The Masqueraders

Chapter 19 Meeting in Arlington Street

Prudence showed an impassive face to John who was waiting to let her into the house, but she slipped past the door of Robin’s chamber on tiptoe, and was gone into her own without the usual visit to him. She preferred to meet her sharp-eyed brother in the morning, when she might have acquired some command over herself.

Sure the world was upside down. And who would have thought it of the large gentleman? She had come to think she could no longer by surprised, but this strange proposal of his came to dispel such fancies. He meant it, too: not a doubt of that. As she prepared for bed she thought over it long, and with some agitation. The gentleman’s last words lingered; they had been forcefully uttered; she believed he was not the man to promise what he would not perform.

Well, she had said him nay: that had been of instinct, because she loved him, and it was not in a lover’s part to take the selfish course. But the devil was in it the gentleman refused to take her nay. There seemed to be no counter for that; she perceived that she was doomed to become Lady Fanshawe. A slow smile played around the corners of her mouth. No use pretending it was not a role she had an ambition to play; not much use either to pretend she would escape from Sir Anthony, and hide herself abroad. It might be a difficult matter, she reflected, but honesty forced her to admit it was not the difficulty of it deterred her. If when the time came the sleepy gentleman still claimed her she would be his for the taking: there was, faith, a limit to altruism. But he should be granted a respite; he must have time to think it over carefully. Maybe he had fallen under a spell of her unconscious weaving, and might later achieve sanity again. Egad, he had a position to maintain in the world, and an old name to consider. He would thank her perhaps for her nay. A gloomy thought to take to bed with one.

She slept but fitfully; the evening’s work haunted her dreams, and in the waking moments a vision of security, and the love of a large gentleman came to tantalise her. The night hours passed in wakeful contemplation; she fell asleep with the grey dawn, and was sleeping still when Robin peeped in on her in broad daylight.

Robin forbore to wake her. Something had gone amiss; that was sure. He had awaited her homecoming last night, and he had heard her creep past his door to her own. That told its own tale. Robin declined to drive out to visit friends with my Lady Lowestoft, and sat him down to await his sister’s pleasure.

There came soon a knock on the door into the street, and a few minutes later Sir Anthony Fanshawe was ushered into the room.

Robin made his curtsey, and was startled to see no gallant bow in response. “Sir?” said he, in a voice of some dignity.

Sir Anthony laid down his hat and gloves. “I’ve to suppose you’ve not yet seen your sister,” he remarked.

This came as something of a shock to Robin, but long training stood him in good stead. He showed no signs of shock, but looked watchfully under his long lashes, and softly said: “Pray how am I to take that, sir?”

“Honestly, I beg of you.”

The time for dissimulation was obviously past. Robin felt some annoyance at being found in all this woman’s gear, but no shadow of alarm crossed his face. “So! I’m to understand Prue takes you into her confidence?”

“Say, more truly, that I forced her confidence.”

Robin’s dazzling smile came. “I have to offer you my apologies, sir. I under-rated your intelligence. What now?”

Sir Anthony replied placidly: “I’ve a very lively desire to marry your sister, Master Robin.”

“You cannot suppose me astonished to hear that,” said Robin. But he felt some astonishment nevertheless. “Do you come to ask my consent?”

“It was not exactly my object,” Sir Anthony said. “I take it I had best apply to my Lord Barham for that.”

Egad, Prue was in the right of it all along when she said there was little escaped those sleepy eyes. It would not do to appear confounded. “When you are better acquainted with the family, sir, you will realise your error.”

“My dear boy,” said Sir Anthony lazily, “from the little I have seen of your remarkable parent I should imagine he pulls all the strings to set you both dancing.”

Robin laughed. “There’s some truth in that, sir. But if you don’t want my consent, what do you want of me?”

“You’ve not had speech with your sister?”

“Devil a word.”

Sir Anthony sat down on the couch. “I see. Well, Master Robin, I have asked her to marry me, and she refuses.”

If that was so then Prue must be mad. “You don’t say so, sir! Well, well, she was ever a fastidious piece. Am I to force her into your arms?”

“Do you think you could do it?” There was an amused smile went with the words.

“I don’t, sir. I am fairly certain that I should not make the attempt. Prue has a knack of managing her own affairs.”

“So I apprehend. She will marry me, she says, if your father proves his claim to be just. Failing that, she would have me know I stand no chance with her.”

A quick frown flitted across the smoothness of Robin’s brow. He spoke the thought in his mind. “Lord, what ails her? That’s a nonsensical piece of missishness.”

“Don’t let it perturb you. Allow me some say in the matter. She’ll marry me whatever be the issue, and she knows it. I’ve said I’ll wait upon Barham’s claim; it’s to solace pride, I take it. But I want her out of this masquerade with all speed. That’s why I’m here.”

