Charles Barsett was before her. The diamond buckle on his shoe glinted as he smartly set one foot on the paper, and bent to pick it up. It seemed to the watching, scarlet-faced girl a long time before he straightened up again. Then he handed her the note with a deep bow. A diabolical smile curved his lips.
“I believe this is yours?” he said.
Chapter VIII: Strange Behaviour of a Rake
“And that was how I gained possession of it!” said Amanda triumphantly. “But, oh, John, it was dreadful when he picked it up and handed it to me! I thought I should die of mortification. He cannot have failed to recognise it, for it had blown open.”
John Webster grimaced, and turned the note over in his hands.
“I wouldn’t have been in your shoes, not for any sum you could name,” he said candidly. “But the fellow can’t be so bad, Mandy, after all. At least he didn’t denounce you.”
“Oh, I grant that his manners are in general perfect,” said Amanda, with emphasis. “It is only his principles that are at fault. A small matter, perhaps, but I had rather see my sister wed to an ill-mannered man than to one lacking in morals.”
“Egad, I don’t quite know how to take that,” protested John.
She laughed. “Take it that I consider you the perfect husband for Bella, and we shall both be agreed. John, what can you make of that letter?”
He looked once more at the paper, a deep frown marring his handsome face. Only two lines of writing appeared upon the paper, inscribed in a scholarly hand.
At Hanover Square next Monday at eight. Do not fail me.
Brother Francis.
“It’s an ordinary enough note,” he said slowly, “apart from the signature. Barsett has no brother, as we are aware.”
“Exactly!” Amanda’s voice quivered with eagerness. “Then what can the signature mean, John, would you say?”
“It sounds like a jest,” he answered doubtfully. “A kind of nickname — the sort of thing we used to do at school. There was one fellow whom we called —”
“Spare me a recital of the nicknames of every boy who ever went to school with you!” exclaimed Amanda impatiently. “It is nothing to the purpose, and only wastes time.”
“Oh, very well,” he replied huffily. “I fear I have nothing more to add to the discussion.”
“Now don’t be in a miff,” coaxed Amanda, laying a hand on his arm. “If we are to quarrel, I don’t know who will help me to save Bella. Besides, I think your suggestion a very sound one.”
His face lightened. “Well, I’m deuced glad to hear I can please you in some way,” he said, rather in the manner of a small boy. “You seemed so put out at my failure to gather any information at the clubs.”
“Well, it was disappointing,” confessed Amanda. “I’d counted so much on your hearing what Mr. Thurlston assures me is common gossip. I wish he would not be so reticent,” she added with a touch of despair.
“You can’t expect him to peach on his own cousin,” said John, matter-of-factly. “Even though I’ve heard that Barsett hasn’t behaved any too well towards him in the past.”
“I’ve heard that too,” said Amanda. “But so far I can’t discover what he’s supposed to have done.”
“No, well, it’s all a thought vague; such things often are. I collect that he’s tried to poison my Lord Barsett’s mind against his cousin with a view to getting him turned out of the house.”
A light frown touched Amanda’s brow fleetingly.
“Yet he doesn’t seem to have succeeded. Strange — I should have thought him too clever to fail at what must surely be a reasonably simple matter.”
“Why simple?”
“Well, after all, he is Lord Barsett’s son. He must have some influence with his father.”
“Rumour has it that there is very little sympathy between father and son. My Lord Barsett worshipped his wife, according to report, and she died giving birth to the child.”
“Yes,” said Amanda slowly. “Mrs. Thurlston was recounting the story to Mama the other evening — I overheard some of it. She said that my lord could not bear the sight of the child for a long time afterwards.” She paused, a pensive expression on her face. “I did not think of it before, John, but it can be no very pleasant thing to lose one’s mother, and have one’s father take one in dislike. He must have been a very unhappy little boy.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said John, a shade uncomfortably. This sudden access of sentimentality on Amanda’s part made him embarrassed. “There would be a nurse, you know —and then there was his aunt and cousin.”
“She is a detestable woman. I dislike her profoundly. Small wonder that Mr. Barsett should have such an odious disposition.”
“Has he?” asked John.
She stared. “Have I not told you so?”
“Yes — oh, to be sure. But —”
“But what?” she asked haughtily. “Do you doubt my word?”
“No,” he said hurriedly, “nothing of the kind. But I know you sometimes —” He stopped short.
“I wish you will finish what you are saying,” she exclaimed impatiently. “So much is left to conjecture with all these ifs and buts.”
He gave a quick laugh. “The truth is, I’m half afraid of you, Mandy. You can be such a fire-eater! What I intended to say was that you are a thought impulsive in your likes and dislikes. This man found you trespassing, and ordered you off with something less than his usual civility. That is all you know to his discredit.”
Two spots of colour appeared in Amanda’s cheeks. “You can say that? After all that you, too, have heard against him?”
“But that is, after all, only hearsay,” insisted John.
“’Pon rep! Never did I hear the like! Why should so many people say these things if there is no truth in them, pray?”
“Fashionable London is a malicious place,” said John sagely. “I have been here long enough to learn that much. One ill-disposed person begins a rumour, and in no time it is on everyone’s lips.”
