The Masqueraders

by Georgette Heyer

  ‘I am sorry that you should think me churlish, sir.’ She discovered that her voice sounded small, and rather guilty, and made an effort to pull herself together. ‘I think you misunderstand the reason of my refusal to go to Wych End.’ That was no sooner said than she wished it unsaid. God knew where it might lead.

  ‘I don’t consider myself omniscient,’ said Fanshawe, ‘but I am under the impression that life in town is more amusing than life at Wych End.’

  She perceived the trend of the matter. Ay, here was a pretty tangle. It was, after all, an honour for an unknown young gentleman to be invited to stay with the great Sir Anthony Fanshawe. Her excuse had been lame; in a word, she must appear cubbish. And how to retrieve the false step? ‘You are under a false impression, sir.’

  ‘I am, am I?’

  ‘I know very well, sir, that I am unduly honoured by your proposal, but I have been taught that it is a greater rudeness to ignore previous engagements than to refuse a flattering new invitation.’

  ‘You have that wonderfully pat,’ admired Sir Anthony. ‘Pray let us forget the matter.’

  ‘So long as I do not stand in your black books,’ Prudence said tentatively.

  There was a laugh, and a hand on her shoulder. ‘I confess, I have an odd liking for you, young man. You are absolved.’

  Ridiculous that one should feel a weight removed from one’s mind. Prudence decided to say nothing to Robin of the matter, dreading his mirth.

  Eight

  The Black Domino

  My Lady Lowestoft stole up to the door of Prudence’s chamber, threw a swift glance round to see that no one was by, and went in, firmly shutting the door behind her. Prudence sat before her dressing table, haresfoot in hand. She looked round to see who came in so unceremoniously. ‘Fie!’ she said, and turned back to the mirror.

  ‘My reputation if any one saw me!’ said my lady, and sat down in a swirl of purple silk. She carried a strip of velvet in one hand, and a purple domino hung from her shoulders. She put up the velvet to her face. ‘So! Am not I intrigante, my dear?’

  ‘Very, ma’am. You always are, masked or not.’

  ‘So they say,’ nodded my lady. ‘Oh, la-la! we’re very fine to-night, not?’

  Prudence smoothed the crimson silk sleeve of her coat, and smiled a little. ‘My pièce de résistance, ma’am.’

  ‘Oh, you look very well. That goes without saying. But what a wardrobe! The bon papa finds himself in affluent circumstances now?’

  ‘Up and down, my lady. There seemed to be money enough when I saw him last.’ Prudence pressed a patch on to her cheek with expert fingers. ‘Are you for setting forward? I’ll go see if Robin’s dressed.’ She picked up the crimson domino from the bed, and her mask and hat with it, and went out.

  Robin’s voice desired to know who it was that scratched on the door. Prudence answered, and heard him say: ‘Oh, enter, my dear.’

  She went in humming a snatch of song. It died on her lips at what she saw, and she shut the door rather quickly. In place of the lady she expected to find there stood in the middle of the room a slim, lithe young figure in satin small-clothes, and a cambric shirt. The fair hair was powdered thickly, and tied back with a black riband in the neck; the white throat was hidden by a lace neckcloth which fell under the chin in deep ruffles down the shirt front. If Robin made a pretty girl, he was beyond doubt a very handsome young man.

  ‘Robin, are you mad?’ said Prudence quietly.

  In the background, shaking out the folds of an elegant coat, John growled: ‘Ay, you may well ask, mistress. It’s taken leave of his senses he has.’

  Robin laughed out. ‘My poor John! I shall be the death of you yet.’

  ‘You’ll be the death of yourself, sir, and well you know it.’

  Prudence came further into the room. ‘What mischief now?’

  ‘Madam Prude! I salute you. No mischief, nor any madness either.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Pray will you be serious?’

  He held the mask over his eyes. ‘What, shall I be known?’

  ‘There’s to be an unmasking at supper. What then?’

  ‘At the supper hour – farewell, Robin!’ He blew an imaginary kiss from the tips of his fingers, and tossed the mask on to a chair. ‘Don’t play the spoil sport, sister mine.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s to jeopardise your life for a pair of brown eyes.’

  ‘It’s to play with fire for the sake of romance, and when have we done aught else? Get you into a hoop and petticoats, and play with your mountain.’

