is true? You are honestly in love?"
"Honestly? How do I know? I only know that I have felt this passion for four months, and now it is stronger than ever. It sounds like love."
"Then, an she is a good woman, I hope she will consent to take you, such as you are, and make of you such as she can!"
"Now that is very neat, Frank. I congratulate you. Of course she will take me; as to the rest--I think not."
"Tare an' ouns, Tracy! but an that is the tone you take with her, she'll have none of you!"
"I have never found it unsuccessful."
"With your common trollops, no! But if your Diana is a lady, she will dispatch you about your business! Woo her, man! Forget your own damned importance, for I think you will need to humble yourself to the dust if all that you tell me has passed between you is true!"
They had paused outside the card-room. A curtain shut it off from the ball-room, and with his hand on it, Tracy stared arrogantly down at his friend.
"Humble myself? 'Fore Gad, you must be mad!"
"Belike I am; but I tell you, Tracy, that if your passion is love, 'tis a strange one that puts yourself first. I would not give the snap of a finger for it! You want this girl, not for her happiness, but for your own pleasure. That is not the love I once told you would save you from yourself. When it comes, you will count yourself as nought; you will realise your own insignificance, and above all, be ready to make any sacrifice for her sake. Yes, even to the point of losing her!"
His Grace's lips sneered.
"Your eloquence is marvellous," he remarked. "I have not been so amused since I left Paris."
