Diana the Huntress

by Beaton, M. C.

  Heart beating hard, Diana sat in a hard chair in the hall. Over and over again she rehearsed her speech, and her lips were moving soundlessly when Mice at last returned to lead her upstairs to my lady’s bedchamber.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Lady Godolphin crossly, struggling up against the pillows. ‘Don’t know any David Armitage.’

  Diana did not reply. She turned and looked at Mice, patently waiting for the butler to leave.

  ‘Oh, go on,’ said Lady Godolphin to her butler. ‘He obviously ain’t going to state his business with you in the room.’ Mice cast one suspicious look at Diana and went out and closed the door.

  ‘Now, young man,’ said Lady Godolphin.

  Diana began to cry. Great tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I’m Diana Armitage,’ she wailed. ‘Oh, Lady Godolphin, what am I to do?’

  ‘Gad’s Hounds!’ said Lady Godolphin, getting out of bed. ‘Sit down and calm yourself. What a way for a miss to go on.’

  Diana gulped and sobbed but managed to choke out the whole story. Lady Godolphin sat down by the fire and rested her heavy chin in her hand. She had not removed her paint the night before and her bulldog face peered out from under a thick thatch of a red wig. Pulling on what she described as a peeingnoir, Lady Godolphin rang for her maid.

  ‘I will read you a sermon later, Diana,’ she said. ‘At this moment, the best thing I can do is to try and salvage your reputation. I shall call on this Dantrey at Limmer’s and make sure he’s going to keep his mouth closed. How on earth your father did not guess what you were about is beyond me. You will go to bed and sleep and we shall decide what’s to be done after that. I have a new maid, good at her job, but stupid. Nothing ever seems to surprise her. She won’t make comment.’

  The maid, Sally, was a thin, wiry, middle-aged woman whose nut-cracker face was screwed up into permanent lines of simpering gentility. She was told to put Miss Diana to bed and to return to prepare her mistress for the street.

  All this the maid did with many arch winks and grimaces. Diana, despite her misery, wondered if Sally were quite sane. But it was wonderful to sink into a soft feather bed, the scallop-shaped bed which had so shocked Minerva on her first visit to London, and snuggle down into sheets heated by the warming pan. Diana’s last thought before she fell asleep was one of gratitude that she had such an unconventional chaperone.

  ‘Lady to see you, my lord,’ said the hotel servant with a cheeky grin which quickly faded before the icy look in Lord Dantrey’s eyes.

  ‘Show her up,’ said Lord Dantrey So she had come back. He might have known. Any girl who dressed as a man and flouted the conventions so blatantly must have the morals of a tom cat.

  He walked to the door and looked along the corridor. Two large zebra striped feathers followed by a hideous scarlet turban followed by Lady Godolphin’s pugnacious face, rose jerkily into view.

  Lord Dantrey swore under his breath. So Diana was not so green. He was about to be blackmailed into marriage.

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ snapped Lady Godolphin as soon as she saw him. ‘You’re Dantrey by the looks of you. What I’ve got to say is personal.’

  ‘I have no doubt,’ said Lord Dantrey grimly, standing aside to let her pass.

  Lady Godolphin’s faded blue eyes raked up and down the length of Lord Dantrey’s elegant figure. Then she plumped herself down in an armchair.

  ‘Sit down,’ she said, ‘and don’t loom over me. Diana’s with me and crying her eyes out. Why were you party to the silly girl’s deceit? There’s plenty of lightskirts in London. What made ye think a vicar’s daughter was for sport?’

  Lord Dantrey sat down opposite her and stretched out his long legs. ‘When a girl behaves as boldly as Diana Armitage, I assume she knows what she is about. She cannot possibly have expected me to believe her a man.’

  ‘She seems to have gulled most,’ said Lady Godolphin. ‘You’ve got a bad reputation, Dantrey, but I thought that was only the mud of some youthful folly still sticking to you. You’re old enough to know better.’

  ‘It is no use forcing me into marriage …’

  ‘No one wants you to marry the girl. Far from it. Unless you’ve taken her vaginal.’

  ‘Lady Godolphin!’

  ‘Aye, well, she said you hadn’t. Only kissed her. Why I am here is to see the matter goes no further. You keep quiet, Diana keeps quiet, and no more will be said.’

