Eighteen

The following evening Gwendeline and Miss Brown were to go to Almack’s, the first large public gathering they’d attended in some time, and Gwendeline readied herself with care. Her dress was one she’d worn before, a sea-green crepe, but she looked well in it, she knew, and tonight she added a filmy wrap of real lace.

As she dressed, she once again encouraged Ellen to talk, and she soon had the girl chattering as constantly as ever. This further sign that things were returning to normal in her household was a relief. Moreover, it seemed that Ellen was striking up a friendship with Yvette, a gratifying development. The two had always maintained a certain distance, which had led to some quarreling and discord. But now it seemed that this was past. Yvette had expressed her sympathy with Ellen’s position and won her over. As she went downstairs that evening, Gwendeline felt rather complacent about the way she’d managed during this difficult period.

The two ladies arrived on the steps of Almack’s by nine thirty, well before its doors would be closed to latecomers. They chanced to encounter Lillian Everly and her mother as they were going in, and since the girls hadn’t seen each other for an entire day, they were soon deep in conversation. Miss Brown chatted amiably with Mrs. Everly, and the two of them found chairs together; they had become friends since Gwendeline’s return to London.

Gwendeline told Lillian all about her tour of English paintings. The latter was a little envious. “To be escorted on a picture viewing expedition by one of our foremost living artists! Really, Gwendeline, that’s a bit ostentatious, is it not? Splendid luck you have, that’s all I can say. Things fall into your lap.”

Gwendeline retorted in the same facetious spirit. “Someone born both beautiful and rich shouldn’t belittle luck, my dear Lillian.” She grinned at her friend, and they laughed together.

“Well, I really am envious,” Lillian went on. “I spent the day most drearily. First, endless fittings for my new ball gown. Mother is never satisfied with it because I’m to wear it to the duchess’s ball; she wishes me to look perfect. And then”—Lillian paused dramatically, giving Gwendeline a mock tragic glance—“in the afternoon, who do you think called on us?”

“The queen?” answered Gwendeline.

“No, goose, and you’ve quite spoiled the effect of my revelation. The Duchess of Craigbourne herself called.”

This information sobered Gwendeline. “Really, Lillian? What did she want?”

“Just to look me over, my mother believes,” Lillian replied. Her gaiety had begun to sound slightly false. “She thinks it a very good sign, for the duke is much influenced by his mother’s opinion.”

“Ugh,” said Gwendeline. “Just like poor Lord Wanley. I suppose the duchess is even worse than his mother. How horrid!”

Lillian considered. “No,” she said. “If I’m honest, I must say that the duchess is nothing like Lady Wanley.” She turned to look at Gwendeline. “She’s a very formidable woman, but she has a kind of dignity and true politeness that Lady Wanley will never approach.” Lillian shrugged, smiling ruefully. “I admit I rather admired her. I hope to be half so composed one day.”

“Lillian, you’re not changing your mind about marrying the duke because of his mother?”

“No, indeed. It’s just more proof that they’re a charming family and I am a fool to reject such a chance.”

“That is what your mother says, I suppose,” answered Gwendeline.

Lillian nodded. “And you know as well as I that she’s right, Gwendeline. Such matches are very rare. I would have everything. Rank, wealth, social position, and a pleasant, considerate husband and mother-in-law. When she talked of how she would be moving to the dowager’s residence as soon as the duke married, for she does not believe that young couples should be burdened with family, I was ready to sink.”

At that moment both girls were solicited for the first dance and conversation became impossible. Gwendeline danced the first few sets with some of her usual partners, young men whom she liked and could chat with easily. She tried several times to speak with Lillian, but could find no opportunity for private conversation. The set preceding supper was just forming when she saw Lillian solicited by the Duke of Craigbourne, and Gwendeline realized with chagrin that the duke would take her in to supper. She was just wondering whether she could somehow separate them when a voice beside her said, “They make a fine couple, don’t they?” It was Major St. Audley, and his tone was bitter. “They have all the prerequisites. He has great wealth and position; she has beauty, elegance, and enough money to tempt him. It’s a perfect match.”

