Faro's Daughter (14 page)

As he spoke, the door leading into Ravenscar’s box was opened, and he saw his mother enter it, closely followed by Arabella and Ravenscar. He exclaimed: ‘Good God, there is my mother! I had no notion she was to be here! She said nothing of it to me. I suppose Aunt Olivia has the spasms again, and would not come. Look, Deb! That is Arabella: isn’t she a rogue?’

He waved to the party, trying to attract their attention, but although Ravenscar perceived him, and returned the salutation, Lady Mablethorpe was too busy directing one of the waiters where to place her chair, and when to serve supper, to pay any heed. But Arabella saw her cousin, and at once blew him an airy kiss. Miss Grantham thought that Arabella was rather a sweet little creature, and wondered that Adrian’s fancy should have alighted on a woman five years his senior when such a charming and eligible cousin stood ready, surely, to be fallen in love with.

Adrian turned to her. ‘Deb, I want to take you over, and make you known to my mother! Do please come!’

‘Certainly!’ replied Deborah, rising from her chair and shaking out her full skirts.

Mr Ravenscar, meanwhile, had enjoyed only the briefest glimpse of her. This had sufficed to make him acutely aware of her headdress, but it was not until he saw her approaching the front of his box on Adrian’s arm that he had the opportunity of taking in the full enormity of the green stripes, poppy-red ribbons, and crimson garnets. He was not a man who wasted much thought on female dress, but the difference between Miss Grantham’s appearance tonight and her appearance on the previous two occasions when he had been in her company struck him most forcibly. He had, in fact, thought her a woman of taste, so he was a good deal astonished at the flamboyance of her attire. Recalling that he had told his aunt that Miss Grantham was not vulgar, he touched her arm, saying somewhat grimly: ‘You had better be prepared to meet your future daughter-in-law, ma’am. Adrian is bringing her towards the box now.’

Lady Mablethorpe looked round immediately, and stiffened in outraged dismay at the approaching vision. She had no time to do more than throw one fulminating glance at her nephew before Adrian was leaning over the front of the box to shake hands with Arabella, saying: ‘I am so glad to see you again! I had meant to call in Grosvenor Square this morning, but something happened to prevent me. Mama, I did not know you meant to come here tonight! I have brought Deb over to see you!’

The affronted matron bowed slightly, and said in frigid tones that she was happy to make Miss Grantham’s acquaintance. Miss Grantham, to the uneasy surprise of her betrothed, simpered, and turned away her head, and uttered a memorable speech.

‘Oh, la, ma’am—your ladyship, I should say!—I am sure you are monstrous good to say so! I declare I am quite of a tremble to be standing in front of one who is to be my Mama-in-law! But Adrian would have me come across to speak to you, and I thought to myself, Well, I thought, if it must be, let it be at once, for I was always one to rush upon my fate, as the saying is! But there! I am sure we shall deal extremely, after all.’

‘Indeed!’ said Lady Mablethorpe icily.

‘Oh, la, yes, ma’am! I made sure you was a dragon, and my knees quite knocked together when Adrian said you was here, but I vow and declare the instant I clapped eyes on you I knew I should love you as though you were my own Mama! And then the affability with which you said you was happy to meet me—la, I’m sure I never looked for such a degree of condescension in one so far above me!’

A muscle twitched at the corner of Mr Ravenscar’s mouth. Nothing could exceed his dislike of Miss Grantham, but he had a sense of humour, and was hard put to it not to burst out laughing. If her object were to convince Lady Mablethorpe that no price would be too high to pay to rescue her son from such a woman as herself, it would certainly succeed, for her ladyship’s face was rigid with disgust, and she could barely bring herself to answer with at least a semblance of civility.

Arabella, meanwhile, was watching Miss Grantham in the liveliest astonishment. ‘Good gracious, are you going to marry Adrian?’ she exclaimed, with that impetuosity so much regretted by her mother. ‘No one said a word about it to me!’

Miss Grantham recollected Mrs Patch’s arch use of a fan, and unfurled her own, and hid behind it. ‘Oh, I protest, Miss Ravenscar! You must spare my blushes I’

‘But are you?’ asked Arabella.

