The Lace Balcony (45 page)

Mungo avoided Old Crawford's eye even though he knew he'd been spotted, and that his role in the story would be circulated at Rockingham Hall next day.

He took pleasure in visualising Felix's first expression upon discovering Vianna's presence, in transgression of society's rules – and his second, flummoxed at the realisation that she had been invited by Governor Darling himself.

That will knock Felix for six. But he's too much of a gentleman to give Vianna away. If something did go haywire, Felix can be counted on to protect her.
Mungo forced himself to concede the truth.
Felix can't help himself any more than I can. But only one of us can have her.

To keep the cold at bay he kept on the move. Shielded by the shadows of the garden he crossed the lawn to take up a position like an invisible sentry at an angle that afforded him a full view of the ballroom.

Mungo felt a pang of pleasure mixed with dejection at the sight of Vianna dancing past the French doors that spilled light across the
flagstone terrace. She was smiling up at each partner in the lively pattern of a quadrille. Felix, damn him, was with her now. The formation changed. Vianna was now charming another partner, her gloved hand held in his as his head bent attentively to catch something she said.

Mungo took a swig of brandy from his metal flask. He knew he should feel a sense of triumph that his wild card had come up trumps. Instead, he felt hollow watching Vianna, dancing, laughing and flirting. Fanny Byron had entered a world that he would never know. Although he wasn't desperate to be accepted by the Quality, he baulked at the idea of anyone being excluded from their ranks by men no better than he was.

Mungo calculated the odds against Vianna being discovered by one of Severin's gamblers.
There must be near fifty men here. More than half are soldiers. That rules them out – no soldier's pay would put them in Severin's league. That leaves twenty or so who might be able to recognise her. Some would keep their traps shut to avoid their wives knowing what they'd been up to. But it would only take one to blow the whistle on her.

Mungo's spine stiffened at sight of the lone figure now standing on the terrace – a dark-haired, robust man, his evening dress failing to disguise his military training.

Where the hell have I seen him? Severin House! That's it all right. He was laughing and talking with Severin. Jesus, if he's cut from the same cloth as Severin, he could know where the mongrel is hiding.

Mungo knew that the presence of this man was a double-edged sword.

This bloke could expose Vianna tonight – or be the link to finding Daisy.

The moment Vianna entered the ballroom, the name announced by the major-domo,
Miss Fanny Byron
, seemed to reverberate around the room.

Presented to His Excellency Lieutenant-Governor Ralph Darling and Mrs Darling, Vianna felt as if she had been propelled on stage to play a role for which there could be no rehearsal. All eyes seemed to focus on her and she prayed there was no man present who had seen a performance by the Sydney Town Venus. A brunette wig was a helpful disguise, but she had worn it on stage at Severin House and it had fooled no man.

She caught her breath as she looked up into a pair of smiling, baby blue eyes in a plump, round face with a cleft chin and topped by a receding hairline – a face she instantly recognised from the lampoons as Governor Darling.

He looks quite human in the flesh. But my mind is a total blank. His lips moved so he must have spoken. Did I reply?

Despite her shaking knees, she executed a graceful curtsey, and then a second to the Governor's Lady, a charming, fragile-looking woman whose pallor was said to be the legacy of ill health following the recent loss of a babe.

Vianna now faced the ultimate test if she was to step neatly into the role that Mungo had designed for her – a young English girl, newly arrived in the Colony, the ward of her uncle, Lord Chimmenchester.

God willing, there's no such outlandish name in Debrett's Peerage. And no one asks me to spell it!

Giving her best impression of a well-bred English accent she answered Mrs Darling's polite enquiry about her adjustment to the Colony and noted her slightly glazed expression at hearing the title Lord Chimmenchester.

Vianna almost panicked. To avoid further enquiry she spoke on impulse.

‘If you will allow me, Your Excellency, Mrs Kentigern L'Estrange
asked me to give you her good wishes for your health.'
Oh hell, I've put my foot in it now.

