Rake's Progress (8 page)

She rode round in a circle, standing on the horse. The stage was a sort of half-circus ring on a level with the front benches. Then, with one quick movement, she crouched down, put out one muscular arm, and lifted little Peter up into the saddle to stand next to her.

Dazzled and excited, Peter clutched hold of one of her plump legs and hung on tight with one hand and waved frantically to Esther with the other.

‘Odds Fish,' said Mr Roger, ‘that's torn it.' Lord Guy had already vaulted over the box and was making his way rapidly to the front.

Madame Chartreuse jumped down lightly, holding Peter, placed him beside her, and took a bow to tumultuous applause while her manager gnashed his teeth in the wings and looked more like a stage villain than any of the actors.

Miss Esther Jones' temper, so long held firmly in check, flamed up. Seizing her umbrella, she marched on the stage and brought it down full on Madame Chartreuse's head, took Peter by the hand, and began to march back to her seat. Madame Chartreuse jumped on Esther's back, tore her hat off, and threw it in the sawdust, leapt down and began to do a sort of war dance on it. Esther, the glory of her red hair now spilling about her shoulders, placed Peter beside his sister, told him sternly not to move, marched back to Madame and slapped her with such force that the actress went flying. Madame Chartreuse rose to her feet, her eyes blazing with hate.

‘A mill! A mill!' cheered the audience wildly. ‘A hundred to one on the Amazon!' cried one buck, delirious with joy as he stared as Esther. ‘Look at those shoulders!' he called.

Lord Guy ran onto the stage just as the two women were about to close again. He seized both their hands in a powerful grip and dragged them round to face the audience.

‘Bow!' he said savagely. ‘Bow, damn the pair of you.'

In a dazed way, Esther bowed. Madame Chartreuse, quickly grasping the advantages of the situation, bowed as well.

What a roar of applause went up! Money and jewels were thrown in the ring.

Everyone in the audience thought the whole scene had been deliberately staged.

Esther began to shiver and feel sick. What had she done? Amy and Peter were dancing up and down on the front benches, cheering themselves hoarse.

‘Get the children,' said Lord Guy in Esther's ear. ‘It is time to go.'

With a graceful wave to the crowd, he released Madame Chartreuse's hand, but kept a firm grip on Esther's. Weakly, she let herself be led up the centre aisle while Peter and Amy held on to Lord Guy's coat-tails. It was like walking through a tunnel of sound, a thin lane through a forest of clapping hands.

At one point, Mr Roger thrust his way forward and looked about to join them, but Lord Guy shook his head.

Outside in the street, Esther stood trembling with her head bowed. ‘Where is your carriage?' demanded Lord Guy.

‘I came in a hack.'

‘Manuel,' called Lord Guy. His servant appeared at his elbow. ‘My carriage, immediately,' said Lord Guy.

Peter and Amy had fallen silent. They looked anxiously up at their big sister. Something had gone badly wrong. But they still thought that in some clever and amazing way Esther had planned the whole thing.

‘Please leave me, my lord,' said Esther quietly.

‘Think of the children,' he said. ‘The evening air is cold. I have a closed carriage.'

She said nothing more but continued to stand with her head bowed, her heavy red hair concealing her face.

Lord Guy was grateful he had hired a closed carriage for the Season. His racing curricle was all very well for fine weather, but unsuitable for an evening outing in this wintry spring.

He handed her in, then the children, and told the coachman to drive them to Berkeley Square.

Esther felt ready to sink with shame. She had behaved like a washerwoman in front of a good section of London, and now she was allowing herself and the dear children to be escorted home by a rake and libertine.

‘Did you enjoy your evening, children?' she heard Lord Guy ask.

‘It was the most wonderful evening of my life,' said Peter solemnly. ‘How clever of you, Esther, to arrange
such
a treat.'

Esther raised her eyes and opened her mouth to explain, but by the light of the carriage candle lamp in its clockwork holder, she saw Lord Guy gently shake his head.

‘As long as you enjoyed it,' she said stiffly.

Amy hugged her big sister. ‘I
love
you, Esther,' she said. ‘I've never been so happy.'

Esther turned her head away and blinked back a sudden rush of tears. She led a lonely life and did
as much for the children as she possibly could. She had always wanted them to show some demonstration of love. One monumental piece of disgraceful behaviour had elicited all the protestations of affection of which she had dreamt.

‘Me, too,' said Peter, pressing her hand. ‘I was so proud of you, Esther, I thought my heart would burst. And you
trusted
me. I felt like a man when she picked me up on that horse. And that stage fight you had with her was so
real
. It was monstrous clever the way she fell back when you pretended to strike her.'

When the carriage reached Berkeley Square, Esther squared her shoulders, and, avoiding Lord Guy's eye, said stiffly, ‘I am much indebted to you, sir.'

‘Delighted to be of service, ma'am,' he said.

Esther wanted rid of him, but at the same time she craved reassurance from some member of society, be it only a soiled and degraded one.

‘May I offer you some refreshment, my lord?' she said.

‘Thank you. You are very kind.'

Once indoors, Esther put him in the dim and dark saloon and took the excited children upstairs. Before she turned them over to the nursery maid, she begged them not to tell any of the servants, ‘for it was a most wild and unconventional thing to do,' she ended uncomfortably.

