Annabelle

by Beaton, M. C.

  “I shall be down presently,” said Annabelle. “And next time, please knock, Horley.”

  “Good servants never knock,” said Horley righteously.

  “Then scratch at the door. You know exactly what I mean, Horley,” snapped Annabelle. Horley bristled with anger and then turned abruptly and left the room.

  She was quite sure miss was tampering with those gowns and more than one lady had held out a bribe to Horley in the hopes of finding out the name of Annabelle’s dressmaker. Then they should have it, decided Horley grimly, and that might give that little upstart something to worry about.

  The Captain was pacing up and down the room. He stopped when he saw Annabelle, and the pair went through their peculiar hit-and-miss ballet—the Captain trying to kiss Annabelle and Annabelle trying to avoid the kiss being planted on her mouth. At last the Captain turned to the decanter as usual and, after he had poured himself a generous measure of canary, he asked Annabelle in a surprisingly gentle voice if she would mind if he did not escort her to the fête.

  Annabelle did not mind in the least but felt it would be rude to say so. She compromised by pointing out that the Captain had indeed been a dutiful escort during the previous days and that she felt he deserved an “evening off.”

  The Captain beamed at her with affectionate relief. There was a prime mill at Brick Hill and he would not miss it for worlds and if he did not get there the night before, then he would not be able to command the best place since sportsmen from all over the country would be journeying there. He waxed almost poetical on the subject of boxing—how the last time he had been at Brick Hill, he had been loitering around the inn door when a barouche and four had driven up with Lord Byron and a party and Jackson, the trainer. How they had all dined together and how marvellous it had been, the intense excitement, the sparring, then the first round and— oh! it was … Homeric.

  Annabelle smiled and tried not to show her relief at the prospect of a social evening without the Captain.

  LADY Jane Cherle bit her rather full underlip. For all Lord Varleigh’s kisses and caresses, she had not liked the way he had promptly walked off with Annabelle from the Standishes’ breakfast. He had just now sent Jane a note saying that he would be grateful if she could make her own way to the Hullocks’ party as he had some pressing business. She would not go, thought Jane pettishly. But her costume of a Turkish harem girl was infinitely seductive, and she did not want its charms to go to waste. After some thought she decided she would go after all—but very, very late. That would give Sylvester Varleigh time to miss her. And that way she could make a very splendid last minute appearance.

  ANNABELLE and Lady Emmeline were late by the time they boarded the Hullocks’ enormous yacht which was moored in the Thames near to Vauxhall Gardens. The decks of the yacht were thickly carpeted in oriental rugs, and silk canopies fluttered over the heads of the guests. A magnificent red sunset was blazing through the forest of masts of the other ships.

  Mr. Hullock was as proud and as pleased with his fashionable guests as if they were a friendly company of kindred spirits instead of a vacuous-faced jostling throng. As darkness crept over the water and young Rossini’s music serenaded the guzzling guests, Annabelle noticed Lord Varleigh climbing aboard. He was correct to an inch in formal evening dress instead of costume; chapeau bras and knee breeches, ruffled shirt and cravat, short jacket with swallow tails, diamonded pumps and dress sword. His gaze wandered towards Annabelle, he gave a brief smile, and then continued to search the crowd. He is looking for Lady Jane, thought Annabelle. Her costume which had seemed so dashing and alluring only a few minutes ago now seemed to poor Annabelle to have become downright frumpish. Her head sank slightly under her gold helmet, and she stared dismally at the dirty water moving beside the schooner.

  When she raised her head again, it was to see that Lord Varleigh had given up his search for Lady Jane and was moving towards her. All of a sudden Annabelle did not want to be singled out as second best. She moved swiftly away towards the stern of the ship where the light of the many lanterns; did not reach.

  The heartbreaking strains of a waltz echoed in the still air, and the smells of wine and French cooking mingled with the less attractive smells of the river.

  As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Annabelle could make out the shapes of a couple approaching her. She shrank back into the blackness and stood very still, not wanting her confused thoughts to be interrupted.

  It was then she realised that the couple were approaching in a very odd manner. With surprise, she made out the gold lace of Lady Emmeline’s evening gown, the Dowager Marchioness having decided not to go in costume.

