Diana the Huntress

by Beaton, M. C.

  Diana mumbled something and he inclined his head. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Armitage.’

  Diana felt hot and awkward. She could not bear to look at him. If only he would go away. ‘I am perfectly all right, sir,’ she said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in her own ears.

  She raised her head and looked across the ballroom – and straight into the angry eyes of Ann Carter. Mr Emberton was handing her something to drink and he, too, was looking to where Diana sat with Lord Dantrey. Several other young ladies were staring at Diana with jealous, speculative eyes.

  Diana looked properly at her companion for the first time that evening.

  His white-gold hair was impeccably dressed and the black cloth of his evening coat was stretched across his shoulders without a wrinkle. His silver and white striped waistcoat sported diamond studs and a large diamond pin winked in the snowy folds of his intricately tied cravat. He made every other man in the room look provincial and dowdy.

  Diana felt an angry little glow inside. If the company of Lord Dantrey caused such speculation and envy in the eyes of the company, then she could make full use of it.

  She smiled blindingly up at Lord Dantrey. ‘I must apologize for my awkward behaviour,’ she said. ‘I am a little afraid of you – afraid that you might speak about my escapade.’

  ‘You make it very hard to remember,’ smiled Lord Dantrey, well aware of the reason for Miss Armitage’s sudden good nature. ‘I entertained a callow youth called David Armitage in London. He bears no resemblance to the radiant beauty beside me tonight.’

  Diana tried to give an imitation of Ann’s silvery laugh. Then she rapped Lord Dantrey playfully on the knuckles with the sticks of her fan. Unfortunately, she did not know her own strength and the ivory sticks made a thwacking sound as they came down on the back of his hand. He rubbed his hand and wondered why he had felt compelled to talk to her. The pretty Ann was casting languishing looks in his direction. If he paid Diana another compliment, he felt sure she was quite capable of slapping him on the back with enough force to send him flying across the ballroom. But her lips had been delicious. He frowned at that thought. Diana Armitage would not make a suitable wife. Ann Carter would. He was wasting his time.

  But he knew that the waltz was to be danced after the present country dance was over, and the urge to take her in his arms again defied all logic.

  He talked lightly and easily of his plans to improve the old Osbadiston estates and, as he talked about his concern for his tenants, Diana realized with a pang of conscience that she had not visited any of the parishioners. Even Daphne at her most vain had still gone about the duties of the parish.

  After the funeral Minerva had gone to see them all, asking particularly after Mrs Jones’s sickly baby. Then she, Diana, had not written to poor little Frederica since the funeral. She would sit down that very night before she went to bed and tell Frederica all about the ball.

  ‘I asked you if you thought it would be a good idea, Miss Diana, and you scowled. Does that mean you consider my plan frivolous?’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Diana, blushing, ‘I was not listening.’

  Lord Dantrey looked at her with some amusement. ‘You are most refreshing, Miss Diana, and very good for me. I had become quite puffed up in mine own conceit. It is a wonderful thing to be rich and titled. The ladies of the county hang on my every word.’

  ‘You were talking about the welfare of your tenants,’ said Diana, feeling too embarrassed to do other than tell the truth, ‘and I began to think of all the parish duties I had neglected. Poor Mr Pettifor. That’s our curate. He works very hard and I am afraid we take him for granted. Minerva, my eldest sister, did such a lot of work before her marriage. She organized the Poor Fund and she never failed to visit the sick.’

  ‘Perhaps it might enable you to overcome some of the grief of your bereavement if you had more to do,’ said Lord Dantrey, looking at her curiously.

  ‘Perhaps. You must forgive me, my lord. I had not meant to be so serious.’

  ‘One should always be serious about things that matter. I was talking of lighter things when you were not listening. I was wondering whether to hold a ball myself. Can I not persuade you to accompany me in the waltz, Miss Diana? It is the next dance.’

  Diana opened her mouth to refuse but, at that moment, she saw Mr Emberton bend his black curls over Ann’s fair ones and say something which made that young lady laugh.

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Diana. ‘Yes, I have decided to dance.’

  ‘It is only a dance,’ he teased. ‘Not a walk to the scaffold. You look quite grim. Tell me about Mr Emberton.’

  ‘What is there to say?’

  ‘Volumes. Did he flee the square because of my presence?’