“Upon my word, I do not understand you,” exclaimed Amanda, disgust etched in every line of her. “What interest can you possibly have in establishing the fairness of Mr. Barsett’s character, I should like to know? At any rate, you cannot deny that he seeks to force Isabella into a loveless marriage.”
John frowned, and considered this. “That is just what I do deny,” he said at last. “No one but her parents can have the power to force Bella in such a matter, and they would not do so, particularly not your father, with whom the authority must rest finally. You know she is not coerced, Mandy. She herself must desire the marriage.”
“Oh, you are impossible!”
She snatched the letter from his hands, and considered it again. “Do you know what I think, John?”
Her mood had now changed completely; the anger was gone, and a note of excitement had crept into her voice. She did not wait for any reply. “You remember the blacksmith spoke of monks having sometimes been seen on the lawns of the Abbey? He believed them to be spectres, but suppose they were not? Suppose they were human, and this Francis is one of them?”
“I don’t quite see — are you suggesting that Barsett is a Papist? That he belongs to some religious order? But no, that does not accord with his behaviour, nor with the tenor of this note. I tell you it is some jest — a nickname —”
“That may be. I cannot account for it any better than you. But I am determined to know who this Brother Francis may be. John, do you think you can discover it for me?”
He gaped at her. “How do you suggest I go about it? There is little enough to go on here, in all conscience.”
“There is the place and time of the meeting,” she pointed out. “Hanover Square is not, after all, so very large. If you could be there on Monday evening, and observe which house Charles Barsett enters, it should not be too difficult a matter to find out the name of the owner of the place.”
He looked uncertain. “I’ve told you already that I have no fancy
to play the spy. Besides, there is one circumstance which puts such a course out of the question.”
“And that is —?” asked Amanda with ill-concealed impatience.
“I don’t know the fellow by sight. It so happens that I’ve never yet met him.”
Amanda was momentarily taken aback. “But you must have done — you’ve been in London for close on two months. You were at the ball which Mama gave before I arrived, and Bella tells me that he was present at that —”
“So were nearly a hundred others. Besides, I had no eyes for anyone but Bella.”
She sighed. “Well, there is no help for it: I must contrive to go myself.”
He started. “Good God, Mandy, you don’t know what you’re saying! You cannot loiter about the streets of London alone.”
“You could accompany me,” she began eagerly. “I will find some excuse —”
“There must be a simpler way,” he cut in abruptly. “No doubt I can find someone to present me to him — though on what pretext I cannot think.”
Amanda’s eyes glinted. “But I can,” she said quickly. “He is engaged to take a dish of tea with us this very afternoon. Why do you not call in upon us then? It can occasion no remark, for as an old friend of the family you must always be welcome.”
He shook his head decidedly. “No. I do not wish to encounter Bella — particularly not in his company!”
She thought rapidly for a minute. “Then I will present you myself,” she exclaimed at last in triumph. “We will call at his house in Albemarle Street — I cannot manage it today, unfortunately — tomorrow, at eleven.”
John pursed his lips, considering this. “Scarcely proper. You should have another female with you.”
“Fustian! Are we not almost brother and sister?”
“I suppose one might say so: perhaps that is why Bella —”
“Oh, bother Bella!” exclaimed her impatient sister. “Let us keep to the point for once, I beg! Do you agree to my plan?”
“I suppose so,” he answered, reluctantly. “But on what pretext are we to call?”
“Simply that I want to present you to him — as an old friend of the family —”
“Not nearly convincing enough,” he demurred. “You are not usually in the way of paying him so much attention, are you?”
For a moment she was at a loss. “No — no, I’m not; that is true enough. But I would dearly love to gain an entry to his house, for there is no saying what I may be able to find there. If you can only contrive to engage him in conversation while I conduct a search —” She paused at sight of his horror-stricken face.
“I’ll be a party to no such hare-brained scheme. Good God, Amanda, you must be off your head!”
She set her small teeth. “Nothing will deter me from preventing a marriage between Bella and that — that monster! For the last time, John Webster, do you mean to help me or not?”
“Oh, of course — to be sure.” He tried to soothe her. “But are you quite certain we may not do more harm than good by such means? If we were to be discovered, and Bella should learn from Barsett that I have taken part in such an escapade, she may despise me more than ever. How will that further my cause with her?”
“We shan’t be discovered, silly! Do you forget all the affairs of the kind which we’ve managed successfully in the past?”
“We were children then: this is different.”
“Yes, but only because it matters more. That is just why we must not, cannot fail! Now, I have a splendid idea. You find that you are obliged to leave Town suddenly, and do not wish to go without having first met the betrothed of the girl whom you have known since childhood. You wish to carry back some account of him to your parents, very dear friends of our family. You call upon me to take you to Mr. Barsett. How does that sound?”
“Thin,” he protested. “Why do I not call upon my Lord Twyford to perform this office for me? And why must I leave Town in such frantic haste, anyway?”
