The Masqueraders

by Georgette Heyer

  ‘To-morrow. That I have from our inestimable John. Change of horses has been ordered at Barnet. The strangeness of the hour made the discovery of the rest simple. Letitia goes in a party to Vauxhall Gardens. What easier to be lost in the crowd there? It will be some time before her absence is even noticed. It is really quite clever of my Munich friend to think of Vauxhall. You, my Robin, may stop them with little inconvenience to yourself on Finchley Common. You will, of course, be masked. I leave the details to you. I make no doubt you will arrange all to my satisfaction.’

  Robin paused in his pacing. ‘I shall.’ His eyes were alight. Concern for Letty had faded a little before the sheer joy of battle. He stretched his arms exultantly. ‘Ah, to feel a sword in my hand again!’ he said, and made an imaginary pass in the air. ‘Not pistols – no, no, that would be clumsy. Am I not your son?’

  My lord became enthusiastic. ‘You are, my Robin! I perceive some shadow of myself in you. Remove my Munich friend! Do not unmask: you shall remain a mystery to your Letitia for a little while yet, but not for long! Remove me this Markham from the path, and you shall see me go swiftly forward to the promised goal. I am Tremaine of Barham!’

  Robin looked sceptical. ‘Are you, sir! I wonder!’

  ‘So too did Markham,’ said my lord. ‘So do you all, and there is only one who knows the truth concerning me. It affords me infinite amusement. I say nothing: all shall soon be disclosed.’ He picked up his hat. ‘I leave you to your plans, my Robin. See you do not bungle them. There must be no suspicion of your identity. Play the highwayman, and take John along with you. But I don’t interest myself in the petty details; you will think on them at your leisure. By my reckoning, and you will hardly question it, they should leave Vauxhall at nine in the evening, maybe later. It does not signify. Au revoir, my son! I wish you, though there is not the need, all success!’ He waved his hand and was gone next instant, through the doorway into the hall beyond. There he came upon his daughter returned from a morning’s ride with Charles Belfort. He tapped her cheek with one indulgent finger, and said gaily: ‘My Prudence! You come too late to hear the tale of my achievement. You will find your brother in amaze.’

  ‘Lord, sir!’ said Prudence placidly, and watched him go out. She was chuckling a little: he had always the effect of making her laugh. She went into the room he had left, and found Robin biting his fingers in meditation. ‘What’s the old gentleman so pleased about now, Robin?’ she asked. ‘Is there work for us afoot?’

  He looked up, appraising her. ‘Have you a mind to it? It’s to be rescue, and slaughter, child!’

  ‘You shock me,’ said Prudence, sitting down upon the table’s edge. ‘Count on me; you will need me belike. What’s toward?’

  Twenty-three

  The Fight By Moonlight

  Such a romantic venture as an elopement from Vauxhall Gardens should have delighted Miss Letty, in love with excitement, but alack! she performed her part sadly, in a spirit very different from that in which she had run away with this same gentleman so short a while back. Then it had been done with dare-devilry, and in expectation of romance; now it was done with a heavy heart dwelling on a Black Domino with an elusive, tantalizing smile.

  Miss Letty had to admit she was reaping the reward of past folly. Ruefully she reflected that if she had never allowed herself to become dazzled in the first place by Mr Markham’s wiles and compliments she would not now have been in a situation so gloomy and hopeless.

  She had not been able to think of a way out of the difficulty. Her ideas of law and treason were very vague; she thought that incriminating letter of her father’s so fraught with danger that she dared do nothing but what Mr Markham told her, for fear of what awful things might happen. Before she could take any measures against him she must have the letter safe. She thought she might perhaps be able to steal it from him while he slept, for in spite of his talk of heading straight for Scotland she knew very well that he must break the journey sooner or later. It was a forlorn hope, and failing it she could shoot him, she supposed, if only there were a pistol to her hand.