  ‘I do not know. I would rather forget about the whole thing.’

  ‘But he no doubt called to explain his behaviour.’

  ‘How could he? He is a gentleman of delicacy and refinement. He is staying away because of my recent bereavement. The gypsy said …’

  ‘Gypsy! What gypsy?’

  ‘Nothing,’ mumbled Diana.

  ‘Aha! You have been talking to the gypsies in the wood and they told you you were to meet a dark and handsome man. They always say that,’ he mocked. ‘What lady was ever told she was about to meet a tall, fair man?’

  ‘I believe her!” said Diana, goaded into indiscretion. ‘And she knew of you because she warned me that a white-haired villain might try to stop me.’

  ‘Tell me more. You must, you know. Come! Convert the unbeliever.’

  His green and gold eyes under their heavy lids were mocking, teasing.

  Diana gritted her teeth. ‘Very well. I shall.’ She told him about the first meeting with the gypsy, and then the second.

  ‘The first,’ said Lord Dantrey coldly, ‘was simply something that gypsies always say to gullible females. The second? You interest me. I think you will find that Mr Emberton crossed the gypsy’s palm with silver before you even got there. I am amazed that a sensible female such as yourself should believe such rubbish.’

  ‘How would Mr Emberton know anything about the gypsies at Hopeworth?’

  ‘Because, I should think, you told him.’

  ‘I did not!’ said Diana, and then blushed painfully, for all at once she remembered telling Mr Emberton about the gypsy that evening at Lady Godolphin’s.

  Lord Dantrey raised his quizzing glass and studied Mr Emberton. A small court of gentlemen had formed about Ann but Mr Emberton was managing to engage most of her attention. He felt, all at once, a deep concern for Diana’s welfare. He did not like this Emberton, nor did he trust him. Had he shown by one flicker of an eyelid that he was deeply in love with Diana, then Lord Dantrey would have been content to let the comedy run its course. But Emberton was an adventurer. The Armitages were not famous for their wealth. Perhaps Mr Emberton was playing that old game of hoping to be bought off by the wealthy relatives. Lord Dantrey was not worried about Ann Carter’s affections straying from himself. Her ambitious mama would see to that.

  Therefore, it would be a good deed to put a spoke in Mr Emberton’s wheel. He was sharing the Wentwater mansion with Mr Peter Flanders, a weak young man, the kind of weak young man who always attached himself to a bully or a villain or both.

  ‘Are you very superstitious, Miss Diana?’ he asked.

  ‘No, my lord,’ said Diana crossly. ‘I simply believe there is a great deal of wisdom in old country sayings.’

  ‘We will talk about it later,’ said Lord Dantrey. ‘Our dance, Miss Diana.’

  He felt a stab of irritation as he sensed, rather than saw, her eyes seeking those of Mr Emberton.

  ‘Very well, my lord.’ Diana stood up and he took her arm and led her on to the floor.

  By the time they had circled one half of the room, Lord Dantrey thought his feet would never be the same again. He could only be thankful that the fashion for thin silk slippers was still in vogue and that the ladies had not reverted to
the high red heels of earlier times. Miss Diana Armitage seemed unable to put one foot on the ballroom floor. She seemed to prefer to dance on the top of his feet.

  Then he saw Diana glance at Ann who was sailing past in the arms of a red-coated officer. Ann looked at Diana’s clumsy steps and giggled. Diana blushed. She felt she had never blushed so much in her life as she was doing that evening. A tide of scalding red was rising from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.

  Lord Dantrey pressed his hand firmly against the small of her back. ‘Look at me, Miss Diana,’ he commanded. ‘Do not think of your steps. Think only that you are a beautiful and graceful woman.’

  Diana looked up. His green gaze was unwavering, intent, hypnotic. She remembered the feel of his lips against her own. Her gaze fell to his mouth. ‘No, look up!’ he said.

  Diana felt strange. The more she gazed into his eyes, the more light-headed she felt. Faces around her swirled away in a coloured mist.

  ‘By George,’ said the officer who was dancing with Ann. ‘It looks as if Dantrey has fallen at last. He can’t take his eyes off that fascinating-looking girl. She dances beautifully. Who is she?’

  ‘Diana Armitage,’ said Ann crossly, stumbling over the officer’s feet. ‘An odd girl. She hunts.’

