The Masqueraders

Chapter 22 Tortuous Methods of My Lord Barham

Robin preserved the light manner, but he had begun to chafe at his petticoats. Faith, the old gentleman seemed to do nothing and there were rumours current now that Rensley, as soon as he was able to leave his room, meant to bring a case against his would-be cousin. Robin had small mind to go on playing the lady indefinitely. He believed the Black Domino remained in Letty’s memory, but he had little chance of seeing her as the days passed. She was out driving, or she was visiting, or even she was indisposed. When he did meet her she was abstracted, and volunteered no confidences. There were shadows under her eyes: her aunt said it was no wonder, since nowadays she was seldom in bed before midnight; Robin dared to hope a Black Domino had induced this wistfulness.

Prudence thought nothing at all of it; she was rather preoccupied with her own affairs, and showed but slight interest even when Robin spoke of John’s new behaviour. Robin became aware of the frequent absences of his faithful henchman, and receiving only evasive replies to a sharp question or two, immediately suspected activity on the part of my Lord Barham. Prudence said placidly that it was very possible she thought they were like to know all soon enough.

She was right: in a short while my lord came to pay a morning visit in Arlington Street, and having rapturously kissed my Lady Lowestoft’s hands, requested the favour of some private talk with his son.

My lady opined mischief to be brewing, shook a playful finger, and went off most obligingly.

Robin turned one of the bracelets on his arm, and shot a quick look at his father. “Well, sir?”

My lord dusted his sleeve with a lace handkerchief. “I come, my Robin, at last. There is work on hand for you, my son.”

“God be praised for that! Do I come out of these petticoats, sir?”

“For a little, son, for a little only! Patience! I unfold a miracle.”

“I’m all attention, sir. Let me hear it.”

My lord sat down by the window. There was a gleam in his eyes Robin knew full well, and the smile curling his lips was one of reflective pleasure. By the signs my lady was right, and there was mischief brewing indeed. “My son, I see the end of the road. It becomes plain at last. I arrange all with wonderful subtlety. You may say that I pull a string here, and a string there, and the puppets move.”

“Lord, sir! Am I one of your puppets?”

“But, of course, my Robin!” said his lordship affectionately. “I set the stage for you to play the hero. You shall thank me.”

“Shall I, sir? It’s a part I’m not in the habit of playing, that of hero.”

“I assign to you a role the most romantic,” announced my lord. “Certainly you shall thank me.”

“Well, let me hear it, sir. You become interesting.”

“I become dangerous, Robin — dangerous as only I can be. I am Nemesis, no less! And you — you are the instrument to my hand. You shall rescue a lady, and kill the villain.”

“Out, sword!” said Robin flippantly. “You hold me entranced, sir. Who is the lady?”

My lord looked surprised. “Who but the lady of your heart, my son? Do I arrange so clumsily?”

Robin stiffened. The flippancy left him, and he spoke crisply. “What’s this?”

“I kiss my fingers to her!” My lord made a gesture very French. “She is ravishing!”

“Who?”

My lord’s eyes widened reproachfully. “Why, Letitia, of course; I should not arrange for you to rescue another. Did you — it is really possibly that you thought I did not know? My son, my son, you grieve me, positively you grieve me!”

“Accept my apologies, sir. I suppose you know everything. But what’s this talk of rescues, and who’s your villain?”

“Gently, my hothead, gently! You shall know all. You will rescue her tomorrow night; the villain is my poor blundering friend of Munich days.”

“What! Markham again! You’re mad, sir; he would never dare a second time, nor she consent.”

“You discount my influence, Robin. Remember that she and Markham too are my puppets.”

Robin got up rather quickly. “What devilry’s this? Be plain with me, if you please, sir!”

My lord put the tips of his fingers together. “She elopes with my Munich friend tomorrow evening, from Vauxhall Gardens, whither she is bound.”

“She elopes!” Robin was thunderstruck. “And you tell me you arrange it!”

