The Black Moth

by Georgette Heyer

  ‘How unwise of him!’ taunted the Colonel. ‘Or had he no choice?’

  She tossed her head angrily.

  ‘If you are minded to be disagreeable, Robert, pray do not let me detain you!’ she flashed.

  D’Egmont was quite unembarrassed by this interchange of civilities. He knew the Belmanoir family too well to be made uncomfortable by their bickerings.

  ‘Shall we leave him?’ he asked Lavinia, smiling.

  ‘Yes,’ she pouted. ‘He is determined to be unpleasant.’

  ‘My dear sister! On the contrary, I believe I can offer you some amusement. Lovelace is in town.’

  ‘Captain Harold?’ she cried incredulously.

  ‘The same.’

  ‘Oh, Bob!’ Impulsively she withdrew her hand from Julian’s arm, transferring it to the Colonel’s. ‘I must see him at once! To think he is returned after all these years! Quick, Julian, dear lad – go and find him – and tell him ’tis I, Lavinia, who want him! You know him, do you not? Yes – I thought you did. Send him to me at once! – at once!’

  D’Egmont looked very crestfallen at having his walk with the goddess thus cut short, but he had perforce to kiss her hand and to obey.

  ‘Yes. I thought you would be pleased,’ remarked Lord Robert, and chuckled. ‘Allow me to point out to you that there is a chair – two chairs – in fact, quite a number of chairs – immediately behind you.’

  She sat down, chattering excitedly.

  ‘Why, ’tis nigh on five years since I saw Harry! Has he changed? Lud! but he will deem me an old woman? Is he likely to be in town for long, I wonder? – Dear me, Bob, look at the two ladies over behind that seat! – Gracious! what extraordinary coifs, to be sure! And cherry ribbons, too!… Tell me, Bob, where did you meet Harry Lovelace?’

  The Colonel, who, far from attending to her monologue, had been sending amorous glances across to a palpably embarrassed girl, who hung on her papa’s arm while that gentleman stopped to speak to a stout dowager, brought his gaze reluctantly back to his sister.

  ‘What’s that you say, Lavvy?’

  ‘How provoking of you not to listen to me! I asked where you met Harold.’

  ‘Where I met him? Let me see – where did I meet him? Oh, I remember! At the Cocoa-Tree, a fortnight since.’

  ‘And he is altered?’

  ‘Not in any way, dear sister. He is the same mad, reckless rake-hell as ever. And unmarried.’

  ‘How delightful! Oh, I shall be so glad to see him again!’

  ‘You must present him to Richard,’ sneered the Colonel, ‘as an old flame.’

  ‘I must indeed,’ she agreed, his sarcasm passing over her head. ‘Oh, I see him! Look! Coming across the grass!’

  She rose to meet the tall, fairly young Guardsman who came swiftly towards her, curtseying as only Lady Lavinia could curtsey, with such stateliness and coquetry.

  ‘Captain Lovelace!’ she put forward both her hands.

  Lovelace caught them in his, and bent his head over them so that the soft, powdered curls of his loose wig fell all about his face.

  ‘Lady Lavinia! – Enchantress! – I can find no words! I am dumb!’

  ‘And I!’

  ‘In that case,’ drawled the Colonel, ‘you are not like to be very entertaining company. Pray give me leave!’ He bowed and sauntered away down the path with a peculiarly malicious smile on his lips.

  Lavinia and Lovelace found two chairs, slightly apart from the rest, and sat down, talking eagerly.

  ‘Captain Lovelace, I believe you had forgot me?’ she rallied him.

  ‘Never!’ he answered promptly. ‘Not though you well-nigh broke my heart!’

  ‘No, no! I did not do that. I never meant to hurt you.’

  He shook his head disbelievingly.

  ‘You rejected me to marry some other man: do you say you did not mean to?’

  ‘You naughty Harry!… You never married yourself?’

  ‘I?’ The delicate features expressed a species of hurt horror. ‘I marry? No! I was ever faithful to my first love.’

  She unfurled her fan, fluttering it delightedly.

  ‘Oh! Oh! Always, Harold? Now speak the truth!’

  ‘Nearly always,’ he amended.

  ‘Disagreeable man! You admit you had lapses then?’

