Jane Feather - Charade

by Unknown

  to be all and everything to the child for twenty-four hours a day.

  "I do not think motherhood has changed her very much," the chevalier observed with the ease of friendship. "I would not put it past her to confront Robespierre and Danton."

  "Neither would I, my friend. But if you can contrive to keep her sufficiently busy in London, we may perhaps avert my having to resist such a plan. We have been living in considerable harmony since the debacle at Newgate and I have no desire to disturb it."

  The Lintons returned to London in October. The infant Nicholas, his nurse, nursery maid, and all the possessions considered necessary for his comfort were ensconced in a second chaise, while Molly occupied the first in solitary state, Danielle having chosen to ride in the company of her husband and Peter Haversham.

  For a full day after their arrival, Linton House was turned upside down by a tempestuous countess who declared the traditional nursery apartments quite inadequate in their present condition for her son. They were too dark, shabby, and cramped; she did not care for the color scheme or the furnishings and something must be done immediately. When Linton observed mildly that they had been considered well enough for him, he had been roundly informed that there was no reason to visit his deprivations on the next generation.

  The nursery party was housed temporarily in the west wing while an army of painters and decorators

  tore down the old curtains, covered the nursery walls with crisp white paint, the woodwork with glossy scarlet, and the floors with a deep blue carpet. Bright curtains fluttered at the windows and cheerful chintzes covered chairs and cushions before Danielle eventually pronounced herself satisfied and the household heaved a sigh of relief.

  Not for long, however. Five days later, Justin walked into the hall after a leisurely ride in Hyde Park to

  be met by a hysterical nurse and a raging Danielle in driving dress, holding a bawling Nicholas.

  "Out, woman, this instant!" Danielle pointed dramatically to the door.

  "What the devil's going on?" His Lordship demanded,

  "This . . . this . . . Oh, c'est insupportable. The only words that I can think of, I cannot use!" Danny stormed. "Hush now, mon petit chou, hush." The crimson-faced baby yelled louder and Justin took his son firmly out of his mother's arms.

  "You are not going to calm Nicky unless you calm yourself," he said with good reason, patting the child's back. "Let us continue this unseemly scene in a little privacy." He strode to the library and the little viscount hiccupped and ceased his wailing as the steady hand on his back continued its comforting work and the strong familiar arms provided a safe haven from the chaos that had abruptly disrupted his orderly world.

  Danielle followed, her skirts swirling under her impetuous stride. "I am sorry, but it is beyond bearing, Justin." Her voice was calmer now but the brown eyes blazed. "That.. . that. . . woman out there!" She gestured vigorously to the hall as she closed the door. "Nicky has been crying for hours while she has been sitting in the servants' hall gossiping! And she actually said that it was good for him not to have

  what he wanted sometimes if he was not to become spoiled! How dare she? I went out for two hours, just for a drive with Philip, and my child is tortured in my absence."

  "That's a rather dramatic way of putting it," Justin murmured, sitting down in an armchair and giving Nicholas his seal to play with. It disappeared instantly into the small mouth and Justin wiped the residue of tears from the button nose and brown eyes. The child was the spitting image of his mother.

  "It is not at all dramatic," Danielle maintained, but hereyes softened as she looked at them. "The woman must go. She's not fit to care for a child."

  "Not for your child maybe," Justin said carefully. "By all means give her her papers, but she must have

  a month's wages in lieu of notice and a note of character. It would be unjust to do otherwise since her practices would be considered perfectly acceptable in any other household. Your standards are exacting, my love. I have no quarrel with them, but you should realize that they are somewhat unusual."

  "But it is barbaric to leave a child to cry in that fashion. He is but four months old, how else can he express his needs?" she demanded, arched eyebrows meeting in a ferocious frown.

  "An English nurse, my love, expects to reign supreme in her nursery. As far as she is concerned the child is in her sole charge. I remember my own." Justin laughed. "I held her in much more awe than I did my parents; she had a very hard hand and didn't scruple to use it."

  "Well, I will not tolerate such a thing," Danielle declared. "If Nicky must be cared for by others than myself, then they will do so according to my wishes. He is not to be made unhappy."

  Justin thought of the years his son would spend at Eton, years which, if he did not conform, would be sheer misery. But Danielle was right—the child was as yet four months old and entitled to instant gratification of his needs. Time enough later to prepare him for the real world and to prepare Danielle for some facts pertaining to the upbringing of the heir to the Earl of Linton. He could not afford for his son

  to grow up at his mother's apron strings. At that moment Nicholas cooed at his father and smiled. Justin forgot all else but his overpowering love for this helpless trusting scrap. He buried his face in the soft fragrant roundness of the baby's cheek and Danielle, with a satisfied smile, left them and went to

  dispatch Nurse Barker in an orderly fashion.

  Half an hour later she popped her head around the library door. "Justin, I am going to visit the Bouchers in Steeplegate. An aunt lives with them but they are desperately short of room. Tante Therese is well accustomed to babies and I am sure will be happy to take care of Nicky."

