A Masked Deception

Chapter 4

The date for the visit to Vauxhall Gardens was set for three weeks in the future. Devin Northcott had wanted to make it sooner, but the ladies of the Brampton household were strangely full of excuses. There could be no doubt, though, that they wanted very much to go. The party was to be made up of Devin, the Earl and Countess of Brampton, Charlotte, and Sir Henry and Lady Lucy Wood, the latter being Brampton's youngest sister.

Margaret and Charlotte were extremely busy with all the activities of the latter's come-out. The days were filled with shopping expeditions, visits, rides in the park; almost every evening had its activity-the theater, the opera, musicales, balls, dinners. Now they found that preparations for the evening at Vauxhall had to be fitted into the busy schedule.

Charlotte was easily accommodated. Madame Dumont undertook the not-too-demanding task of making her a domino and a frilled mask, both of emerald-green satin. Margaret visited the costumier from whom she had hired her costume six years before, not at all hopeful that the Marie Antoinette outfit would still be available. Even so, she was disappointed to discover that she was right.

She was ready to abandon the scheme there and then. Charlotte, however, was more resourceful. She found out from Kitty the name of the dressmaker who had her workrooms in a street of London not quite as fashionable as Bond Street. She dragged her sister there the following afternoon and together Margaret and Miss Thomas sketched a dress that closely resembled the one Margaret had worn before. She chose a similar fabric, too-a heavy silver brocaded silk. She also agreed to Miss Thomas' suggestion that the full skirt be decorated with seed pearls to give it extra weight and sparkle.

A mask was also agreed upon-silver silk, as before, to cover her forehead, cheeks, and most of her nose.

Then the sisters had to visit a wigmaker's, not so easy to find now that wigs for everyday use had fallen out of fashion. Margaret was fitted for an elaborate powdered creation, typical of those worn by the ladies of a couple of decades before, high on the crown, one ringlet to drape over a shoulder.

To complete the outfit, they shopped for bright wine-colored slippers to match the fan that Margaret had used on the previous occasion and that she still possessed. She also bought some lip rouge, feeling very daring. She had never owned cosmetics before, but felt that the silver-and-white garments would need a little color. The lips, fan, and shoes would add just the necessary touch.

Kitty had to be taken into Margaret's confidence. She was going to need help on the night of Vauxhall, and Charlotte would not be available. She had expected Kitty to be downright disapproving. She had even been a little afraid that Kitty would rush off to tell Richard. She reckoned without the fierce love of her maid, who had appeared tight-lipped and disapproving for the last couple of years because she felt that her mistress was deliberately hiding her charm and beauty. Her own husband, for example, had never seen her hair except in its tight braids. And Margaret's hair, under the loving strokes of Kitty's brush hand, was her crowning glory-thick, shining, wavy, and waist-length.

Kitty was as excited as Charlotte by the plan. But she did veto one of the details. She was horrified by the idea of having her mistress hire a hackney cab to take her to Vauxhall and bring her back again.

"No, my lady," she had said, her lips setting in a thin line of obstinacy, "it just won't do. I'm not going to have my lady jaunting all over London alone at night, so don't you think it."

But it was Kitty who finally hit on the solution. She was "stepping out" with Jem, one of his lordship's grooms. She had a private conference with him and he declared that he would have no problem in taking out his lordship's plain town carriage on that night and driving her ladyship to Vauxhall himself. He added another suggestion of his own. He would wear a plain domino and mask so that he could accompany the countess into the gardens and make sure that no harm came to her before she met the earl.

Both Kitty and Jem were told that the whole escapade was to be a prank to see if the Earl of Brampton would recognize his wife in costume. Kitty, though, who remembered another Marie Antoinette costume years before and who knew that her mistress and his lordship did not have as close and loving a relationship as Kitty would have liked, put two and two together and came up with four. She kept her own counsel, though. She said nothing either to the countess or to Jem.

Brampton looked forward with some amusement to the party to Vauxhall. He had been observing with curiosity his friend coming more and more under the spell of Charlotte's charms.