  ‘I confess I am relieved,’ said Lord Dantrey, looking curiously at Lady Godolphin. ‘You may think my behaviour odd, but then I have heard some very warm tales of the Armitage girls on my travels. There was a certain Mr Hugh Fresne who implied they were all lightskirts …’

  ‘Ah, that coxcomb. Minerva made a fool of him.’

  ‘And then when I was in Virginia, Mr Guy Wentwater said the sisters were better hunters than the father when it came to catching a rich husband. He said certain things …’

  ‘You keep low company,’ snapped Lady Wentwater. ‘All these gels are as pure as the driven lambs. Wentwater has a black past. Neither of those charlatans would dare say such things in England. You have not answered me direct. Will you keep quiet about Diana’s masquerade and will you keep away from her?’

  ‘You may have my oath on that,’ he said. ‘What a termagant!’

  ‘She is a shocked and frightened little girl.’

  ‘She is a giantess who not only stamped on my feet but threw water in my face.’

  ‘Bags of spirit,’ grinned Lady Godolphin, getting to her feet. She looked up at him curiously. ‘You recognized me immediately. Did we ever meet?’

  Lord Dantrey’s lips twitched. He had never actually been introduced to Lady Godolphin – but what member of the top ten thousand did not know that outlandish-looking lady by sight? ‘I have long admired you from afar,’ he said, bowing from the waist.

  Lady Godolphin gave her largest crocodile-like smile. Lord Dantrey wondered if her lip rouge ever stained her ear lobes.

  ‘You don’t have the manner of a rake,’ said Lady Godolphin. ‘Ain’t heard of you playing the fool or going on debauched sprees. I ’member now. It was a certain Miss Blessington you wouldn’t marry when folks said you ought.’

  ‘I should really send you packing and tell you to mind your own business,’ said Lord Dantrey. ‘Miss Blessington, as you may know, is now happily married with a nursery full of children. The fact is, she set a trap for me and I was young and gullible. I knew, too late, her family had aided and abetted her with an eye to my fortune and a desire to add my name to that of their own undistinguished tree. So I refused to marry her. I preferred to take the blame. One mistake,’ he said bitterly, ‘and it seems destined to damn my reputation for life.’

  ‘But did you not think you might find yourself in the same position with Diana? Why on earth did you encourage the girl in such folly?’

  Lord Dantrey looked into the glowing embers of the fire. Why had he done such a thing? Because he had been bored and she had come out of the storm, fresh and wild. Because she did not seem to be governed by any conventional laws. Because what he had heard of the Armitages led him to believe them unconventional, to say the least. And because he had been so sure she would have covered her tracks and he had longed for the week’s escapade as much as she had done. Aloud he said, ‘Folly. Mere folly. Let us be thankful that that is the end of it and no harm done.’

  ‘It’s a pity,’ leered Lady Godolphin, ‘for you’ve a good leg on you.’ Lord Dantrey blinked. ‘Just like my Arthur, although he’s thinner in the calf.’

  ‘Your husband?’

  ‘No. My sissybeau.’

  ‘Cicisbeo?’

  ‘Him. He was. Now he ain’t and more’s the pity.’

  Lord Dantrey shook his head as if to clear it. ‘Pray forgive me for not offering you any refreshment, Lady Godolphin. Would you like some tea?’

  ‘Not here,’ said Lady Godolphin with a shudder. ‘Pooh, ’tis filthy. Good day to you, my lord. I’ll have Miss Diana married b
efore the Season begins. Look how well I did for the other girls!’

  Lord Dantrey watched her until the feathers and then the turban disappeared down the stairs. He was well rid of Miss Diana Armitage. He shrugged and confessed to himself he had got off lightly. He turned and walked to the window and stared out into the thick fog, seeing only his own reflection in the dirty glass. All at once it seemed a very good idea to go to his club and get thoroughly drunk.

  A week had passed since Diana’s adventure. Neither she nor Lady Godolphin went out much since the town was thin of company. Diana found herself enjoying the staid uneventfulness of it all. By an effort of will she had pushed all thoughts of the horrible Lord Dantrey from her mind. Minerva confided to Lady Godolphin that she was delighted with the change in her hoydenish younger sister.