“Oh, I’m nearly out of patience with the two of you. Why must you be so foolish?”

The major looked rather surprised. “What would you have me do? I can’t compete with the likes of Craigbourne.”

“Of course you can,” insisted Gwendeline. “If you are truly in love. Lillian cares more for love than position.”

“You seem very sure of that, but I’m not. She would be the foolish one, to take me over Craigbourne. And I’m not even certain she cares for me at all, you know.” He turned back to Gwendeline suddenly. “Unless… Has she said something to you?”

Gwendeline shook her head, and the major’s face fell. “But I have a feeling,” Gwendeline said, “that she is not indifferent to you.”

He brightened for a moment then looked down again. “A feeling,” he said. “You’re imagining things because you wish to help me.” He put up a hand to forestall her answer. “And that is very kind. I’m grateful. But it’s no use.” The music was beginning. “I came over to ask you to dance, in any case. Shall we join the set?” He held out his hand, and Gwendeline took it, though she felt like shaking him. He and Lillian would never overcome the obstacles in the path of love if they remained so obdurate. For a moment she felt like giving up and leaving them to their fates.

But as she danced, she reconsidered. It wasn’t Lillian’s fault entirely that she was acting foolishly. She had no idea that the major loved her. And he believed that he was being noble, sacrificing himself for his love. Gwendeline wouldn’t give up yet. As the dance ended, she tried to ensure that they stopped near Lillian and the duke. The major was reluctant, but Gwendeline maneuvered him close enough so that they had to speak. As the two of them approached from one side, Gwendeline was rather annoyed to see Lord Merryn and Adele coming from the other. All four converged on Lillian and the duke at the same time.

Adele Greene appeared upset. “We’re so late,” she told anyone who would listen. “Alex delayed so long that we barely got in before the doors were closed, and now I have hardly danced and it’s already time for supper. It’s all exceedingly stupid.”

Lord Merryn appeared blandly unaffected by this speech. As the party began to drift in to supper together, Major St. Audley looked little short of miserable; Adele was petulant, Lillian withdrawn, and Gwendeline was anxious. Only the duke and Lord Merryn, who remained his usual imperturbable self, seemed at ease. The latter moved to smooth things over. “Adele,” he said, “I don’t believe you’ve met the duke.”

The change in Adele’s expression was immediate and complete. Suddenly, she was smiling brilliantly. “Why, no,” she replied, turning toward Craigbourne. “I haven’t had that honor.” Lord Merryn performed the introductions with a mocking smile. Gwendeline caught his eye for a moment, and he raised his eyebrows sardonically, as if inviting her to join in his enjoyment of the scene. Gwendeline looked away, not knowing how to respond to this seeming mockery of his betrothed.

When they seated themselves at a table in the supper room, Gwendeline found herself between the major and Lord Merryn. It seemed to her that the earl had purposely placed Adele next to the duke, and she knew that she had hurried the major into the seat next to Lillian. Conversation was strained at first, as they tried to talk in one large group. But gradually, Adele began to monopolize the duke’s attention, excluding Lillian, and the major perforce engaged her in conversation. This left Gwendeline and Lord Merryn to talk to each other, though Gwendeline’s attention was diverted by the other conversations around the table.

Adele was acting surprisingly meek. She was listening with rapturous interest to the duke’s description of his country house, really a rambling palace, in the north. Gwendeline could tell from the way he talked that he loved it dearly. Indeed, she heard him say that he always hated to leave it and come to London. Adele agreed fervently with this sentiment, as with all the duke’s opinions, and Gwendeline smiled. She’d more than once heard Adele express complete distaste for country living.

Gwendeline sat back and sighed. Actually, she thought, Lillian is probably right; she could be more or less happy married to the duke and living in such a place much of the time. Lillian really loved the country. Perhaps Gwendeline was wrong to try to interfere in other people’s lives. She made a wry face; she certainly hadn’t done so well with her own.

“If you’re going to make faces as we sit here,” said Lord Merryn, “I shall talk to you. I have no objection to a little quiet. But you will have everyone in the room believing that I have done something very odd if you persist in grimacing.”