  But Lady Emmeline was walking backwards, and instead of accompanying her, the gentleman was behind her. A sudden burst of fireworks went up from Vauxhall Gardens and Annabelle noticed with horror that Lady Emmeline’s escort or pursuer was dressed as a pirate and was carrying a very lethal-looking cutlass which he was pointing straight at the terrified Dowager Marchioness.

  “Back,” grated the “pirate” in a hoarse voice. His face was masked and his eyes glittered strangely through the slits in the black velvet. “Over the side with you,” he hissed, holding the point of the cutlass dangerously near the terrified Lady Emmeline’s throat.

  “I c-can’t s-swim,” babbled Lady Emmeline. “I sh-shall drown.”

  “Exactly,” mocked the pirate.

  “Wait!” cried Annabelle, darting forward. She stood in front of her terrified godmother. “Now, my man,” she said, “you have two of us to deal with.”

  “Get out of the way, you silly little doxy,” rasped the pirate. Annabelle felt the point of the cutlass at her throat, but she did not flinch. Annabelle would have been very surprised indeed had she been told she was being extremely brave. Her duty was to rescue her godmother at all costs.

  Her mind worked very quickly. Her godmother’s attacker obviously wanted Lady Emmeline’s death to look like an accident. Then she must risk screaming for help.

  She threw back her head and screamed as loudly as she could, and great shriek upon shriek echoed along the length of the vessel.

  There came the sound of running footsteps as Lord Varleigh hurtled along the companionway, his drawn sword in his hand. The pirate looked from Annabelle to Lord Varleigh and jumped nimbly over the side of the schooner. There was a loud splash. Annabelle craned her head over the side. There came another burst of golden stars from the Vauxhall fireworks, and she could see the pirate’s head bobbing among their golden reflections as he swam with strong strokes to the shore.

  More people came running up, and there was a tremendous babble of “What happened” and “Good gracious” and the high voice of Mr. Louch suggesting, “It might have been Harry Stokes. He’s dressed as Neptune and mayhap wants some more fair maidens for his kingdom. Oh! ’Tis Lady Emmeline. Then he is perhaps in the need of some old trout.”

  “Shame,” cried several voices, and Mr. Louch, who was dressed as a rajah, retired in disorder.

  The Countess Honeyford, an old friend of Lady Emmeline, who was finding the entertainments tiresome and had complained bitterly at having been introduced to a mere merchant before she had taken two aristocratic steps on board, offered to escort the shaken Dowager Marchioness home.

  Lady Emmeline recovered enough to give Annabelle a warm hug. “You saved my life, my dear,” she said clasping Annabelle to her scanty bosom. “No need for you to rush away. Look after her, Varleigh, will you?”

  “Delighted,” said Lord Varleigh smoothly, leading Annabelle away. Annabelle wondered why she stayed. It was surely her duty to go home with Lady Emmeline. As she and Lord Varleigh elbowed and pushed their way through the throng, hands caught at Lord Varleigh’s sleeve and mocking voices asked him what he had done with Lady Jane. Annabelle saw the plump figure of her godmother being helped down into a small boat which was to take her to the farther shore and made an impulsive move to run after her but found herself restrained by the surprising st
rength of Lord Varleigh’s fingers.

  Bowing and smiling to his acquaintances, he led the reluctant Annabelle to a quiet corner, picking up a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the way.

  “Now, my delectable Athene,” he said, filling her glass. “You must tell me exactly what happened.”

  As he listened carefully to her story, he was touched and amused by the bravery she had displayed and by the fact that she was completely unaware of it.

  When she had finished, he sat in silence few what seemed to Annabelle a very long time. At last he said, “Someone is trying to kill Lady Emmeline.”

  Annabelle had already come to just that conclusion herself, but it was shocking to hear it voiced in such a quiet conversational tone. “What are we to do?” she asked.

  “Keep a close guard on her,” he said, “and watch for anyone who might be her enemy. I shall help you, Miss Quennell.”

  “Thank you,” said Annabelle quietly, stealing a shy look at his profile. He turned suddenly and smiled down at her, and she felt as if her bones had turned to water.

