by Diane Gaston
‘Having the ladies here is quite refreshing, I must say.’ Henson purchased his counters.
Henson was not married, as Xavier recalled. Perhaps he was in town to find a well-dowered wife, like many an officer without a regiment.
‘Certainly it has contributed to Rhys’s success,’ Xavier responded. ‘I’ll show you to the gaming room, if you like.’
The general shook MacEvoy’s hand again before they left him.
As they walked to the gaming room, Xavier said, ‘I lately encountered one of your infantrymen. Tom Jeffers. Do you remember him? He was a sergeant.’
‘Ah, yes!’ The general nodded. ‘Jeffers. A fine sergeant. He was one of the men who carried Moore from the battlefield.’
General Sir John Moore died from wounds at the Battle of Corunna and was much mourned by his men. Sir Arthur Wellesley had had big shoes to fill when he took Moore’s place as the Commander of the British army in the Peninsula—no one knew then that Wellesley’s victories would result in him becoming the Duke of Wellington.
‘A good man,’ Henson went on. ‘Hope he is doing well.’
‘Matters are improving for him,’ Xavier said.
They chatted a bit about the great numbers of former soldiers who were out of work and suffering, before reaching the gaming room.
It did not surprise Xavier to see Daphne hovering near the doorway.
She smiled. ‘Have you brought someone new for us, Xavier?’
Xavier gritted his teeth. She’d been lying in wait for him. ‘Lady Faville, may I present to you General Henson.
Henson bowed. ‘Charmed, my lady.’
She lifted her hand for him to clasp. ‘I am delighted, General.’
Xavier stepped back and out of the room, but not before seeing a disappointed look in Daphne’s eye.
* * *
Phillipa had not slept well, even though she’d not gone to the Masquerade Club the night before. The visions of the mysterious man’s face had abated, but now her mind filled with the memory of Lady Faville on Xavier’s arm.
It should not matter. Could not matter. She must be content with being able to perform her music for others. That was the gift Xavier had given her and all she could expect from him.
Besides the piece of music he’d purchased for her.
And the kiss.... She’d practised Xavier’s music all the previous day and had already committed it to memory.
Tired of tossing and turning, she rose and summoned her maid to help her dress. She might as well eat breakfast and she fancied a walk outside in the sunshine, a visit to the shops, perhaps.
She entered the dining room and saw her mother seated at the table, sipping a cup of chocolate and looking through the mail.
Her mother looked up at her entrance. ‘Goodness! You are up early. How are you this morning, my darling girl?’
Her mother was in uncommon good spirits. Perhaps her father’s absence was the cause. It was certainly reason to celebrate.
‘I woke early,’ Phillipa responded. ‘It is early for you, too, is it not?’
Her mother smiled. ‘It is, but I feel quite well, none the less.’
Phillipa chose her food from the sideboard and sat adjacent to her mother.
A footman appeared. ‘Chocolate, m’lady?’
‘That would be excellent, Higgley.’
He poured her the last of it from the chocolate pot. ‘Shall I bring you more, Lady Westleigh?’ he asked.
‘Do, Higgley,’ her mother responded as she picked up an envelope to read the address.
When he left the room, Phillipa asked, ‘Have there been any letters from Father or Ned or Hugh?’
Her mother’s smile faded. ‘I had a letter a few days ago. They arrived at their destination and all is well.’
‘And will you tell me now where they are?’ Would her mother say they had arrived safely in Brussels?
Her mother waved a dismissive hand. ‘On the Continent.’
This was more information than her mother had given before. ‘Where on the Continent?’ she pushed.
Her mother put her cup down hard on the table. ‘Do not plague me with this! It is men’s business and you need know nothing of it. There is absolutely no cause to worry.’ She fussed with the collar of her morning dress. ‘I—I do not know the half of it myself. They tell me nothing, you know.’
She knew more than the half of it, Phillipa thought. It was useless to pursue, however.
Her mother went on. ‘I thought I would call upon Lady Gale and Miss Gale this morning. Will you come?’
Lady Gale was the woman carrying Rhysdale’s child and the woman who had come masked to the Masquerade Club. Miss Gale was betrothed to Ned. She had not given them much thought when meeting them before, but now that she knew of their interesting connection she could admit to being curious about them.
‘I believe I will. I have a need to be out of doors. The walk will do me good.’
Her mother beamed. ‘I am glad of your company.’
* * *
Phillipa and her mother stepped out after noon to make their call to the Gale house. The day was warm and sunny enough to carry parasols. It had not been the family habit to spend the summer in London. Indeed, it was unusual for any of the aristocracy to be in London in summer, but Parliament remained in session and, though the company had thinned, there were still plenty of social engagements to interest her mother.
And now Phillipa knew that their stay in London could also be attributed to the family’s financial woes.
Her mother opened her parasol. ‘I do wish you would wear one of the hats I had made for you. They are so flattering.’
Phillipa wore a hat, just not one contrived to cover her scar. ‘Mother, I like this hat. The others make my face itch.’