  ‘So very trivial, my dear,’ he excused himself. ‘And I swear my first action on coming to London was to call at Wyncham House. Imagine my disappointment – my incalculable gloom (on the top of having already dropped a thousand at faro) when I found the shell void, and Venus –’

  She stopped him, her fan held ready for chastisement.

  ‘Sir! You said your first action was to call upon me!’

  He smiled, shaking back his curls.

  ‘I should have said: my first action of any importance.’

  ‘You do not deem losing a thousand guineas important?’ she asked wistfully.

  ‘Well – hardly. One must enjoy life, and what’s a thousand, after all? I had my pleasure out of it.’

  ‘Yes!’ she breathed, her eyes sparkling. ‘That is how I think! What pleasure can one get if one neither hazards nor spends one’s money? Oh well!’ She shrugged one shoulder, dismissing the subject.

  ‘Have you seen Tracy of late?’

  ‘He was at a court ball I attended at Versailles, but I did not have a chance of speaking to him. I heard he was very popular at Paris.’

  ‘Ay!’ she said proudly. ‘He has the French air… I so desire to see him again, but I fear he does not think of returning. I know he was promised for the Duchess of Devonshire’s rout months ago – before even the date was fixed, she so dotes on him – but I do not expect to see him there.’ She sighed and drummed on the ground with her diamond-buckle shoe. ‘Harry, I am chilled! Take me to the Pavilion! I doubt they are dancing – and Dicky will be there.’

  ‘Dicky?’ he repeated. ‘Dicky! Lavinia, do not tell me there is another claimant to your heart?’

  ‘Wicked, indelicate creature. ’Tis my husband!’

  ‘Your husband! Enfin – !’

  She cast him a sidelong glance of mingled coquetry and reproof.

  ‘Your mind is at rest again, I trust?’

  ‘Of course! A husband! Pooh, a bagatelle, no more!’

  ‘My husband is not a bagatelle!’ she laughed. ‘I am very fond of him.’

  ‘This grows serious,’ he frowned. ‘’Tis very unfashionable, surely?’

  She met his teasing eyes and cast down her lashes.

  ‘Captain Lovelace, you may take me to the Pavilion.’

  ‘Sweet tormentor, not until you cease so to misname me.’

  ‘Harold, I am indeed chilly!’ she said plaintively, and snatched her hand from his lips. ‘No, no! People will stare – look, there is my odious brother returning! I declare I will not stay to listen to his hateful, sneering remarks!… Come!’

  They walked across the grass together, keeping up a running fire of raillery, punctuated on his side by extravagant compliments filled with classical allusions, all more or less erroneous, and on hers by delighted little laughs and mock scoldings. So they came to the Pavilion, where the musicians fiddled for those who wished to dance, and where most of the company had assembled now that it was growing chilly without. Down one end of the hall, card-tables were set out, where members of both sexes diced and gambled, drinking glasses of burgundy or negus, the men toasting the ladies, and very often the ladies returning the toasts with much archness and low curtseying.

  Lavinia cast off her capuchin and plumed her feathers, giving a surreptitious shake to her ruched skirts and smoothing her ruffles. She rustled forward with great stateliness, fan unfurled, head held high, her gloved fingers lightly on Lovelace’s velvet-clad arm. Richard, hearing the little stir caused by her entry, glanced up, and p
erceived her. He did not recognise her companion, but the sparkle in her eyes and the happy curve to her full lips, were quite enough to tell him that it was someone whom she was very contented to have met. He had ample opportunity for studying Lovelace as the good-looking pair drew near, and he could not but admire the delicate, handsome face with the grey eyes that held a laugh in them, the pleasure-loving, well-curved mouth, and the chin that spoke of determination. Here was not one of Lavinia’s lisping, painted puppy-dogs, for in spite of the effeminate curls, it was easy to see that this man had character and a will of his own, and, above all, a great charm of manner. He saw Lavinia blush and rap the Captain’s knuckles in answer to some remark, and his heart sank. He rose and came to meet them.

  Lady Lavinia smiled sweetly upon him, and patted his arm with a possessive little air.

  ‘Dicky, dear, I have found an old friend – a very old friend! Is it not agreeable? Captain Lovelace – Mr Carstares.’

  The two men bowed, Richard with reluctancy, the Captain with easy bonhomie.

