Beneath the Mask

by Margaret McGaffey Fisk

  Betsy did not seem to find anything wrong in her tone, only shooing Daphne toward the door with both hands. “Lady Scarborough’s waiting on you,” she said. “Best you run along now.”

  Daphne felt transported back into her childhood, the echo of Nurse’s voice in the maid’s words. She longed for those times of freedom, riding horses across the fields and running with the stable hands when those responsible for her were distracted, usually by the perfect angel Grace had always been.

  At the thought of her sister, Daphne sobered. If for no one else, she’d have to make the best of her future for her sister. Grace should never feel her choice had destroyed the family Daphne knew her sister still loved, though barred from it forever. “For you, Grace,” Daphne whispered, heading down the stairs.

  “Oh Lady Scarborough, when I received your invitation, I was beside myself in joy.”

  Daphne froze, her hand on the last banister, at the sound of a familiar voice. “Penelope?” The whispered question held a note of desperation even as she heard her mother’s response.

  “It’s little enough we could do when she’s spent practically every waking moment with you. I feel we should know you better anyway as our daughter’s dearest friend. Come into the parlor. I’m sure Daphne will be right down.”

  Daphne raced down the stairs, forgetting any wish to appease her mother in the desperate need to stop the words sure to come out of Penelope’s mouth next.

  The girl she’d hoped to make a friend of glanced up in time to see Daphne scrambling down the last few steps, but not quick enough for Daphne’s frantic hand signals to stop her words. “Oh, but I haven’t seen Daphne since that first time. I was worried I, or my sister’s friends, had offended her in some way until I got your invitation.”

  The last few words came out strangled as Penelope finally understood Daphne’s message, too late to prevent the icy stare Lady Scarborough shot at her daughter. Daphne had to give her mother this though. The Lady Scarborough buried any sign of upset and grandly swept Penelope before her to where a fancy tea had been set up in the parlor.

  Daphne went after, her stomach tied in such knots that she doubted she would ever eat again despite having missed breakfast all together.

  THE VISIT ENDED WITH PENELOPE thrilled that she hadn’t fallen out of favor and offering gushing invitations for Daphne to come over the next day. Under her mother’s stern glare, Daphne agreed, hating the pressure even though it matched her own plans to make true friends with Penelope.

  The main door had barely closed behind Penelope’s back before Daphne felt her mother’s hand clamp onto her shoulder.

  “And you, young lady, will sit in your room and contemplate your behavior until your father gets back from the House of Lords. Isn’t it enough that we’ve lost one daughter? Must you court disaster with lies and deceit as well?” Lady Scarborough shook her head when Daphne tried to answer, pivoting her daughter and pointing at the stairs.

  Shoulders slumped, Daphne made her way back up the stairs to her room where she collapsed on her bed. She’d thought nothing worse than losing her dream and yet now she still felt the loss but would feel the brunt of her father’s punishment as well. She pulled out the book and caressed its cover, a tear falling to make a dark spot on the worn leather.

  She almost opened the book to read the words once again, but felt they’d offer no comfort. Instead, she clutched it to her breast and sat, cross-legged, her thoughts dwelling on what she’d done, determined, no matter what the cost, she’d know it had been worth what came after.

  Some hours later, faint with hunger and wound tighter than the mantle clock in the front parlor, Daphne jumped half off her bed when a knock sounded at her door.

  “My lady?” Betsy called in a faint voice. “Lady Daphne, your father is home.”

  Feeling much in common with a man walking to the gallows, Daphne hid her book and walked down the stairs again, neither delight nor panic propelling her steps. Despair had given away to a shocked numbness that seemed to absorb her whole being.

  She mumbled a greeting as she entered the parlor and sat down in the nearest chair, wondering that her mother would choose such a pleasant place for her trial. The basement, since their house had no dungeon, seemed more appropriate.

  “Daphne, what’s this I hear about your doings? Don’t you make the same mistakes your sister did.” Her father’s stern tone left little room for argument and sent a shiver down her back.

  Then, her mother made a soft “oh” sound, pulling her father’s attention away from her. “You haven’t been meeting with your sister, have you?” Lady Scarborough asked, pain audible in her voice.

  For a tiny moment, Daphne wanted to agree, to both use the excuse offered and soothe the wound her mother hid behind a regal demeanor. Then she sighed, knowing the lies had to stop. As much as she wished she had been seeing her sister or doing anything so noble, she’d known all along that the time would come for her to reveal her activities.

  “No, Mother, I have not,” she said instead, her tone firm. “I have been dancing.”

  Daphne glanced at her father then wished she hadn’t when his brows drew together into as angry an expression she’d ever seen him wear.

  “And what have you been using to pay that sniveling dance instructor. Have you given him baubles in turn for putting false dreams in your head? Does he even now believe your proper place is showing off your underclothes to randy men?”

  Her mother gasped as he spoke of unmentionables, but Daphne ignored indignation in favor of anger. She rose out of her seat, meeting her father’s glare with no thought to her own preservation. “I don’t have to pay him anything. My dreams are no more false than your place in the House of Lords. I’ve been dancing at a professional dance theater for weeks now. Lords and ladies come to see me perform.” She glowered at him. “And it isn’t for the chance to see my under things either.”