‘Please convey my thanks to her, Miss Byron. Mrs L'Estrange is a great supporter of our work to aid destitute women and orphans in the Colony.'

Well I've passed muster for the time being.
Vianna breathed a sigh of relief. She must now carry off her performance as well as keep her place in the formations of each dance.

She froze at the approach of Henry Dumaresq, whom she also recognised from lampoons was the Governor's Private Secretary. ‘Miss Byron, may I present a fellow countryman of yours, who is also new to the Colony and has asked to be introduced to you.'

The formal introductions completed, Vianna smiled with relief into the eyes of Mungo's friend. ‘You don't seem surprised to see me here, Doctor Gordon.'

‘Why should I? Ye have as much right to be here as any woman in the room. And ye are a far sight more bonny, lass. May I ask ye to stand up with me later in a country dance? It's the only one I can manage with two left feet.'

‘I would be delighted, Doctor. May I rehearse polite conversation with you in case someone else asks me to dance?'

‘Dinna doubt it, m'dear. But let's see . . . I believe it is permitted to ask where you learned to dance so well.'

Vianna replied politely in character, ‘My sister and I shared a dancing master in Bath, Sir.'

I wonder how he'd react to the truth – by watching Madame Amora and her fellow courtesans at the annual Cypriots' Ball they gave for their aristocratic clients.

‘And you, Sir?' she enquired formally in the style of Jane Austen's heroines.

‘From learning not to tread on ladies' toes,' he said. ‘But I must agree with Thomas Wilson in his book
Description of the Correct Method of Waltzing
that the waltz is
not
an enemy of true morals and would nae endanger virtue.'

Vianna suppressed a giggle, ‘How kind of you to reassure me. Now I shall not feel guilty about enjoying the waltz.'

The doctor's eyes twinkled when another gentleman begged to be introduced to her before claiming her as his partner. At the conclusion
of the second set of quadrilles Vianna was free to fan herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips dry from thirst, but she reminded herself to sip champagne slowly or it would rush to her head and cause her to giggle.

One slip of the tongue and Sydney's Venus could cause an even bigger furore than she did at Henrietta Villa. God bless whoever invented the fan, if I spot anyone I don't want to know, I can hide all but my eyes.

She chose a quiet corner by one of the doors opening onto the terrace, partly to check the gentlemen's faces, but above all to admire the ballroom. Until that moment it had seemed like a wild kaleidoscope of colour, sound and light reflected from the chandeliers, the music rapidly changing the patterns of the dance. The faces of the Quality, some hundred of them, seemed to belong to a totally different human species than that seen on the streets of Sydney Town.

Vianna was impressed by the ladies' gowns and jewels, but recognised few showed individual style. The men looked splendid, half in scarlet uniforms, the other half in black or dark blue evening dress, breeches, white stockings and buckled shoes.

Her eye was caught by the huge, brilliant star hanging from the centre of the room that cast beams of light like a jewelled, revolving lighthouse. She was thrilled to be able to recognise the initials W.R. on the crown above the star, knowing they stood for the King's official signature, William Rex.

Each chimney piece was adorned with a large star made of bayonets, each mantelpiece flanked by palm trees in tubs, their fronds hung with lights. The walls were festooned with arrangements of exotic flowers lit by transparent lamps. Bordering the terrace was a magical grotto bedecked with wreaths of flowers and lamps, where the orchestra played.

It's all like a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Her enchantment was broken by a conversation between two ladies, one an ill-favoured matron wearing a set of diamonds like a dog-collar, the other an elegant lady affecting boredom.

The matron was adamant. ‘What a relief to find oneself in the exclusive company of Government officials, the Military and His Majesty's naval officers.'

‘Indeed. I can count the Colonists on the fingers of one hand.'

The matron bent her head in confidence. ‘Did you know that the Chief Justice's wife Lady Forbes was heard to say that class distinctions are objectionable in a small community such as ours? Her very words!'

‘I'm not surprised. Sir Francis is no longer in favour with their Excellencies, so her opinion accounts for a minority of two.'