Gwendeline smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was thinking. I haven’t been a very amusing dinner companion.”

“I do not require always to be amused,” he replied. “What were you thinking, to give rise to such an expression?”

“I was wondering whether it is better not to interfere in other people’s lives,” she answered slowly.

The earl looked genuinely startled. “Whatever made you think of that?”

Gwendeline looked up quickly and gave an embarrassed shrug. “It was simply idle speculation.”

“You don’t think that one should interfere for the good of all concerned?”

“How is one to judge what is for the good of everyone?” replied Gwendeline. She put her chin in her hand. “I’ve tried to do so on more than one occasion and have sometimes acted on my decisions, but I began to wonder just now whether I was right to do so. In my own life, I’ve made mistakes, so how can I presume to judge for others?”

“I think it’s often easier to see the right path for another than for oneself.”

Gwendeline brightened a little. “That seems true,” she said. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Lord Merryn started to answer her, but at that moment Adele, seeing that he’d become engrossed in conversation with Gwendeline, claimed his attention. She laughingly appealed to him to confirm some story she was telling the duke, and Lord Merryn was pulled away.

Gwendeline, left to herself, turned her attention to the major and Lillian. Immediately, she felt better. The reserve she’d noticed in Major St. Audley when they first sat down had disappeared. He and Lillian were talking animatedly but comfortably like old and dear friends. When Gwendeline saw the eyes of each, she was sure she’d done the right thing in throwing them together and certain that they were in love. There was no mistaking their expressions.

Gwendeline sat back in her seat, her supper plate forgotten. How unfortunate it was that the major had no income of his own that would allow him to marry Lillian. A thought struck Gwendeline. Lord Merryn was said to be very rich. Wouldn’t he give his brother a generous income if he knew his plight? Even as she asked herself this question, Gwendeline was sure he would. A man who would go to such lengths to help her, the daughter of a friend but almost a stranger to him really, would surely share his wealth with his own brother. She turned back to Lord Merryn, the request on her lips, but he was still talking with Adele and the duke.

Gwendeline realized that this was hardly the moment to bring up such a subject. The major or Lillian might have heard her! She must wait for the proper opportunity. Perhaps Major St. Audley was too proud to ask his brother for money, but she wouldn’t hesitate to do so to ensure Lillian’s happiness.

The earl turned back to Gwendeline. “Are you too warm?” he asked. “You look quite flushed.” He smiled. “Or perhaps Andrew has said something improper?” His brother didn’t hear this remark; he was too deeply occupied with Lillian.

Gwendeline smiled. “Oh no, perhaps I am a little warm.”

“I wish I could offer to take you for a stroll, but I fear we could only walk about the ballroom, and it isn’t much cooler there,” he answered.

“No, but I should very much like some private conversation with you. On a matter of some importance.”

“Indeed.” He raised his eyebrows. “In that case, we should take a turn about the room. I go out of town tomorrow and won’t return for several days. I have some business to see to in the country.”

“I see,” replied Gwendeline. “Could we talk now?” She looked about the room uncertainly.

“This appears to be important.”

“I think it is.” Gwendeline half rose from her seat. But at that moment two things occurred. The music started up again in the ballroom, causing a beginning exodus of diners, and Adele once more claimed the earl’s attention. Gwendeline had already promised the first dance after supper, and as Lord Merryn tried to escape Adele, the young man came to claim her so that they might join a set of his friends. Everything seemed to conspire against any private talk with the earl.

As she made her way back to the ballroom, Gwendeline noticed that Adele and the duke, and Lillian and the major, were following to join the dancers. This was something, at least. She went through the movements of the quadrille impatiently, eager to get away to talk to Lord Merryn.

But for the rest of the evening, she could find no opportunity to do so. Either she was occupied, dancing or chatting, or he was engaged, and when he attempted to ask her to dance, she had already promised the set to someone else. Gwendeline felt very frustrated. Only as she and Miss Brown were leaving was she able to speak to him alone for a moment. He came up to say good night when Adele was occupied in bidding the duke farewell. “I’m sorry we’ve had no chance to talk,” he told Gwendeline. “It’s always difficult in such surroundings. Can this matter wait a little while?”