“As a family, sir, we stand by each other. It’s for Prue to decide, and for me to support her decision. To say truth, I am a little of her mind. I believe the old gentleman may settle his affairs. Well, we’re bound to him; we’ve played too many of these games to turn our backs now.”

“I don’t ask it of you. I ask only that I too may be permitted a share. You stand in some danger, as I understand. I’ve influence in certain circles; I think I can serve you. If I could get a pardon for you, the Merriots may disappear, and await the issue of the Barham claim in a safe seclusion.”

The door was opened again. “My Lord Barham!” announced a lackey, and my lord came in, all scented, and powdered, and patched.

He stopped just inside the room, and seemed to be enraptured at the sight of Sir Anthony. “My friend Fanshawe!” he exclaimed. “And the beautiful Miss Merriot!”

“It won’t serve, sir,” Robin broke in. “Your friend Fanshawe is more intimate with you than you know. You may say that we all lie in his power.”

My lord evinced not the smallest discomfiture. “My son, if you think I lie in any man’s power you do not know me. As for you to be in danger when my wing is spread over you is not possible.” He spoke with a tinge of severity in his voice.

Sir Anthony had risen at his entrance, and bowed now. “You stand in no danger from me, sir.”

My lord surveyed him haughtily. “I stand in no danger from anyone, my dear Sir Anthony. You have no knowledge of me. You are to be pitied.”

“Envied, more like,” said his undutiful son.

Sir Anthony’s mouth twitched, but he suppressed the smile. “Let us hope, sir, that I’m not to be long in dismal ignorance. I aspire to the hand of your daughter.”

The severity left my lord; he beamed, and spread open his arms. “I am to embrace a second son, enfin! You aspire — it is well said! Tremaine of Barham’s daughter may look to the highest quarters for a mate.”

“You’re abashed,” Robin told Sir Anthony.

He seemed to be struggling more with amusement, however. “Why, sir, I hope you’ll look kindly on my suit.”

“I will give my consideration,” my lord promised. “We must speak more of this.”

“By all means, sir. But I think it only fair to tell you I have the fixed intention of wedding Prudence whatever your decision may be.”

My lord eyed him a moment in silence, but displayed no anger. On the contrary, his smile grew. “I perceive you to be a man after my own heart!” he announced.

“It’s a compliment,” Robin said, on a note of information, and folded his hands in his lap.

“Certainly it is a compliment. You see clearly, my son. But we must think on this; it is a matter of some weight.”

“There’s another matter of some weight also, sir. I desire to serve your son here. I’ve some influence, as I tell him, and I will use it on his behalf with your consent.”

My lord became all blank bewilderment. “I don’t take you, sir. What is it you have a mind to do for my son?”

“Well, sir, I’ve some notion of getting a pardon for him. I believe it may be done.”

My lord struck an attitude. “A pardon, sir? For what, pray?”

“For his share in the late Rebellion, sir. Does he want one for something else beside?”

“That!” My lord brushed it aside. “I have forgotten all that. It is nothing; it lies in the dead past. Oblige me by forgetting it likewise.”

“Oh, with all my heart, sir, but there are perhaps some whose memories are not so short. A pardon is necessary if Robin wants to remain in England, and come out of those clothes.”

My lord put up an admonishing finger. “Sir Anthony, I acquit you of a desire to insult me. Don’t cry pardon. I have said that I acquit you. But you do not know me; you even doubt my powers. It is laughable! Believe me, there is greatness in me. It would astonish you.”

“Not at all,” said Sir Anthony politely.

“But yes! I doubt now that you, even you whom I would embrace as a son, have not the soul to appreciate me. You make it plain. I pity you, sir!”

“At least I have the soul to appreciate your daughter,” mildly remarked Sir Anthony.

“That I expect,” said his lordship loftily. “To see my daughter is to become her slave. I exact such homage on her behalf. She is incomparably lovely. But I — I am different. My children are very well. They have beauty, and wit — a little. But in me there is a subtlety such as you don’t dream of, sir.” He pondered it sadly. “I have never met the man who had vision large enough to appreciate my genius,” he said simply. “Perhaps it was not to be expected.”

“I shall hope to have my vision enlarged as I become better acquainted with you, sir,” Sir Anthony replied, with admirable gravity.

My lord shook his head. He could not believe in so large a comprehension. “I shall stand alone to the end,” he said. “It is undoubtedly my fate.”

Sir Anthony gave the conversation a dexterous turn: the old gentleman seemed to be in danger of slipping into mournful contemplation of his own unappreciated greatness. “Just as you please, sir, but I want to put an end to a notion Prudence has of emulating your noble solitude. I wish to take her out of this masquerade, and have her safe under the protection of my name.”

My lord’s piercing eyes flashed at that. “I make allowance for a lover’s feelings!” he cried. “But while I live she stands in no need of another’s protection. I am the person to guard her, Sir Anthony.”

“You are, sir, certainly,” Fanshawe said. There was an edge to his words which did not escape my lord.