  ‘Sir, I claim to be a worshipper at the shrine of which you, I believe, are High Priest!’ he said impudently, and bowed again, this time to my lady.

  ‘You are one of many, sir,’ smiled Richard.

  Lady Devereux came tripping up to them, and kissed Lavinia with a great show of affection.

  ‘My dearest life! My sweet Lavinia!’

  Lady Lavinia presented a powdered cheek.

  ‘Dearest Fanny, how charming to see you again!’ she cooed. Through her lashes she gazed at her friend’s enormous headdress, with its rolls of powdered curls and the imitation flowers perched upon the top of the erection.

  ‘But, my angel!’ exclaimed Lady Fanny, stepping back to view her, ‘surely you have been ill?’

  ‘How strange!’ smiled Lavinia. ‘I was about to ask you that same question, my dear! ’Tis age, I doubt not. Do we both look such dreadful hags?’ She turned her bewitching little countenance to the men, and smiled appealingly.

  Compliments showered upon her, and Lady Devereux, who was conscious that her own sallow countenance, in spite of rouge and powder, must appear even more sallow beside Lavinia’s pink-and-whiteness, flushed in annoyance and turned away, begging her dearest Lavvy to come to the faro with her. But Lavinia, it appeared, was going to watch the dicing at Richard’s table: she vowed she should bring him monstrous good luck.

  ‘I don’t doubt it, my dear,’ replied her husband, ‘but I am not playing to-night. Will you not take your luck to Bob?’ He nodded to where the Colonel was lounging, dice-box in hand.

  Lavinia pouted.

  ‘No, I want you to play!’

  ‘’Tis of no avail, Lady Lavinia!’ drawled Sir Gregory. ‘Richard is the very devil to-night.’

  Selwyn, rattling his dice, paused, and looked round at Markham with a face of innocent surprise. Then he turned slowly and stared at Carstares’ grave, almost stern countenance, with even more surprise. He started to rattle the dice again, and shifted back to face his opponent, with pursed lips.

  ‘Is he?’ he inquired with studied depression.

  Even Lavinia joined in the general laugh, not so much at the wit’s words as at his comic expression, and the extreme deliberation with which he had enacted the little scene.

  Someone cried a bet to Lovelace, which was promptly accepted, and Lavinia’s eyes glowed afresh as she followed the Captain to a table.

  Richard went to fetch her some refreshment, and on his return, found her leaning over Lovelace’s chair, her hand on his shoulder, eagerly casting the dice on to the table. He was in time to see her clap her hands and to hear her cry of: ‘My luck! Oh, my luck is in! I will throw again!’

  Glancing round she caught sight of her husband, and her face fell.

  ‘Do you mind, Dicky?’ she pleaded.

  He did mind, but he could not appear churlish before all these men; so he laughed and shook his head, and went to her elbow to watch her play.

  When she at length ceased, her luck had run out, and she had lost her much-prized ruby earring to Mr Selwyn, who placed it carefully in his vest pocket, vowing he should wear it next his heart for ever. Then, and then only, did she consent to leave the gaming tables for the dancing hall, and for another hour Richard had the felicity of watching her tread the minuet with various young bloods, but most often with her new-found Harry Lovelace.

  Nineteen

  The Reappearance of His Grace of Andover

  It seemed to Richard in the days that followed, that Captain Lovelace was never out of his house. If he went to his wife’s boudoir, there was Lovelace, hanging over her while she played upon the spinet or glanced through the pages of the Rambler. If Lavinia went to a ball or masquerade, the Captain was always amongst the favoured ones admitted to her chamber for the express purpose of watching her don her gown and judiciously place her patches. If Carstares begged his wife’s company one morning, she was full of regrets: Harry was calling to take her to Vauxhall or to Spring Gardens. When he entered his door, the first sight that met his eyes was the Captain’s amber-clouded cane and point-edged hat; and when he looked out of the window, it was more often to see a chair draw up at the house and Lovelace alight. After patiently enduring a week of his continued presence, Carstares remonstrated with his wife: she must not encourage her friend to spend all his time at Grosvenor Square. At first she had looked reproachful, and then she inquired his reason. His reluctant answer was that it was not seemly. At that her eyes had opened wide, and she demanded to know what could be more seemly than the visits of such an old friend? With a gleam of humour, Richard replied that it was not Captain Harold’s age that he objected to, but, on the contrary, his youth. On which she accused him of being jealous. It was true enough, but he indignantly repudiated the suggestion. Very well, then, he was merely stupid! He must not be cross; Harry was her very good friend, and did not Richard admire the new device for her hair? Richard was not to be cajoled: did she clearly understand that Lovelace’s visits must cease? She only understood one thing, and that was that Dicky was marvellous ill-tempered and ridiculous to-day. And he must not tease her! Yes, she would be very good, and so must he! And now she was going shopping, and she would require at least twenty guineas.

