Upon their arrival at the Pavilion it was discovered that this was not to be one of the Regent’s musical gatherings, but a conversable evening spent in the Gallery and the over-heated Saloon. This was a big, round apartment, the centre of the suite on the eastern front of the building, surmounted by the inevitable cupola, and enlarged by two semi-circular recesses. Ruby and gold were the predominant colours, and several magnificent lustres, reflected in long pier-glasses, gave to the room an effulgence that was as remarkable as it was dazzling.
Miss Taverner looked about her to see whether any of her acquaintance were present, and had the satisfaction of observing Captain Audley in conversation with Lord Petersham, whom she had not known to be in Brighton. Captain Audley caught sight of her, and at once brought his companion over to her side. “Come now, Petersham, I insist on your showing it to Miss Taverner!” he said gaily, as Judith shook hands with his lordship. “I know she will be delighted with it. My dear Miss Taverner, this lucky fellow has got a new snuff-box, which is the prettiest I have seen these ten years!”
“Oh, Lord Petersham has all the prettiest snuff-boxes in his possession!” smiled Miss Taverner. “I have one to match each gown, but he has one for every day in the year. Do, pray, show me this new one, sir! Ah yes, it is charming indeed. Sevres, I think?”
“Yes,” acknowledged Petersham, in his gentle way. “It is a nice box for summer, but it would not do for winter wear, you know.”
“No,” said Miss Taverner seriously. “I believe you are right.”
“These niceties are beyond me,” complained the Captain. “I suppose I may as well go bury myself now you are got on to the subject of snuff together. You will be talking till midnight.”
“Oh no!” said his lordship. “To talk on any subject till midnight would be a great bore. But you put me in mind of something very important. Where is Worth? Has he put his name down for some of the Martinique snuff Fribourg and Treyer are importing?”
“He has not told me, but you may ask him yourself. He will be here later in the evening. Do not on any account look to the right, Miss Taverner! Monk Lewis is eagerly awaiting his opportunity to approach you, and once he succeeds in engaging your attention you will not be rid of him under half an hour. I never knew a man to talk so much!”
Mr. Lewis, however, the author of that celebrated novel Ambrosia, or the Monk, was not one to be easily baulked of his prey. He soon button-holed Miss Taverner, and proceeded to fulfil Captain Audley’s prediction until she was rescued from him by Sir John Lade, who came up to inquire whether she had a fancy to sell her bays. She had no such fancy, nor did she care for Sir John, who smelled of the stables, and used the language of his own grooms, but she was grateful to him for interrupting the flow of Mr. Lewis’s conversation, and treated his repeated offers to buy her horses with more patience than could have been expected of her.
The temperature at which the Regent kept his rooms was always hard to bear, and by half-past eleven Miss Taverner had developed a headache, and was thinking longingly of her bed. But card tables had been set out in the Green Drawing-room, which adjoined the Saloon on the south side, and Mrs. Scattergood was happily engaged in a rubber of Casino there, and would be certain to remain for another hour. Miss Taverner wondered why her guardian did not come, and decided privately that the party was more than ordinarily insipid. She was just about to sit down on a ruby silk ottoman as far as possible from the fire when her name was spoken, and she looked up to see the Regent at her elbow.
“At last I am able to snatch two words with you!” said the Regent jovially. “I do not know how it is, but I have not had the chance to come near you all night. Now that will not do, you know! And I have something very pretty to show you, too: something which, I flatter myself, will take your fancy.”
She smiled, and returned a civil answer. A faint aroma of Maraschino hung about him, and although he was not by any means the worse for drink, she could not help suspecting that he had taken just enough to make him a little reckless.
“Yes, yes, you shall see it!” he promised. “And you shall take it away with you, too, if you care to please me. But it is not here; we must slip into the Yellow Drawing-room to find it. Come, let me offer you my arm! I do not believe you have seen that room, have you? It is quite my favourite.”
