Annabelle (8 page)

“Back,” grated the “pirate” in a hoarse voice. His face was masked and his eyes glittered strangely through the slits in the black velvet. “Over the side with you,” he hissed, holding the point of the cutlass dangerously near the terrified Lady Emmeline’s throat.

“I c-can’t s-swim,” babbled Lady Emmeline. “I sh-shall drown.”

“Exactly,” mocked the pirate.

“Wait!” cried Annabelle, darting forward. She stood in front of her terrified godmother. “Now, my man,” she said, “you have two of us to deal with.”

“Get out of the way, you silly little
doxy
,” rasped the pirate. Annabelle felt the point of the cutlass at her throat, but she did not flinch. Annabelle would have been very surprised indeed had she been told she was being extremely brave. Her duty was to rescue her godmother at all costs.

Her mind worked very quickly. Her godmother’s attacker obviously wanted Lady Emmeline’s death to look like an accident. Then she must risk screaming for help.

She threw back her head and screamed as loudly as she could, and great shriek upon shriek echoed along the length of the vessel.

There came the sound of running footsteps as Lord Varleigh hurtled along the companionway, his drawn sword in his hand. The pirate looked from Annabelle to Lord Varleigh and jumped nimbly over the side of the schooner. There was a loud splash. Annabelle craned her head over the side. There came another burst of golden stars from the Vauxhall fireworks, and she could see the pirate’s head bobbing among their golden reflections as he swam with strong strokes to the shore.

More people came running up, and there was a tremendous babble of “What happened” and “Good gracious” and the high voice of Mr. Louch suggesting, “It might have been Harry Stokes.
He’s
dressed as Neptune and mayhap wants some more fair maidens for his kingdom. Oh! ’Tis Lady Emmeline. Then he is perhaps in the need of
some old trout
.”

“Shame,” cried several voices, and Mr. Louch, who was dressed as a rajah, retired in disorder.

The Countess Honeyford, an old friend of Lady Emmeline, who was finding the entertainments tiresome and had complained bitterly at having been introduced to a mere merchant before she had taken two aristocratic steps on board, offered to escort the shaken Dowager Marchioness home.

Lady Emmeline recovered enough to give Annabelle a warm hug. “You saved my life, my dear,” she said clasping Annabelle to her scanty bosom. “No need for you to rush away. Look after her, Varleigh, will you?”

“Delighted,” said Lord Varleigh smoothly, leading Annabelle away. Annabelle wondered why she stayed. It was surely her duty to go home with Lady Emmeline. As she and Lord Varleigh elbowed and pushed their way through the throng, hands caught at Lord Varleigh’s sleeve and mocking voices asked him what he had done with Lady Jane. Annabelle saw the plump figure of her
godmother being helped down into a small boat which was to take her to the farther shore and made an impulsive move to run after her but found herself restrained by the surprising strength of Lord Varleigh’s fingers.

Bowing and smiling to his acquaintances, he led the reluctant Annabelle to a quiet corner, picking up a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the way.

“Now, my delectable Athene,” he said, filling her glass. “You must tell me exactly what happened.”

As he listened carefully to her story, he was touched and amused by the bravery she had displayed and by the fact that she was completely unaware of it.

When she had finished, he sat in silence few what seemed to Annabelle a very long time. At last he said, “Someone is trying to kill Lady Emmeline.”

Annabelle had already come to just that conclusion herself, but it was shocking to hear it voiced in such a quiet conversational tone. “What are we to do?” she asked.

“Keep a close guard on her,” he said, “and watch for anyone who might be her enemy. I shall help you, Miss Quennell.”

“Thank you,” said Annabelle quietly, stealing a shy look at his profile. He turned suddenly and smiled down at her, and she felt as if her bones had turned to water.

Most of the guests were leaving and many of the lanterns had burned out. But in the dim light he could see Annabelle’s large eyes searching his own and the faint tremor of her lips. On impulse he bent his head and placed a fleeting kiss on her mouth. The young soft lips beneath his seemed to cling and burn, and he raised his head and stared at her in silence as the shrill voice of his mistress cut through the chatter of the departing guests, “Sylvester! Has anyone seen Sylvester?”

Lord Varleigh took Annabelle’s hand in his and held
it. “Not tonight,” he murmured. “No. Not tonight, Lady Jane.”