‘That will do, child!’ said her aunt.

‘Of course she is going to marry me!’ Adrian declared stoutly. ‘Won’t you wish us happy?’

‘Yes, indeed I do,’ Arabella responded, with a doubtful look at Miss Grantham. ‘I wish you very happy!’

‘Adrian!’ said his parent, in majestic tones. ‘I should like to talk to Miss Grantham. Do you take your cousin to dance while she sits with me for half-an-hour!’

Lord Mablethorpe, hoping that the extraordinary manners which Miss Grantham had assumed upon being presented to his mother had their origin in nervousness which would wear off as the two ladies became better acquainted, readily agreed to this suggestion, and said that he would bring Miss Grantham round to the door of the box. Miss Grantham giggled, and said that it seemed absurd to be obliged to go round to the back of the booths when she was sure she could jump over the low wall in front, if only Adrian would give her his hand. Then she said that she supposed that she would have to learn to behave respectably since she was to become a’ Viscountess, and consented to be led round to the back of the boxes.

When she made her entrance, in the correct manner, Mr Ravenscar left the booth. He would try a fall with her himself before very long and enjoy doing it, but it was no part of his plan to join his aunt in whatever scheme she might have in mind for the discomfiture of the minx.

He returned to the box a few minutes before Adrian le Arabella back to it. One glance at the two ladies was enough to assure him that it was not Miss Grantham who had suffered discomfiture. Lady Mablethorpe was looking crushed, and the glance she cast up at her nephew was one of pathetic entreaty.

She had sustained the most shattering half-hour of her life. She had subjected Miss Grantham to a catechism which had been intended to show that young woman how very far she stood from Adrian, and how very uncomfortable she would feel in Polite Society. It had apparently failed in this laudable object. Miss Grantham had replied with the greatest readiness and the most appalling frankness, to all the searching question put to her. She had remained throughout wholly oblivious to the most patent disapproval. She had been voluble, expansive, and shockingly vulgar; had confessed to a passion for all form of gaming; described in quite imaginary detail the events of several horse-races she said she had attended; and expressed desire to set up a select faro-bank in Brook Street. She had also ogled several bucks who had strolled past the box, and had claimed intimate acquaintance with three of the most notorious rakes in town. Her ladyship felt herself to be passing through a nightmare, and hailed the return of her nephew wit heartfelt relief. Miss Grantham assured him that she and Lad Mablethorpe were now the greatest of friends.

He received this information with raised brows, smiled slightly, and turned to address some idle remark to his aunt. Adrian and Arabella then came back to the box, and the two parties separated.

‘How could you tell me she was not vulgar!’ was all he ladyship could at first bring herself to say, and that in accents of bitter reproach.

‘I told you the truth. She was not vulgar when I met her. Her manner tonight was certainly assumed.’

‘Assumed! In heaven’s name why, if she wishes to win my consent to the match?’

‘I am reasonably sure that she has no such wish. There is no doubt her way of trying to force up the price ma’am.’

‘Whatever it is it must be paid!’ said her ladyship, in great agitation.

‘Whatever it is it shall not be paid!’ said Mr Ravenscar. ‘Oh, don’t put yourself in a taking, my dear aunt! I shan’t let her marry Adrian!’

‘How he could-!’ she shuddered. ‘Look at her now! Look at that dreadful woman with her!’

Arabella, who had been attending to this with an air of lively interest, said: ‘Well, of course she was shockingly vulgar, Aunt Selina, but I could not help liking her a little, because she has such laughing eyes! And Adrian told me that she was not generally ill-at-ease, so perhaps she is not so very bad after all!’

‘Ill-at-ease!’ ejaculated Lady Mablethorpe. ‘I saw no sign of that! Do you call her behaviour at this moment ill-at-ease?’

Miss Grantham was seated by this time in the front of her own box, and was laughing immoderately at something Lucius Kennet had said to her. Her troubled swain laughed too but in a perfunctory manner. She could do no wrong in his enamoured eyes, but he did wish that she would not laugh so loudly, or flirt so much with her fan. Ably assisted by Kennet and Mrs Patch, she contrived to make their box the most stared at of any in the circle, so that he was glad when his carefully chosen supper had been eaten, and he was able to suggest a stroll through the gardens.

