Miss Weston's Masquerade

‘He was frequently very angry with me. I talk too much, you see, and I wanted to see the sights, and I answer back too much for a valet. But I did enjoy it, apart from the fleas, and nearly being drowned, and when I thought Nicholas was dead and I had to shoot the footpad.’

The Dowager rolled her eyes upwards. ‘You have your dear mama’s spirit, I see. Tell me no more now, that is all behind you. As for your being here, I think I can see how we may contrive to account for your sudden appearance. But, for now, we must get you out of those clothes before anyone in the household sees you. And you need a bath.’

The Dowager rang for her dresser, explained the situation to that formidable female in a few well chosen words and sent Cassandra off in her charge to bathe and rest. As she glanced back at the door, she saw her Godmama deep in thought, her firm little chin sunk in one palm, the merest frown shadowing her brow.

That evening Cassandra sat in the window seat in her room in the wing of the Embassy occupied by Sir Marcus Camberley and his sister. The street below was bustling with the fashionable life of the city as Society made its way to dinner parties and soirées before the curtain went up in the theatres and opera houses for which Vienna was famed.

If only she had her boy’s clothes again, she could have slipped out and joined the throng in the City of Music. But her godmother had ordered them removed and, Cassandra strongly suspected, burned.

It was strange how, now she had achieved the long-desired sanctuary and her tale was told, she was not as elated as she had expected. True, the worry that her godmother was going to send her packing back to her father had proved unfounded. She should be thankful, but surprisingly she was not, because the freedom and independence she had enjoyed for the past two months were now at an end. Once more she would have to conform to the strictures of Society which ruled and regulated the existence of every well-bred, unmarried, young woman.

And her closeness to Nicholas, to the man she loved, would be the first sacrifice she would have to make. He would become as remote as any other gentleman to her, that was the price she must pay for her reputation. Already she was realising what a high price that was. Over those past few weeks they had been closer than many a married couple in so many ways.

There was a tightness that was almost pain around her heart at the thought that she would never share that closeness again. see his quick grin as they shared a secret jest, feel his warm skin beneath her fingertips, burn to the pressure of his lips on hers. Now he was in Vienna, he would soon forget her. Godmama would see to it that he was introduced to all the right people and his sense of duty would do the rest.

The scene outside blurred as unshed tears gathered at the back of her eyes and she was rubbing them angrily when the door opened and her godmother swept in, followed by a petite, sombrely-dressed woman of middle years.

‘Araminta, my goddaughter, Cassandra Weston. Cassandra, Miss Araminta Fox, my cousin.’

Cassandra got up hastily and bobbed a curtsey, stumbling slightly over her unaccustomed skirts.

Miss Fox held out a well-tended hand and nodded gravely, ‘Miss Weston, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.’

Cassandra glanced at her godmother, uncertain how much this lady knew of her predicament.

‘Araminta is the only person in whom I have confided,’ Lady Lydford remarked, gesturing to them to seat themselves. ‘She has been lately acting as companion and housekeeper to her brother, the Bishop of Arundel, but following his recent marriage, she finds herself free to travel and I invited her to join me. It is our great good fortune that she arrived, unexpectedly early, two days ago.’

Miss Fox took up the tale. ‘And as I was feeling rather indisposed after the journey, I have not been out into Society. For all anyone knows, you and I arrived together yesterday, having travelled in each others’ company from England.’

‘After all,’ Lady Lydford finished triumphantly, ‘who could be a more respectable chaperone than the sister of a bishop, and my own cousin?’

‘But how could you have known of my predicament?’ Cassandra felt slightly breathless. This upright spinster seemed to be entering into a scandalous intrigue with all the evident enjoyment of an actress.

‘Why, I am sure you would have been in correspondence with me, Cassandra,’ Lady Lydford said carefully. ‘We would have been exchanging letters for some time, and as soon as I heard of Lord Offley’s disgusting pretentions, I would have enlisted the aid of my trusted cousin.’

‘Of course, even in the Bishop’s Palace, we had heard whisperings of Lord Offley’s reputation. Rest assured that had I heard of your predicament, I would have done all in my power to assist you, so no-one would doubt the truth of this story for a moment.’

Cassandra’s brain whirled at the facility these two respectable ladies were showing for intrigue. ‘But would no one have met us on our journey?’ she enquired dazedly.

‘Certainly not,’ Miss Fox rejoined stoutly. ‘My brother always insists I travel in a private carriage and stay in only the most select inns, avoiding English tourists.’

Cassandra could not doubt it. ‘How will all this be explained, though? Surely it is not a tale we can recount openly?’

‘Indeed not,’ her godmother agreed. ‘Leave that to me and to gossip. Tomorrow morning, the dressmaker and hairdresser will call. In the afternoon, I will hold a small tea party for a few select friends.’

‘Only those of the utmost discretion, my dear Sophia,’ said Miss Fox, with a wicked twinkle.

‘But, of course,’ her cousin assured her with mock gravity, ‘I am counting upon it.’

Cassandra closed her eyes and leaned her slightly aching head back on the cushions. How could she have doubted Godmama for an instant?

‘Sophia, my dear, this is a most select and mysterious gathering you have invited me to.’ Through the hinge-crack in the painted Chinese screen, Cassandra could see the Ambassador’s wife settling herself by the fireside. ‘I am quite agog for you have precisely the air of mischief you had about you when you were engaged in one of your pranks at Miss Lucas’s Academy.’

‘My dear Dorothea, that was quite thirty years ago. But just as I did then, I rely upon you now for your support and good sense, just as I do with Araminta.’

‘But tell me the secret – ’

She broke off as the major domo flung open the double doors into the salon and announced, ‘Lady Hartley.’