Gwendeline nodded. “I suppose so. You’re going out of town tomorrow?”

“Very early.”

“You will return for my party?” she exclaimed.

He smiled. “That would bring me back if nothing else did,” he replied. “Though I may not return until that very day.” At this point Adele called to him that their carriage was ready, and a look of annoyance crossed his face. “I must go. But I will call as soon as I’m able.” He bowed and walked away.

Gwendeline went home dissatisfied but resigned. She comforted herself by imagining how happy Lillian and Major St. Audley would be when her plan succeeded. She was tired and eager to get to bed, but as she started up the stairs, Reeves once again handed her a note that had been delivered by hand. Gwendeline took it gingerly, staring at it for some moments before she continued up to her chamber. She laid the envelope on her dressing table, and while she made ready for bed, she glanced at it repeatedly. She began to feel as though it was a snake or some other venomous creature lying there waiting to strike. Finally, she picked it up. “I am not afraid to open it,” she said fiercely to her image in the mirror. “It’s probably nothing.” She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents. Then, she fell back in her chair. It was exactly like the last—the uneven black printing and the threatening message. Gwendeline dropped it on her dressing table.

This time she would keep the note and show it to Miss Brown, she decided. She should have done so in the first place. Having decided this, she felt better, and after a time, was able to sleep.

In the morning, Gwendeline sought out Miss Brown as soon as she returned from her early errands, showed her the note, and explained its history, as well as her connection of it with the one sent to Adele Greene. When she’d finished, Miss Brown said nothing for a while, but she looked very serious as she stared at the note. Finally, she tapped it with her finger and said, “I believe Lord Merryn should be told of this immediately. Two such letters, and the one sent to Adele, are not to be taken lightly. We must ask for help in this matter. It calls for investigation. Lord Merryn will agree with me, I’m sure. We should send a note round to his house immediately.”

“He has gone out of town,” Gwendeline replied. “He won’t be back for several days. He mentioned it last night at Almack’s.”

Miss Brown frowned. “Well, I suppose it will do no harm to wait that long.” She looked steadily at Gwendeline. “I doubt there is any real threat to you. Persons who write such letters generally do nothing further, I’ve heard. But it will be wise to be careful, and we shall ask Lord Merryn to look into it as soon as possible.” She folded up the note. “I shall keep this,” she finished.

“But who can be sending these dreadful things, Brown?”

“Most likely an unpleasant individual has lighted on your name and is playing a wicked prank.”

“But what of Adele’s letter? The writer of that knew something of me and my circumstances.”

Miss Brown frowned. “I’m not convinced all the letters came from one person,” she answered. “But as I said, we would do well to be careful.”

Reeves entered the breakfast room. “Lady Merryn has called,” he announced.

Gwendeline and Miss Brown looked up in surprise. It was not yet nine, well before the countess’s usual hour of rising. Lady Merryn followed Reeves into the room, and she spoke breathlessly before they could greet her. “I had to come immediately,” she said. “I know it’s terribly early, but I was sure you would be up and I have just had such news! Alex has been attacked by highwaymen!”

“What!” exclaimed both of her listeners.

Lady Merryn appeared very satisfied with the reaction she’d provoked. She sat down at the breakfast table and helped herself to the remains of the tea in the pot. “I rushed out so early, I had no time for breakfast,” she said, reaching for a muffin.

“But what’s happened?” cried Gwendeline. “Is Lord Merryn hurt?”

The countess looked a little surprised at the intensity of this outburst, then turned contrite. “No, no, Alex is perfectly all right. I’m sorry for being so dramatic in my announcement. I’ve upset you.”

“You’ve certainly made us eager to hear your story, at any rate,” replied Miss Brown, mildly censorious.

“Of course.” Lady Merryn abandoned her breakfast and sat back. “Well, Alex started out of town at first light this morning. Perhaps you knew he was going to look over some properties in the country?” At their nods, she continued. “He’d hardly passed the city limits when his carriage was set upon by two highwaymen, with pistols.” Lady Merryn’s eyes glowed. “Imagine, real highwaymen!”