  ‘Ah now, will you ha’ done, sir?’ John put down the coat, scowling. ‘You’ll do no such thing, Miss Prue!’

  ‘Not I. Robin, one single mischance, and you’re sped.’

  ‘My dear, you grow fearful of shadows. Let be. Tomorrow I shall be again the demure Miss Merriot.’

  Prudence knew too well that demon of perversity to attempt further argument. My Lady Lowestoft’s voice begged permission to enter. Prudence turned, and opened the door. ‘Oh, come in, ma’am, here’s a piece of mad folly for you to see.’

  My lady came in all curiosity, and gave a little shriek of laughter at sight of Robin. ‘Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, you vaurien !’ she said. ‘This is to go a-wooing, no? Don’t tell me! Me, I know well!’

  ‘It’s to run a thousand dangers,’ said Prudence. ‘The devil’s in him, I believe.’

  Robin was busy fixing a diamond pin in the lace at his throat. ‘I pledge you my word I run no risk, Prue. The waistcoat, John.’

  ‘Hé, but this is adventure!’ cried my lady, her eyes sparkling. ‘You are anxious, my Prue? But no! Who should suspect? He may vanish before the unmasking, and Marthe shall be on the watch to let him into the house. It will all go well, I promise you.’

  ‘Madam, you’re a jewel!’ Robin told her, struggling into his coat. He shook out his ruffles, and gave his neckcloth a twist. ‘I am myself again.’

  My lady surveyed him critically. ‘Du vrai, you are a very pretty young man,’ she said. ‘N’est-ce pas, Prudence?’

  ‘Something undersized,’ amended Prudence, with her slow smile.

  ‘Prue can only admire a mammoth, ma’am,’ said Robin. His eyes ran over his sister’s large frame. ‘Well, perhaps she has reason.’

  Thus it was that midway through the evening a slight gentleman in a black domino begged my Lady Dorling to present him to a little lady in a pink domino, seated against the wall by an austere spinster.

  Lady Dorling said laughingly: ‘What shall I call you, sir, for indeed the mask baffles me?’

  White teeth showed in a dazzling smile. ‘You shall say that I am l’Inconnu, madam.’

  She was delighted. ‘Miss Pink Domino should feel Romance at hand on such an introduction. Why, it’s the little Grayson child.’ She led the Black Domino up to the Pink one, and smilingly said: ‘My dear, may I present a partner to you for the minuet? He has no name that I can find – only l’Inconnu. See if he will tell you more.’ She rustled away on the words, leaving Miss Letty looking wonderingly up at the unknown.

  He stood bowing deeply before her, one hand holding a point-edged tricorne over his heart, the other laid lightly on the hilt of his dress-sword. The black domino fell all about him in silken folds; the velvet mask through which his eyes glittered strangely baffled recognition.

  Miss Letty made her curtsey, still gazing into the unknown’s face.

  ‘Mademoiselle will bestow her hand on me for this dance?’

  There was something faintly familiar in the elusive voice. ‘I may go, Aunt?’

  The elder Miss Grayson gave reluctant consent. Masked balls, where strange gentlemen with fanciful sobriquets might claim introductions were not to her taste, but there was no help for it. Miss Letty went away on the Unknown’s arm.

&
nbsp; ‘I have an odd feeling I know you, sir,’ she confided, looking up with a child’s smile. ‘Please tell me, do I?’

  He shook his head; she thought his smile intriguing beyond words. ‘How should you know l’Inconnu, mademoiselle?’

  This was Romance indeed. ‘But you know me, do you not?’ They were dancing now, and she asked the question as she sank to the curtsey.

  They came together again. ‘Ah, that is another matter entirely,’ said the Black Domino.

  She pouted. ‘And you won’t tell me! So many people I’ve guessed; oh, at once! There is Tony, for instance.’

  She nodded towards a massive figure in a grey domino. ‘There is no mistaking him, to be sure. And I think I know which is Mr Merriot. I thought that lady in the blue domino was his sister, but of that I am not sure. Do you know, sir?’

  ‘No, mademoiselle, but then I do not want to know. I am content to have found Miss Grayson.’

  She blushed, and turned away her head.

  ‘I offend Miss Grayson?’ the Unknown said softly.