"If you do not have a care," he warned his friend one morning at White's while both were supposedly perusing the daily newspaper, "you are going to be the next one to be leg-shackled, Dev!"

"The devil!" his companion replied. "You mean Miss Wells? No, no, Bram, just being kind to the chit. Her being Lady Bram's sister, y'know."

"It seems to me she does not need kindness," Brampton replied dryly. "The young bucks are lined up three deep for half a block waiting to pay their respects."

"No good, Bram," Devin protested. "Such a young, innocent little thing. Needs someone older and steadier to protect her from all those sparks."

Brampton laughed. "You are doing it too brown, Dev. You steady? You the protector of innocence? I tell you, Dev, it's love pure and simple." And he returned, smiling, to his newspaper while his companion sputtered his protests.

Brampton had no particular objection to spending a whole evening in his wife's company. Ever since his breakup with Lisa, he had been determined at least to try to make something of his marriage. He could not imagine that there would ever be any deep feeling between them. She was not lively enough to excite any great interest in him; she obviously was not a woman who could feel deep passion and she would certainly not welcome any demonstration of feeling from him beyond a mild affection.

But that mild affection he was prepared to give. She had really interfered hardly at all with his life. He had feared that he would never again feel at home in his own house after his wedding. Yet he found that he felt more so. His wife never invaded his own sanctuary, the library. She did not litter the house with her possessions. She did not fill the house with noise and bustle. But he did notice that his favorite foods were served far more frequently than they used to be, that his brandy decanter and the snuff box in the library were always well supplied, that his comings and goings were never questioned.

Brampton felt rather ashamed, in fact, of ever having thought of his wife as an antidote. She was not a beauty and her face lacked vivacity, but it was a sweet face and she had eyes that could have transformed her into a beauty if they would only sparkle.

He sometimes wished that she did have some vitality. He would have liked to see her smile more often. He would have liked to touch her with his hands, to explore the quiet, disciplined little body, to touch that sweet mouth with his own. But he never overindulged in such thoughts. He did not wish to arouse loathing or disgust in his wife. And he was quite convinced that she would be disgusted by such physical advances. So he made an effort in her bed to cover her body with his without invading her privacy more than was necessary, and to occupy her body for as short a time as possible.

Brampton was, in fact, working hard at his marriage.

Sir Henry, Lady Lucy, and Devin Northcott had been invited to dine with the earl and his countess on the night of the outing to Vauxhall.

Margaret made sure that she was late entering the drawing room before dinner. The guests had all arrived. She noticed only, in her mood of tense excitement, that Richard was looking more than usually magnificent in dark gold-colored knee breeches and coat, a chocolate-brown waistcoat making his shirt and intricately styled neckcloth seem startlingly white in contrast.

When he raised a hand to signal a footman to bring her a drink, Margaret was careful to raise heavy-lidded eyes to him.

"Nothing, thank you, Richard," she said.

His eyes searched her face. "Are you all right, my dear?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, of course, Richard," she replied brightly and a little too quickly.

A few minutes later, when Chalmer announced dinner, Brampton offered his arm to his wife, instead of to his sister, as strict good manners would have dictated, and escorted her into the dining room.

Margaret was listless throughout the meal. She said little, toyed with the food on her plate, drank no wine, and put two fingertips to her temples a few times, removing them hastily and smiling vaguely when she caught Richard's eye.

After the meal, the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room without much delay, as they wished to make a prompt departure for Vauxhall. Brampton immediately seated himself beside his wife on a love seat.

"My dear, you are unwell?" he asked, concerned.

"Just a little headache, Richard," she replied, smiling wanly. "I shall be fine."

"We must stay at home, then," he said. "You must have some laudanum, my dear, and retire to bed."

"Oh, no, Richard," Margaret protested, "it is really nothing. I cannot spoil the entertainment for everyone."

"Your health is of more importance than other people's entertainment," her husband said decisively. "We shall remain at home. There is still a party of four."

"But, Richard," Margaret pleaded, "I cannot like charlotte going out without us to chaperon her. I know that Lucy will take care of her, but I really feel he responsibility left with me by Mama and Papa."