  She had never visited Vauxhall with so little pleasure before; it was as though the brilliantly-lit gardens, all a-hum with festivity, were a place of execution. It was easy – wretchedly easy, she thought – to slip away from the rest of her party. She drew her cloak around her, and hurried away down a walk lit by lanterns to the appointed meeting place. Mr Markham was there, and he showed relief at seeing her, and took her hand. It was withdrawn. ‘I may be forced to marry you,’ said Letty acidly, ‘but at least you shan’t touch me till then.’

  It was no part of Mr Markham’s plan to goad her to rebellion. He begged her pardon, and led her swiftly away down the winding walks till they came to an entrance to the gardens. He told her then to pull the hood over her head. She obeyed listlessly, and in a very short time found herself seated in a post-chaise beside her hated lover.

  She drew far into her own corner. ‘You might at least ride beside the coach!’ she said. ‘Can you not see how much I detest you?’

  He had her safe at last; he cared nothing for her whims; he could even afford to be generous. ‘Bear with me, my dear. I won’t plague you with talk.’

  ‘You had much better not,’ said Letty, ‘for I should certainly not answer.’

  This was not a very promising beginning, Mr Markham thought. When a haughty shoulder was resolutely turned on him he decided that Miss Letitia needed a lesson. His fingers itched to slap her, but he controlled the desire, remembering that there was a lifetime ahead in which to tame a refractory wife. Frightened for her father’s safety as she undoubtedly was she was yet quite capable of raising a disturbance if he tried her too far. So he sat back in his own corner and meditated with some satisfaction on the excellence of his plans, and the delightful time to come.

  Letty’s thoughts were not so pleasant. The only food for comfort she could find lay in the pistol holster beside her. There was a weapon in it, large and clumsy for her little hands, but still a weapon.

  Mr Markham observed the direction of her glance and smiled grimly. ‘Ay, you’re a violent piece, aren’t you? You’d shoot me if you had the chance, I’ll lay my life. The pistol’s not loaded. Yes, there’s another my side, but it’s in the same state. The only loaded pistol, my dear, lies snug in my pocket and there it will stay.’

  Letty vouchsafed no answer. She gave herself up to the concoction of a plan to get that gun away from her bridegroom. She could evolve nothing but the haziest of schemes, and involuntarily her thoughts drifted on to the contemplation of the impossible. This time there was no large Tony to come after her. She had left no note of farewell, and it would be hours perhaps before her father knew of her flight. Even then he could have no means of knowing whither she had gone. There were no quickwitted Merriots either, and, worst of all, no stranger in a Black Domino.

  Well, she was a great fool to think of the Unknown, who was in all probability nothing but a young buck bent on amusing himself at the expense of a silly chit. Once tied up to this monster at her side she had best banish the Unknown entirely from her thoughts: he could no longer be of avail.

  She looked miserably out of the window at the tall houses slipping by. There were flambeaux at a few of the doors, but a bright moon cast a silver light over all, and made lamps superfluous. They were travelling at a prodigious speed; to be sure, Mr Markham meant to lose no time in putting London well behind him. In a very short while, so it seemed to poor Letty, the houses grew further and further apart, and at length stopped altogether. She had very little idea of where they were: on that other journey north she had noticed nothing. She saw a heath soon, dotted over with clumps of bushes, casting long black shadows in the moonlight and some tall larch trees stretching up to a sapphire sky. There was nothing else to be seen, and Letty had never felt less in the mood for admiring the beauties of Nature. She pulled her clo
ak closer about her still, and looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. She would not cry, however hard a fight it might be to keep the tears back. The monster beside her should not have that satisfaction.

  On went the coach, bumping and jolting over the bad road. The pace had slackened somewhat: one could not drive hell-for-leather along the highways of England; they were not in a state for such usage.

  They had been passing through this desolate heath some way when she thought she caught the sound of horses galloping: horses other than the ones that were drawing her to her doom. Scarcely had her ears been made aware of this sound than there came a thunder of hoofs, a shout, a lurch, and a medley of confused noises as the coach was pulled quickly to a standstill. A pistol shot sounded; there was a yell of terror from the box, and at the same moment the glass in the window by Mr Markham was shattered by a blow with something made of metal, and a small gold-mounted pistol held by a slim white hand pointed straight at Mr Markham’s heart.