  ‘Does she, by Jove!’

  To Ann’s intense irritation the fact that Diana hunted seemed to increase her attraction in the officer’s eyes. This was what came of spending too much time with Mr Emberton. ‘Mama will never forgive me an I let Lord Dantrey get away,’ thought Ann. ‘If only this stupid waltz would end!’

  But the Master of Ceremonies had told the band to play longer than usual. He felt it was a great social coup to not only have such a personage as Lord Dantrey present at this country assembly but to have him demonstrate to everybody present just how much he was enjoying himself.

  ‘You dance like an angel,’ said Lord Dantrey to Diana, and Diana smiled dreamily up at him, held enchanted in a world of music and colour by the admiration in his eyes and the strong pressure of his hand on her waist.

  When the final chord of the music sounded, she stood blinking up at him in the light. He took her arm to walk with her and found to his extreme irritation that Mr Jack Emberton was standing at his elbow.

  ‘Forgive me for not joining you sooner,’ said Mr Emberton with a proprietary air, ‘I was persuaded you would not dance because of your mourning state.’

  ‘I did not intend to,’ said Diana, ‘but Lord Dantrey was told by the Master of Ceremonies that it would not cause comment or offence if I did.’

  ‘In that case, let me beg the next dance.’ He laid a hand on her arm, the one that was not being held by Lord Dantrey. ‘It is time for supper, Emberton,’ said Lord Dantrey, ‘and since I have just finished dancing with Miss Diana, mine is the honour to take her in.’

  ‘I think Miss Carter is looking for you, my lord,’ said Mr Emberton. ‘I am sure she told me you had promised to take her into supper.’

  ‘You are mistaken,’ said Lord Dantrey. ‘You also have your hand on Miss Diana’s arm. Pray remove it immediately.’

  Mr Emberton removed his hand, clenched his fists, and glared at Lord Dantrey who looked coldly back.

  ‘Emberton,’ said Lord Dantrey silkily, ‘do not force me to call you out.’

  Jack Emberton turned on his heel and strode away. Mrs Carter was looking daggers at him, obviously blaming him for monopolizing her daughter.

  Ann was already being led into the supper room by her officer.

  Emily Chesterton, Ann Carter’s recently acquired ‘best friend’ had heard the exchange between Mr Emberton and Lord Dantrey and was busy spreading a highly coloured account of how Lord Dantrey had challenged Mr Emberton to a duel. The news spread around the long tables of the supper room like wildfire. The county was proud of the social success of the Armitage girls and the guests were delighted that Diana appeared to be living up to the high standards of fatal female attraction already set by her elder sisters.

  Lord Dantrey was amazed at the feelings that had been roused in him when Jack Emberton had laid his hand on Diana’s arm.

  He did not like the way her large eyes kept straying in Mr Emberton’s direction.

  ‘You are not eating, Miss Diana,’ he said.

  Mr Emberton smiled down the room at Diana who smiled back.

  ‘Your food, Miss Diana,’ said Lord Dantrey acidly. ‘I am persuaded a great strapping girl such as yourself must have a good appetite.’ Now why had he said that? He had meant to pay her a pretty compliment.

  ‘Excuse me, my lord,’ said Diana, ‘my thoughts were elsewhere.’

  He would rather she had lashed out at him instead of meekly sitting there, obviously hoping the ordeal of dining with him would soon be over.

  As for Diana, she found that the close proximity of Lord Dantrey was doing odd things to her body. She felt hot, then cold, and her hands had taken on a life of their own and trembled when she picked up her knife and fork. There was such a lot of food on her plate, she thought, staring down at a modest portion of meat and vegetables. It was considered good manners to put a little of everything on your plate on your fork, all at the same time – as Captain Gronow was to say later in his Recollections, one did all one’s compound cookery between one’s jaws – so Diana took a small piece of ham, a minuscule piece of chicken, a morsel of sausage, a tiny piece of cauliflower, a sliver of the inevitable boiled potato, raised it to her mouth and then put her fork back on her plate again, the food untasted.

  ‘You are not hungry, Miss Diana?’ asked Lord Dantrey.

  ‘I do wish you would not study me so closely,’ snapped Diana. ‘You are making me feel uncomfortable.’