Gwendeline shuddered. “I’m trying my best not to do so,” she said. “You’re sure he’s not hurt?”

“No, no, he’s all right. His groom, however, received a ball in the shoulder.”

“What?” cried Gwendeline. “Someone was shot?”

“Hitchins,” answered the countess, looking slightly perplexed, “the groom. The two villains demanded money, and Alex gave them his purse. Very cow-hearted of him.”

“Rather, very sensible,” put in Miss Brown.

“Well, in any case, they weren’t satisfied with that, which is excessively odd because Alex had nearly a hundred pounds with him. They demanded that everyone descend from the carriage. Alex had his valet with him as well, you know.” She stopped and took a sip of tea. Gwendeline, wild with impatience, felt like shaking her, but she knew it would do no good. Finally, Lady Merryn went on. “Well, at that request Hitchins became angry. He’s been with Alex since he was a child, you know, and he is quite attached to him. He tried to draw his pistol. Alex always insists on carrying guns when traveling. It makes me very uneasy. One of the highwaymen saw his movement and shot him through the arm. Only a flesh wound, whether by intent or from poor shooting, I do not know.” Lady Merryn waved her hand airily. “The robbers’ attention being diverted by this incident, Alex and his valet managed to reach their weapons. The valet actually fired, I believe, but he missed his aim. He is, in any case, a shockingly poor shot.” She put her chin in her hand. “A pity. I should have liked to interview a real highwayman.”

“What happened then?” asked Gwendeline anxiously.

“Oh.” Lady Merryn started. “The ruffians were scared off. They fled, and Alex brought Hitchins to me because of his wound. He is properly poulticed and bandaged now. The foolish man wished to continue on, but he’s much too weak.”

“You mean Lord Merryn resumed his journey?” asked Gwendeline.

“Oh, yes,” answered the countess. “He is gone again.”

“Why? How could he start out again after being attacked in that way?”

Lady Merryn looked surprised. “He had business waiting. You wouldn’t expect him to remain cowering in London?”

“Yes, I would,” insisted Gwendeline. “At least until those men are caught. How could he go back out on the road when they’re lurking there?”

“Oh, I think highwaymen rarely attack one twice,” replied the countess. “Why should they indeed, once they have taken your money?”

Gwendeline was speechless with frustration at Lady Merryn’s careless attitude.

“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” continued the latter soothingly. “Alex is well able to take care of himself. Has been since he was a boy.”

“If he thought it right to go on, I am sure he had good reason,” said Miss Brown.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Gwendeline jumped up and ran from the room.

“Well.” Lady Merryn seemed surprised. “Everything is all right now, after all.”

Miss Brown only nodded.

The countess rose. “I must go. I wanted to tell you the news and reassure you. I feared you might hear gossip later in the day. These sorts of things get so distorted when they circulate about town, you know.”

“That was very kind of you,” answered Miss Brown. “I know Gwendeline appreciates it also. I will see you out.”

When she had said goodbye to Lady Merryn, Miss Brown went in search of Gwendeline. She found her in the drawing room, sitting in one of the armchairs staring at the wall. The girl looked up when she entered. “I’m sorry, Brown. I simply couldn’t endure it any longer. How could she be so calm? To call such a horrible thing romantic!”

“She knew her son was safe and the groom taken care of,” replied Miss Brown mildly. “For her, the whole incident was past, while for you, it was fresh and new.”

“And just after we were talking of those horrid letters. It was too much.” A thought struck her suddenly. “You do not think the two could be connected?”

“The letters and the highwaymen?”

Gwendeline nodded.

“What possible connection could there be?” asked Miss Brown.

“I…I don’t know. They are both dreadful…” Gwendeline trailed off uncertainly.

“They are,” Miss Brown agreed. “And that is all they have in common.”

“You’re right.” Gwendeline sighed. “But I find life a bit too eventful these days. At Brooklands a broken plate was the greatest tragedy.”

“In that, I must agree,” replied Miss Brown. “Let us hope all of the excitement is over now.”