“Really!” exclaimed Amanda in exasperation. “You do nothing but make difficulties. However, I can deal with your first one: my father will be at Tattersall’s tomorrow morning to buy a horse. Mama and Bella will be out shopping — so should I, but I intend to have a headache, or some other malaise. You will call upon us, and there will be only myself to aid you.”
“I am lost in admiration,” he said dryly. “And what of my second objection?”
“Really, I think it is very hard on Bella to expect her to wed a man with so little imagination as yourself. Your father is ill — urgent family matters — an unexpected visitor to your home who hasn’t seen you since childhood. I can think of a score of excuses.”
He laughed, and catching her unexpectedly by the waist, swung her bodily into the air. “Oh, Mandy, Mandy! You are a terrible child!”
He placed her on her feet again, his hands resting lightly against her sides, and gazed intently into her slightly flushed face. “But you are also a lovely girl,” he said, wonderingly. “I never noticed it before.”
She looked up at him under her lashes with a coy little smile that yet was as innocent as a child’s.
“Am I? Thank you kindly, sir. And now I must be off before Mama and Bella are stirring. Do not forget — tomorrow, between ten and eleven. I will get word to you if there should be any change.”
She shook herself lightly free of his grasp, and turned to mount her horse.
“No, one moment, Mandy!”
There was a new note in his voice. She turned towards him, with arched brows. “What is it?”
Her look was clear and ingenuous. His eyes dropped before it.
“Oh, nothing. I’ll be there.”
He helped her to mount, and stood still for a moment, watching her ride away.
That afternoon, Charles Barsett waited upon his betrothed. Tea and general conversation formed the early part of the visit, but my Lady Twyford soon found an excuse to leave the affianced couple alone. In her view, it could do no harm for the pair to become better acquainted. To be sure, Isabella was acting more in her own interests since her Mama’s timely warning, and the engagement would be announced in the newspapers in a day or two; but there’s many a slip, reflected my lady, and at present the gentleman appeared disconcertingly heart-whole.
After she had left the two together, a short silence fell between them. Mr. Barsett was the first to break it. “I beg,” he said, formally, “that you will inform me, madam, when I may look to find myself the happiest of men.”
Her hazel eyes widened, whether with fear or surprise he could not determine.
“I — I do not know what you mean,” she stammered.
“Come, it is plain, is it not?” His tone was gentle and forbearing. “I ask you to name our wedding day.”
This time there was no mistaking the dismay that over-spread her countenance. He watched her gravely.
“I —” Isabella stopped short, then, rallying her forces with an apparent effort, continued, “I had not considered the matter. There is no need for haste, is there, sir?”
“There is no occasion for delay that I know of,” he answered smoothly. “Unless, of course, you would prefer a protracted engagement?”
The expression in her eyes put him in mind of a trapped animal.
“It — it will be Amanda’s birthday in a few weeks’ time,” she said hurriedly. “Mama is planning a ball — I would like to defer the — the wedding date until after that event — that is, if it pleases you, sir.”
He bowed. “Your wishes are my pleasure. By all means let us postpone the wedding until after your sister’s birthday. When is the joyful event?”
“The second week in June — the tenth, to be precise.”
“Then perhaps we may fix upon the third or fourth week of next month for our little ceremony?”
“I — I do not know ... I —” Her voice trailed away weakly. She racked her brain furiously for something she could say — some valid excuse she could plead for avoiding the fixing of an
exact date; invention failed her.
He watched her struggle in silence through half-closed, lazy eyes. “I perceive that there is yet another difficulty: can it be that there is some other occasion to be celebrated at that time?”
His tone was serious, but there was a mocking light in his eyes. She jumped quickly at the loophole he offered, without giving sufficient thought to her words.
“Yes, yes, you have hit upon it. I have to — that is — I —”
He came gallantly enough to her rescue, a cynical smile marring the generosity of his mouth.
“Let me hazard a guess. Another birthday — your mother’s? Your father’s? Your own, perhaps?”
She raised her head, and looked him straight between the eyes. For a moment she was the Isabella whom Amanda knew best, and John Webster loved.
She shook her head. “No,” she said candidly. “Mama and Papa have but just celebrated theirs, and mine is not until July. I was — seeking an excuse, as you guessed.”
“Now we come to it,” he said softly. “Tell me, child, is this match to your liking?”
Her eyes widened a little, and one hand went to her throat.
“You can ask that?”
He nodded, all trace of mockery gone from his manner.
“I must know the truth. I would not have you — coerced.”
“There is nothing of that kind,” she said quickly. “My parents would not be so unfeeling — indeed, they love me dearly.”
Her voice choked a little on the last words.
“So I should suppose,” he answered quietly, “from my observation of them — in particular, your father. What, then, is the reason of your refusal to fix upon the day?”
She looked away from him, and her words came out in little nervous gushes, while her hands plucked restlessly at the embroidery on her gown.
“It is just that — the thought of being a married woman is — a little frightening — so much responsibility, you know. Mama says that I am giddy, and perhaps it is true, but I do so delight in all the gaiety of the Town. The season is at its height, and it would seem a pity to quit it so soon. A few more months of — of — diversion, before I settle down — I do hope, sir, you can understand —”
The Georgian Rake Page 9