‘We won't tell a soul, will we, Amy?' said Peter. ‘You've never given us a big secret to keep before, Esther.'

Once she had called the nursery maid, Esther rang for her own maid and, with her help, changed her gown and put her hair into a knot, shoved one of her caps firmly on top, and went down the stairs again to face Lord Guy.

It was an evening for breaking the conventions. Esther knew, as she was unmarried and unchaperoned, she should have left the door open. But she was frightened of one of the servants hearing what she had to say, and so, once she had ascertained that wine and cakes had been brought in, she closed the door.

Lord Guy poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her. Esther was about to point out that she had never in her life had anything stronger than lemonade, but she was still shaken, and so she took the glass and asked Lord Guy to sit down.

‘I gather you do not use this room much, ma'am,' said Lord Guy, sitting down on an uncomfortable high-backed and carved Jacobean monstrosity.

‘On the contrary,' said Esther, automatically sipping her wine, ‘it is in constant use.'

Lord Guy looked about. The room was dominated by a sort of pulpit with a large Bible on it. The curtains at the windows were as heavy and red and stiff as if they had been steeped in blood. The mantelpiece was of black marble, as was the clock on it. There was a painting above the fireplace of a cross-looking man in severe clothes who was pointing solemnly at his ear, rather as if to show a doctor where it hurt, or to indicate the whole world was mad.

‘Your father?' asked Lord Guy politely.

‘No, my lord,' said Esther with a return to her usual manner. ‘That is one of our great evangelical reformers, Mr Isaac Sidcup.'

He noticed she had drunk almost all of her wine, and refilled her glass.

He sat down again and crossed a pair of wellmoulded legs.
People went on about present-day women's fashions being indecent
, thought Esther.
But the men wear their Inexpressibles so skin-tight, they leave little to the imagination.

She frowned suspiciously at her wineglass. Was this why the preachers warned against the pernicious effects of wine? Was it the wine that was causing her to think about men's legs?

Esther looked up and saw Lord Guy was studying her with a mixture of tenderness and amusement.
He
is
very handsome
, she thought breathlessly.

With an obvious effort, she pulled herself together.

‘My lord,' she said, ‘I trust you will not speak of the happenings tonight or that I entertained you without a chaperone.'

‘You have my solemn word.'

‘On the other hand, I do not see how it can be kept quiet. The whole of London will be talking about it tomorrow.'

‘They will gossip furiously about what appeared to be an exciting theatrical performance. They will not believe the actress they saw is a respectable lady, living in Berkeley Square. Avoid social
engagements for a week. After that, everyone will have forgotten about it.'

‘I have no social engagements,' said Esther. ‘Your unusual and estimable butler suggested perhaps I should look to the future – the children's future – and make some friends in the
ton
. I am not of the aristocracy.'

‘You are obviously of the gentry. You will not find any doors closed to you – if you go about it the right way.'

‘And what is the right way?'

‘I suggest you hold an entertainment and ask my butler how to go about it. It appears one must have a theme, decorate the rooms, and provide an entertainment which will intrigue society.'

‘But I do not know anyone!'

‘Send out richly embossed invitations. London is thin of amusements. Rainbird will know whom you should invite.'

‘You are most kind.' Esther rose to her feet as a signal that the call was at an end.

‘May I call on you, ma'am?' asked Lord Guy.

‘I cannot allow that,' said Esther gravely. ‘I have the children's morals to consider. I fear you are a rake.'

‘Rakes can reform.'

Esther shook her head, unconsciously echoing Rainbird. ‘That only happens in books, my lord,' she said sadly. ‘Only in books.'

Lord Guy dismissed the carriage and walked slowly back to Clarges Street. Damn that supper
party! Was he never to be free of the scandal that had caused?

Rainbird was waiting for him in the hall.

‘Good evening, my lord,' he said, taking Lord Guy's cloak and seemingly oblivious to Manuel, who stood scowling in the shadows.

‘Good evening, Rainbird. Mr Roger at home?'

‘He is not yet returned.'

‘Good. Come with me, Rainbird. You must return to Berkeley Square as soon as possible.'

‘Come, come,' said Tom's father, ‘at your time of life,
‘There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake –
‘It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife' –
‘Why, so it is, father – whose wife shall I take?'

THOMAS MOORE

Once more Rainbird sat facing Miss Esther Jones. He politely asked if she had enjoyed Astley's and was surprised to see that his innocent question had brought a blush to her cheeks.

He quickly changed the subject and asked how he could be of service to her.

‘I do not know what your master has told you,' said Esther, ‘but the fact is I am desirous of taking your advice and introducing myself to the
ton
.'

‘I have given the matter careful thought,' said Rainbird, ‘for my lord did mention the matter to me. I think a children's party would be a good idea. There are many
tonnish
children in Berkeley Square.'

‘What a wonderful idea!' cried Esther. Then her face fell. ‘But how do I go about inviting them? I
regret to say I have not allowed Peter or Amy to play with any children.'

‘It will be necessary for me to prepare the ground first,' said Rainbird. ‘To that end, I must ask you two seemingly impertinent questions.'

‘Go ahead.'

‘Are you engaged to be married?'