Elizabeth Mansfield (21 page)

Letty’s mind was occupied with even more nonsensical fancies. She dreamed that she had become Roger’s
cher amie
in place of Kitty Brownell, and she tried to imagine what it would be like to be with Roger in such a situation. She would, no doubt, have to appear before him quite scantily clad and to permit him to handle her with disrespectful and passionate abandon. She covered her face in shame, but
try as she would, her thoughts refused to take a more proper course, and she finally admitted to herself that, deep down, she was convinced that it was more appealing to be a man’s mistress than his wife!

She was roused by a knock at the door, and Katie came in with two white dresses laid carefully over her arm. The abigail had decided that white was the most effective color without bothering to discuss the matter with either Letty or Prue. Letty took her dress from Katie’s arm without objection. But Prue, when Katie delivered the other dress to her bedroom door, set up an instant outcry. She would wear a bright color—crimson, perhaps—no matter what
certain people
would say if they saw her. It was better to be stared at than ignored. Hadn’t she always said so? But Katie was adamant. This was the dress she had prepared, and this was the dress Prue would wear.

When Lady Denham and Roger called for them in the barouche, Letty and Prue looked fresh, bright, and lovely in their gowns of crisp white cambric. Their eyes sparkled in anticipation, their complexions glowed, and their smiles were bright. No one would have guessed that they had spent the last few days sunk in gloom.

But Letty’s high spirits seemed to disappear as soon as they entered the Sydney Gardens. The carriage had brought them to the entrance at the foot of Pulteney Street, and no sooner had they descended and entered the main pathway than Letty uttered an involuntary gasp. The Sydney Gardens had been completely transformed from their daytime appearance. There was music and singing everywhere, with the tinkle of high laughter combining with the music. The fountains and cascades sparkled, and the illuminations were superb. It was another
Vauxhall
! She shivered as the memory of that other night struck her with an almost tangible reality.

Lady Denham noticed the shiver. “Letty, my dear, you’re cold,” she said with concern. “Here. Take my shawl and put it over you.” And she draped a magnificent green fringed shawl over Letty’s shoulders. Letty, noticing with horror that it was the same bright green of her domino, wanted to snatch it off, but she merely shook her head and let it slip from her shoulders. “Th-thank you, Lady Denham,” she said hastily, handing it back, “but I’m not at all cold. Please keep it for yourself.”

Lady Denham’s butler had set up the table on a grassy knoll protected from the breeze by a row of trees. The pickled salmon, the cold chicken and ham, the Highland creams were all delectable and served with the same elegance that would have marked the service in her ladyship’s dining room. The champagne, chilled to perfection, had a beneficial effect on Letty. Her spirits rose again, and she and Roger indulged in lighthearted badinage with all the comfort and intimacy of old friends, while Lady Denham and Millicent watched with satisfied smiles.

After the dinner had been consumed, Lady Denham and Lady Upsham turned their chairs about to watch the parade of passersby. Although full darkness would not fall for another hour or more, the elderly ladies intended to pass the time seated comfortably where they were. The younger people, however, were more eager for activity, and Roger offered each girl an arm, suggesting that they stroll about the gardens to admire the illuminations. This they agreed to eagerly. Lady Upsham warned them absently to stay together, Lady Denham insisted that Letty take her green shawl, and the three set off.

After spending more than half an hour exploring the once-familiar paths, which had been so stunningly transformed by the ingenious lights, they came upon the entrance to the labyrinth. Although illumination had been provided here and there, the paths inside seemed rather frighteningly dusky in the gathering gloom. “Well, ladies,” Roger said challengingly, “are you courageous enough to walk through these paths in the dark of night?”

“Oh, yes! Let’s!” Prue responded eagerly.

“I don’t know,” Letty said hesitantly. “I’ve been told that, with all the ins and outs, one must walk half a mile before finding the way out. We may be late for the fireworks.”

“I don’t think it will take as long as that,” Roger assured her. “But you must both agree to hold on tightly to my hands. I don’t want us to separate. We
will
be late if we have to waste time looking for each other.”

