Artemis - Kydd 02

by Julian Stockwin

  'I just know I should have worn the mauve crepe,' fretted Mrs Kydd. 'Cambric will not answer, but it is the fashion — what will Mrs Daryton think?'

  'Now, Mama, please don't fuss. Think of the hours we spent at the needle and goffering iron. We are now in the first rank of the fancy. Set your cares at rest and enjoy yourself tonight, dear Mama/

  The carriage swayed at a corner. 'Tell the driver to have a care, Walter,' Mrs Kydd instructed, shrilly. Mr Kydd obediently banged at the roof. An upside-down face suddenly appeared at the window, grinning devilishly; the ladies screamed.

  'T-take care, if you please, driver,' Mr Kydd said to the apparition.

  'Aye aye, sir!' said the boatswain, and winked at Cecilia but remained inverted, grinning inanely.

  'Mr Perrott, you are in drink,' said Mrs Kydd frostily.

  'All the haaaaands to dance and skylark!' the boatswain roared happily.

  'You are quite betwaddled, Mr Perrott and - my God, who's driving the carriage?' she suddenly screamed in terror.

  The boatswain winked again. 'Why, Mr Thomas — 'e's 'ad the ribbons this last mile 'n' a half.' He seemed to recollect something and disappeared abruptly.

  Shaken, Mrs Kydd turned to her husband. 'I knew we shouldn't have let Thomas ride outside,' she muttered. The carriage turned abruptly, and swung in through a wrought-iron gate, rolling grittily up the driveway. 'We're here, Walter,' she exclaimed, in consternation.

  They drew up at twin sconces that flamed each side of an impressive doorway. Even before the carriage had come to a stop, Kydd dropped lightly to the ground and was at the door, lowering the step. Muffled sounds of gaiety and music from within raised the pitch of excitement to an exquisite expectation.

  'Milady.' He grinned at Cecilia, who accepted his hand daintily in much the same way as she had boarded the frigate at his side in Portsmouth. A special, soft look was Kydd's token that she had not forgotten either.

  The party stood outside, uncertain. The carriage stood also. Mrs Kydd dug her elbow discreetly into Mr Kydd's side until he blinked and spoke up to the figure at the reins. 'Er, please to await our pleasure, er, you may proceed, Mr Perrott.'

  The boatswain leant down puzzled, then looked mystified at Kydd. 'Oh — he means, lay off to loo'ard but stay within hail,' Kydd explained. The boatswain grinned and jerked the carriage forward.

  At the door, a harassed footman appeared. Renzi guessed that the household did not run to over-many servants but approached with good grace. He was in his plain black, his only concession to the evening a borrowed silver-grey waistcoat. The footman, expecting something by way of a cloak, stood confused.

  'Mr and Mrs Kydd, Miss Cecilia Kydd, Mr Thomas Kydd - and Mr Renzi,' Renzi said quietly.

  Kydd's own raiment was of an altogether more flamboyant nature. Growling that he wanted nothing of coats and breeches he had finally succumbed, and at the last minute wore a brave show of bottle-green coat, blue breeches and tasselled yellow waistcoat. Renzi had shuddered at the sight, but loudly approved Kydd's snowy white lace cravat.

  The footman led them into the house to what would serve as the assembly room for the night. It was ablaze with candlelight, mirrors at each end placed cunningly to make the room seem even larger, and filled with people chattering delightedly. Beyond were large French windows open to the warm darkness of the garden beyond. Packed into the corner a string trio sawed away and a shy maid bore around a tray of sweetmeats.

  'Oh, Mr Renzi,' said Mrs Daryton warmly, advancing on Renzi. 'I am so glad you were able to come.' Her gown gave ample prominence to her bosom, and her exuberant display of jewellery glittered in the candlelight. 'You must meet Letitia, she has been talking about you — and Mr Bedsoe says as how he is sure you are in the diplomatic line,' she added.

  Renzi stood his ground, and with a perfect bow stepped aside to reveal Cecilia, eyes wide and looking striking in the ivory dress, with her strong features and dark looks. 'May I present Miss Cecilia Kydd,' he said, signalling discreetly to the motionless Cecilia to step forward. Renzi caught faces turning appreciatively in her direction as the men took her measure.

