The Masqueraders Read online

  ‘I am sorry that you should think me churlish, sir.’ She discovered that her voice sounded small, and rather guilty, and made an effort to pull herself together. ‘I think you misunderstand the reason of my refusal to go to Wych End.’ That was no sooner said than she wished it unsaid. God knew where it might lead.

  ‘I don’t consider myself omniscient,’ said Fanshawe, ‘but I am under the impression that life in town is more amusing than life at Wych End.’

  She perceived the trend of the matter. Ay, here was a pretty tangle. It was, after all, an honour for an unknown young gentleman to be invited to stay with the great Sir Anthony Fanshawe. Her excuse had been lame; in a word, she must appear cubbish. And how to retrieve the false step? ‘You are under a false impression, sir.’

  ‘I am, am I?’

  ‘I know very well, sir, that I am unduly honoured by your proposal, but I have been taught that it is a greater rudeness to ignore previous engagements than to refuse a flattering new invitation.’

  ‘You have that wonderfully pat,’ admired Sir Anthony. ‘Pray let us forget the matter.’

  ‘So long as I do not stand in your black books,’ Prudence said tentatively.

  There was a laugh, and a hand on her shoulder. ‘I confess, I have an odd liking for you, young man. You are absolved.’

  Ridiculous that one should feel a weight removed from one’s mind. Prudence decided to say nothing to Robin of the matter, dreading his mirth.

  Eight

  The Black Domino

  My Lady Lowestoft stole up to the door of Prudence’s chamber, threw a swift glance round to see that no one was by, and went in, firmly shutting the door behind her. Prudence sat before her dressing table, haresfoot in hand. She looked round to see who came in so unceremoniously. ‘Fie!’ she said, and turned back to the mirror.

  ‘My reputation if any one saw me!’ said my lady, and sat down in a swirl of purple silk. She carried a strip of velvet in one hand, and a purple domino hung from her shoulders. She put up the velvet to her face. ‘So! Am not I intrigante, my dear?’

  ‘Very, ma’am. You always are, masked or not.’

  ‘So they say,’ nodded my lady. ‘Oh, la-la! we’re very fine to-night, not?’

  Prudence smoothed the crimson silk sleeve of her coat, and smiled a little. ‘My pièce de résistance, ma’am.’

  ‘Oh, you look very well. That goes without saying. But what a wardrobe! The bon papa finds himself in affluent circumstances now?’

  ‘Up and down, my lady. There seemed to be money enough when I saw him last.’ Prudence pressed a patch on to her cheek with expert fingers. ‘Are you for setting forward? I’ll go see if Robin’s dressed.’ She picked up the crimson domino from the bed, and her mask and hat with it, and went out.

  Robin’s voice desired to know who it was that scratched on the door. Prudence answered, and heard him say: ‘Oh, enter, my dear.’

  She went in humming a snatch of song. It died on her lips at what she saw, and she shut the door rather quickly. In place of the lady she expected to find there stood in the middle of the room a slim, lithe young figure in satin small-clothes, and a cambric shirt. The fair hair was powdered thickly, and tied back with a black riband in the neck; the white throat was hidden by a lace neckcloth which fell under the chin in deep ruffles down the shirt front. If Robin made a pretty girl, he was beyond doubt a very handsome young man.

  ‘Robin, are you mad?’ said Prudence quietly.

  In the background, shaking out the folds of an elegant coat, John growled: ‘Ay, you may well ask, mistress. It’s taken leave of his senses he has.’

  Robin laughed out. ‘My poor John! I shall be the death of you yet.’

  ‘You’ll be the death of yourself, sir, and well you know it.’

  Prudence came further into the room. ‘What mischief now?’

  ‘Madam Prude! I salute you. No mischief, nor any madness either.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Pray will you be serious?’

  He held the mask over his eyes. ‘What, shall I be known?’

  ‘There’s to be an unmasking at supper. What then?’

  ‘At the supper hour – farewell, Robin!’ He blew an imaginary kiss from the tips of his fingers, and tossed the mask on to a chair. ‘Don’t play the spoil sport, sister mine.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s to jeopardise your life for a pair of brown eyes.’

  ‘It’s to play with fire for the sake of romance, and when have we done aught else? Get you into a hoop and petticoats, and play with your mountain.’

  ‘Ah now, will you ha’ done, sir?’ John put down the coat, scowling. ‘You’ll do no such thing, Miss Prue!’

  ‘Not I. Robin, one single mischance, and you’re sped.’

  ‘My dear, you grow fearful of shadows. Let be. Tomorrow I shall be again the demure Miss Merriot.’

  Prudence knew too well that demon of perversity to attempt further argument. My Lady Lowestoft’s voice begged permission to enter. Prudence turned, and opened the door. ‘Oh, come in, ma’am, here’s a piece of mad folly for you to see.’

  My lady came in all curiosity, and gave a little shriek of laughter at sight of Robin. ‘Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, you vaurien !’ she said. ‘This is to go a-wooing, no? Don’t tell me! Me, I know well!’

  ‘It’s to run a thousand dangers,’ said Prudence. ‘The devil’s in him, I believe.’

  Robin was busy fixing a diamond pin in the lace at his throat. ‘I pledge you my word I run no risk, Prue. The waistcoat, John.’

  ‘Hé, but this is adventure!’ cried my lady, her eyes sparkling. ‘You are anxious, my Prue? But no! Who should suspect? He may vanish before the unmasking, and Marthe shall be on the watch to let him into the house. It will all go well, I promise you.’

  ‘Madam, you’re a jewel!’ Robin told her, struggling into his coat. He shook out his ruffles, and gave his neckcloth a twist. ‘I am myself again.’

  My lady surveyed him critically. ‘Du vrai, you are a very pretty young man,’ she said. ‘N’est-ce pas, Prudence?’

  ‘Something undersized,’ amended Prudence, with her slow smile.

  ‘Prue can only admire a mammoth, ma’am,’ said Robin. His eyes ran over his sister’s large frame. ‘Well, perhaps she has reason.’

  Thus it was that midway through the evening a slight gentleman in a black domino begged my Lady Dorling to present him to a little lady in a pink domino, seated against the wall by an austere spinster.

  Lady Dorling said laughingly: ‘What shall I call you, sir, for indeed the mask baffles me?’

  White teeth showed in a dazzling smile. ‘You shall say that I am l’Inconnu, madam.’

  She was delighted. ‘Miss Pink Domino should feel Romance at hand on such an introduction. Why, it’s the little Grayson child.’ She led the Black Domino up to the Pink one, and smilingly said: ‘My dear, may I present a partner to you for the minuet? He has no name that I can find – only l’Inconnu. See if he will tell you more.’ She rustled away on the words, leaving Miss Letty looking wonderingly up at the unknown.

  He stood bowing deeply before her, one hand holding a point-edged tricorne over his heart, the other laid lightly on the hilt of his dress-sword. The black domino fell all about him in silken folds; the velvet mask through which his eyes glittered strangely baffled recognition.

  Miss Letty made her curtsey, still gazing into the unknown’s face.

  ‘Mademoiselle will bestow her hand on me for this dance?’

  There was something faintly familiar in the elusive voice. ‘I may go, Aunt?’

  The elder Miss Grayson gave reluctant consent. Masked balls, where strange gentlemen with fanciful sobriquets might claim introductions were not to her taste, but there was no help for it. Miss Letty went away on the Unknown’s arm.

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