The dog-collared matron used her fan as a pointer. ‘That handsome young man heading our way is the L'Estrange heir. I must introduce him to my Mary.'

‘And my Charlotte. He's certainly eligible, but I've heard he prefers star-gazing to young ladies' company, would you believe?

Felix steered a path clear of them to reach Vianna's side.

He whispered tersely, ‘How on earth did you manage to get past the guards?'

She looked Felix directly in the eye but fluttered her fan flirtatiously.

‘I presume the same way you did, Mr L'Estrange. With the Governor's personal invitation.'

‘Vianna, I must insist I escort you to my carriage before anyone –'

‘You are quite mistaken, Mr L'Estrange. My name is Miss Fanny Byron. I recently arrived from England, the niece of Lord Chimmenchester – as Her Excellency knows full well!'

Felix looked aghast. ‘I can't believe you are here!'

‘I could say the same of you, Felix. To quote your own words, you dislike public exhibitions of dancing.'

‘Don't play with me, I beg you. I have tried so hard to protect you from the cruelty of society's rules. And now in one act you have flaunted yourself in public right under their noses.'

Vianna tried to retain her smile. ‘Then I suggest you protect your family name by avoiding being seen with Fanny Byron. I can't guarantee she will not be recognised by someone from The Honourable Montague Severin's world.'

‘Your dark hair didn't fool me - I recognised you instantly.' Felix grew increasingly agitated. ‘I beg you join me on the terrace. I must speak with you in private. I have something important to offer you.'

‘Why wait? I have nothing to hide – except for my notorious identity.'

A giggle escaped her when champagne bubbles tickled her nose.

‘This is no laughing matter. This masquerade is already out of control. Mrs Darling thanked me for Mother's message. But I had not delivered one!'

‘No, I delivered it for you!' Vianna said. Champagne made her feel more at ease with the world now than an hour ago on her arrival.

‘But you've never even met my mother!'

‘I've heard enough to know she wouldn't tolerate me even if you hid me in a convent.'

Felix's shocked expression delighted her and she touched the lapel of his coat in a familiar, flirtatious manner. ‘And that would be a terrible waste of a lady who loves the company of gentlemen, would it not, Felix?'

Felix steered her out onto the terrace. ‘What's wrong with you? I have done nothing but try to make you happy, but you've changed so much I hardly know you.'

‘Perhaps you are seeing me properly for the first time, Felix. What's so wrong about my wanting to experience all this?' Her gesture encompassed the ballroom and lawns stretching down to the harbour. ‘This is your birth right but you pretend it bores you. Yet you're horrified to see me enjoying myself under false pretences. At least Mungo understands me.'

‘I should have guessed. This is all his doing, isn't it? Just to humiliate me – and Mother.'

‘Humiliate
you!
No. He did it to make
me
happy. And he isn't even offering to lease my body as you have done.'

Felix looked around him, appalled. ‘Lower your voice, at once!'

She gave the girlish, mocking laugh that she had mastered when dealing with Severin.

‘Ho, ho, Felix, you should see your face. You look
so
shocked. Didn't you know what you were buying when you signed that generous contract?'

‘We must leave at once – but my offer still stands,' he said stiffly.

‘Mine does not. I don't intend to be locked away in a house in the bush with sheep for company and a rooster to wake me at dawn. I am truly sorry that Severin disappeared with your money. I'd make him repay you for services that are
not
going to be rendered.'

‘Then why did you name me in public as your chosen protector?'

‘I have someone who is dependent on me.'

‘Severin? You must be joking.'

‘A small child – my stepsister. Severin is the only one who knows where she is. I can't honour our contract even if I wanted. I must be free to search for Daisy.'

Felix's expression softened and he reached out to her. ‘Forgive me, I've misjudged you. Is there some way I may help you find her?'

‘Thank you. Tomorrow I'll tell you all that I know. But just for one night can't I be free to be happy?' She heard the tremor in her voice and was angry that it betrayed how vulnerable she felt despite her frivolous façade.