  In spite of her promise to ‘be good’, she made no attempt to discourage Lovelace’s attentions, always smiling charmingly upon him and beckoning him to her side.

  It was the morning of the Duchess of Devonshire’s rout that Carstares again broached the subject. My lady was in bed, her fair hair unpowdered and streaming all about her shoulders, her chocolate on a small table at her side and countless billets doux from admirers scattered on the sheet. In her hand she held a bouquet of white roses with a card attached bearing, in bold, sprawling characters, the initials ‘H.L.’ Perhaps it was the sight of these incriminating letters that roused Richard’s anger. At all events, with a violence quite unlike his usual gentle politeness, he snatched the flowers from her hand, and sent them whizzing into a corner.

  ‘Let there be an end to all this folly!’ he cried.

  Lavinia raised herself on one elbow, astonished.

  ‘H-how dare you?’ she gasped.

  ‘It has come to that!’ he answered. ‘How dare I, your husband, try to control your actions in any way? I tell you, Lavinia, I have had enough of your antics, and I will not longer put up with them!’

  ‘You – you – What in heaven’s name ails you, Richard?’

  ‘This! I will not countenance that puppy’s invasion of my house!’ He made a furious gesture towards the wilted bouquet. ‘Neither will I permit you to make yourself the talk of London through him!’

  ‘I? I? I make myself the talk of London? How dare you? Oh! how dare you?’

  ‘I beg you will cease that foolishness. There is no question of my daring. How dare you disobey me, as you have been doing all this past week?’
<
br />   She cowered away from him.

  ‘Dicky!’

  ‘’Tis very well to cry “Dicky”, and to smile, but I have experienced that before. Sometimes I think you are utterly without heart! – a selfish, vain, extravagant woman!’

  The childish lips trembled. Lady Lavinia buried her face in the pillows, sobbing.

  Carstares’ face softened.

  ‘I beg your pardon, my dear. Mayhap that was unjust.’

  ‘And cruel! And cruel!’

  ‘And cruel. Forgive me.’

  She twined white, satiny arms about his neck.

  ‘You did not mean it?’

  ‘No. I mean that I will not allow Lovelace to dangle after you, however.’

  She flung away from him.

  ‘You have no right to speak like that. I knew Harry long before I ever set eyes on you!’

  He winced.

  ‘You infer that he is more to you than I am?’

  ‘No! Though you try to make me hate you. No! I love you best. But I will not send Harry away!’

  ‘Not if I order it?’

  ‘Order it? Order it? No! No! A thousand times no!’

  ‘I do order it!’

  ‘And I refuse to listen to you!’

  ‘By God, madam, you need a lesson!’ he flamed. ‘I am minded to take you back to Wyncham this very day! And I promise you that, an you do not obey me in this, to Wyncham you shall go!’ He stamped out of the room as he spoke, and she sank back amongst her pillows, white and trembling with fury.

  As soon as she was dressed, she flounced downstairs, bent on finishing the quarrel. But Carstares had gone out some time since, and was not expected to return until late. For a moment Lavinia was furious, but the timely arrival of a box from her mantua-maker’s chased away the frowns and wreathed her face in smiles.

  Richard did not return until it was time to prepare for the rout, and on entering the house he went straight to his chamber, putting himself into the hands of his valet. He submitted to the delicate tinting of his finger-nails, the sprinkling of his linen with rose-water and the stencilling of his brows. He was arrayed in puce and gold, rings slipped on to his fingers, his legs coaxed into hose with marvellous clocks splashed on their sides, and a diamond buckle placed above the large black bow of his tie-wig. Then, powdered, painted and patched, he went slowly across to his wife’s room.