Lady Jane stood surrounded by the remainder of the guests. “Varleigh’s gone off with that Quennell girl,” came the high voice of George Louch. “MacDonald will have something to say about
that
,” he added with a titter.

Lady Jane’s large eyes seemed to bore into the darkness where Annabelle was sitting. For a moment her face was white with fury and then, in an instant, she had changed to her usual coquettish self.

“Then who will be my cavalier?” she cried. Several male voices answered in assent, and surrounded by a laughing and cheering group, Lady Jane departed.

Annabelle became aware that Lord Varleigh was still holding her hand and tugged it free. She was suddenly hot with shame at the enormity of her behavior. What on earth would her father say were he to know that she had let one man kiss her while she was engaged to another?

But Lord Varleigh rose and collected his chapeau bras and escorted Miss Quennell home as if nothing at all had passed between them. She did not know whether to be angry or glad.

To Annabelle’s surprise Lady Emmeline was waiting up for her. Lord Varleigh had left Annabelle on her doorstep to go … where? To Lady Jane? Or did the “No, not tonight” still apply?

Lady Emmeline was dressed more in keeping with her age in a faded kimono and as a result looked considerably younger.

“Come in, sit down, my dear,” she said as Annabelle entered. “I have not yet thanked you enough for saving my life.” She raised one plump, beringed hand as Annabelle would have protested. “No, indeed! It was a most courageous action. You have more spirit than …
than … well, than I would ever have guessed. You must tell me what I can give you. Jewels? Furs…no, not the season. Come now. There must be something you want?”

“You have given me enough, Godm … I mean, Emmeline,” said Annabelle slowly, “but there is just one thing…”

“Which is?”

Annabelle clasped her suddenly trembling hands together in her lap. She looked straight at her godmother. “I do not wish to be affianced to Captain MacDonald,” she said.

Lady Emmeline’s eyes fell before the girl’s direct look. “Well, well, well,” she said. “Tol rol. It’s your inexperience, girl. If you knew more of the ways of men, then you would appreciate a fine upstanding man like the Captain.”

She looked hopefully at Annabelle who said firmly, “I really mean it, you know. I do not wish to marry Captain MacDonald.”

“Umph!” said Lady Emmeline sulkily. Then her wrinkled, monkey face took on a crafty look under its mask of powder and paint. “Then so be it. I shall send a notice that your engagement is at an end to the newspaper in the morning. Do not trouble to speak to Captain MacDonald yourself. I shall see him for you.”

“Oh,
thank you
…,” Annabelle was beginning when Lady Emmeline interrupted her. “But the poor Captain is quite smitten with you, you know. I mean, it would not be fair to drop him
entirely
,heh? No harm in him escorting you here and there till you’re suited. After all, your papa would not want you to do anything rash. Seems to me he’s quite pleased about it.” She drew a crumpled letter from the sleeve of her kimono.

The rector had written to Lady Emmeline stating his joy and delight that Annabelle was already engaged. He
went on at some length on the subject. Annabelle’s eyes were misted over with tears as she handed it back, and Lady Emmeline could only be glad that the girl had not noticed the missing sheet of the letter where the rector had then set out all his anxieties and hopes that it was a marriage of the
heart
.

“So you’ll try?” queried Lady Emmeline, her sharp eyes watching the girl’s expressive face. “Just to please a poor old woman.”

Annabelle nodded dumbly.

Lady Emmeline’s eyes suddenly narrowed like those of a large tabby cat. “Ah, Varleigh, now. He escorted you home?”

“Yes,” said Annabelle a little breathlessly and felt the guilty color beginning to mantle her cheeks.

“Well, there’s a triumph! Of course,” went on Lady Emmeline smoothly, “there has from time to time been some pretty debutante who has managed to pry my lord from Lady Jane’s side. But not for long. He only does it to make her jealous. Oh well”—here she gave a fake yawn—“I suppose that pair will be tying the knot before long. London’s ceased being scandalized at their affair. God knows, it’s been going on long enough!”

And having noticed that the barb had gone home, Lady Emmeline took herself off to bed.