  No, she was not offended. Only – only it was so very strange not to know who he was.

  ‘My name you would not know if I told it,’ he said. ‘Why spoil a perfect hour?’

  Her lips were a little parted. ‘A perfect hour!’ she echoed. ‘Is it perfect, sir?’

  ‘For me at least, Letitia.’

  ‘But – but you must not call me by my name!’ she said. Yet she did not sound angry.

  ‘Nor tell you that I came only to dance with you?’

  ‘D-did you, sir?’

  He nodded. ‘But, of course. Didn’t you guess it, Letitia?’

  ‘No, oh no! How should I? And – and you use my name again, sir.’

  ‘But then it is such a pretty name,’ he pleaded. ‘Make me free of it for one night!’

  ‘It is like an adventure,’ she said. Behind the mask her eyes were like stars.

  ‘An adventure, or a dream.’ He led her out of the dance, away to an alcove behind great pots of flowers.

  ‘Not a dream! Oh no, for then I should wake up, and I do not want to. I want to see your face at the unmasking.’

  ‘You won’t see it, Letitia; I shall remain the Unknown.’

  She sat down on the couch placed in the alcove. ‘But you will have to unmask, won’t you? Everyone must.’

  He smiled, and shook his head. ‘To unmask would be to kill Romance, Letitia.’

  She was doubtful. ‘Would it? But how shall I know you again if I do not see your face to-night?’

  ‘Ah, but will you want to know me again? Or will you not regret the perfect hour?’

  ‘No, I am sure I shall not. And of course I shall want to know you again. Shall you not want to know me?’

  ‘Always, but I have you in my dreams, Letitia.’

  She blushed adorably. ‘Do you know, that is the very prettiest thing anyone has ever said to me,’ she confided. ‘But I would like – I mean, I do not want to live only in your dreams. Shan’t you wait upon my papa?’

  The white teeth showed again in a smile of some mischief. ‘L’Inconnu never waits upon papa,’ he said. ‘You will remember me only as a Black Domino.’

  Her face fell. ‘I shan’t see you again?’

  ‘Yes, you will see me – perhaps.’

  ‘And know you?’

  He hesitated; then laughed, and stretched out his hand. ‘When you see that ring again, Letitia, you will know that I have come once more.’

  She looked down at the ring on his little finger, a curious piece of wrought gold in a fantastic design. ‘Only by that?’

  ‘Only by that.’

  ‘But –’ she considered awhile. ‘You might forget to wear it,’ she pointed out.

  ‘I shall not forget.’

  She sighed. ‘It is all so mysterious. I fear perhaps it is just a game, and I shan’t ever see you again.’

  He quoted a Spanish proverb.

  ‘Oh, are you foreign?’ she exclaimed, as though that explained all.

  ‘No, child, but I have been much in foreign lands.’

  ‘How exciting!’ she said. ‘Tell me about it.’

  But a large figure stood in the entrance to the alcove, and a pleasant voice said: ‘Mistress Pink Domino, will you give your hand to a Grey one?’

  L’Inconnu came to his feet, and bowed gracefully. ‘I surrender you,’ he said. ‘But only for a little while.’

  Sir Anthony held out his arm to Miss Grayson, and looked curiously at the Black Domino.

  Miss Grayson went reluctantly, saying over her shoulder: ‘I believe you will disappear.’

  ‘I shall claim you again, be very sure.’

  ‘Who in the fiend’s name may that be?’ said Sir Anthony.

  ‘I don’t know, Tony. He is just called l’Inconnu, but he knows me and I have a feeling I have met him. You don’t know, either?’

  ‘I haven’t a notion, my dear. I am not quite sure that I approve of unknown gentlemen.’

  Her eyes pleaded. ‘Oh, don’t, don’t tell Aunt, Tony!’ she begged. ‘Truly, I am not being indiscreet.’

  ‘You don’t contemplate an elopement with the mysterious stranger?’ he asked teasingly.

  ‘Tony!’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ he bowed solemnly.

  ‘That was prodigiously ill-natured, Tony.’

  ‘Never say so, my dear.’

  ‘I have a very good mind not to dance with you now.’

  She was conducted promptly to an antechamber, where there were refreshments spread. ‘An excellent mind,’ said Sir Anthony. ‘I was never a good dancer. A glass of ratafie?’