“I admire my forbearance. Concede me a great patience. You may call it toleration. I do not call you out. I curb myself!”

“I could not possibly meet my future father-in-law, so pray continue to curb yourself, sir.”

“You need have no fear. But were I to meet you, sir, you would lie dead at my feet within the space of five minutes. Possibly less. I do not know.” He appeared to give the matter his consideration.

“That,” said Robin reluctantly, “is really true.”

Sir Anthony preserved his calm. “I don’t think it. But I trust his lordship will spare me.”

His lordship signified with a gracious wave of his hand that he would spare Sir Anthony. “But do not try me too far!” he warned. “Like all men of great brain, I am choleric when pressed. You give me to understand that you do not consider that I — I, Tremaine of Barham! — can take care of my daughter!”

“Not in the least, sir. I make no doubt you can. But when you permit her to engage on so dangerous a masquerade — ”

“Permit?” cried my lord. “You conceive that my children thought of this for themselves? Your partiality makes you blind. Mine was the brain that evolved this plot; mine was the inspiration. I do not permit: I ordain.”

Robin ranged himself on the side of his father. “We spin our own web, sir. Give us credit for some little resource.”

Fanshawe turned to look at him. “I suppose I am far from appreciating any of you,” he said humorously. “But did you never think what might be the issue if Prudence were discovered?”

“I could not imagine such a possibility, sir, to be frank with you. But then it was not our intention to cut such conspicuous figures in town. I will pay you the compliment to say that I think no other man would have discovered the imposture. I should like to know what made you suspect.”

“I should find it hard to tell you, Robin. Some little things and the affection for her I discovered in myself. I wondered when I saw her tip wine down her arm at my card-party, I confess.”

My lord frowned. “Do you tell me my daughter was clumsy?”

“By no means, sir. But I was watching her closer than she knew.”

My lord still seemed dissatisfied. After a moment Sir Anthony went on. “And I want now, sir, to spirit her off. She tells me she must needs wait upon your claim.”

“Certainly,” said my lord. “She shows a proper feeling. She has faith in me, enfin.”

“That’s as may be, sir, but I rather see her in safety now.”

“I applaud her decision,” said my lord. “She will await my re-instalment; and you may then pay your addresses to her with all propriety. As for Robin, he is my son, and I want no pardons for him. I arrange all in a manner sublime beyond your comprehension. You may place your trust in me.”

A deep, calm voice spoke from the doorway. “In fact, sir, we are all of us wandering in a maze, and there is only one of our number knows the path out of it.”

Sir Anthony turned quickly; my lord bowed ineffably in acknowledgment of a compliment he had no hesitation in taking to himself. Prudence stood on the threshold, neat in brown velvet, with brown hair unpowdered. She met Sir Anthony’s gaze, and there was a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I’ve this much faith in my father, sir, that I believe we may ruin all by a step taken without his knowledge.”

“My Prue!” His lordship stretched a hand towards her. “I said you had intuition.”

“It seems to me,” said Sir Anthony whimsically, “that I, too, am being drawn into this maze.”

“Inevitably,” nodded his lordship. “You, too, are in my toils.”

“I’m a respectable creature, sir, I believe.”

“If I did not think it, sir, I should deny you the right to aspire to my daughter’s hand.”

Sir Anthony bowed, but Prudence was not pleased. “Let’s have done with that, sir. Sir Anthony honours me beyond my deserts. I don’t desire to see him in the maze.” She came forward and put her hand on Fanshawe’s sleeve. She looked up at him seriously. “Stand back from us, sir. I ask it of you.”

He covered her hand with one of his. “Faith, you ask more than I can perform. I don’t meddle, but I reserve to myself the right to watch over you.”

My lord smiled indulgently, and helped himself to a pinch of snuff. Prudence said earnestly: “Believe me, we were born to this game of hazardous chances. But you are not. Stand back from us.”

“My child, you need have no qualms,” my lord assured her. “My plans are not overset even by Sir Anthony’s entering into them.”

“That was not what was in my mind, sir,” said Prudence dryly.

Sir Anthony smiled down at her. “My dear, I know, but I may take care of myself. Don’t worry over my safety. I am to wait: you’ll none of my help. Well, I said that it should be so, and I abide by my word. But things must be the same between us, if only to avert suspicion. You will visit me as frequently as ever. My Lord Barham can trust me.”

My lord waved his hand. “Implicitly, my dear Fanshawe! Are you not to be a second son to me? I can even applaud your forethought. Certainly my daughter visits you the same as ever.”

Observing a troubled crease between Prudence’s brows, Sir Anthony said softly: “And Prudence herself has naught to fear from me, neither exposure nor importunities. I remain her friend Tony.”

“Admirable,” nodded my lord. “You are all delicacy, sir.”

Prudence looked up into the square face, and smiled mistily. “Indeed, Tony, I think so,” she said.