A Regency Scandal

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  “The damned clever, scheming devil!” exploded Lord Lydney. ‘I feel responsible, my boy. It was I who suggested Durrant, though I give you my word I could never have supposed he would act in such a way! One good thing, though — your inheritance is safe. You have nothing to fear on that head, now.”

  “No such thing, sir. For all I know, there may exist a genuine claimant.”

  “Good God, boy, never trouble your head over that,” replied Lord Lydney smoothly. “You may depend that if the child had survived, we should have heard of him long since. There’s only one point to be considered, though,” he added thoughtfully. “If we do bring charges against Durrant, a deal of unwelcome publicity is bound to attend the business! Assuming that this female Mrs. Lathom is still alive, it may result in making her come forward to start the whole damnable affair up again, just when it’s comfortably settled. I don’t know how you feel—”

  “It must come to that, in any event,” Anthony interrupted. “I intend to instruct my lawyers to advertise for her.”

  Lord Lydney stared in astonishment. “But why the devil? Why not let matters rest as they are, my dear boy?”

  “No. I want it settled, once for all.”

  “Well, no doubt you know your own business best,” said the older man, in the tone of one who did not believe this. “So as regards Durrant—”

  “Can we leave that, sir, until I’ve seen my father? I’m off there at once, because he’s in ignorance of all this at present, and there’s the man Carlton to be dealt with. Perhaps I might look in when I return, and we can discuss it further? I hope to be back in Town tomorrow, and one day’s delay can’t signify.”

  Lord Lydney agreed.

  After parting from his visitor, he went at once to pass on the astounding news to his wife and daughter, who were sitting together in the morning room. Cynthia, who looked somewhat pale already, turned even paler as the tale unfolded; while Lady Lydney frequently had recourse to her vinaigrette as she uttered exclamations of horror.

  At length, Cynthia rose, apparently tiring of the discussion.

  “I am going to visit Lady Plummet at Richmond, Mama, but I shall return soon after two o’clock.”

  “Oh, I wish you will not go to that female!” exclaimed Lady Lydney, pettishly. “You know quite well that I do not approve of her as a companion for you. Still, if you have already engaged yourself to go, I suppose you can’t very well back out. Your maid will go with you, of course, since I cannot — all this has quite overset my nerves, even if I could relish the notion of a visit to Lady Plummet at any time! Pray do not overstay your time, for we are to attend Mrs. Winstanley’s rout this evening, you may recall — though I never felt less like a party in my life!”

  Cynthia reassured her on this point before thankfully quitting the room.

  “And what is now to become of the match between her and Shaldon?” Lady Lydney asked her husband plaintively.

  He frowned. “I see no reason for it to be abandoned. The only thing is, the foolish fellow insists on proceeding with the quest that Durrant was supposed to be undertaking. While the issue is in doubt, perhaps it would be best to wait. What are Cynthia’s views, I wonder? Has she said anything to you since the rumours were noised abroad? She seemed very anxious to make her escape just now. I would have expected her to remain and talk the matter over with us, since it so nearly concerns her.”

  “Oh, there’s no accounting for your daughter’s behaviour!” Cynthia was always referred to as Lord Lydney’s daughter whenever her mother happened to be displeased with her, which was not infrequently. “If you imagine that she ever talks her personal concerns over with me, you’re vastly mistaken. I daresay that dreadful Plummet female knows more about Cynthia than her own mother does!”

  This was true. Cynthia’s visit to Lady Plummet that morning had not been prearranged, as she had allowed her mother to think. It was the outcome of a desperate realisation that she knew of no one else to whom she might turn in a situation such as faced her at present.

  She was in a fever of impatience during the journey to Richmond, and kept snapping at her maid until that inoffensive individual was almost afraid to stir in her seat. They arrived at last, however; and the maid thankfully watched her mistress being shown into the drawing room, while she herself remained in blessed solitude on a chair in the hall.