  'My dear, I hope you will enjoy this little evening, I'm sure,' Mrs Daryton murmured. Renzi hung back discreetly, and she moved on to Mrs Kydd, 'I don't think I've had the pleasure,' she said, in a silver-cool voice.

  Mrs Kydd flushed, but Mr Kydd stepped up manfully. 'Mrs Daryton, may — er — might I present my wife, Fanny.' To Mrs Daryton's infinite satisfaction, Mrs Kydd bobbed her a quick curtsy. 'And my son Thomas.' Raising her eyebrows at Kydd's interesting appearance, she nevertheless took in thoughtfully his manly strength and direct gaze.

  Renzi watched the proceedings and when honours had been duly done, assumed a polite smile and moved forward into the noisy throng.

  'I say, you, Renzi!' A short man with a flushed face and sharp flinty eyes confronted him. 'D'ye think we don't know what y'r about?'

  'I am afraid you have the advantage of me, sir,' said Renzi.

  The man flashed glances around the room. 'Bedsoe, sir, and it's a guinea to a shillin' you're in gover'ment business, an' diplomacy at that. Right?'

  Renzi gave a short bow. 'I am desolated to contradict you, Mr Bedsoe, but I am far from being a diplomat.' Another two men, one with an interested lady on his arm, joined the conversation.

  'Ah, but still on government business, I'll be bound,' one said.

  His lady looked at Renzi boldly. 'You will forgive us quizzing you, sir, but you do present as a man of some mystery,' she said, her eyes on his.

  'I vow I am not on government business,' Renzi deflected urbanely.

  'He is a man of business,' the other man said to the lady, 'I heard Mrs Daryton say.'

  'Oh - then it must be, let me see, in banking, foreign money, secret arrangements.' The lady's eyes sparkled.

  'No, no!' Renzi laughed.

  'Then what, pray?'

  'Er, all that I am permitted to say is that as of this moment I am on the King's Service,' Renzi said. 'Ah! The King! And—'

  'I am not at liberty to say anything further, madam.'

  The group fell into a silence, looking respectfully at Renzi. 'These are fearful times, my dear,' the first man told her, 'uncommon dreadful things happenin' everywhere in the world. I'm sure Mr Renzi is involved in these at some peril to himself, in our interest — is that not so, Renzi?'

  * * *

  Kydd felt more awkward than ever he had felt before. He hung back from the crowd, watching the backs of men as they chatted amiably with the women, some of whom threw him curious glances. He was left alone in his misery — he knew no one and could think of no easy conversational entree.

  'What have we here, Charles?' To his right, two men strolled towards him, their gold quizzing glasses and tight buckskin breeches proclaiming them dandies. A quizzing glass went up and the taller man swept Kydd up and down. 'Such a fopling, Charles - but I do believe it is our new word-grinder at this Navy school.'

  The other dandy's eyebrows went up in astonishment. 'By Jessamy, an' I think you may be right, dear fellow.'

  Kydd glowered, but could not think of what to do in the situation.

  'I say, Mr Schoolman, do you realise you'll be learnin' young Brenton his gerunds from his gerundives?' The two dissolved into elegant fits of the giggles for some reason.

  'If y'r Brenton needs his jerruns he'll learn his jerruns, right enough,' Kydd said stiffly.

  The two broke into howls of laughter, and sauntered off. Kydd's face burned, and he yearned with all his heart to be back in the clear salt air of the sea, where men about him were honest and direct.

  The hum of conversations rose and fell, and he watched Cecilia playing complex games of coquetry with her fan to a circle of admirers. Renzi was backed into a corner by a group of what seemed to be local businessmen, and his mother sat in animated conversation with other mothers of an age in the chairs along one wall.

  A silvery tinkle sounded above the hubbub. It persisted, and the noi
se died. It was Mrs Daryton in the centre of the room, looking about her primly.

  'The gentlemen may now find their partners for the quadrille/ she announced.

  A happy burst of chatter erupted and Kydd was shouldered unceremoniously aside by excited couples. He flattened himself against the wall and saw Renzi stride through the crowd to Cecilia. 'Shall you dance with me, Miss Kydd?' he said, raising her hand to his lips.

  Cecilia dropped her eyes and said modestly, 'My mama tells me never to accept a man's invitation too precipitately.' Then the eyes flicked up and filled with laughter. 'Of course, dear Nicholas.'