  Most of the guests were leaving and many of the lanterns had burned out. But in the dim light he could see Annabelle’s large eyes searching his own and the faint tremor of her lips. On impulse he bent his head and placed a fleeting kiss on her mouth. The young soft lips beneath his seemed to cling and burn, and he raised his head and stared at her in silence as the shrill voice of his mistress cut through the chatter of the departing guests, “Sylvester! Has anyone seen Sylvester?”

  Lord Varleigh took Annabelle’s hand in his and held it. “Not tonight,” he murmured. “No. Not tonight, Lady Jane.”

  Lady Jane stood surrounded by the remainder of the guests. “Varleigh’s gone off with that Quennell girl,” came the high voice of George Louch. “MacDonald will have something to say about that,” he added with a titter.

  Lady Jane’s large eyes seemed to bore into the darkness where Annabelle was sitting. For a moment her face was white with fury and then, in an instant, she had changed to her usual coquettish self.

  “Then who will be my cavalier?” she cried. Several male voices answered in assent, and surrounded by a laughing and cheering group, Lady Jane departed.

  Annabelle became aware that Lord Varleigh was still holding her hand and tugged it free. She was suddenly hot with shame at the enormity of her behavior. What on earth would her father say were he to know that she had let one man kiss her while she was engaged to another?

  But Lord Varleigh rose and collected his chapeau bras and escorted Miss Quennell home as if nothing at all had passed between them. She did not know whether to be angry or glad.

  To Annabelle’s surprise Lady Emmeline was waiting up for her. Lord Varleigh had left Annabelle on her doorstep to go … where? To Lady Jane? Or did the “No, not tonight” still apply?

  Lady Emmeline was dressed more in keeping with her age in a faded kimono and as a result looked considerably younger.

  “Come in, sit down, my dear,” she said as Annabelle entered. “I have not yet thanked you enough for saving my life.” She raised one plump, beringed hand as Annabelle would have protested. “No, indeed! It was a most courageous action. You have more spirit than … than … well, than I would ever have guessed. You must tell me what I can give you. Jewels? Furs…no, not the season. Come now. There must be something you want?”

  “You have given me enough, Godm … I mean, Emmeline,” said Annabelle slowly, “but there is just one thing…”

  “Which is?”

  Annabelle clasped her suddenly trembling hands together in her lap. She looked straight at her godmother. “I do not wish to be affianced to Captain MacDonald,” she said.

  Lady Emmeline’s eyes fell before the girl’s direct look. “Well, well, well,” she said. “Tol rol. It’s your inexperience, girl. If you knew more of the ways of men, then you would appreciate a fine upstanding man like the Captain.”

  She looked hopefully at Annabelle who said firmly, “I really mean it, you know. I do not wish to marry Captain MacDonald.”

  “Umph!” said Lady Emmeline sulkily. Then her wrinkled, monkey face took on a crafty look under its mask of powder and paint. “Then so be it. I shall send a notice that your engagement is at an end to the newspaper in the morning. Do not trouble to speak to Captain MacDonald yourself. I shall see him for you.”

  “Oh, thank you…,” Annabelle was beginning when Lady Emmeline interrupted her. “But the poor Captain is quite smitten with you, you know. I mean, it would not be fair to drop him entirely,heh? No harm in him escorting you here and there till you’re suited. After all, your papa would not want you to do anything rash. Seems to me he’s quite pleased about it.” She drew a crumpled letter from the sleeve of her kimono.

  The rector had written to Lady Emmeline stating his joy and delight that Annabelle was already engaged. He went on at some length on the subject. Annabelle’s eyes were misted over with tears as she handed it back, and Lady Emmeline could only be glad that the girl had not noticed the missing sheet of the letter where the rector had then set out all his anxieties and hopes that it was a marriage of the heart.

  “So you’ll try?” queried Lady Emmeline, her sharp eyes watching the girl’s expressive face. “Just to please a poor old woman.”

  Annabelle nodded dumbly.

  Lady Emmeline’s eyes suddenly narrowed like those of a large tabby cat. “Ah, Varleigh, now. He escorted you home?”

