Venetia Read online

  The evening began well. No sooner did the maître d’hôtel realise that the gentleman from the country was entertaining that well-known epicure and leader of the ton, Mrs Philip Hendred, and a perfectly ravishing young female, dressed in the first style of elegance, than he revised his previous plan, and bowed the party not to a secluded table in one corner of the room, but to one reserved for the most respected patrons, and himself presented Mr Yardley with a large bill of fare. Between them, he and Mrs Hendred selected a most succulent meal, which Mrs Hendred was able to partake of without the smallest misgiving, because she had met Mr Rogers that very day, and he had set her right about Lord Byron’s reducing diet: his lordship had not drunk vinegar, but soda-water, and what regimen could be easier to follow, when one was not particularly partial to wine? So the dinner passed off very successfully, and if Venetia contributed little to the conversation at least she responded with her lovely smile to any remark that was addressed to her. Probably Mr Yardley was satisfied, for he had so much to impart to his guests about the various places of historic interest which he had been visiting that neither lady had much opportunity to say more than: ‘Indeed!’ or: ‘How interesting, to be sure!’

  Mrs Hendred’s town coach conveyed them to the theatre. Edward had procured a box, and Mrs Hendred was glad to see that Venetia accepted with sweet, if slightly absent, complaisance all his solicitous efforts to secure her comfort. Venetia was, in fact, considering a new and extremely daring scheme, and throughout the first act of the play she sat wondering whether she could summon up the courage to present herself boldly to the eldest of Damerel’s aunts, disclosing all her story, and begging for her support. It was a desperate plan, and by the time the curtain fell a great many objections to it had presented themselves to her. She came out of her deep reverie to find that Edward was asking her how she liked the play. She returned a civil answer, and then sat looking idly round the house while he delivered himself of his own considered opinion.

  Her attention was almost immediately attracted to a box on the opposite side of the theatre. It had been empty until after the curtain had risen, but it was now occupied by a lady and gentleman of such modish appearance that many more eyes than Venetia’s were turned towards them. Neither was in the first blush of youth, the gentleman, indeed, bearing a strong resemblance to the Prince Regent. He had very much the same protuberant blue eyes, and florid complexion; he wore a coat of exaggerated cut, a splendid waistcoat, and his pantaloons were smoothly stretched across a stomach of noble proportions. He had levelled his quizzing-glass at Venetia, but after one cursory glance at him she had transferred her gaze to his companion.

  If the gentleman was magnificent, the lady was the more striking of the two. A hint of brass in the colour of her exquisitely dressed curls might betray the hand of an expert coiffeur, the delicate blush on her cheeks might have issued from an expensive jar of rouge, but her figure, tantalisingly revealed by a very low cut gown of silk so soft and diaphanous that it clung like a cobweb to her form, owed no more to art than did her large, brilliant eyes, her classically straight nose, or the lovely line of her jaw. Diamonds hung from the lobes of her ears, flashed on her white bosom, and on her arms; an ermine cloak had been flung carelessly over the back of her chair, and she was leaning a little forward, her gaze, like her companion’s, directed towards Venetia. There was a slightly amused smile on her tinted lips; she was slowly waving to and fro a fan spangled with diamond chips, but as Venetia stared at her she lifted the other hand in a tiny gesture of salute.

  Mrs Hendred, somnolent after her sumptuous repast, had dozed peacefully through the first act of the play, and was now listening sleepily to Edward’s measured discourse, and wishing that the curtain would rise on the second act, and so allow her to drop off again. Edward’s voice was monotonous enough to make it hard for her to remain awake, but she was saved from sliding back into sleep by Venetia’s saying suddenly: ‘Aunt, who is that lady in the box over there?’

  There was a sharpened note in her voice which startled Mrs Hendred enough to rouse her, and drive away the fog of drowsiness. She straightened herself, giving her plump shoulders a little twitch, and said: ‘Which lady, my love?’ in a slightly thickened voice, but with an assumption of bright interest.

  ‘Almost directly opposite, ma’am! I can’t point to her, because she is watching me. She has been doing so these past ten minutes, and I – Aunt Hendred, who is she?’

  ‘My dear, I’m sure I don’t know, for I saw no one in any of the boxes with whom I am acquainted. Which box do you say –’ She stopped with a gasp, and ejaculated in a stunned tone: ‘Good God!’

  Venetia’s hands were tightly clasped over her folded fan; she said: ‘You know her, don’t you, ma’am?’

  ‘No, no!’ declared Mrs Hendred. ‘Good gracious, no! As though I should know any female who wore such a dress! The most indecent – Dear child, don’t seem to notice them! Such impertinence, staring at you like – Hush, my love, the curtain is going up and we must not talk any more! Dear me, how I long to discover what will happen in this act! An excellent first act, was it not? I don’t know when I have enjoyed a play more! Ah, here is the comical man, and his valet! We mustn’t talk, or we shall miss the diverting things they say!’

  ‘Only tell me, ma’am –’

  ‘’Sh!’ uttered Mrs Hendred.

  As this sibilant command was endorsed by the party in the adjoining box, in an even more menacing manner, Venetia relapsed into silence. Mrs Hendred was agitatedly fanning herself; and instead of joining in the burst of laughter which greeted one of the diverting things that was said on the stage she seized the opportunity to tweak Edward’s sleeve, and, upon his bending towards her, to whisper something in his ear. Venetia, who had not joined in the laughter either, but who was sitting bolt upright, an expression on her face compounded of incredulity and bewilderment, did not hear what was said: but in another minute or two Edward whispered to her: ‘Venetia, your aunt is feeling faint! You will not object to removing from this box? It is very stuffy – I am conscious of it myself, and believe Mrs Hendred will revive if she can but be got into the air!’

  Venetia rose with alacrity, and, while Edward led the afflicted lady out, she flung her own cloak over her shoulders, caught up her aunt’s, and slipped out of the box, to find two of the attendants solicitously reviving Mrs Hendred with smelling-salts, vigorous fanning, and drops of water sprinkled on her brow. Her colour seemed a trifle high for a lady on the brink of a swoon, but when Edward, who was looking very grave, told Venetia, in a lowered voice, that he thought they should take her home as soon as she was a little recovered, Venetia at once agreed to it, and recommended him (since Mrs Hendred’s coachman would not bring her carriage to the theatre for another hour) to go at once to summon a hackney. He went off immediately, to confer with the door-keeper; and Mrs Hendred, allowing herself to be supported by the two box-attendants to the stairway, said, in failing accents, that she feared her unfortunate indisposition was due to the evil effect upon her system of woodcock à la Royale. ‘Or, perhaps, it was the croque enbouche aux pistaches, but I would not for the world say so to Mr Yardley!’

  Venetia replied to this with remarkable calm, making no attempt, either then or when she sat beside her aunt in the somewhat malodorous vehicle procured for their conveyance, to repeat the question which had played so large a part in throwing Mrs Hendred into queer stirrups. But when Mrs Hendred, upon arrival in Cavendish Square, announced her intention of instantly retiring to bed, she said, with more amusement than concern: ‘Yes, if you wish, ma’am, but I warn you I am not to be so easily fobbed off! I’ll go with you!’

  ‘No, no, dear child! I can feel one of my spasms coming on! That is, I can’t imagine what you can possibly – Worting, why do you not send to fetch Miss Bradpole to me, when you can see how unwell I am?’

  Before Worting could remind his mistress that she had granted her dresser leave of abs