  Renzi led her out to the centre of the room, and they assumed one side of the square of four couples. He smiled — he had prudently enquired about Daryton evenings and had found that Mrs Daryton favoured the formality of a quadrille to open the entertainments. Cecilia had proved an apt pupil, and he would now claim his reward.

  The string trio handled the rondo with aplomb, neither too quick nor too tiresome, and Cecilia clearly revelled in the gay rush and stately retreat, a balote followed by the pas de basque, a fetching blush rising to her cheeks. Renzi warmed to her vivacity, the sparkling eyes unaffected by pose or affect, and he felt oddly moved by his remembrance of her visit to the frigate to claim her brother.

  A twinge of guilt had him looking about the room for Kydd. He finally caught sight of him behind the crush, bent down in trying to make a deaf old lady understand something. He realised what was happening but shrugged mentally: Kydd would have to make his own way in this world now — if he could.

  The dance ended. Cecilia laughed with pleasure. 'That was the most enormous fun,' she said, 'but I am quite out of breath.' She swayed dramatically against him, clutching at his arms, and seeming quite unaware of the electric effect on him of her breasts against his chest. 'May we cool off in the garden for a spell?'

  Renzi had been propositioned as brazenly before, but sensed that this was a far more innocent invitation. Again he warmed to her. 'But of course, my dear,' he said, offering his arm.

  The garden was not large, but dark and scattered with well-tended shrubs and rockeries. They strolled together, Cecilia's arm on his. Renzi's thoughts swelled and deepened - but this was no time to be interested in a girl, no matter how high the sap had risen. 'You danced divinely, Cecilia,' he said, quite truthfully.

  'Why thank you, Nicholas,' she replied happily, squeezing his arm. 'It is my first essay,' she said shyly, 'but thanks to you . . .'

  'Cecilia . . .' he began, but cold reason came unbidden to destroy the thought.

  'Nicholas?' she said, sensing something and stopping to meet his eyes.

  Renzi could not let even Kydd know of his thoughts - in any case they were too complex: the return to polite company after so long, the impossibility of explaining the effect of experiencing war at the first hand to this innocent country society, the presence of a handsome beauty of such touching ingenuousness, it was too much. He swung her round to face him, her other hand went up to meet his and she searched his face. 'Cecilia!' he began again, thickly.

  Her expression tautened, then softened to an exquisite

  longing. 'Nicholas,' she said, her voice low and throaty. Her hands gripped his. 'Nicholas - it's . . . Thomas, isn't it?' Renzi froze.

  'It's Thomas — you're worried for Thomas, you think he'll be unhappy, don't you?' she breathed. Her eyes glistened. 'That is so sweet of you, Nicholas, so like you.' She disengaged and dabbed at her eyes. 'But don't worry, I pray — we are going to take good care of him for you.' At Renzi's stricken look she hurried on, 'I know he would probably be a wonderful sailor, to sail the seas and see strange lands and fight in dreadful battles, but—' She broke off and hugged Renzi with all her might. 'I do pray you will come back to us, and tell of your adventures on the high seas. You will, won't you, Nicholas? Promise me.'

  Renzi nodded. 'I promise,' he said softly.

  She sighed, linking her arm in his, and they walked on back to the house.

  Suddenly the string trio stopped playing and the happy confusion of chattering and laughter died away. Then a general roar of approval met the musicians getting to their feet and taking position for country dancing.

  Cecilia gave a squeal of delight. 'Shepherd's Hey!' she exclaimed. In dismay Renzi saw the couples forming up. Too late, the reel was quickly taken by three couples, and the dancing began again, much more boisterously than before with flushed faces, happy calls, whispered asides.

  'I do apologise, Cecilia, I fear I am not accustomed to these particular steps,' Renzi said quietly. A slight shadow passed over his features.

  'Then we shall sit, sir,' she said.

  'On no account — be so good as to rescue poor Thomas.' She left, but Kydd had already cheered up at the rustic

  dancing and was striking the hey with the best of them, at last enjoying himself.

  A sudden commotion at the end of the line of men resolved itself into a loud clunking. Renzi knew what it must be; the boatswain had been drawn to the joyous sound of the dance and had joined in. With his red face split by a huge smile, first one leg then his wooden peg rose and fell with a clunk as the line advanced and bowed, advanced and reared. The assembly roared with good-humoured laughter and the violinist redoubled his efforts.