  “Yes,” said Annabelle a little breathlessly and felt the guilty color beginning to mantle her cheeks.

  “Well, there’s a triumph! Of course,” went on Lady Emmeline smoothly, “there has from time to time been some pretty debutante who has managed to pry my lord from Lady Jane’s side. But not for long. He only does it to make her jealous. Oh well”—here she gave a fake yawn—“I suppose that pair will be tying the knot before long. London’s ceased being scandalized at their affair. God knows, it’s been going on long enough!”

  And having noticed that the barb had gone home, Lady Emmeline took herself off to bed.

  But after Horley had snuffed the candles and Lady Emmeline lay abed in the dark listening to the wind in the trees outside and the high monotonous call of the watch, she began to turn over the events of the evening in her mind. She should never have left the girl alone with Varleigh. He had not been with Lady Jane for long, and it looked as if he would not be with her for much longer, but she certainly wasn’t going to let Miss Annabelle Quennel know that! She then thought of her assailant. Could someone be trying to kill her? Fiddlesticks! Who could want to? Probably I’m the target of some mad bet, thought Lady Emmeline sleepily. They’ll find something else to bet on, on the morrow. She was suddenly very tickled at the idea that her name might be appearing at this very moment in White’s betting book.

  As for the Captain, she would tell him to play things easily. Annabelle was too shy and country bred to appreciate someone like the Captain. She needed some town bronze. Let her cancel the engagement. She would be engaged to the Captain again before the Season was out. He was just like his father, thought Lady Emmeline dreamily. Captain Mac Donald’s father had been her one and only love. Unfortunately she had been married to the Marquess at the time or perhaps Captain Jimmy MacDonald might have been her own son.

  Annabelle should come about. All it needed was a bit of plotting and careful handling. Damn Varleigh! Why did he have to start poking his long nose into her affairs…

  Chapter Six

  “What the hell is going on?” demanded Captain MacDonald two days later. He had stayed on at Brick Hill to enjoy the roistering after the prize fight, and the first he knew of the end of his engagement was when he saw it staring up at him in black and white from the sheets of his morning paper.

  “Damme,” he said wrathfully. “Can’t you control that girl?”

  “Quiet down and listen,” said Lady Emmeline, admiring the Captain’s handsome figure. “We rushed the girl, you know. Handle her gently and she’
ll come about.”

  “Why Annabelle” demanded the Captain wrathfully. “Lots of other gels would be glad to have me.”

  “I’m sure of it,” said Lady Emmeline soothingly. “But my late sister, Caroline, was fond of Annabelle’s mother. Poor Caroline was always fretting about the Quennells and when she knew she was dying, she made me promise to help them. And so I shall. I’m fond of you, Jimmy, love you like a son, but a family promise is a family promise.”

  “But the gel won’t get any money an’ she marries someone else?” demanded the Captain.

  “Don’t know,” said Lady Emmeline. “She saved my life, you know. I suppose it was all meant as a joke or some sort of wager, but I’d have died if I’d gone into that river.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” demanded the Captain. “Has everyone gone mad?”

  Lady Emmeline told him all about her adventure, and the Captain said nastily that he thought it sounded more like a production at the Haymarket Theatre, and then followed it up with a hearty laugh as he saw the clouds gathering on Lady Emmeline’s wrinkled brow.

  He started pacing up and down the room, his brow creased in thought. “Look! Let me talk to Annabelle and I’ll put it right. I’ll do what you say, of course. I won’t rush my fences.”

  “Very well,” said Lady Emmeline, touching the bell. “Send Miss Quennell down,” she said to one of her many footmen who had answered the summons. “Do not say that Captain MacDonald is here. Merely say that I wish to see her.”

  And so it was that Annabelle, tripping lightly into the room some ten minutes later, found only the Captain, waiting beside the fireplace with one glossy Hessian boot propped on the fender and the inevitable glass of ruby red liquid in his hand.

  She looked at him, blushing with embarrassment, but he merely smiled at her in a kindly way and said, “Don’t take fright, Annabelle. I ain’t going to eat you. I only want to say how sorry I am that our engagement is at an end.”