The Masqueraders

‘Quite sure, child. Robin Lacey is no more. Here is only Robert Tremaine.’

‘And no one would ever guess you were Kate,’ Letty said. ‘Even I did not guess until you made me look at you, and then I could not credit it. Oh Robin, Robin, I knew you would come again, but I have been so miserable! There has been the horridest scandal and aunt is dreadfully cross.’

‘But now,’ Robin said, holding her close, ‘it is for me to see that you are happy ever after. And I will see to it.’

‘I am happy,’ Letty said into his shoulder. A thought came to her; she lifted her head, and said in a voice of unholy glee: – ‘And aunt shall see that I am not in the least ruined for life! She will look very silly when she knows I am to be a Viscountess one day!’

Thirty-two

Journey’s End

Robin had instructions to bring his sister to Barham Court, where my lord would await their coming. My lord wrote a beautiful letter to my Lady Enderby, thanking her for her kindness to his daughter, and begging her to honour his house with her company. He purposed to invite Sir Humphrey and Letty Grayson down too; my Lady Lowestoft, and of course Sir Anthony Fanshawe. He had begun to meditate nuptials: Robin felt sure that they were to be magnificent.

As for this unlooked for ending, it took Robin’s breath away. It seemed there was no longer room for doubt: the old gentleman was Barham indeed, and the days of their adventuring were over. Faith, and it was like him to allow his children to doubt him to the end! It gave him the chance to make a gesture. It had been so, Robin reflected, all through this masquerade. Simplicity was abhorrent to his lordship; he revelled in a net-work of intrigue; he loved to accomplish the impossible. A less tortuous man might have established his identity in a way quieter and more direct; a less fantastic man might not perhaps have perceived the need for his son and daughter to be in town all this while. They could have escaped to France, and waited there. Robin understood the workings of that stupendous mind. The old gentleman wanted them to see his triumph; it would have lost half its savour if they had not been there to be mystified, aghast, and at the last thunderstruck. He liked also to make a dupe of the whole of Polite Society. He had thrown his son and daughter right into the lion’s den, masquerading in a preposterous guise: Robin could imagine his delight. In fact, the old gentleman had once more shown himself to be too clever for the rest of the world, and for him that was the breath of life.

Robin wondered whether my lord would be content now, or whether thirty years of adventuring would not prove too strong for him. It was hard to imagine the old gentleman at rest.

Robin wondered too what Prue would have to say to it, if she did not already know of my lord’s success. John, packing a valise for Robin, thought that Miss Prue would not be surprised. He said with a dry smile: – ‘She’s taken up with her own affairs, Master Robin. Leastways, she was when I saw her.’

‘Have you been down to Dartrey?’ Robin asked.

‘Ay, when I’d put you aboard the Pride o’ Rye I was off post haste with all her gear.’

‘How was she?’

‘Well enough, but my Lady’s Enderby’s clothes hung on her. It’s a merry, stout lady, that.’

Robin played with the hare’s-foot. ‘She wasn’t married, I suppose?’

‘She was not, sir, but I’d say it won’t be long before she is.’

‘Pleased, eh?’

‘He’s a fine man, Master Robin.’

‘Oh ay, I dare swear he’ll suit her. Egad, she’ll turn respectable! I’m to be married myself, John.’

‘No need to tell me that, sir.’

‘You’re mighty knowing, a’n’t you?’ Robin got up, and stretched himself. ‘And so we all live happily ever after. Who’d ha’ thought it?’

He journeyed to Dartrey in a luxurious chaise, which had the arms of the Tremaines blazoned on the doors, and enjoyed a silent laugh over it, remembering hand-to-mouth days abroad. He reached Dartrey on the afternoon of the next day, and was set down at an old white house that stood in well-timbered grounds, back from the road. A servant ushered him into the sunny withdrawing room, and went away to find his lady.

Robin took critical stock of his surroundings. Ay, here was an air of security, of comfort, and of tranquillity. It would suit Prue; she was made to live in just such a house. For himself – eh, but one wanted a spice to life, after all.

A pleasant voice broke into his reverie. ‘Do you desire to see my Lady Enderby, sir?’

Robin turned quickly to face the long windows that gave on to the lawn. Sir Anthony Fanshawe stood there, sleepy as ever, smiling a little. ‘She commissioned me to bring you out into the garden,’ Sir Anthony said. His eyes ran over Robin, and narrowed. Gradually a look of recognition and of wonder came.

Robin had given no name to the servant. Now as he looked at Sir Anthony his lips quivered. ‘I thank you, sir. And do I address Sir Anthony Fanshawe?’

‘I am undoubtedly a fool,’ Sir Anthony said, and came into the room. ‘But I confess you had me baffled. How are you, my dear boy?’

Their hands clasped warmly. ‘As you see, O mountain. I flourish. And you?’

‘The same as ever. Prue’s well, and will be overjoyed to see you. You must come out to her.’ Sir Anthony stood back the better to survey Robin. ‘Well, my little popinjay, you make a mighty pretty young man.’

‘I do, don’t I?’ Robin retorted. ‘One of these days my mammoth, I will cross foils with you, and maybe teach you a trick or two will make you respect me.’