  Fortunately for Cynthia, Lady Plummet was at home. She entered the room in a gown of violet silk embellished with countless knots of ribbon and a double row of flouncing at the hem. She greeted Cynthia effusively, but her expression changed gradually as her visitor explained the reason for this unexpected call.

  “Lud, my dear, how could you be so monstrous careless?” she demanded, presently. “Did you not follow the instructions I gave you?”

  Cynthia nodded despondently.

  “Well, I never knew those precautions to fail before. But then, a first time, and the man no doubt ardent” — here the lady tittered salaciously — “and you, I’ll be bound, not backward in returning his ardour! Unfortunate, yes, prodigiously. But are you quite, quite certain? There can be no mistake?”

  “None!” Cynthia snapped. Her nerves were understandably on edge. “It should have happened two days later. I’m a month overdue.”

  “Tut, tut! Two days before — the very worst time, believe me. But sometimes, you know, some little upset — nerves, for instance — may disturb the rhythm.”

  “Not in my case. I assure you I may set the clock by it — regular not only to the day, but even the hour, almost the minute! And always so, ever since I first started. Don’t let us waste time over that, but tell me at once what I can do to right matters!”

  Thereupon Lady Plummet suggested a number of homely remedies, most of which Cynthia had already tried without success. At last she mentioned a more drastic one.

  “Of course, it will be prodigiously expensive,” she warned, “but I daresay you’ll find a way to obtain the fee. This man’s reliable and discreet. Don’t be put off by the unsavoury neighbourhood or the fact that he’s somewhat lacking in social graces.”

  Cynthia shivered. She was not ordinarily an imaginative girl; but now a vivid picture crossed her mind of a dingy back room and a slovenly quack bending over her, most likely gin-sodden and with black fingernails.

  “No, not that!” she said, fiercely. “There must be some other way!”

  Lady Plummet surveyed her with amused contempt. “Well, I must confess, I’m hard put to it to think of another. I suppose you couldn’t arrange for an early marriage to one of your suitors? You must have several, I imagine.”

  “No one whom I’ve encouraged sufficiently for a wedding to be imminent. You must know how I’ve been placed, more or less promised to Shaldon. There was no need to look around for others.”

  “Oh, yes, and now it seems he’s no longer heir to Alvington — a pretty titbit of scandal! But in the circumstances, my dear, why not bring him speedily to the point? It scarce matters that he’s no longer a Viscount. All you require at present is a husband of any degree.”

  “Those rumours are all nonsense, Louisa, as I’ve just learned this morning, so you’d do well not to spread them. But never mind that. Even if I did succeed in bringing on a declaration from Shaldon — and I don’t mind admitting that I’m by no means sure of him — it would be a matter of months before a wedding could be arranged, as you must realise for yourself. And by then, my secret would be plain to all!”

  Lady Plummet shrugged. “Well, there may be something in what you say. Since you reject all my other suggestions for one reason or another, have you considered marrying this man Durrant himself? At least that match could be arranged with sufficient speed, since he would know of your fix.”

  “Marry Durrant?” shrieked Cynthia, beside herself. “What kind of future could I look forward to, then? Besides, he’s in disgrace! He’s made off somewhere, Lord knows where — and when he is found, he’ll most likely be handed over to the Law!”

&nb
sp; “I must say, you both seem to have behaved most improvidently,” replied Lady Plummet, with another shrug. “However, if you don’t know where he is, I quite see that you can’t very well marry him. All the same, remember that beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll give you the direction of this quack, in any event, for you may change your mind later about making use of his services.”

  She crossed over to a writing table, scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper and handed it to Cynthia.

  The interview was at an end.

  A dullness of spirit settled over Cynthia as she trod slowly down the staircase to the hall. Oh, Lord, what a mess everything was! She would have given anything now to undo that fateful night at the Moonlight Masquerade which at the time had brought her such ecstatic sensual delight. This was what happened, she thought bitterly, when one took a gambler’s chance. If only she had waited until she was safely married to some unsuspecting nobleman, she might with impunity have taken what lovers she chose.