  "I will come with you, in that case." Linton stood up carefully, the now sleeping child in his arms. "This may not be one of your usual excursions, but I still prefer that you not make it alone."

  "Comme tu veux." She shrugged easily. "I will put Nicky in his crib and Molly will look after him until

  we return."

  Tante Therese was more than happy with the arrangement and the Linton household, perforce, became accustomed to the presence of an elderly voluble Frenchwoman who spoke little English but knew well how to make her requests and how to have them granted. Nicholas thrived, Danielle was content, and Justin even more so, now that his wife was no longer agitated at leaving the child and became once again the exclusive sharer of his bed.

  The news from France grew ever more alarming as the king, having accepted the constitution then proceeded to use his veto in a manner that enraged the people. Hatred of the royalists seethed in the faubourgs and fanned the flames of fear of a royalist uprising. As Danielle had predicted, many of her

  own class began to leave their native land in spite of the constitution's decree that all emigres would have their property sequestered and were to be considered traitors to the constitution and liable to the death penalty.

  These were the people who knew now that they had done all they could for the royalist cause from within their country. To remain was to invite martyrdom. The trickle became a stream as they gathered support for the counter-revolutionary army that their idealistic eyes saw marching back into France with a blazing sword.

  Linton House rapidly became a forum for discussions and plans, and new arrivals on English soil were directed there. Justin resigned himself to a house under occupation. At least while Danielle was playing mistress of ceremonies in her salon, she couldn't be roaming the backslums of London. Jules and his friends were almost always to be found participating in the debates, arranging contact with the other refugee centers in the Rhineland, offering financial support and their own swords with an enthusiasm that Justin regarded with benign amusement. It was only natural that these energetic young men should find espousing such a cause an exciting alternative to the social round of pleasure that had hitherto been their lot.

  It was Danielle's attitude that surprised him, although he realized with hindsight that it s
hould not have done.

  "It is quite ridiculous, Pitt," she stated, striding in exasperation around the prime minister's bookroom one cold March afternoon. "It is all very well to have ideals, but not when they obscure the real issues. I listen to them rant and rave and plan a glorious revenge but they will not accept that it is too late for that!"

  Pitt exchanged looks with Linton before saying, "Could you explain further, Danny?"

  "Ah, surely you must know what I am saying?" was her impatient response. "C'est une betise and I had not thought you stupid, sir."

  "Danielle! That is most unmannerly," her husband rebuked sharply, shocked by her rudeness out of his usual calm acceptance of his wife's directness.

  Danielle flushed with mortification. "I beg pardon, sir. It is just that I am angry and frustrated. I did not mean to be impolite."

  William Pitt couldn't help his chuckle. The fiery young woman had been replaced by a contrite little girl trying to make amends after a scolding. "Pray don't mention it," he begged politely. "I do not mean to appear stupid, but I would like to hear you expand your thoughts."

  "Well, it is perfectly simple . . . Oh, Justin, do not look at me in that manner. It makes my thoughts all tangled."

  "You flatter me, ma'am," Linton murmured sardonically, but his lips twitched. "Continue in a more moderate tone, if you please."

  Danielle sighed. "This emigration is exacerbating the outrage of the people. They are already saying that Paris is infiltrated with armed spies of the counterrevolution. They suspect secret agents of hiding in the cellars of the Tuileries, of disguising themselves as National Guardsmen and hatching plots to assassinate the patriot leaders. What the hotheads here do not understand is that the people will take their revenge on those members of their families that they have left behind. The depositions and arrests are happening every day; estates are being pillaged just as in the worst days of the 'grandepeur' and these idiots talk rhetoric and do nothing practical."

  "What should they be doing, Danny?" It was Linton who spoke, his earlier annoyance quite vanished.

  "They should be trying to bring out of France those who are in danger," she told him succinctly. "There is still time and money and contacts enough to succeed. Those who wish to fight should join the Austrian army, the rest should be organizing a rescue mission. Instead they just talk and will not listen to D'Evron or to myself." She glared in disgust at a spot on the carpet as if it were in some way responsible. "Only Jules and the others seem to understand, but they can do nothing without inside help. How are we to know who to bring out, who to get messages to; we are not omniscient."

  "Danielle." Justin gave voice to the horrible suspicion carefully. "You are not by any chance thinking of accomplishing this work yourself?"

  "Well, someone is going to have to if these imbeciles cannot be persuaded to see sense."

  "Oh dear," William Pitt muttered, filled with compassion for his friend.

  "Well, let us hope that that is a bridge we will not have to cross," Linton said in a placid tone that earned him Pitt's instant admiration. "Come, my love, the prime minister expects a division bell within the hour and you and I will leave politics behind for the evening and spend some hours of dissipation at Almack's."

  "Dissipation!" Danielle's laughter rang out. "On orgeat and lemonade, milord? And only the most

  decorous dances watched over by every cat in-town."

  "Oh, do hush, brat," Linton begged through his own laughter. "It is fortunate that Chatham knows you s

  o well."

  "Mais, d'accord" she declared with a lift of her eyebrow. "I would hardly speak so freely in front of him

  if he did not."