The labyrinth proved to be even greater fun in the darkness than it had been in daylight. They ran down the pathways hand in hand, turned the dark corners with a great pretense of fear and a great deal of sincere laughter, pulled poor Roger in opposite directions at each intersection, and indulged in many boisterous arguments over directions. When the sisters were in disagreement, Roger asserted his authority as the eldest of the three and made the final decision. At one point, however, he sided with Letty when Prue was convinced that she was right. “I
know
the exit is down there to the right,” she declared stubbornly. She twisted her hand out of Roger’s grasp and ran to the right. Calling over her shoulder, “I’ll meet you at the exit,” she disappeared around the bend.

“Prue, come back here!” Roger demanded, but she did not come. Letty and Roger exchanged helpless glances and turned to follow her. But when they rounded the bend, she was nowhere in sight. They called her name in vain. They peered into all the nearby paths of the maze but couldn’t find her.

Prue, meanwhile, had run down the path she was convinced led to the exit, but it proved to be a dead end. Annoyed, but without real concern, she tried to retrace her steps, but the paths were confusing and not the same as they had seemed before. It was now quite dark, for the gardens’ bright illumination could not penetrate the thick, tall shrubs that lined the paths of the maze. She called Roger’s name, but there was no answer. Suddenly frightened, she called even louder for Letty. In response, she heard a raucous, drunken laugh. “’Ere, dearie, ’ere! I ain’t no Letty, but won’t I do?” came a drunken voice, and two hulking youths appeared from around a corner and stood blocking her path. From the look of their clothing, she took them to be farmers, but they stood unsteadily on their feet and reeked of drink.

“Look, now,” one of them said drunkenly, “we found oursel’s a right pretty little straw-hat.”

The other nodded enthusiastically, his tongue licking a slack, leering mouth. “For once you ain’t bammin’,” he grinned. “Come ’ere, little poppet, and give us a kiss.”

Prue, her heart hammering in her chest and her blood turning to ice, drew herself up proudly. “Stand aside, sir, and let me pass,” she demanded with as much dignity as she could command.

The two men laughed. “Well, well—will y’ listen to the dolly? Givin’ ‘ersel’ airs like a lady,” said one of them, coming a step closer to her.

“Ain’t never know’d a dollymop what didn’t want to pass fer a lady,” the other said scornfully.

The first man reached for Prue and pulled her to him. Prue, in desperate fear, pushed against him with all her might. Already unsteady with drink, the fellow fell backward and dropped to the ground heavily. The other man grasped Prue’s arm and laughed heartily. “You’re as lushy as an old elbow crooker,” he said to his friend on the ground. “Go put your noddle under the pump and leave this ’ere morsel fer—” But he never finished his sentence, for Prue bit his hand and went flying down the path. The sounds of their grunts and shouts followed her, and she ran even faster, rounding a turn without slowing her step. A large pebble in her path caused her to lose her balance, and she fell flat on her face. She could hear the heavy pounding of their footsteps, and she jumped to her feet and ran on.

Rounding the next corner, she found to her intense relief that she had come to the exit. She noticed as she stumbled out of the labyrinth that the path was reassuringly bright, but to her dismay, Letty and Roger were not there. Somewhere just inside, she could still hear the shouts of her attackers. Would they follow her even here on the open path? Breathless and exhausted, she lifted her skirts and ran down the path, hoping to find safety among the crowds that must be milling about somewhere. At that moment, a sound like a cannon shot broke through the air, causing her to scream out loud. The boom was followed by a burst of light. She looked up in alarm to see a cascade of colored sparks wheeling about in the sky
above her head, and she realized that the fireworks had begun. The unexpected display seemed eerily frightening, and the terrified girl continued to race down the path. Suddenly, just ahead, she saw a familiar figure leaning on a walking stick, his eyes turned up to the sky, absorbed in the spectacle now dwindling into darkness above them. “Mr. Eberly! Oh, Mr. Eberly!” she cried out in intense relief.

Mr. Eberly looked round abruptly and gaped in alarm as Prue, her hair disheveled and falling about her shoulders, her dress torn and covered with dust, came stumbling down the path. “Why, Miss Prue! What has happened to you?” he asked, holding out his arms to catch her. She tumbled into them, gasping and trembling, unable to speak. “There, there, child,” he said soothingly, patting her back with avuncular kindness, “you’re quite safe now.”