“No, sir, I do not recall—But perhaps Mrs. Scattergood—”
“Oh, stuff and nonsense!” said the Regent. “Mrs. Scattergood is very well occupied, I assure you, and will not miss you. And if she did, you know, you have only to tell her you were with me, and she can have not the slightest objection.”
Miss Taverner tried to think of an excuse, and could hit upon none. She did not know what to say, for how could a mere Miss Taverner, from Yorkshire, presume to rebuff a Prince-Regent who was old enough to be her father? She ought not to go with him, and yet how was she to refuse? It would be to insult him, and that was unthinkable. She let him tuck her hand in his arm, and tried to think that the squeeze he gave it was not intentional. He led her to one of the folding-doors at the north end of the saloon, and ushered her into the Yellow Drawing-room.
“There!” he said. “Is not this a great deal better than to be trying to talk in the midst of a crowd of other people? This is my private drawing-room, not vast, you see, but exactly the sort of apartment where one can be cosy and informal.”
Miss Taverner could not help reflecting that “cosy” was not the adjective she would have used to describe the Yellow Drawing-room. Hot it certainly was, and extremely airless, but a room more than fifty feet long and over thirty feet wide, with a ceiling supported by white and gold pillars, enwreathed by serpents, and spreading into umbrella capitals hung with bells, hardly seemed to her an apartment designed for informal use. Nor could she feel that five doors panelled with plate-glass enhanced the comfort of the room. The draperies over the windows were of striped satin; there were any number of inlaid Buhl tables, bearing pieces of Asiatic porcelain; and the walls, which were white with gilt borderings, were embellished by Chinese pictures, lanterns, and flying dragons. The chairs and sofas were upholstered in blue and yellow satin, and the cabinet-maker who had constructed them had had the tasteful and original idea of placing a Chinese figure with a bell in either hand on the back of every one.
“Well, how does it strike you? Do you like it?” demanded the Regent.
“Extremely elegant! It is something quite out of the common, sir,” murmured Miss Taverner, wishing that he had not shut the door into the Saloon.
“Yes, that I flatter myself it certainly is,” he said with a good deal of satisfaction. “But I will tell you something, my dear: your pretty curls are precisely the colour of my gilding! Now, is not that odd? You must allow me to tell you that you make a charming picture.” He laughed at her evident confusion, and pinched her cheek. “No, no, there is no need to colour up! You do not need me to tell you what a little beauty you are, when you can see yourself in the mirror whichever way you turn,”
He was standing very close to her, one hand fondling her wrist, and his eyes fixed on her face in a greedy way that made her feel hotter than ever, and more than a little frightened. She pretended to be interested in the Vulliamy timepiece that stood on the mantelshelf, and moved towards the fireplace, saying: “You have so many beautiful things in the Pavilion, sir; one is continually in a state of admiration.”
“Yes, yes, I daresay, but the most beautiful thing in it only came to it an hour ago,” he replied, following her.
Regent or no, she must try to check this amorous mood. She said as lightly as she could: “You were going to show me something, sir. What can it be, I wonder? May I see it before we return to the Saloon?”
“Oh, no hurry for that!” he replied. “But you shall certainly see it, for it is your own, you know. There!” He picked up a Petitot snuff-box from one of the tables, and closed her fingers on it. “That is an odd gift for a lady, is it not? But I fancy you Eke snuff-boxes better than trinkets.”
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“I do not know what to say, sir,” faltered Miss Taverner. “You are very good. I—I thank you, and assure you I shall treasure it, and—and always feel myself to have been honoured indeed.”
“Come, come, come!” said the Regent, smiling broadly. “That is not how I like to be thanked! Supposing we were to forget all this ceremony, eh?”
He was standing so close to her now that she could feel the warmth of his body. He was going to kiss her; his hand was stealing up her bare arm; his breath was on her averted cheek. His grossness, the very scent with which he lavishly sprinkled his clothes, revolted her. Her impulse was to thrust him away, and to run back into the Saloon, but she felt curiously weak, and the heat of the room was making her head spin.
His arm encircled her waist; he said caressingly: “Why, here is a shy little miss! But you must not be shy with me, must you?”