  "Touche, I think, Linton." Pitt coughed to hide the bubble of merriment.

  "Touche, indeed." Justin picked up his wife's cloak and placed it over her shoulders. "My sword arm is becoming somewhat weak these days."

  "But not your sword?" Danielle whispered and Justin froze, wondering if he had heard her correctly but knowing that he had. That wicked whisper had been for his ears alone but it was still outrageous of her to make it in the prime minister's company. Pitt's attention was for a moment distracted by a paper on his desk and Justin smacked her bottom. Danielle danced away from his hand with a mischievous grin, her tongue peeping provocatively between her lips. Almack's could go to the devil, her husband decided. When Danielle was in the mood for play, there was nothing this town could offer in competition. His

  loins stirred at the thought.

  "We will bid you farewell then, Pitt," he said, moving Danny in front of him and pushing her with a concealed hand toward the door.

  "Yes, yes, indeed." Pitt was frowning over the paper. "You will pardon me if I do not see you out . . . there is something here . . ." His voice faded as the powerful mind switched tracks from the affairs of Paris to a domestic matter of some moment.

  "Au revoir, Chatham," Danny threw over her shoulder, receiving mumbled thanks for her time and information.

  "Wretch," Linton said with satisfaction, tossing her indecorously into the curricle. "No, you may not

  drive. I am in somewhat of a hurry and prefer the reins in my own hands."

  "Oui, milord," Danielle murmured, the picture of docility as she handed over the reins. "Make all speed,

  I beg of you."

  * * *

  They arrived in Grosvenor Square in record time, Tomas clinging on with grim resignation.

  "No, you don't," Justin hissed asDanny stepped sideways in the direction of the salon and the sound of raised voices.

  "But I am sure that I hear the Comte de St. Estephe," she protested. "What is he doing here?"

  "I have not the slightest interest in St. Estephe's movements, only in yours. And I know exactly how I wish you to move."

  "La, Husband, but you are so importunate." Danielle fluttered her eyelashes and received a hooded look of clear intention in return. She scampered down the corridor to her own bedchamber where Linton followed, closing the door with a decisive click.

  "You issued a challenge, madam," he declared. "Something to do with swords, as I recall."

  "You have the sword," she said softly, "and I have its sheath."

  "Exactly so." He tossed off his clothes, Danielle watching all the while, making no attempt to undress herself.

  Naked, he strode toward her. "We will have these off, I think." Her outer garments were removed with swift but deft fingers and she stood in chemise and petticoats. "Brace yourself against the wall." The instruction was strengthened by his hands, pushing her until she stood as required. Her breath came swiftly now as her body prepared itself for what was to come. His hands slipped beneath the petticoats, found the drawstring of her pantalettes, pulled, and the lace-edged garment rustled to her ankles. His fingers moved delicately b'ut with the unerring skill and the knowledge born of three years of this shared glory. Playfully she resisted his deeper intrusion until he demanded with voice and hands that she part her thighs and be taken as the longing wanton that she was. Holding her petticoats high at her waist, he drove deep within her and Danielle maintained her balance with the wall at her back and her hands on his shoulders until the shuddering aftermath brought her to her knees.

  Justin looked down at her and nodded contentedly. "That will teach you to make blatantly suggestive remarks in public." Catching her under the arms, he pulled her upright, sliding one hand beneath her petticoats again to grasp her buttocks, pressing her against him as his other hand held her chin and he kissed her with a hard soundness that indicated that what they had just had was merely a preliminary.

  While the earl and his countess were taking their pleasure, Roland, Comte de St. Estephe, sat in their salon making himself agreeable to the chevalier and the gathering of emigre nobles. Their conversation sickened him with its futile oratory as much as it did Danielle, but not a sign of this showed on the long, lean face or in the cold eyes any more than did his impatience as he waited for one or both of his hosts to appear.
He had a clear brief from the Brissotin ministry, to become accepted as one of the emigres at the British court, gather information as to their plots, learn the names of those still in Paris who would constitute a threat to the revolution, and foil what plans he could without jeopardizing his cover.

  That cover was perfect for his own plans. What better way to win Danielle's confidence than by offering to help the cause? She was clearly a prime mover in this business and since her house appeared to be open to all involved, he could come and go as he pleased, become familiar with the routines of the household, and keep track of her movements. As yet the comte had developed no strategy and had deliberately refrained from forming one. The opportunity would present itself for an elegant revenge and he would wait in patience and preparation for that time.

  None of the guests at Linton House that evening were vouchsafed even a glimpse of their hosts. They were kept well supplied with refreshments by Bedford and his staff who were resigned to the presence

  of what the butler privately referred to as "the club." The earl and his countess were served dinner in the private parlor, although the footman who laid out the dishes saw neither of them before he left discreetly. Justin had some difficulty concentrating on his dinner since Danielle was in the mood to play harlot and sat at the table in nothing but her skin, moving provocatively as she served them both, deposited herself on his lap to taste the food on his plate and the wine in his glass.