  Not that there were any she fancied at present to the same degree as Durrant. In spite of her dejected mood, for a moment she conjured up again the memory of their intense passion on that night — his ruthless kisses, his questing hands, his urgent body pressed closer and ever closer by her own eager embrace. He was the man for her, not a doubt of it, in everything but rank. And now she had lost him along with everything else, because she had been an impatient fool.

  She came out of her reverie as Lady Plummet’s front door closed behind herself and the subdued maid, and looked expectantly up and down the street for her carriage. It was nowhere in sight; but a post chaise with four horses was drawn up before the house. In a moment, someone emerged from this vehicle and came towards her.

  She almost fainted from shock as she recognised Durrant.

  “What — what are you doing here?” she gasped.

  “Waiting for you,” he answered, calmly. “Won’t you get into the chaise? I’ve dismissed your coachman, telling him I mean to drive you home myself, so you have no other conveyance at hand.”

  “You’ve had the effrontery to do that? And what kind of reception, pray, do you imagine you’ll find after all your recent exploits? I should advise you to keep well away from my father!”

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, persuasively, “and this was the only way I could think of. Won’t you please come with me? We must be private, so if you should not object, I propose to send the maid back in a hackney.”

  She hesitated for a moment, turning over in her mind the recent interview with Lady Plummet. She shivered as she thought of the piece of paper in her reticule and her image of that dingy room and the repellent abortionist. Perhaps she, too, needed to talk with Durrant. She nodded.

  He spoke briefly to the maid, who had waited respectfully on one side during their conversation, and handed her some money. The girl turned away with a backward glance at her mistress, who was being tenderly assisted into the post chaise. She watched Durrant climb in after Miss Lydney and shut the door. Then the postillion started up his horses with a flourish of his whip, and the vehicle disappeared down the street in a cloud of dust.

  With an uneasy feeling that all was not well and that she might later get into trouble over it, the maid went in search of a hackney.

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  It had been decided some time since, that Melissa’s birthday should be celebrated quietly with a small evening party for her available relatives and a few chosen friends. In the beginning, it had been taken for granted that James Somerby should figure among the latter; but since his proposal of marriage, Melissa had heard nothing more of an invitation for him.

  “And I don’t care to ask,” she confided to Helen, a few days before the event, “because I couldn’t bear to hear Mama say that it would be wiser for him not to come! I know Julia has written. Mama was perusing a long letter from her this morning, but she didn’t pass it over to me afterwards, as she generally does. That indicates Julia’s kept her promise, don’t you agree?” She sighed heavily. “Oh, if only it will make Mama and Papa see matters differently! Sometimes I am hopeful, then at others I’m plunged into despair! I suppose your brother said nothing to you, Helen, about having been invited?”

  Helen did not have the heart to remind her friend that when she had last seen James her mind had been occupied with other matters, so she merely replied that he had made no mention of it. Melissa sighed and remained downcast for some time afterwards.

  On the morning of her birthday she was in a more sanguine frame of mind, however, and was all smiles as she received gifts and loving wishes from her family. She was particularly pleased with Helen’s gift of a small cameo pendant in Wedgwood’s jasperware, which both girls had admired when they had visited Wedgwood and Byerley’s warehouse in York Street on their first shopping expedition.

  It was a little later that the butler came into the room with a fragrant bouquet of deep red, velvety roses and handed them to her.

  “How very pretty!” exclaimed Lady Chetwode. “Who has sent them, my dear? See, there’s a card attached by that piece of ribbon. Do look.”

  Melissa looked, blushed, looked again, then silently handed the card to her mother. There was no need to read the brief, understated message; everyone present knew who had sent the flowers. And later, when she was dressed for her party in a gown of peach satin overlaid with gauze, she wore one of the roses pinned to the ribbon which bound up her glossy chestnut curls.