Miss Taverner had the oddest sensation of being hot and cold at once. She said in an uncertain voice: “Forgive me, sir, but the room is so close—I am afraid—I must—sit down for a moment!” She made a feeble attempt to disengage herself from his hold, and then, for the first time in her life, quietly fainted away.
She regained consciousness a minute or two later, and was aware first of feeling very sick, and then of being in strange, glittering surroundings. A peevish voice was saying loudly: “Nonsense! no such thing! She was overpowered by the heat! Most unfortunate! quite extraordinary! I never heard of such a thing. Fainting in the Pavilion! Really, it is a damned awkward situation! I would not have had it happen for the world.”
Miss Taverner recognized the voice, felt a cool hand on her brow, and shuddered uncontrollably. She gave a fluttering sob, and opened her eyes, and found herself looking straight up into her guardian’s face. She stared for a moment. “Oh, it’s you!” she murmured thankfully.
“Yes, it’s I,” Worth said in his level voice. “You will be better in a minute. Don’t try to get up.”
She groped for his hand. “Please stay. Please don’t go away and leave me here.”
His hand closed reassuringly on hers. There was a curious expression on his face, as though he was surprised at something. “There is nothing to alarm you,” he said. “I am not going away, but I want to procure you a glass of wine.”
“I don’t know how I came to fault,” she said childishly. “I have never done so before. But I did not know what to do, and—”
“You fainted from the heat,” he interposed. There was a note of finality in his voice; he did not seem to want her to say any more. He disengaged his hand and rose. “I am going to get you something to drink.”
Miss Taverner watched him walk away, and tried to marshal her wits into order. It dawned on her that she was lying at full length on a sofa in the Regent’s Yellow Drawing-room, and that the Regent himself was present, looking sulky, and very much aggrieved. She managed to sit up, and to put her feet to the ground, though her head swam unpleasantly. She now remembered with tolerable clarity the events which had preceded her swoon. How Worth came to be there she had no notion; nor could she imagine what had possessed her to cling to his hand like a frightened schoolgirl. She said, trying to speak with composure: “I must beg your pardon, sir, for being so troublesome. I have disgraced myself indeed.”
The Regent’s brow cleared a little. “Oh, not at all! not at all! I daresay the room was a trifle warm. But you are better now; you will not object to my shutting the window again?”
She looked round, and saw that the striped curtains had been pulled back, and one of the long windows flung open. “Certainly, sir. I am quite recovered, I assure you.”
The Regent hurried over to the window, and shut it. “The night air is very treacherous,” he said severely. “And I am particularly susceptible to chills. It was shockingly careless of Worth—however, I say nothing, and we must trust that no harm will come of it.”
She assented, leaning her aching head on her hand. The Regent regarded her with considerable anxiety, and wished that Worth would make haste to come back. Miss Taverner was looking very sickly, and it would be extremely awkward if she were to swoon again. There had never been anything so unlucky, to be sure. How could he guess that the girl was such a prudish little fool? McMahon—to whom he would have something to say presently—had grossly misled him. And as for that damned fellow Worth not concerning himself with his ward, that was another of McMahon’s unforgivable blunders. Worth had stalked in without ceremony, without so much as common courtesy, and not only had he not believed a word his Prince had said, but he had had the insolence to show it. It was really a great deal too bad of the girl to place him in such an uncomfortable situation. For he had done nothing, nothing at all! But to be found clasping a swooning female in his arms, to be forced to explain it all in a great hurry to the girl’s guardian, wounded his dignity, always his most vulnerable spot. He had been made to appear ridiculous: he would find it hard to forgive Miss Taverner. However, she did seem to be behaving more sensibly now; he had had a horrid fright upon her first coming-to, that she was going to pour out some nonsensical, untruthful version of the affair to Worth.
He peered at her anxiously. She still looked very pale. If he had not been bound to consider his own health he would have felt tempted to open the window again. “A glass of wine will make you feel very much more the thing,” he said hopefully.