  ‘Then I should bribe a gypsy to tell you that I am suitable company for you,’ said Lord Dantrey. ‘A glass of wine?’

  ‘No … I mean, yes.’ Wine might give her courage. She seized the glass clumsily and it tipped over, and the contents ran along the tablecloth, spreading out into a large red stain.

  Diana grabbed her napkin and began to dab at it ineffectually. He signalled to a waiter to replace her glass and then took hold of her wrist.

  The touch of his hand on her skin was like a shock from one of the new electric machines that people were so fond of playing with at parties.

  She yelped as if he had burned her, jerked her hand away, and sent her plate of food cascading into his lap.

  ‘I-I am s-sorry,’ babbled Diana. Eyes were on her. She could feel them. Hundreds of mocking, curious eyes. Ann Carter’s silvery laugh sounded in her ears.

  ‘Pray do not be so upset.’ Lord Dantrey carefully removed all the food from his clothes, put it all neatly back on the plate, and handed the lot to the waiters who were bustling forward with fresh plates, napkins and glasses. Lord Dantrey requested a glass of soda water and, when it came, he sponged his waistcoat, working away neatly and deftly until every stain was removed.

  Diana was red in the face and distressed little wisps of hair were beginning to descend about her face. Lord Dantrey sighed.

  ‘Miss Diana,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I am not an ogre. I may have used you roughly once, I may have treated you to an excess of civility, but I have no intention of doing so again. You are a beautiful and desirable woman. You ride like Diana the Huntress. You have nothing to fear from me. Do you understand?’

  His eyes were upon her and she met his gaze with a troubled look. She saw only kindness and concern in his face and began to feel her hands stop trembling and her body relax.

  She realized everyone in the room was talking and eating and laughing and no one was looking in their direction.

  ‘Forgive me, Lord Dantrey,’ she said, taking a sip of wine. ‘I have always been clumsy. Ah, you should see my sisters, particularly Daphne. She never spills anything or drops anything. I am taller than my sisters and I have always felt an overgrown giant beside them.’

  ‘One day,’ said Lord Dantrey, ‘you will look in the glass and see yo
urself for the goddess you are. Then only a duke will be good enough for you.’

  ‘If you continue to compliment me in such a warm way,’ laughed Diana, ‘I will be persuaded that you are the rake you are said to be.’

  ‘That would never do. My rakish days are over. I am determined to settle down and get married.’

  ‘To Miss Carter?’

  ‘I have not made up my mind.’

  ‘Is it not a question of the lady making up her mind as well? Have you only to drop the handkerchief?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not in my case,’ said Diana boldly.

  ‘Nobody asked you.’

  ‘I did not mean you, my lord. I meant that I am not like to go rushing into any man’s arms simply because he does me the honour of proposing marriage.’

  ‘But you have obviously dreamed of the ideal husband. Who is he? – this dream figure.’

  Diana had been drinking steadily. A warm glow from the wine plus a lack of fear of this formidable lord was making her feel elated. ‘He is tall,’ she said dreamily, ‘and he has black hair. He treats me as an equal. We do everything together. We hunt, we fish, we ride, we …’

  ‘Make love?’

  ‘My lord!’

  ‘Forgive me. I could not help wondering whether the little matter of love ever entered your head.’

  ‘I do not think love so important as … as equality and … companionship.’

  ‘When you are telling lies, as you are doing now,’ he said, ‘your eyes cloud over and your lips become compressed.’

  ‘You do not understand. I do not expect you to understand. You are very much older than I, and people of your generation have such very old-fashioned ideas.’

  ‘I am not old, Miss Diana,’ said Lord Dantrey, irritated. ‘I am in the prime of life.’

  ‘Your hair is white.’

  ‘My hair is very fair as you well know, Miss Diana. Now what did I say to make you so unpleasant?’

  ‘You annoy me, my lord,’ said Diana candidly. She took a large mouthful of wine and smiled at him mistily. ‘I think that to be married to you would be to give up all freedom, all independence. I would barely see you. You would spend your time at prize fights, at clubs, and the cockpit, and I would be expected to sit at home and gossip and sew, and say, “Yes, Dantrey, no, Dantrey,” to all your requests. You would expect me to have a baby each year. By the time I reached your age, my lord, I should be old and worn out.’