  It had all happened so quickly that Markham, no less than Letitia, was taken quite by surprise. From the moment of the horses being pulled up to the moment of the breaking glass there had been no more time than sufficed to sit up exclaiming: ‘What’s toward?’ Before Markham could pull the pistol from his pocket he was covered, and had perforce to sit perfectly still, glaring at that deadly barrel.

  Letty’s heart beat fast. It was a highwayman, beyond all doubt, but she was not in the least afraid. Nothing could be worse than her elopement, and she was inclined to think that it would be better to be killed by a highwayman than to be married to Mr Markham. If fortune smiled Mr Markham might be killed, which would be an excellent thing. She sat up all agog with excitement, and stared through the broken glass at the man who held that pistol.

  He was speaking. ‘Put up your hands!’

  The voice made Letty jump, so oddly familiar was it. She leaned forward, trying to see the horseman’s face. There was a black mask over his eyes, and a tricorne was pulled low over his brow. He was a slight man, as far as she could see for the many-caped greatcoat that enveloped him. A wild hope sprang up in her breast: she peered at the stranger’s right hand, holding the pistol just inside the window. There was a glint of gold on the little finger. The hand moved a fraction, and the moonlight caught a ring, cunningly wrought.

  ‘The Unknown!’ Letty gasped, and began to tremble with excitement, relief, and a queer glad sensation she had never known till now.

  ‘Hands up!’ The voice was sharp and compelling. There was nothing for Markham to do but to raise his arms above his head. Inwardly he was cursing: this meant not only delay, but loss of all the money he had brought with him.

  ‘Madam,’ – the Unknown was speaking to Letty, but he did not take his eyes from Markham’s face – ‘oblige me by searching this gentleman’s pockets for a pistol.’

  Letty pulled herself together. He spoke as to a stranger: she was not to know him then. Oh, here was romance indeed! Romance, and a rescue such as she had not dreamed to be possible. She pushed back her cloak, and with hands that shook, but with a business-like determination in her small face, dived into the pocket nearest her. There was nothing there. She stretched an arm across Mr Markham, taking care not to obtrude herself between his person and the Unknown’s pistol, and felt in the right-hand pocket. As her fingers closed round the butt of a pistol she felt Mr Markham’s hard breathing; and guessed his impotent fury. With a little laugh caught in her throat she pulled out the weapon. ‘I have it, sir! I’ll take care of it!’

  She saw the flash of white teeth. ‘Bravo, madam! Hold fast to it. Sir, be pleased to come down!’

  The chafing, fidgeting horse was pulled back; the Unknown bent gracefully in the saddle, and his hand left the bridle to swing open the coach door. Letty sat grasping the pistol, and pointing it at Mr Markham. Her eyes were bright, and her pretty mouth was set tightly. Mr Markham took one look, with a vague notion of wresting the pistol from her, but decided that the further he got from a weapon held in such determined but inexpert hands the better. He jumped down on to the road, just as the Unknown sprang lightly from the saddle.

  ‘You damned footpad!’ Mr Markham exploded. ‘By God, I’ll have you hunted down for this! You cowardly fools there, why didn’t you fire?’ He had flung round angrily to look at the men on the box, and saw soon enough the reason for their inanition. In spite of that first shot no one seemed to be hurt, but the two men on the box sat huddled together, staring with popping eyes at the long barrel of a pistol held by a second horseman, who had them covered. The man on one of the leaders sat as still as the fretting horse would let him, and his gaze was as fixed and as fearful as his companion’s. On the road lay a heavy blunderbuss: there had evidently been no time to fire the cumbersome weapon, and it had been surrendered immediately. This second horseman was masked as well and greatcoated. Letty peeping out, could see only the line of a square jaw, and a stocky silhouette. He did not appear to be much interested in what his companion was about, but kept his head and his pistol turned towards the box of the coach.