  And then, just as Diana was preparing to go driving with Lady Godolphin, Sally scratched at the door and called out that there was a gentleman waiting belowstairs to see Miss Diana. Diana’s heart began to hammer against her ribs. Dantrey! It could not be anyone else. She had not met any gentlemen, since her outings had been confined to visits to Minerva and to Lady Godolphin’s circle of elderly friends.

  She searched her face in the glass to make sure there were no traces of David Armitage. She must look every inch a lady in order to keep Lord Dantrey at a distance. Her hair grew quickly and Sally’s clever fingers had done wonders with it. Diana was wearing a carriage dress consisting of a Russian mantle of pomona sarsnet trimmed with rich frog fringe. A bonnet with a tall crown framed her face and she wore slippers of green kid on her feet.

  Confident that she looked every inch a gentlewoman, Diana went downstairs with her head held high. What on earth had possessed Lady Godolphin to grant Lord Dantrey an audience?

  But it was not Lord Dantrey who was waiting for her in the Green Saloon, but Mr Jack Emberton, resplendent in elegant morning dress, his boots polished to a mirror shine and his black curls cut à la Brutus.

  Diana blushed and sank into a curtsy. ‘Mr Emberton says he has met you before,’ said Lady Godolphin. ‘He has taken the Wentwater place.’

  ‘I know,’ smiled Diana. ‘What brings you to London, Mr Emberton?’

  ‘Because a certain attraction I hoped to find in Hopeworth was no longer there,’ said Mr Emberton, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘I found out that much when I was hunting with your father.’

  ‘Oh!’ Diana clasped her hands. ‘How did the hunt go? Did Papa catch that old fox that has been plaguing him so?’

  ‘I am afraid not, Miss Diana, but we had some famous sport, nonetheless. Do you drive with me? I shall tell you all about it. Lady Godolphin has given her permission.’

  ‘I would be honoured, sir,’ said Diana with a demure curtsy while Lady Godolphin beamed her approval. Diana appeared to be turning out the easiest mannered of all the sisters.

  As Mr Emberton helped Diana up into his phaeton, she could not help noticing that his horses were poor showy things, and charitably assumed he had rented them. His driving proved to be equally showy, but he had such merry eyes and such a deep, rumbling infectious laugh that Diana found herself enjoying the outing as she had never enjoyed any outing before. She could not help noticing the admiring glances thrown at him by the other ladies in the Park. He was so very large and broad-shouldered that he made her feel deliciously small and feminine. Now, Lord Dantrey was tall and broad-shouldered but his bearing was cool and sophisticated whereas Mr Emberton had such free and easy manners. He treated her as a lady and yet he treated her as an equal. And he talked hunting. He talked with such fluency and descriptive detail that Diana’s heart warmed to him. Here was a man who would be a companion. Here was the masculine friendship for which she had craved. She had been a silly goose to think she had to behave like a man to have the friendship of a man. The glow of admiration in Mr Emberton’s eyes warmed away the humiliation inflicted on her by Lord Dantrey.

  For his part, Mr Emberton found himself enjoying Diana’s company. He decided his best plan of campaign was an old and tried one which had succeeded before. He would get Diana to fall in love with him. He would propose marriage, and then he would tell that worldly and ambitious vicar that he, Jack Emberton, had neither money nor prospects. The vicar would then surely raise enough money from his in-laws to pay the dangerous Mr Emberton to go away. That way he would have the money without any loss of reputation. He would be regarded as the injured party and he meant to play his part of being in love with Diana to the hilt. Mr Emberton had never been in love – he loved himself too much to waste that tender emotion on anyone else. But he had to admit, as he looked at Diana’s glowing face, that she affected his senses as no woman had done before.

  A vision of the gypsy woman’s face arose before Diana’s eyes. She was not yet in love with Mr Emberton but she knew it was only a matter of time. She thanked God for her deliverance from the rakish Lord Dantrey and for having been forgiven her sins in such a pleasant way.

  ‘It’s been said you hunt with your father,’ said Mr Emberton.

  ‘Indeed?’ said Diana. ‘Only look how cold and bare the trees seem. On a day like this one would think summer would never, ever return.’ Diana was not about to tell Mr Emberton of her masquerade. He might prove shocked, and he might form such a low opinion of her morals that he would go away and she would never see him again.