  She laughed. ‘It’s too bad of you, Tony!’

  ‘My dear, it would be worse if I stood up with you, I assure you. My forte lies in fetching food and drink for my partners.’

  She sat down, perforce. ‘Well, a little ratafie, then. I do not intend to go near Aunt again all the evening. She may scold as much as she likes afterwards.’

  Sir Anthony poured two glasses of wine. ‘She’s absorbed in euchre, child; you need have no fear. I drink to your very good health.’

  Letty sipped at the wine, and dimpled haughtily. ‘You might drink to my eyes, Tony.’

  ‘No doubt I might,’ he said, but showed no disposition to do so.

  Letty looked meditatively up at him. ‘I wonder whether you will ever say pretty things?’ she said, aggrieved.

  ‘Not to you, minx.’

  ‘I know that. But to someone else?’

  ‘My dear, I doubt I haven’t the aptitude for it. I will tell you if ever I discover it in myself.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you will. Tell me, I mean,’ said Letty with a flash of insight.

  ‘There’s no knowing. I’m to understand your ear’s been tickled with pretty speeches to-night?’

  She spread out her fan, and began to trace the pattern on it with one rosy-tipped finger. ‘I shan’t tell you that, Tony.’

  ‘You need not.’ Sir Anthony smiled a little. ‘It leaps to the intelligence.’

  ‘But don’t you think, Tony,’ said Letty sweetly, ‘that it would be very wonderful if no one had said pretty things to me?’

  Sir Anthony regarded her calmly. ‘You bid fair to become a rare handful,’ he remarked. ‘And that is all the compliment you’ll have from me.’

  ‘I am very glad I am not going to marry you,’ said Letty frankly. ‘You would not suit me at all. Perhaps you’ll marry my dear Miss Merriot instead.’

  ‘Withhold your felicitations awhile,’ he replied. ‘The event is not imminent.’

  ‘I expect you’re agog to be off to claim her hand for the dance,’ nodded Miss Letty sapiently.

  Sir Anthon
y set down his empty glass. ‘I shall have to curb my impatience, then,’ he said. ‘She’s not here.’

  ‘Oh, is she not? I quite thought that was she in the blue domino. Who told you?’

  ‘My Lady Lowestoft. She is kept at home with the migraine, as I believe.’

  Letty was all concern. ‘Oh, poor Miss Merriot! But Mr Merriot is here, isn’t he? In the crimson domino? Yes, I thought so.’

  ‘To say truth, it was he set me on your track. He told me he had sought you for the minuet only to find you spirited away by a man in a black domino.’

  This brought the Unknown back to mind. ‘I would like to return to the ballroom, please,’ said Letty decidedly.

  But it was Mr Merriot who claimed her hand, and led her into the quadrille. Letty went with a good grace, but looked eagerly about her. The Unknown was nowhere to be seen, yet at the end of the dance he seemed to spring up out of the ground, as it were, and stood confronting Mr Merriot with that tantalising smile curling his lips. ‘The lady is promised to me,’ he said; there was a faint note of mockery in his voice.

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Prudence. ‘The lady is mine.’

  Really, a masked ball was a most fascinating entertainment. Miss Letty clasped her hands in the folds of her domino, and waited breathlessly.

  The hilt of a sword was thrust slightly forward. ‘Why, I would meet you for the honour of holding her hand,’ said the Unknown. ‘But she shall choose.’ He turned, and offered an arm. ‘Madam, will you walk?’

  She looked beseechingly at Prudence. ‘Mr Merriot, I have to choose l’Inconnu because I am a female, and they say the silly creatures love a mystery.’

  Prudence laughed and bowed. ‘I retire from the lists, then, cruel Pink Domino.’

  ‘Besides,’ said Letty coaxingly, ‘your crimson and my rose go vilely together, sir!’ She threw a smile over her shoulder as she went off, threading her way through the throng of people.

  ‘Bereft, my Peter?’

  Prudence started, and turned to face Sir Anthony, standing at her elbow, ‘Robbed, sir, by a man in a black domino. I chose the wrong colour, and Miss Grayson won’t stay to clash with my crimson.’

  ‘So the mysterious stranger filches the lady from you. Too bad, my dear boy. Come and drown your sorrows in claret.’