  Lady Scarborough gasped again, sinking back onto the settee, one hand pressed to her throat.

  “You did what?” Lord Scarborough shouted, his face purpled by anger with the veins standing out against his forehead.

  He made such a frightful sight that Daphne shrank in fear, suddenly wishing she could pull back her words.

  Her father stalked toward her, his measured steps more threatening than a furious run.

  Daphne backed up once and then again until she pressed against the wall to one side of her chair. “I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered, her words almost a whimper.

  “Not sorry enough,” he ground out between his teeth, grabbing hold of her upper arm in a tight grip. “You chanced the position of this family with your shenanigans. You think your sister’s behavior somehow outweighs yours? That you no longer have to behave like a proper young lady?”

  He shook her hard and Daphne’s teeth slammed together. She trembled, but said nothing, hoping only for this wave of anger to pass. She’d known he wouldn’t be happy, but this unrelenting anger terrified her.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, glaring down at Daphne. “More wrong than you’ll ever know. If we hope to weather this storm, you have to behave better even than the angels in Heaven. There is no other choice if we are to be a family in truth and not hide away on one of our lesser properties until generations pass and memories finally grow faint.”

  He tossed her down into the chair, stalking away to pace the length of the parlor. His hands clenched into fists then relaxed only to clench again. He muttered under his breath, the fervent words too slurred to make any sense of them.

  Daphne stayed where he’d put her, shrinking into the chair as best as she could in the hopes of escaping notice. A quick glance showed her mother doing the same even though Lady Scarborough had nothing to be blamed for.

  “It’s that dance instructor,” he finally said out loud, shaking his fist toward the sky. “I should never have let him in the house for all that he came well recommended.”

  Daphne sat up straight and opened he
r mouth to defend her former instructor, only remembering at the last second that she’d make the situation worse not better.

  “The guard will take care of him. Treat him as he deserves for leading young, impressionable noble women astray. I wonder how many others he has convinced to disobey their fathers and chance their family reputations. I’d guess a long string of broken lives stretches out behind him, hushed up to preserve a modicum of dignity.”

  “It’s not like that at all,” Daphne said, clenching her fingers against the upholstery. “He didn’t want me to come.” Though her voice shook, she wouldn’t let her father blame Monsieur Henre for her own choice, not if he planned to act on that belief.

  Lord Scarborough stopped in front of her, staring down with heated eyes. “And yet, he let you stay. He let you perform, did he not? A gentleman would have sent for me; a gentleman would have kept you safe then left me to school you in proper behavior. A proper gentleman does not let noble women parade bare in public.”

  Again, the blood pounded in his face, and Daphne swallowed heavily, her muscles tensed against a blow that never came. Instead, he turned and slammed his fist against the wall hard enough to send the lamp shuddering until she feared it would tip over and start a fire.

  Lord Scarborough knelt at her side, the color now drained from his face entirely. He reached for one of her hands. She let it sit limp between his. “How could you do this, Daphne? Have you no sense at all? How many of our friends and neighbors are laughing now? How many wonder at the upbringing we must have given you? And how long do you think it will take for the Pendletons to hear about this and cancel the ill-fated joining of our two families?”

  He slumped, his shoulders curving forward in a despair that rested awkwardly on his solid frame. Daphne had never seen her father look so defeated, not even when Grace had run away. She scrambled for something to say, something to make things better, and finally an answer came to her.

  “Father, I danced masked,” she declared, the joy in her voice hanging oddly in the still room.

  Lord Scarborough raised his head to stare at her uncomprehending. “And how is this to make any difference?” he asked.

  Before she could respond, Lady Scarborough sat up with all signs of a returning energy. “And no one knew?” she said.

  Daphne nodded fervently. “Only Monsieur Henre,” she responded, pushing aside thoughts of her close encounter with the one man who could have destroyed everything. “I was a bit of a mystery, but no one thought to pierce it.”

  “The masked dancer?” Lord Scarborough said, his voice stunned. “I’ve been to see her…see you…myself.” He shuddered then brightened. “If I couldn’t recognize my own daughter, we may yet be safe.”

  Daphne waited for some word of praise, some acknowledgement of her skill, but none came. Instead, her father pushed up, his stance once again commanding, and reached for the rope to call a servant.

  “Wait, Father,” she cried.

  “Why,” he asked, his lip curling back into a sneer. “You think to protect the man who thought so little of your virtue to use you so?”

  Daphne shook her head mutely, catching his arm and pulling it down. “Just think for a moment. Right now, only Monsieur Henre knows who the masked dancer was. If you call the guard, you must charge him. Even if you lay false testimony against him, what cause would he have to hold his tongue?”

  Lord Scarborough frowned, but he did not reach for the cord again. “If you have the brains to figure this out, daughter, pray tell me what led you to go to him in the first place?”

  She kept her tone respectful, sharing the truth even though she knew her offering would be rejected. “I love to dance, Father. It’s the only thing in the whole world that makes me happy and alive.”