But after Horley had snuffed the candles and Lady Emmeline lay abed in the dark listening to the wind in the trees outside and the high monotonous call of the watch, she began to turn over the events of the evening in her mind. She should never have left the girl alone with Varleigh. He had not been with Lady Jane for long, and it looked as if he would not be with her for much longer, but she certainly wasn’t going to let Miss Annabelle Quennel know
that!
She then thought of her assailant. Could someone be trying to kill her? Fiddlesticks!
Who could want to? Probably I’m the target of some mad bet, thought Lady Emmeline sleepily. They’ll find something else to bet on, on the morrow. She was suddenly very tickled at the idea that her name might be appearing at this very moment in White’s betting book.

As for the Captain, she would tell him to play things easily. Annabelle was too shy and country bred to appreciate someone like the Captain. She needed some town bronze. Let her cancel the engagement. She would be engaged to the Captain again before the Season was out. He was just like his father, thought Lady Emmeline dreamily. Captain Mac Donald’s father had been her one and only love. Unfortunately she had been married to the Marquess at the time or perhaps Captain Jimmy MacDonald might have been her own son.

Annabelle should come about. All it needed was a bit of plotting and careful handling. Damn Varleigh! Why did he have to start poking his long nose into her affairs…

“What the
hell
is going on?” demanded Captain MacDonald two days later. He had stayed on at Brick Hill to enjoy the roistering after the prize fight, and the first he knew of the end of his engagement was when he saw it staring up at him in black and white from the sheets of his morning paper.

“Damme,” he said wrathfully. “Can’t you control that girl?”

“Quiet down and listen,” said Lady Emmeline, admiring the Captain’s handsome figure. “We rushed the girl, you know. Handle her gently and she’ll come about.”

“Why
Annabelle
” demanded the Captain wrathfully. “Lots of other gels would be glad to have me.”

“I’m sure of it,” said Lady Emmeline soothingly. “But my late sister, Caroline, was fond of Annabelle’s mother. Poor Caroline was always fretting about the Quennells and when she knew she was dying, she made me promise to help them. And so I shall. I’m fond of you, Jimmy, love you like a son, but a family promise is a family promise.”

“But the gel won’t get any money an’ she marries someone else?” demanded the Captain.

“Don’t know,” said Lady Emmeline. “She saved my life, you know. I suppose it was all meant as a joke or some sort of wager, but I’d have died if I’d gone into that river.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” demanded the Captain. “Has everyone gone
mad
?”

Lady Emmeline told him all about her adventure, and the Captain said nastily that he thought it sounded more like a production at the Haymarket Theatre, and then followed it up with a hearty laugh as he saw the clouds gathering on Lady Emmeline’s wrinkled brow.

He started pacing up and down the room, his brow creased in thought. “Look! Let me talk to Annabelle and I’ll put it right. I’ll do what you say, of course. I won’t rush my fences.”

“Very well,” said Lady Emmeline, touching the bell. “Send Miss Quennell down,” she said to one of her many footmen who had answered the summons. “Do not say that Captain MacDonald is here. Merely say that I wish to see her.”

And so it was that Annabelle, tripping lightly into the room some ten minutes later, found only the Captain, waiting beside the fireplace with one glossy Hessian boot propped on the fender and the inevitable glass of ruby red liquid in his hand.

She looked at him, blushing with embarrassment, but he merely smiled at her in a kindly way and said, “Don’t take fright, Annabelle. I ain’t going to eat you. I only want to say how sorry I am that our engagement is at an end.”

“I am sorry to have caused you so much distress, sir,” said Annabelle in a low voice.

“Oh, I’ll be all right,” said the captain cheerfully, “except, of course, that there ain’t a war on, and I’ve become used to squiring a lady around. You won’t mind if we stay friends, will you? Until you’re suited, that is?”

Annabelle moved over to the window with her back to him and gazed out into the square. How was she to
be expected to meet anyone else if she were to be constantly seen in the Captain’s company?

But as she gazed into the square, a smart highflyer phaeton rolled past with Lord Varleigh at the reins and Lady Jane perched up behind him, laughing and holding on to a ridiculous little hat.

“Thank you,” said Annabelle in a subdued voice and turning round. “That is very kind of you.”

“Splendid,” beamed the Captain. “Tell you what— run and fetch your bonnet and I’ll take you for a drive. You haven’t seen much of London apart from St. James’s.”

The sun shone in at the window. Everyone else who mattered seemed to be out there having a marvellous time.