“Certainly,” said my lord. “It is entirely my doing. I am to be congratulated.”

“Not by me, sir,” said Robin, and there was an edge to the words.

“Even by you, child. You shall at last appreciate me. Sit down and all shall be told you.”

Robin sank back into his seat. “Go on, sir. I suppose one of us must be mad. Why have you arranged — if indeed you have — a thing so criminal?”

My lord reflected. “It seemed the most poetic justice,” he explained. “It is really exquisitely thought of.” He swung one foot, and smiled sweetly down at the silver buckle. “Nemesis!” he sighed. “My Munich friend thought me of so small account: I don’t forgive that. He conceived that he could bend me — me, Tremaine of Barham! — to his paltry will! He dared — you shudder at such temerity — he dared to use threats to me! He sees me as a cat’s-paw. Almost I can find it in my heart to pity him. But it was an impertinence.” He shook his head severely.

“Markham knows something of you?” Robin was frowning. “That letter?”

My lord raised his eyes. “My son, you have a little of my swiftness of apprehension. He had that letter of which I told you. How he came by it I do not know. I admit it freely: I do not know. It is entirely unimportant, or I should have found out. He brought it to my rooms. He demanded money.” His lordship laughed at the thought. “He was very clever, no doubt, but he did not know that he had chosen a man of supernatural parts for adversary. He showed me my own letter; he told me he knew me for Colney, and I am sure he expected to see me in a palsy of fear.”

A smile flitted across Robin’s face. There was a light in his eyes which made his resemblance to his father very strong. “I dare swear he was disappointed, sir.”

“I fear so, I fear so, my Robin. And was I afraid? Was there fear beneath my sangfroid? No, my son! There was a relief quite enormous. At last I knew where my letter was to be found. I do not fear the danger I can see. My Munich friend — his manners appal me; I am aghast at such a lack of polish! — had delivered himself into my hands.”

“Lord, the man’s a fool!” said Robin. “But, troth, he doesn’t know you, sir!”

“No one knows me,” said my lord austerely. “But might he not have descried that in my bearing which speaks greatness? No, he was absorbed in the admiration of his own poor wits. I descended to crush one infinitely inferior to me, and he could not even appreciate the manner in which it was done. I could wish him worthier of my enmity. Observe, my son, the deficiencies in his intelligence! He thought to obtain a promise in writing from me to pay him untold gold on the day when I am acknowledged to be Tremaine of Barham!”

“H’m!” said Robin. “An optimistic gentleman. And you said?”

“I had to open his eyes. I dispelled the illusion. A plan so subtle that almost it took my breath away formed itself in my brain. You remember, my son, those papers I told you I held?”

“Good God!” said Robin. His father began seriously to alarm him. “I remember.”

“There was one written by — you would never guess — that foolish Humphrey Grayson. A trifle: half promises which he never fulfilled. But enough for my purpose.”

“Thunder an’ turf! Was Grayson in the Rebellion?” cried Robin.

“You may say he once toyed with the notion. It came to naught. He is one of those who waits to see which way the weather-vane points. That silly letter I gave to Mr Markham in exchange for my own, which I have since burned. Do you begin to appreciate the subtlety of my plan, Robin?”

“I’m very far from appreciating it, sir. Be a little plainer! Am I to understand that you gave Markham this paper so he might force Letty into marrying him?”

My lord nodded. “You have it pat, my son.”

Robin’s brow was black. “Do you ask my appreciation of this, sir? You think I shall admire so dastardly a plot? Good God, was there no other way of getting your letter back?”

“Oh, at least a dozen!” answered his lordship airily. “I rejected them all; they were too clumsy. And I want Markham out of the way, besides. He were far better dead. You will attend to that. Consider also that this way I present you to your lady in the guise of a hero. It is a tour-de-force, and as such — irresistible to me!” He smiled benignantly. “Until now you are a woman in her eyes; she has no chance to fall in love with you. When you are disclosed a man she might even feel anger. But I arrange that you shall be her deliverer. In a word, I provide for your romance at the very moment of removing the last boulder from my own path. When I think on it, my son, I begin, faintly, to realise the extent of my greatness.”