  The evening wore on — Mr Bedsoe performed most creditably on the flute, and Miss Eccles was greeted with much polite applause on presenting her new poem. Then, after more dancing, it was clear that the evening was drawing to a close. Renzi sought Cecilia again, and found her in conversation with her brother. 'I find this is the final dance. Should you stand up for me, I would be obliged,' he said.

  'Oh, stuff and nonsense, Nicholas, of course I shall.' She laid her hand in his and they moved out on to the floor again. She looked up at him — fondly, he thought.

  The dance began, the couples swirled and exchanged. His new partner prattled on, clearly flattered at partnering Renzi. The arches formed, the girl went through with a giggle, and another presented herself to be exchanged, grinning vapidly up at him. His eyes strayed about, looking for Cecilia. On the opposite side he saw her, twirling around a serious young man he had seen her with before and who obviously knew her.

  The music skirled on heedless, and it was time to exchange again. But Cecilia did not — the young man had whispered something to her and she had stopped dead, staring at him. Renzi missed his step in his concentration and had to apologise to his partner. When he looked again, it was to see the pair disappearing into the garden.

  With rising feeling he endured the wait, mechanically stepping out the measures. Eventually they returned, hand in hand, Cecilia's face a study in happiness. Impulsively, she pulled down the young man's shy face and kissed him, looking up at him intensely.

  Renzi stopped dancing, letting his hands fall to his sides. A welling bitterness rose, not at Cecilia but at life - existence itself.

  Astonished, his partner stared at him in dismay. He mumbled his excuses and left the floor, enduring the stares and muttered comments of the other dancers. He took a glass of shrub and downed it quickly. Kydd was over in the corner, reclaimed by the deaf old woman who was maundering on at him. Renzi strode over and interrupted, 'Brother, I crave fresh air. The evening is over. Do you wish a walk home, or . . .'

  Kydd looked at him in surprise, but quickly recovered. 'O' course, m' friend.' Renzi noted with relief that he needed no explanations. Courteous but firm, Renzi paid his devoirs to Mrs Daryton, explained their intent to a puzzled Mrs Kydd, and they were soon afoot on the three-mile stretch back to Guildford.

  Silent, they tramped back in the warm darkness, past fields of sleeping oxen and sheep, hayricks looming rickety and large. Kydd was aware that something untoward had occurred to trouble his friend. 'Is anythin' amiss, Nicholas?' he asked in a low voice.

  Renzi did not answer at first, then said harshly, 'Know that I must depart for Portsmouth these three days.'

  'I know,' said Kydd softly. He had often wondered,
over the last few weeks, how he would take the actuality of Renzi's departure, the blankness in his life where his friend had been.

  'Then I shall not allude to it further,' Renzi said, in an affected voice.

  Kydd felt a lump rising in his own throat, but knew that any display of emotion on his part would alienate Renzi. 'O' course,' he said.

  They preserved silence the whole way back, finally reaching the schoolhouse. It was in darkness; the carriage must have long since passed them on the other road, and everyone would now be abed.

  'There is a light in the kitchen,' Kydd said quietly. They climbed over the low garden fence and made their way to the back. A single candle lay on the kitchen table, and they entered, the door squeaking noisily. They tiptoed in, but they had been heard, and Cecilia appeared in a nightgown with a candle, her face alight with excitement. 'Thomas — Nicholas,' she whispered, as loudly as she could. 'You'll never guess what happened tonight.'

  Renzi's face set like stone. Kydd frowned in bafflement. 'What is it, sis?' he asked.

  'No - really, the most wonderful news!' she squealed.

  Kydd snorted impatiently. 'What is it then, if we c'n ask?'

  She pouted prettily. 'Then I won't tell you, you horrid man.'

  There was a stirring next to Kydd. 'Do I take it that we must offer our felicitations?' Renzi said woodenly.

  Cecilia stared at him. 'I — I don't know what you mean, Nicholas,' she said uncertainly.

  'The young man — he and you . . .'

  'Roger Partington, and you'd never conceive — tonight he confessed to me that it would make him the happiest man in the world if I could grant his dearest wish.'

  She turned to Kydd, oblivious of the look on Renzi's face.