Pistols for Two (9 page)

He dined alone, the butler informing him that her ladyship had bespoken a bowl of broth in her dressing-room. Since this was his mother’s invariable custom, whenever she was confronted by a disagreeable situation, Mr Wrexham was neither surprised nor alarmed. He ate his dinner in frowning silence, and then went upstairs to his room, and rang for his valet. Less than an hour later, clad in the satin knee-breeches and black coat that betokened a gentleman of fashion on his way to an evening party, he left the house, a half-mask in his pocket, and an old black domino, unearthed from the recesses of his wardrobe, over his arm.

The Pantheon, which was on the south side of Oxford Street, was a magnificent structure, decorated in a style which rendered it obnoxious to the eye of the fastidious. It comprised a large suite of saloons, and a ballroom, which was a huge rectangular hall, with a painted ceiling, a raised platform for the musicians, and numerous boxes and alcoves. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and from every Gothic arch which lined the room; all was gilding and glitter. Originally, it had been patronized by members of the
haut
ton
, but when the first building was burnt to the ground, and a new structure erected, the company became so far from select that Mr Wrexham had every excuse for forbidding his sister to be seen there.

Although the hour was early when he arrived there, the ballroom was already full of a motley crowd of persons, some in dominoes, some in historical costume, all masked, and many behaving with the license encouraged by the wearing of disguises. After watching a quadrille for a few minutes, Mr Wrexham decided that his sister had not yet arrived, for although he could see two ladies in pink dominoes one was by far too tall, and the other had pushed back the hood of her domino to show a head of yellow curls. He began to stroll through the saloons, successfully resisting the efforts of two ladies of Covent Garden notoriety to beguile him into dalliance.

It was nearly an hour later, when the revelry was becoming a trifle indecorous, that he suddenly saw Letty. She had her hood drawn over her head, but he caught a glimpse of dusky curls, and recognized her little trim figure. She was waltzing with a large man in a purple domino, and the only circumstance which afforded her brother some slight degree of satisfaction was her obvious lack of pleasure in the exercise. Leaning his broad shoulders against one of the decorated pillars, and folding his arms across his chest, he watched her circle round the room, and very soon realized that her partner (whom he suspected of being slightly foxed) was subjecting her to a form of gallantry which was extremely unwelcome. He thought it would be a salutory lesson to her, and had almost made up his mind not to intervene for a little while, when she suddenly broke away from her partner, and hurried off the floor, hotly pursued. Mr Wrexham, shouldering his way through the loungers at the side of the hall, reached her just as Purple Domino caught her round the waist, saying with a laugh: ‘You shan’t escape me thus, pretty prude!’

Mr Wrexham, setting a hand on his shoulder, swung him aside. A glance at his sister showed him that she was shaking like a leaf; he was afraid that she might be going to faint, and pushed her into the alcove behind her, saying briefly: ‘Sit down!’

At the sound of his voice she jumped under his hand, and gave a gasp.

‘Yes, my girl, it is I!’ said Mr Wrexham very dryly indeed, and turned to confront Purple Domino.

In a voice which bore out Mr Wrexham’s previous estimate of his condition, Purple Domino demanded to know what the devil he meant by it.

‘I mean,’ said Mr Wrexham, ‘that unless you remove yourself within one minute, my fine buck, I shall have the greatest pleasure in supplying you with a little of the home-brewed!’

Purple Domino recoiled instinctively, but recovered, and said in a blustering tone: ‘Damme, what right have you to spoil sport?’

‘Let me inform you,’ said Mr Wrexham, ‘that I am this lady’s brother!’

‘
B-brother?
’ echoed Purple Domino, in a dazed voice. ‘But I didn’t – Curse you, how was I to know?’

He stood staring through the slits of his mask for a moment, in an undecided way, and then, muttering something indistinguishable, took himself off.

Mr Wrexham felt a hand touch his sleeve. He drew it through his arm. It was trembling so much that instead of uttering the blistering words hovering on his tongue, he merely said: ‘You see, Letty, I am not quite so gothic as you think me. Come, I am going to take you home now, and we will forget this military suitor of yours!’

She did not answer, but went meekly with him to the entrance-hall. It was deserted, save for the porter. Mr Wrexham said: ‘I sent the carriage home, so I must procure a hack. Go and put on your cloak! There is no need to be in a quake: I am not an ogre!’