"She will be quite safe, my dear. You must think of yourself once in a while, you know."

"Richard," she said, looking him full in the face vith soulful eyes, "would you do me a great favor and accompany them?" And she very daringly placed her hand on his, until her thumping heart and quickened breathing forced her to remove it.

Brampton hesitated. He could not remember any other occasion when his wife had asked him to do something for her. He considered with dismay the prospect of an evening spent alone with two couples, he would feel like a wallflower par excellence.

"Very well, my dear," he said, "but only on condition that you go to your bed immediately. I shall send Kitty up to you."

"Thank you, Richard," she said, and slipped quietly from the room, leaving Brampton to make her excuses. He sat on for a few moments after she had left, worrying about her. He had never known her unwell. She could not be pregnant. He had been denied her bed again for five nights less than two weeks before. Perhaps she was working too hard to make Charlotte's Season a success.

Margaret forced herself to lie in bed for ten minutes after she had heard the party leave for Vauxhall. She was glad that she had taken the precaution of going to bed. Richard himself had brought her the laudanum and a warm drink of milk.

She had claimed that the milk was too hot to drink but had promised to take the medicine as soon as the drink had cooled.

He had sat on the edge of the bed, suffocating her with his aura of masculinity.

"My poor dear," he had said. "You have been so looking forward to this evening, have you not?"

"Yes, Richard," she had replied, "but it is Charlotte I am really concerned about. She has been so excited."

"I shall take you there another evening," he had said, smiling gently into her eyes, unaware of the somersaults his expression was causing her stomach and heart to perform.

"That would be nice, Richard," she had replied.

And then she could have sworn that her stomach and heart changed places when he leaned slightly toward her. She was certain that he was about to kiss her. But he merely put back a strand of hair that had worked loose from the braids that were still coiled around the back of her head; then he laid gentle fingertips against one of her cheeks for a moment.

"Good night, my dear," he had said. "Sleep well and have no fears for Charlotte. I shall be as good a chaperon as you could wish."

Kitty finally arrived in the bedroom and Margaret leapt out of the bed, her body and mind all aflutter at the thought of what lay ahead that night. Kitty was carrying the silver gown over her arm. The accessories were quickly dragged from boxes in the bedroom closets.

Half an hour later, Margaret was ready to leave. She surveyed herself one more time in the full-length mirror. As far as she could remember, she looked almost exactly as she had looked on that night long ago when she had first danced with, and first kissed, Richard. The gown was a trifle more gorgeous, and she had a suspicion that the neckline was a trifle lower, but it had the same design-a tight bodice and riort, puffed sleeves, a very full skirt, wide on the hips. The wig looked the same, adding height and elegance to Margaret's slight, slim form. Her coiled braids would not fit beneath the wig; her long brown air was pinned loosely beneath it. Her mask was tied securely to the back of her head, beneath the wig. It covered most of her face, so that she was almost convinced that she would be unrecognizable.

Almost convinced, but not quite! For the last three veeks, Margaret had been plagued by doubts as strong as her excitement. She was largely convinced that Richard would pay her no attention at all. Why should he? He had had-and probably still had-dozens of lovely women. Why should he remember one girl whom he had kissed and fondled for a half-hour six years before? She would be disappointed to be totally ignored.

But what really terrified her was that Richard might take notice. What if he tried to talk to her? Would he not immediately recognize her? And what would she say if he did? She had had three weeks in which to make up a story that would cover such an eventuality, but she had still not thought of one. She just hoped that, if the crisis occurred, she would receive inspiration on the spot.

Kitty, who had left to confer with Jem, poked her head around the door again and announced in a stage whisper, "The carriage is ready, my lady."

Margaret felt her knees turn weak and her heart thump painfully. She could not go through with it. The whole scheme was downright ridiculous. Utter madness!

"Jem says to be quick, my lady," Kitty whispered anxiously.

Margaret whirled away from the mirror, grabbed her white gloves and her fan, and ran lightly down the stairs and out the front door, from which the footmen had been removed after the departure of the earl's party.