It had been so long since Phillipa had ventured out in daylight that she looked upon everything with fresh eyes. The lovely green of the trees and grass, the creams and reds of the houses, were vibrant compared to the various shades of grey she and Xavier had walked past.
They crossed Mount Street and passed Berkley Square and Gunter’s Tea Shop where several people gathered outside to cool themselves with pistachio or elderflower ices. Her mother nodded a greeting to people she knew, who never quite looked Phillipa in the face. At least at the gaming house people looked at her. Because her mask concealed her.
They turned on to Curzon Street and strolled to Half Moon Street where Lady Gale and her stepdaughter lived. Phillipa sounded the knocker and tried to remember when she’d last made calls with her mother. She’d not come to this house before.
The butler opened the door to them and announced them to Lady Gale and Miss Gale. Both women stood at their entrance.
Lady Gale stepped forwards. ‘How good of you both to come.’ She turned to her butler. ‘Tucker, we will have some tea, I think.’
‘Very good, ma’am.’ He bowed and left.
Miss Gale rushed over to them, her hands extended. ‘Lady Westleigh, I am so happy to see you!’ She clasped her future mother-in-law’s hands and turned to Phillipa. ‘What a treat to see you, as well, Phillipa!’ The girl could not quite look at Phillipa for more than a moment.
‘We thought it past time to see how you both are faring,’ Phillipa’s mother said.
They sat, Phillipa’s mother and Miss Gale together on a sofa. Phillipa took a chair near Lady Gale.
‘Have you any news from our dear Ned?’ Miss Gale asked.
Her mother answered, ‘He wrote only to say they had arrived and all was progressing well.’
Phillipa assumed her mother’s vague reply was for her benefit. Why should all this be a secret from her?
‘Have you any letters from Ned?’ Phillipa asked Miss Gale. ‘Did he write you from where he is?’
‘Brussels?’ the girl chirped.
Miss Gale was so easily led.
Phillipa could feel her mother stiffen. ‘Yes, Brussels.’
‘He did write me a very sweet letter about how he hoped to be home very soon.’ Miss Gale sighed.
Phillipa persisted. ‘How much more does he need to accomplish in Brussels?’
Miss Gale jumped into the snare. ‘He said he and Hugh would leave the moment your father is settled in suitable lodgings.’
‘I see.’ Phillipa stole a glance towards her mother, who sat with pursed lips.
But not for long. ‘Did you enjoy the musicale we attended?’ her mother asked Miss Gale.
‘I did,’ the girl responded brightly, her blonde curls bobbing as she inclined her head towards her stepmother. ‘Celia does not attend the social functions in her state and Grandmama is not available.’
‘Oh?’ Phillipa feigned surprise and turned to Lady Gale ‘Are you and Miss Gale’s grandmother not well?’
Lady Gale put a hand on her abdomen. ‘I am very well. Celia’s grandmother has recently moved to Bath where she has many friends and should be very happy.’
Phillipa’s mother frowned.
Just one more secret to bring out in the open. ‘Were you ill, though?’
Miss Gale, of course, answered. ‘She was ill at first, but the doctor said all women are at the beginning. All is fine now. In fact, I have asked Celia and Rhysdale to say their vows when Ned and I do. We’ll have a double wedding! Will that not be wonderful?’
‘It will indeed.’ Phillipa smiled at her mother. ‘Do you not agree, Mama?’
‘Yes. Yes,’ her mother responded in a testy tone, but simpered towards Miss Gale. ‘You must attend more functions with me, my girl. My daughter refuses all invitations.’
Miss Gale glanced at Phillipa and her expression turned sympathetic. ‘I do understand.’
The tea arrived and the conversation turned to the other invitations her mother had received and which should be accepted. Miss Gale wisely ceded all decisions to Phillipa’s mother.
Obviously her mother approved Ned’s choice of a wife. Miss Gale was pretty, malleable and hungry for approval.
Phillipa stared into her tea cup and thought of all the secrets kept among them. Her father’s transgressions, his whereabouts, Lady’s Gale’s interesting condition. The best-kept secret might be hers, though. None of them knew she ventured out at night and played the pianoforte at a gaming house.
Lady Gale leaned towards her. ‘You play the pianoforte, do you not?’
For a moment Phillipa wondered if Lady Gale somehow knew her secret, but more probably her mother had mentioned it to Miss Gale that Phillipa closeted herself with her music all day. Miss Gale likely told all to her stepmother.
‘I do play,’ she admitted.
If it were not for secrets, she could ask Lady Gale about her experience at the gaming house, if people treated her differently when she’d worn a mask.
Chapter Seven
That night Xavier stood by the wall in the supper room while Phillipa played ‘Bid Me Discourse’, the music he’d purchased for her.
If he were able, he’d stay the whole time she performed. She played and sang with skill, but also with passion. He not only heard the music, he felt its emotion though her.
‘Bid Me Discourse’ showed Aphrodite’s enchantment by Adonis. She saw only Adonis’s physical beauty. Daphne shared Aphrodite’s misconception.