  ‘Very cold,’ he agreed. So she did not want to reply to his question. That meant she did hunt with her father. ‘That Wentwater place is as cold as charity as well,’ he went on easily. ‘I don’t think the building’s been properly fired this age.’

  ‘Lady Wentwater disappeared some time ago,’ said Diana, frowning as she remembered snatches of whispered conversation which had indicated that Lady Wentwater was not a lady, with or without a capital L. ‘Did you see her when you arranged the rental of the house?’

  ‘No, it was done through an agent in Hopeminster who was doing it for an agent in Bristol. Mortal cheap it was. I got a bargain,’ said Mr Emberton with unconscious vulgarity.

  ‘Do you return to Hopeworth soon?’ asked Diana.

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes in a calculating way. It would be better if he could lure Miss Armitage back to the country. It was silly to pay rent for a house in the country and rent for lodgings in town as well. He meant to make as much profit out of this game as possible.

  Just then a black cat ran across in front of the carriage. Diana let out a cry of alarm.

  ‘I wasn’t within an ace of touching the thing,’ said Mr Emberton.

  ‘It was not that. It’s very unlucky, you see,’ said Diana earnestly. ‘Some people think it lucky when a black cat crosses their path but I hold the other view.’

  ‘That’s only superstition,’ laughed Mr Emberton.

  ‘I think a great number of these old superstitions are very wise,’ said Diana, becomingly increasingly upset. ‘Oh, I do wish that cat had not appeared!’

  ‘I’m a very lucky person,’ said Mr Emberton. ‘Pooh to all black cats. I shall guard you from all supernatural curses, including the evil eye.’

  ‘You are mocking me.’

  ‘Not I. I think that cat was a sign you should return to Hopeworth. We could ride together.’

  Diana closed her eyes for a moment as she had a blissful vision of riding before the wind, shoulder to shoulder with this handsome man.

  She opened them again and let out a little squeak of alarm. Approaching them, in a smart turnout, came Lord Dantrey and a male friend.

  ‘Now what?’ demanded her companion, amused. ‘I know. You’ve seen the Witch of Endor.’

  ‘Not that,’ said Diana in a small voice. ‘I think I should like to return home.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘but on one condition. You must tell me when I may enjoy the pleasure of your company again or I shall bring all sorts of curses down upon your beautiful head.’

  Diana laughed, suddenly carefree, as the carriage turned about and headed through the Par
k in the direction of the north gate.

  Lord Dantrey watched them go. So Miss Diana had found herself a beau, and very quickly too.

  ‘Who was the beauty?’ demanded his friend, Mr Tony Fane. ‘I see you were much struck by her as well.’

  ‘Beauty?’ said Lord Dantrey, not wanting to admit to himself that he had been startled by Diana’s appearance. ‘A trifle too bold and gypsyish for my taste. I believe her to be one of the Armitage girls.’

  ‘Ah, the famous Armitage girls. That explains it. Did you ever see such a stable of beauties? And all different. I might try my luck in that direction.’

  Lord Dantrey was normally very fond of the easy-going Mr Fane but he found himself suddenly out of charity with him. ‘If you are going to chase after every petticoat in London,’ he said acidly, ‘then I fear I must do without the pleasure of your company.’

  ‘Faith! Your spleen must be disordered. I did not say every petticoat in London, merely one very respectable and beautiful petticoat. What could be more convenable than a vicar’s daughter?’

  ‘From what I have heard of the good vicar, he is anything but religious. Ambition and money are his gods. Who was that fellow with Miss Armitage?’

  ‘Ah, I was coming to that. Jack Emberton is his name and he makes a living at the card tables. He always gets some well-connected weakling to introduce him to other well-connected weaklings and then fleeces ’em at the tables.’

  ‘Then what is his interest in Miss Armitage? I do not believe the family to be very rich although I suppose they are well-connected by marriage.’

  ‘You have been away in foreign parts too long. You have forgot the charm of a genuine English beauty. Don’t need to be interested in money to be interested in Miss Armitage.’

  Lord Dantrey found himself prey to an impulse to ride to Hanover Square and warn Lady Godolphin of the unsavoury company her charge was keeping. Then he shrugged. A girl who would dress as a man, stamp rudely on his feet, and throw water in his face was no doubt a match for Jack Emberton.