  During the interval before dinner, visitors were constantly arriving, among them Catherine Horwood. The Lydneys had not been invited, as Melissa had stated categorically that she did not count Cynthia as one of her most intimate friends.

  “It’s a trifle awkward about her brother, though,” Lady Chetwode had demurred. “We can’t very well invite him without Cynthia, yet in the circumstances, Helen may feel the omission, don’t you think?”

  In truth, Helen’s mind was very little on Melissa’s party, though she contributed her fair share of polite chatter. She kept wondering how Anthony had fared at Alvington and what the outcome would be of his revelations to the Earl. He had promised to let her know developments as soon as possible after he returned to Town; but in the meantime, she could not concentrate fully on any other matter.

  She was standing beside Melissa in conversation with several other guests when she heard her friend draw a quick, excited breath. Turning, she saw with surprise that James had just entered the room. Sir George and Lady Chetwode at once went over to him and greeted him with welcoming faces before bringing him to join Melissa and herself. They then tactfully detached the remainder of the group so that the newcomer was left alone for a time with the two girls.

  “Well, this is a surprise!” said Helen. “You said nothing of being here this evening when last we met.”

  “I received an invitation a few days later,” he replied, his eyes all the time on Melissa, whose face was radiant. “I have some good news for you, too. I have obtained my Diploma.”

  This matter-of-fact statement was received by both his auditors with enthusiastic congratulation.

  “So you will soon be returning to Dr. Gillies to take up your new duties?” asked Helen.

  He nodded. “Yes, it is all arranged, and I am to move out to Paddington in a day or two. By the way, there is something else you’ll be interested to hear, Nell. I have fixed up our friend, Mrs. Dorston, with somewhat more congenial quarters than Star Court. It’s a small place in Southwark — not grand, you know, but quite comfortable. And since so much of her life was spent in the Borough, she is very content to make the move.”

  “Oh, that is famous! But,” said Helen, as a doubt occurred to her, “will it be within her means?”

  “As to that, her means are to be a trifle enlarged by a small annuity from Tony. He called in to see me the day before yesterday to seek my aid in the matter of finding accommodation for her, and he told me then that he meant to instruct his lawyers about the annuity as soon as he could find a minute t
o visit them. He was off to Alvington on the following day — that is yesterday — but expected to return today. He said life was a confounded rush at present.”

  “Oh, how good he is! James, had he already seen Durrant when he visited you?”

  James grinned. “Indeed he had. And since I know you’ll be wondering, Nell, how matters went between them, I collected that our old friend Durrant got the worst of it. But this is Miss Chetwode’s birthday party, so we mustn’t bore her with our selfish concerns. Forgive us, ma’am.”

  “But I am not bored at all!” insisted Melissa, who indeed could have listened to James talking on any topic just so long as she could have him beside her. “I know all about this, you see, for Helen had permission from Viscount Shaldon to divulge it to me.”

  His very blue eyes looked into Melissa’s with an intensity of expression that told Helen she had now lost his attention completely. She wondered if she might venture to leave them alone together for a little while without offending Lady Chetwode’s sense of what was proper. It seemed hard that they should not be allowed any private conversation when they could meet so seldom. She glanced about her and saw to her relief that both Sir George and his lady were at present engrossed in conversation with some of their guests. She slipped quietly away to join a nearby group; neither James nor Melissa even noticed her departure.

  The evening wore pleasantly away until it was time for the guests to take their leave. Most of them had already gone before James reluctantly decided that he must part from Melissa.

  “When shall I see you again, I wonder?” he asked her in a subdued tone.

  She shook her head wordlessly, not far from tears.

  “At least we’ve had this one evening together,” he said, in a rallying tone, “and on your birthday, too. We must try to exist on memories for a while.” Then, dropping his voice, “Oh, my dear, my dearest dear!”