Miss Grantham, who was feeling quite exhausted by this time, went with him willingly, and behaved so prettily that he was soon in a fair way towards forgetting her previous conduct. He supposed her to have been excited, and nervous at being presented to his mother, and thought no more about it. Except for the coquelicot ribbons and that towering headdress, she was again his own dear Deb, and he spent a blissful half-hour, walking with her down the many paths of the gardens, and telling her how much he loved her.

It had grown dark by this time, and the coloured lights showed up brightly against the black sky. Lord Mablethorpe found a seat in a secluded alley, and persuaded Deborah to sit down for a few minutes. He began to describe his home to her, shyly expressing the hope that she would not find it very flat in the country; and had just asked her if she would not drive out with him one day to visit Mablethorpe, which was at no great distance from London, when the sound of a sob interrupted him.

He broke off, looking about him, but he could see no one. ‘I thought I heard someone crying,’ he told Miss Grantham. ‘Did you hear anything?’

She had not, but even as she said so, the sound came again and from no great distance.

‘Do you think we had better go away?’ whispered his lord ship, looking alarmed.

‘Go away? Certainly not! Someone is in trouble!’ replied Miss Grantham, getting up, and peering down the alley.

Yet another heavy sob reached their ears. It seemed t, come from one of the small summer-houses which were dotted about the grounds. Miss Grantham walked up to it, and entered her tall figure silhouetted by the lights behind her. A frightened gasp greeted her arrival, followed by a breathless silence

‘Is anyone here?’ she asked, trying to pierce the gloom. ‘Can I help you?’

A very young and scared voice answered: ‘Please go away.’

By now Miss Grantham’s eyes had become more accustomed to the darkness, and she was able to discern a pale form huddled in a chair against the far wall. She made her way to this ghost-like figure, and said kindly: ‘But, my dear, indeed I cannot go away and leave you in such unhappiness! Come, can I not be of assistance?’

There was a tense pause; then the voice said desolately: ‘No one can help me! I wish I were dead!’

‘Oh dear, is it as bad as that?’ Miss Grantham asked, sitting down beside the pale figure, and drawing it into her arms. ‘Won’t you tell me what it is?’

Instead of complying with this request, the figure laid it head upon her shoulder, and burst into tears.

While Miss Grantham was endeavouring to soothe his grief, Lord Mablethorpe had unhooked one of the coloured lanterns from its stand outside the summer-house, and brought it inside. Its roseate light illuminated the figure in Miss Grantham’s arms, a woebegone face was turned towards his lord ship, and he saw that it belonged to the fair child in Lady Laxton’s box.

‘Why, you must be Miss Laxton!’ he exclaimed.

Miss Laxton was one of the fortunate few whom tears did not much disfigure. They sparkled on the ends of her lashes and drowned her blue eyes, but they made no unsightly blotches on her fair skin, and did not turn the tip of her little nose red. She said, with a catch in her voice: ‘Yes, I am Phoebe Laxton. Who are you, please?’

‘I’m Mablethorpe,’ responded his lordship, setting his Ian tern down on a rustic table, and drawing nearer. ‘I am a little acquainted with your brothers. I wish you will tell us how we may help you!’

Miss Laxton’s lip trembled, and her eyes filled again. She turned her face away. ‘You cannot help me. No one can! I am very sorry to be so tiresome! I did not think anyone would find me here.’

‘Don’t cry!’ said Miss Grantham. ‘Were you hiding from Sir James Filey?’

Miss Laxton looked startled, and stammered: ‘Oh, how did you know?’

‘Our box is opposite yours, my dear. I saw him leaning over your chair, and I did not think you enjoyed having him so close.’

Miss Laxton shuddered and pressed her handkerchief to her lips. ‘I meant to be good!’ she managed to say. ‘Indeed I did! But I hate him so! And when he took me to walk about the gardens, I—I made up my mind I would do my duty. But when he offered for me, and—and kissed me, I c-couldn’t bear it, and I ran away! Oh, what shall I do?’

‘You shall not marry Filey, that’s certain!’ declared Lord Mablethorpe, revolted by the thought.