‘No,’ said the Pink Domino, in a shaken voice. ‘But I – I am not your sister, sir!’

He had turned away, but at this he wheeled about, startled, staring at her. With an impatient movement he ripped off his mask, and it was to be seen that he was suddenly very pale, his eyes fiercely intent upon her face. ‘Take off your mask!’ he commanded imperatively. ‘I know your voice!
Surely
I know your voice?’

She put up her hands to untie the strings of her mask. ‘I knew yours,’ she said simply. ‘You – you are always rescuing me from the consequences of my folly, sir!’

He found himself gazing into the sweetest face he had ever beheld. It was heart-shaped, possessed of a pair of smiling grey eyes, which met his shyly yet frankly, and of a tender, generous mouth. Oblivious of the porter’s bored presence, he grasped her hands, ejaculating: ‘
You!
Oh, my little love, where have you been hiding yourself? I have searched everywhere for you! Such a zany as I was never to have discovered even your name!’

She blushed, and her gaze fell. ‘I don’t know yours either, sir,’ she said, trying to speak lightly.

‘I am Giles Wrexham. And you?’

It meant nothing to her; she replied: ‘Ruth Welborne. I have not been in hiding, only, when I met you before I was still in mourning for my father, and so, you see, I have not till now gone into society. Did you indeed look for me?’

‘Everywhere!’ he declared, still grasping her hands. ‘I had abandoned hope! Where do you live? Let me not lose you again!’

She gave a little laugh. ‘How absurd you are! In Harley Street, with my uncle, who was kind enough to take me into his family when my father died.’

He had never encountered a Welborne; from the direction it seemed probable that her uncle might be a banker, or a merchant, or an Indian nabob. His brain fleetingly acknowledged the possibility, and discarded it as a matter of no consequence. ‘But what, in God’s name, are you doing at a Pantheon masquerade?’ he demanded. ‘In
such
company, too! Do you tell me that your uncle brought you here?’

‘Oh, no, no!’ she said quickly. ‘Indeed, I do not think that he or my aunt knew just how it would be, for they do not go into society much.’

‘Then how comes it about that you are here?’

She did not seem to resent the question, but it was a moment before she answered it. She said then, with a little difficulty: ‘It was a party of Sir Godfrey Claines’s contriving. He is the man in the purple domino. A cousin of his, a Mrs Worksop, invited me, and my aunt wished me not to refuse. You see, sir, I – I have not the advantage of fortune, and my aunt has three daughters of her own, the eldest of whom she will bring out next year. It would not be reasonable to suppose that she would desire to be saddled with me under such circumstances.’

‘I understand you!’ he said, tightly holding her hands.

She had lowered her eyes, but she raised them at that, and said: ‘Ah, you are not to be thinking that I have met with unkindness! It is not so! I was bred in the country, and perhaps I am missish in not liking – But I was never more thankful in my life, sir, than when you came to my rescue just now!’

He released her hands at last. ‘Go and put on your cloak!’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘I will take you back to your uncle’s house.’

‘Mrs Worksop!’ she faltered. ‘Ought I not –’

‘No. She did not take such care of you that you owe her a particle of civility.’

‘Your sister! I collect that she too is present. I must not –’

‘It is of no consequence,’ he interrupted. ‘If she is here, it is not under my protection! Come, do as I bid you! Do you think I mean to let you slip through my fingers again?’

‘Surely I must be dreaming!’ Ruth said, as the hack drew to a standstill. ‘I thought I should never see you again, and now – ! But how can it be? You do not know me!’

‘I am very sure that I do. As for my own mind, I knew that the instant you opened your dear eyes, that day in Bond Street, and looked up into my face.’

‘It was so with you too!’ she said wonderingly.

He kissed her hand, and let it go. ‘It was so. Come, we must get out of this musty coach, and brave your uncle and aunt!’

‘Good heavens, you will not tell them – ? They must think you mad! Pray do not – !’

‘No, not tonight,’ he said reassuringly, assisting her to alight.

‘I fear my aunt may be much displeased with me,’ she said. ‘Should you perhaps leave me now?’

‘No. Nor, I fancy, will your aunt be displeased,’ he replied.

The master of the house, they were informed by the servant who admitted them, was still at his club, but Mrs Welborne was at home, and in the drawing-room.