  The Unknown had flung off his greatcoat. ‘Oh, what an unkind spirit!’ he mocked in answer to Mr Markham. ‘But I’m generous: I offer you a fight, a fair fight, when I might shoot you like the dog you are. Come, where’s your sword, sir? Here’s the gracious moon to light us, and witnesses enough to see fair play!’

  ‘Fight a damned cut-throat robber?’ cried Markham. ‘If I’d a cane you should taste of it!’

  The Unknown laughed merrily. ‘Should I, sir? Should I indeed? Keep him covered, madam!’

  ‘I am!’ avowed Letty, grasping her pistol tighter than ever.

  The Unknown’s weapon was laid aside with his cloak. The plain buff coat he wore followed it, and the scabbard of his sword. ‘Come, sir, come! Will you not fight for the privilege of keeping the lady and the riches? Or shall I fleece you of all? What, must I call you coward?’ Off came the heavy riding boots, and the elegant flowered waistcoat. He stood straight in the moonlight, a lithe figure in a white shirt, with fair hair caught in the nape of his neck, and a strip of black velvet hiding the upper part of his face. A naked sword was in his hand; he shook it in the air, and the steel flashed in the moonlight. ‘A fair duel, sir, and you are the larger man! Faint heart!’ Again he laughed. ‘If I kill you the lady goes free but if you kill me you win all! Shall I rob you as you stand, or will you cross swords with me? Yours is the choice.’

  ‘You kill me, you miserable little dwarf ?’ Markham cried. ‘You’ll fight, will you? You’re tired of life! Hand down my sword, girl, this instant! By God, I’ll teach you a lesson, you impudent dog!’ He began to strip off his coat as he spoke, and kicked the buckled shoes from his feet.

  The Unknown came to the coach door, and reached up a hand for the sword, and spread his fingers a moment for Letty to see the ring.

  ‘I know! Oh, I know!’ she whispered, looking down into the face that had haunted her dreams for so many nights past. ‘Kill him, oh, please kill him!’

  ‘I will,’ he promised, and took the sword from her trembling hold.

  Mr Markham stood ready now and snatched his rapier from the Unknown’s hand. ‘You asked for this!’ he snarled. ‘You’ll regret it too late. I’m not a novice with the small sword! On guard!’

  There was the briefest of salutes, and the blades rang together. Markham lunged in quarte; Letty had a moment’s sick apprehension and shut her eyes. They flew open the next instant, to see the Unknown disengaging adroitly.

  There was no sound on all this deserted heath but the scrape of steel; no movement save of those two figures on the grass, fighting sternly, desperately, with lives at stake.

  The silver moonlight flooded the scene, and tinted it with an unreal ghostliness, glinting along the blue-grey blades, and touching the fair head of the Unknown, and the dark head of Markham.

  To Letty, st
anding in the doorway of the coach, it was as a dream. Her wide eyes never left the graceful figure of the masked man; they followed every lightning thrust, and every dexterous parry. He was slight and small indeed, but he seemed to be made of wires, so agile were his movements, so unerring and untiring his arm. To see both men one must feel him to be hopelessly overweighted. Markham had the advantage in height, in reach, and in strength; he was a good swordsman besides, with a quick eye and a steady wrist. He had once killed a man in a duel, Letty knew.

  But even to her, ignorant of sword-play, it was plain that the smaller and the lighter man had a wizard’s cunning with the rapier. His style was quite different from Markham’s; he was a miracle of swift grace and neat footwork, with a wrist like flexible steel, and eyes like a hawk’s to descry an opening. Fascinated, Letty followed the quick thrust and parry, and she saw the smile still on the Unknown’s lips.

  There was a scuffle of blades; Letty’s hands flew to her mouth to press back an involuntary cry; Markham had lunged forward savagely, and for an awful moment Letty thought that his point must go home. But there was a swift parry, and barely had Markham recovered than the Unknown’s sword flashed forward. Forte touched foible, and Letty saw Markham disengage quickly.

  She threw a glance round at the second masked man, and saw him intent too on the strange duel. And the pistol in his hand was pointing no longer at the men on the box: it covered Mr Markham. John would have no compunction in shooting if aught befell his young master.