Appearances could obscure the truth of a person. He’d realised as much since he’d been a young boy. His face and his physique were the least important things about him. He had strength, courage and prowess. He had determination. When he’d finally joined the East Essex regiment, he’d had the chance to prove his true self. Phillipa’s true self—her beauty, her sensibility, her complexity—was revealed through the performance of her music.
He’d seen flashes of this true self in her childhood. The intensity with which she examined a flower. The unanswerable questions she asked that showed an understanding far beyond her years—and his, at the time. The empathy she showed to those less fortunate than she.
‘It is better to have a scar than to be poor and hungry, is it not?’ she said to him once when they’d given coins to a mother begging for her two unfortunate children.
It was indeed.
They were an odd pair in those childhood days, both trying to overcome the handicap of their faces.
Neither had done too badly, he thought as he watched her fingers move confidently on the keyboard.
Still, he wished that he could have prevented the marring of her face back then and saved her the struggle to acceptance.
Phillipa finished the song.
...By law of nature thou art bound to breed,
That thine may live when thou thyself art dead.
And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive,
In that thy likeness still is left alive.
Xavier would not mind seeing a little girl such as she had been, one who could grow up without the pain of disfigurement. But, as for himself, he would not wish his face on any son.
He clapped appreciatively after the last chord was played. She looked directly at him and smiled.
‘Wasn’t that lovely?’ a woman’s voice piped up. Daphne, grabbing the attention to herself.
Cummings appeared at the doorway and gestured to him. Xavier crossed the room to him and followed him into the hallway.
‘MacEvoy says come talk to him,’ the man said.
Xavier hurried down the stairs to the cashier’s room. ‘What is it?’
‘Those fellows in masks you worried about the other night are back,’ MacEvoy said. ‘I’m thinking they are up to no good.’
‘You were right to tell me,’ Xavier responded. ‘I believe I’ll spend some time in the gaming room.’
MacEvoy grinned. ‘My hackles tell me that is a grand idea.’
Xavier sauntered into the gaming room and immediately saw the two men that worried MacEvoy. They’d found two partners for whist and were making a grand show of being deep in the cards, but something about their manner rang false. Xavier alerted a couple of the croupiers to the men and tried to keep a close eye on them without seeming obvious.
General Henson strolled up to him. ‘Your house seems busy tonight.’
‘It is,’ responded Xavier.
The general remained next to him, as if wanting more conversation.
Xavier decided to confide in him. ‘See those two fellows there?’ He gestured to the men.
The general turned in that direction. ‘I do.’
Xavier’s voice deepened. ‘I believe they are trouble.’
‘You do not say?’ The general nodded. ‘I will watch them.’
It did not take much time for Xavier to see the sleight of hand. ‘We have a pair of Captain Sharps, sir.’
He made his way to the table and grasped the arm of the man dealing the cards. ‘One moment, gentlemen.’
He pulled a card from the man’s sleeve.
The man and his partner bounded to their feet. The man Xavier grasped knocked over the table. A shout rose from the gamblers. Women shrieked. The man tried to shove Xavier away, but Xavier did not let go.
The second man tried to make it to the door, but the general blocked his way and one of the croupiers seized him.
Xavier and the card sharp careened against another table, scattering the players, cards and counters. Fists flew.
* * *
Phillipa heard shouts and screams coming from the gaming room. She’d seen Cummings summon Xavier. Something was wrong. She jumped from her bench and ran from the room.
When she reached the door to the gaming room, a dishevelled Xavier d
ragged a man, nose bleeding, from the room. Others held a second man.
The second man made an attempt to get away and, in the struggle, careened into Phillipa. She lost her balance and, as she fell, felt the aura of her vision.
No! It was gone. She’d been certain it was gone. It must not return. She did not wish the loss of her mind in this public place.
But strong arms steadied her, preventing her fall. She breathed a sigh of relief and lifted her gaze to thank the man.
She froze.
An older gentleman held her, but his face was that of the man in the vision.
‘Nothing to fear,’ the man said. ‘I’ve got you.’
She blinked, but his face did not change. He was real. This was the man in her vision, but this time he was real.
‘Who—who are you?’ she managed.
He released her and bowed. ‘Allow me to present myself. I am General Henson and you must not be alarmed by this commotion. Campion spotted some men cheating at cards and he made short work of them.’
She barely heard. Cheaters? ‘Why are you here?’
He looked puzzled for a moment, but immediately assumed a kindly expression. ‘I came for a little gambling, is all.’
The grey hair was wrong. It had been black in her vision. But the face was the same. The same. A few more lines, perhaps, but the same face.
‘Have you come to gamble?’ he asked conversationally. ‘I would be pleased to escort you into the gaming room. It should be straightened up by now. I assure you, all the excitement is over.’
‘No, I—I wanted to speak to—to—Mr Campion.’ Her voice sounded shrill.
If he thought that odd, he made no indication. ‘I suspect he will be busy for a time. Is there somewhere you would like to wait? I will be honoured to convey your request to him. Whom shall I say asks for him?’
She almost spoke her name, but caught herself. ‘Say his pianiste.’
He smiled. ‘So you are the pianiste I have heard so much about? I came last night for the first time, having heard the Masquerade Club had both gambling and fine music. You were not here.’