“Yes, sir. It is nothing, and I am ashamed to have put you to so much trouble. I beg you will not neglect your other guests for my sake. Your absence will be remarked. If Mrs. Scattergood could be sent for—”
“Certainly, if you wish it—immediately!” he said. “Though she is playing cards, you know, and I daresay it would cause a little talk, which you would not like.”
“Oh no! You are very right, sir,” she answered submissively. “Lord Worth will know what is best to be done.”
The Earl came back into the room at that moment, with a glass in his hand. “I see you are better, Miss Taverner. May I suggest, sir, that it would be advisable for you to return to the Saloon? You need not scruple to leave Miss Taverner in my charge.”
The Regent was perfectly ready to follow this piece of advice, even though he might resent the manner in which it was given. He begged Miss Taverner not to think of leaving the drawing-room until she felt herself to be quite recovered; assured her that he did not at all regard the trouble she had made; and went out by the door into the Chinese Gallery, which Worth was holding open for him.
The Earl shut the door, and came back to Miss Taverner’s side. He obliged her to drink some of the wine he had brought. The relief she had felt on first seeing him had by now given place to mortification at being found in so compromising a situation. She said with difficulty: “I did not know you were in the Pavilion. You must wonder at finding me in this room, I daresay, but—”
“Miss Taverner, how came you to do such a thing?” he interrupted. “I entered the Saloon to be met by the intelligence, conveyed to me by Brummell, that you had slipped away with the Regent. I came immediately to put an end to so improper a tête-à-tête, and I found you fainting in the Regent’s arms. You will tell me at once, if you please, what this means! What has happened in this room?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing, upon my honour!” she said wretchedly. “It was the heat, only the heat!”
“Why are you here?” he demanded. “What purpose can you have had in going apart with the Regent? Careless of your reputation I know you to be, but I had not thought it possible that you could behave with such imprudence!”
She was stung into replying: “How could I help going with him when he pressed me to as he did? What was I to say? Mrs. Scattergood was in the card-room; you were not present How could I know what I should do or say when no less a person than the Prince-Regent requested my company? These reproaches might have been spared! You cannot know the circumstances. Say no more! You may think me what you please: I am sure I do not care!”
“No,” said the Earl with strong feeling,
“I am well aware of that at least! But while I have authority over you I must and will censure such conduct.”
She managed to get up, though her knees still shook. “It does not signify talking. You are determined to despise me.”
There was a moment’s silence. “I determined to despise you?” said the Earl in an altered tone. “What nonsense is this?”
“I have not forgotten what you said to me that day at Cuckfield.”
“Do you imagine that I have forgotten that day?” said the Earl sternly. “Your opinion of me, which you so freely expressed, is not likely to be soon wiped from my memory, I assure you.”
She found to her dismay that tears were rolling down her cheeks. She averted her face, and said in a broken whisper: “My carriage—Mrs. Scattergood—I must go home!”
“A message shall be conveyed to Mrs. Scattergood when she leaves the card-room,” he said. “I will take you home as soon as you are sufficiently recovered.” He paused, and added: “You must not cry, Clorinda. That is a worse reproach to me than any I have bestowed on you.”
“I am not crying,” replied Miss Taverner, groping in her reticule for her handkerchief. “It is just that I have the headache.”
“I see,” said the Earl.
Miss Taverner dried her eyes, and said huskily: “I am sorry you should have the troublesome office of taking me home. I am quite ready. But if only Mrs. Scattergood could be fetched—”
“To summon Mrs. Scattergood from the card-table would give rise to the sort of public curiosity I am endeavouring to avoid,” he replied. “Come! Your mistrust of me surely cannot be so great that you will not allow me to convey you a few hundred yards in your own carriage.”
She raised her head at that. “If I did indeed say that on that hateful day I beg your pardon,” she said. “You have never given me—would never give me, I am persuaded—the least cause for mistrusting you.” She saw the frown in his eyes, and wondered at it. “You are still angry. You don’t believe me when I say that I am sorry.”
Regency Buck Page 32