They found her deep in the pages of the newest marble-backed novel from the Circulating Library. Taken unawares, she looked up in surprise, and exclaimed: ‘Good God, Ruth, what in the world brings you home so soon? I declare, you are the most vexatious –’ She stopped short, her gaze travelling past Ruth to Mr Wrexham. One instant she sat with her jaw dropping, then she cast aside her novel and sprang up, a look compound of amazement and delight transfiguring her sharp countenance. ‘Oh – ! Surely I cannot be mistaken? Is it not –
Mr
Wrexham
?’

He bowed. ‘Yes, I am Wrexham, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I made the acquaintance of Miss Welborne a month and more ago, in Bond Street, as she may have told you.’

Her face was a study. ‘In Bond Street!
You
were the gentleman who – ? Good God, Ruth, why did you not inform me? I am sure, sir, that had we but known my husband would have called on you to convey the sense of his obligation!’

Mr Wrexham, inured to flattery, and never famed for his social graces, cut her short, saying in his incisive way: ‘It is of no consequence, ma’am. What
is
of consequence is that I have brought Miss Welborne home this evening because I found her where no young lady of quality should be, and being subjected to such embarrassment as, I am persuaded, you would not wish her to be obliged to endure.’

‘No, indeed! I am sure, if I had had the least notion –’

‘Just so, ma’am.
I
am sure that I need not enlarge upon this topic. May I beg that you will give me leave to call tomorrow to see how Miss Welborne does?’

She was wreathed in smiles. ‘We shall be
most
happy, sir!’

‘Thank you. I shall hope to have the felicity of finding Mr Welborne at home, for there is something I wish to say to him.’

‘He
shall
be at home!’ declared Mrs Welborne.

He bowed again, and turned from her to Ruth, who had been listening in bewilderment to her aunt’s affability. He held out his hand, and she put hers into it, as though compelled. He raised it to his lips. ‘Have I
your
permission to visit you tomorrow?’ he asked, smiling into her wondering eyes.

The smile was reflected in them. ‘If you please, sir!’ Ruth said, blushing adorably.

Mrs Welborne, much affected, rang for the servant to show Mr Wrexham out of the house. When he had gone, Ruth, looking doubtfully at her aunt, said in her soft voice: ‘I hope you are not vexed with me, ma’am? Indeed, I –’

‘
Vexed
with you?’ cried Mrs Welborne, embracing her with unaccustomed fervour. ‘Dearest Ruth, what nonsensical notions you do take into your head! Dear, dear child, I know that when you are rich and fashionable you will not forget your cousins! They say he has never yet attached himself to any female, and you may imagine the caps that have been set at him! Ruth, is it possible – ? Why, you innocent puss, that was
Wrexham
of
Lyonshall
!’

Mr Wrexham, returning to Grosvenor Square just before midnight, learned, with vague surprise, that he was awaited by her ladyship in the drawing-room. He found, in fact, that he was awaited not only by her ladyship, but by his sister, and a well set-up young man in scarlet regimentals, who had a crop of fair, curly hair, a pair of serious blue eyes, set in an open countenance, and a general air of one about to engage in a Forlorn Hope. Both he and Letty rose at Mr Wrexham’s entrance. The gentleman eased his black cravat, and was seen to draw a deep breath; the lady burst into tempestuous speech.

‘Good heavens, Giles, where can you have been this age? We have been waiting for you these two hours! Giles, this is Edwin!’

‘How do you do?’ said Mr Wrexham, holding out his hand.

Mr Ledbury’s orbs showed a tendency to start from their sockets. He coloured richly, and grasped the outstretched hand. ‘How – how do you do?’ he stammered. ‘I have long been wishful of meeting you, sir!’

‘Have you?’ said Mr Wrexham abstractedly. He opened his snuff-box, and offered it to his guest. His eyes took in the facings to that scarlet jacket. ‘In the 40th are you?’

Mr Ledbury acknowledged it. Almost stunned by the honour done him in being invited to help himself to snuff from Mr Wrexham’s own box, he took too large a pinch, and fell into a fit of sneezing. This left the field open to Letty, and she at once said: ‘You must know, Giles, that but for my entreaties this visit would have been paid you more than a month ago! No sooner did I divulge to Edwin what had passed between you and me this morning than he declared his unshakeable resolve to wait upon you immediately! We stayed only to dine with his sister.’