For the life of him Robin could not help laughing. Faith, how like the old gentleman to choose a way so tortuous and intricate. But to place Letty in such a position — to work so on her fears — that was unpardonable. “I believe you mean well, sir, but I must censure your methods. I could have got that paper from Markham without drawing Letty in.”

“But how crude! how unworthy a scheme when placed beside mine!” protested my lord. “And you forget that I arrange this way the death of Markham. A person of such boorish manners is not fit to remain in the same world with me. You must perceive the truth of that.”

Whether Robin saw the matter in quite that light is doubtful. He was dwelling on Letty’s share of the plot, and he waxed more indignant still. “Markham held that letter over her poor little head? He was cur enough to work on her fears for her father? He forced her to agree to a fresh elopement? My God, sir, you need not be afraid that he will live many days longer!” He rose, and fell to pacing the room. His skirts rustled, and the big hoop swayed to a stride no woman would take. “Oh, I see my way! Without this I might well have hesitated to meet even an enemy of yours with the notion of killing him, sir! But this changes things; I grant you some subtlety, sir, but don’t ask me to approve a plan that involves my Letitia so damnably. When do they fly?”

“Tomorrow. That I have from our inestimable John. Change of horses has been ordered at Barnet. The strangeness of the hour made the discovery of the rest simple. Letitia goes in a party to Vauxhall Gardens. What easier to be lost in the crowd there? It will be some time before her absence is even noticed. It is really quite clever of my Munich friend to think of Vauxhall. You, my Robin, may stop them with little inconvenience to yourself on Finchley Common. You will, of course, be masked. I leave the details to you. I make no doubt you will arrange all to my satisfaction.”

Robin paused in his pacing. “I shall.” His eyes were alight. Concern for Letty had faded a little before the sheer joy of battle. He stretched his arms exultantly. “Ah, to feel a sword in my hand again!” he said, and made an imaginary pass in the air. “Not pistols — no, no, that would be clumsy. Am I not your son?”

My lord became enthusiastic. “You are, my Robin! I perceive some shadow of myself in you. Remove my Munich friend! Do not unmask: you shall remain a mystery to your Letitia for a little while yet, but not for long! Remove me this Markham from the path, and you shall see me go swiftly forward to the promised goal. I am Tremaine of Barham!”

Robin looked sceptical. “Are you, sir! I wonder!”

“So too did Markham,” said my lord. “So do you all, and there is only one who knows the truth concerning me. It affords me infinite amusement. I say nothing: all shall soon be disclosed.” He picked up his hat. “I leave you to your plans, my Robin. See you do not bungle them. There must be no suspicion of your identity. Play the highwayman, and take John along with you. But I don’t interest myself in the petty details; you will think on them at your leisure. By my reckoning, and you will hardly question it, they should leave Vauxhall at nine in the evening, maybe later. It does not signify. Au revoir, my son! I wish you, though there is not the need, all success!” He waved his hand and was gone next instant, through the doorway into the hall beyond. There he came upon his daughter returned from a morning’s ride with Charles Belfort. He tapped her cheek with one indulgent finger, and said gaily: “My Prudence! You come too late to hear the tale of my achievement. You will find your brother in amaze.”

“Lord, sir!” said Prudence placidly, and watched him go out. She was chuckling a little: he had always the effect of making her laugh. She went into the room he had left, and found Robin biting his fingers in meditation. “What’s the old gentleman so pleased about now, Robin?” she asked. “Is there work for us afoot?”

He looked up, appraising her. “Have you a mind to it? It’s to be rescue, and slaughter, child!”

“You shock me,” said Prudence, sitting down upon the table’s edge. “Count on me; you will need me belike. What’s toward?”