  He snorted, pulling free of her grasp to cross the room and sink into a chair. Glancing over at his wife, he asked, “Where did we go wrong? What did we do to have this grievance weighed down on us?”

  Lady Scarborough shrugged her shoulders in a delicate motion that drew attention to her ample breast and graceful neck. “We let them live as people. I cannot regret it entirely even as I have to live with the consequences.” She turned to look at Daphne, sorrow clear on her face. “Most young girls know nothing but what fashions to wear and how to catch themselves a handsome beau. You think I didn’t know how Grace chose to spend her afternoons? Helping the poor in those ways is not something for one of our class to do any more than dancing is, but it gave her a purpose and value. Little did I know she’d take to that life so strongly, or choose to stay with the man who worked at her side. But you, you had to choose something scandalous on more levels than my favorite tiara has gems. Promise me you’ll never go back. Promise me you’ve learned from what you almost cost this family.”

  Daphne smiled, for once seeing some good in Monsieur Henre’s decision. “I danced my last this night previous. I swear I’ll not do anything to chance the Pendletons’ regard. I swear.”

  Her father growled at the mention of her dancing, then subsided as he heard the rest. “You better keep to that promise or your last sight of freedom will be your teacher swinging from the gallows,” he charged, his voice thick with unresolved anger. He didn’t wait for a response, marching from the room and off to his library.

  Daphne heard his gruff voice call out a command to one of the servants and she flinched, terrified by what had occurred, and what had almost happened.

  Lady Scarborough came up and rested a hand on Daphne’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Even when his anger burns so hot, it cools quickly. You came close to costing us everything. Count your blessings and say no more about this to anyone.”

  She waited for Daphne to nod before continuing.

  “For now, I think it best if you stay in your room. You’re promised to Penelope for tomorrow afternoon, but until then, I’ll have your meals sent up. It’ll do you good to spend some time on your knees giving thanks that you were never seen or recognized. And while you’re there, renew your vows to the highest power. Then, maybe, you can be trusted to keep them.”

  Daphne flinched at the sudden hardening of her mother’s voice, giving a meek “Yes, Mother,” before slipping upstairs to the room that had become her prison, a welcome one. Here, she had only her conscience and memories of her parents’ stricken faces to condemn her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Come, Aubrey. You look dashing as a highwayman. The ladies will be swooning at the sight of you. We’ve only to pick from among them and toss the lucky girl over your shoulder. We could have a double wedding, crossing the line into maturity and married life together as we once crossed the finish line neck and neck to become fast friends.” Though he’d meant the words to be humorous, Jasper could help neither the bitter twist nor the almost longing that found its way into his tone.

  Aubrey only shook his head, a serious cast to his face. “Neither beauty of face nor figure will capture my heart, good friend. I aim to hold out for that one special woman created solely to be my mate no matter how unfashionable that might make me.”

  Jasper tried to laugh, this time seeking out the mockery he would have found easily only weeks before. Now though, with his new understanding and the still raw wounds cut across his heart, he could little debate the dreams of his friend.

  Instead, he sighed, clapping his hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. “I truly wish you the luck of it, my friend. May you not only find your heart’s desire, but find it packaged in one of blood and breeding to meet your mother’s standards and your father’s aims. And all this before your parents make the choice in your stead.”

  His face twisted into the semblance of a smile as he snatched up the billowing coat made to match his costume. Its ruffles barely covered his dignity while silk tights hugged his legs. What cloth should have made up his pants, instead dangled loosely from the shoulders, his arms freed to move by a slit cut from shoulder to well past where his wrist would have fallen.

  Aubrey’s smile had much more of h
is good nature in it. “You cut a rather dashing figure yourself. One can tell you keep yourself fit and the sleeves accentuate your broad shoulders.”

  Though he knew his friend tried only to help, Jasper shook his head. “My figure has little importance in this event. The only thing that frigid society girl I’m bound to is interested in is my wealth, and hardly even that from her reluctance.”

  “There’s freedom in a masquerade found in no other place. You may find she learns to like you for more than the coins in her pocket if given half the chance. From your description, I think neither of you came off the best in that meeting. Would you ever judge a man on just one encounter?”

  Jasper laughed, this time finding his bitterness again. “Sometimes one encounter is all it takes. Nor does it matter anymore. I’ll do right by her and give her what she wants of me, both a flush allowance and children to swell her waist. She’ll have nothing to mourn in this joining.”

  He turned away, heading out the door and to the carriage that waited beyond it. “We should be off now. I think the first satisfaction I should give my lady bride is to show up promptly to the event that announces our wedded bliss.”

  Aubrey caught up, matching his strides easily. “It doesn’t have to be thus, Jasper. Given a little effort, your prison could become a blissful bower. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  Swinging into the carriage with enough force to make the frame shudder, Jasper laughed again. His voice softened though when he tried to explain, “You were more right than you knew so long ago. I’d given my heart and wouldn’t admit the gifting. I have none left to give and can’t have the one I desire. I gave the dance hall owner a pretty penny to keep her safe, but it will never be enough. An affair with one such as me would only ruin her for a good life among her own. Me, I have my mate chosen and declared. I have only to accept the offering and make the best of it.”