“Now you understand the trick of it.”
“I do, but I couldn’t do it half so well as you. My mind isn’t quick enough. I only stand there wanting to scratch her eyes out.”
“I never do anymore,” Lady Gladys said. “She affords me too much entertainment. For instance, I’ve only to think of that poem, and the fresh verses I could compose, and it’s impossible to be vexed. And best of all—she has no idea how much she amuses me.”
“I wish I had your philosophy,” Lady Clara said.
“Nonsense! You don’t need philosophy. Everyone loves and admires you, as they ought to do. I, on the contrary, am as dreadful in my way as she.”
“No, no, you’re only the smallest fraction as dreadful.” Lady Clara laughed. “One percent. Maybe one and a half.”
“You wound me, cuz. You sadly underestimate my powers. I’m a Gorgon, a fearsome, dreadful thing. Men run at my approach. Which they can hear from a good distance away, like thundering herds of rhinocer—rhino—curse you, Clara. You put me out when you cross your eyes. What’s the plural of rhinoceros?”
“Elephants.”
The two women dissolved into laughter.
They went on in this fashion for another minute or two, then moved away from the shrubbery, arm in arm.
They had no idea that Lord Swanton stood on the other side of the shrubbery, hands clenched.
They never saw him hurry alongside the wall of greenery, trying to catch more of the conversation. They never saw his shoulders sag as they moved out of his hearing, and their companions rejoined them, and the group continued their tour of the Zoological Society’s Gardens.
Saturday 25 July
My Dear John,
I beg you’ll forgive this scrawl. My hands shake so, I can scarcely write. I was obliged to leave my lodgings in great haste. My landlady told me some strange men came yesterday, asking questions. She said she didn’t want any trouble. I realized this was another way of telling me that she will answer the questions, depending on who gives her stronger reasons, in the form of coin. As you know, I’ve none to spare. All I could say was how sorry I was for the inconvenience.
You will hardly believe the speed with which she betrayed me. Not two hours later, she brought up a note from Lord Swanton’s solicitor. I pretended not to understand what it was about, but I am terrified. It refers to a law about creating scandal against a peer, and threatens me with prison—and Bianca to share my cell! I hurried from my rooms, taking our daughter with me, and leaving most of my belongings behind, to prevent my landlady’s knowing I’d absconded.
I write from Lambeth, to beseech your help. All I want is fare to Portsmouth and thence to America. From your silence of the past several days, I assume your applications to Lord Swanton have not been successful. On the contrary, I wonder if they’ve done more harm than good. I hope you have not betrayed me. You know there are things I could tell certain people, not to your advantage. It grieves me to press you like this, but time has run out.
A children’s fête is held at Vauxhall this evening. The doors open early for the event, and there, with a child in hand, I shall pass unremarked. Certainly the scene of my last performance is the last place my pursuers will expect to see me. I have made arrangements for my departure. All that is wanting is funds, a small matter of five pounds. The same little theater will be empty until nine o’clock, and the acquaintance who allowed us discreet ingress the last time will do so again. I shall expect you promptly at eight o’clock. I shall await you immediately within the door through which I made my entrance last time. Do not fail me, else you will drive me to take measures I abhor.
Yours,
Dulcie
“The bitch,” Theaker said, looking up from the letter his friend had handed him. “It’s blackmail. Throw it on the fire.”
“But we did promise,” Meffat said. “We promised to speak to Swanton.”
“Yes, eventually. After the furor’s died down.” Meaning, after Lisburne had had time to cool down. In the first heat of temper he tended not to behave rationally. An irrational Lisburne could easily make a man’s life unexpectedly short or, at best, extremely painful.
When he was in a more reasonable frame of mind, they’d pay a visit. They’d say they’d worked on the lady, and she was willing, for a small sum, to let it go. She’d send a letter to the papers, absolving Swanton of blame. She’d claim it was a case of mistaken identity.
They had warned her, in no uncertain terms, not to use his name during the scene, else they’d find themselves in an exceedingly tight corner. But Dulcie Williams was no fool.
Unfortunately, she had turned out to be a great deal less of a fool than was quite convenient.
She didn’t know—or did she?—how precarious their social position was at present, thanks to the scandal with Adderley. If she exposed them, their remaining friends would turn their backs.
Social ostracism would be catastrophic. Tradesmen preferred to extend credit to those who had full purses, prospects of same, or social connections from whom they could borrow.
“Five pounds,” Meffat said. “You know they’ll offer her more money to tattle on us, and you’ve seen what a fine liar she is. We’ll have to raise it somehow. She has us at a stand.”
“She had your cock at a stand, that’s the trouble,” Theaker said. “You couldn’t find a stupid female? The world’s overstocked with ’em.”
“She acted stupid.”
“Damn her to hell.”
“What’ll we do?”
“Hold your tongue. I’m thinking.”
Chapter Fifteen
The season—the season—
It’s nearly all over;
And spite of my schemings,
I can’t get a lover.
I’ve tried every method
A husband to catch;
But at Hymen’s bright flambeau
I can’t light a match.
—Miss Agnes Alicia****
The Court Journal, Saturday 25 July 1835
Vauxhall
Evening of Saturday 25 July
Theaker and Meffat found Dulcie Williams not immediately within the side door as she’d promised, but upon the st
age, in front of the closed curtain. She was posed as she’d been when she played Rosalind in boy’s guise in As You Like It. A carpetbag stood in for the fallen tree used in the performance, and she had her foot propped on it in the same supposedly masculine way—the way that drove some men wild, since it showed her fine legs to excellent advantage. This evening, however, she wore a black frock, instead of the breeches Meffat had found so irresistibly enticing.
She looked up, surprised, when they entered.
“You’re early,” she said.
Theaker and Meffat had come early, hoping to catch her at any tricks she might be planning. They’d checked the main doors, and watched who was coming and going. Though they’d seen nothing suspicious, Theaker still felt something wasn’t right.
“Forgot to wind my watch,” he said.
“I was so sure you’d be late,” she said. “Now you’ve caught me pretending I’m back where I belong. How I miss it! Still, as long as I’m here, shall I perform for you, gratis?”
“Not exactly gratis,” Theaker grumbled. “Five pounds a bit steep even for the real thing, full length. Get down from there, will you? Never mind fooling about.”
“John would like to hear my Rosalind, wouldn’t you, John, one last time?”
“Rather see your legs,” Meffat said.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Theaker said, looking uneasily about the dim theater. Outside, darkness wouldn’t fall for a while yet. Within the theater, twilight prevailed.
“Not quite cured of me, John?” she said.
“For five pounds, we hope to be cured of you permanently,” Theaker said. “Come down from there. We haven’t time for games.”
“How high-strung you gentlemen can be!” she said. “No one will disturb us for an hour at least. Did you notice the hordes of children and their mamas and papas? Nothing would lure them in here but jugglers and acrobats. Not that you know much about children, or want to know. But I promise you won’t find a more private place in Vauxhall at present. The main door’s locked, as you no doubt discovered when you checked. I heard you rattling it.”