The awkwardness of his gestures and the fatherliness of his voice were utterly comforting, and Prue responded with a flood of tears. Slowly and haltingly, she managed to convey to him an account of her ordeal, and after repeated assurances from him that she was now safe, her sobs subsided. He withdrew a large handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and dabbed at her cheeks. She looked up at him with gratitude. “I d-don’t know how t-to thank you, s-sir,” she said tremulously. “You seem always to b-be on-hand when I have need of rescuing.”

At that moment, Brandon Peake came hobbling along the path, supported by the cane in his right hand and his mother at his left. The sight that met his horrified eyes caused him to stop in his tracks. There stood Prue in a public embrace! She was dusty, tousled, and disordered from head to toe, yet she was standing there shamelessly, for all the world to see, in Mr. Eberly’s arms. He could feel his mother’s arm tighten as she, too, came to a comprehension of what she was seeing. Just as Mr. Eberly became aware of their presence and seemed about to step forward and greet them, Mrs. Peake gave him a curt, dismissive nod, clutched Brandon’s arm, and hurried him off.

“Did you ever see anything so shocking?” Mrs. Peake hissed as they turned onto another path. “Embracing in public that way! The girl looked a veritable wanton!”

His mother’s words so appalled Brandon that their lack of justice—and the injustice of his own impression of what he’d seen—burst upon him. “That is not fair, Mama,” he said coldly. “They were not embracing. She looked upset about something.”

“How can you be so naive?” his mother demanded. “That was an embrace if ever I saw—”

“By your leave, Mama,” Brandon interrupted firmly, “I would rather not talk about it. We blundered into what was meant to be a private matter. We do not know what was going on, nor is it any affair of ours. I wish you would refrain from referring to this matter again, either to me or to anyone else.”

Mrs. Peake sniffed indignantly and relapsed into offended silence, leaving Brandon free to reflect on the mixture of feelings that warred within him. One part of him was furious with Prue for permitting herself to appear wanton, her hair unkempt, her dress soiled, her face streaked with tears. Another part of him rejected this interpretation of her appearance. Prue was headstrong, short-tempered, and stubborn, but she was not a wanton. There was undoubtedly an explanation for her appearance. But this restrained and temperate feeling did not soothe the anguish that continued to wash over him. The source of that anguish was not hard to determine. It was the look on Prue’s face as she looked up at Mr. Eberly. The anguish he was feeling was an emotion he had never felt before but had read of often. Homer had written of it. Sophocles had written of it. And Catullus, too. It was jealousy—naked, ugly, raging, murderous jealousy. He would have liked to knock Mr. Eberly down with his bare fists for the pure joy of lifting him up to knock him down again. And when Mr. Eberly wase lying on the ground senseless, his blood slowly dripping into the grass, Brandon would have liked nothing more than to pull Prue into his arms, to have her look up at him with just such a look as he had seen on her face tonight.

Meanwhile, the subjects of his reverie were standing where he had left them, looking after Brandon and Mrs. Peake with expressions of startled embarrassment. “Well,” said Mr. Eberly ruefully, “I believe Mrs. Peake and her son have given us the cut direct.”

“So it would seem,” Prue said in innocent bewilderment. “I wonder why.”

“I believe they misunderstood what they saw,” Mr. Eberly explained gently. “After all, I had been holding you in a position of … er … shall we say
intimacy
?”

Prue stared at him. “Intimacy? Do you mean they thought we were
lovers
?” she asked in astonishment. “Of all the … the … presumption! Why, you’re old enough to be my
father
!”

If poor Mr. Eberly’s recent encounters with the unpredictable Prue had encouraged any flights of fancy in his bachelor’s heart, if he had permitted himself to dream of romance with a redheaded chit barely out of the schoolroom, if he had indulged in even the
merest
hope of the possibility of making this bewitching child his own, her blunt words were a sufficient set-down to kill those illusions forever. He looked down at her, not knowing whether to laugh or scold. But he merely smiled wryly. “Well, not your father, perhaps,” he said in his gentle way, “but certainly your uncle.” With a sigh, he took her arm and escorted her back to the knoll where Lady Denham and Lady Upsham sat waiting. When the exclamations and explanations had been made, Mr. Eberly accepted their invitation to watch the fireworks with them, but he admitted that his enjoyment of them was somewhat diminished from what it had been earlier.