The Pilfered Plume

by Sandra Heath

  “Yes, Miss Linnet.”

  “Is my great-aunt at home?”

  “No, Miss Linnet. She breakfasted at the usual time, and then went out with Lady Anne to drive in Hyde Park. I believe they intend to call upon Mrs. Jeffreys in Kensington afterward.”

  Linnet nodded. Mrs. Jeffreys was another old friend, and no doubt there would be a great deal of talking and sipping of tea, which meant that her great-aunt wouldn’t return before the early evening.

  Mary finished pinning her hair into a soft knot at the back of her head, and then brought the shawl. Linnet rose from the dressing table, shaking out the skirts of her gown. “I shall be in the library if I’m needed, Mary.”

  “Yes, Miss Linnet.” The maid glanced at the untouched breakfast on the tray. “Shall I bring some coffee a little later, miss?”

  “Yes, that would be most agreeable.”

  “And some almond wafers?” ventured the maid.

  Linnet smiled. “Yes. Thank you.”

  She sat in her late uncle’s favorite armchair in the library, a book open on her lap. In the gardens she could see the servants taking down the many lanterns that had been hung in the branches. She wondered if the linnets had all flown safely away. There was no reason why they shouldn’t, but she hated to think of even one of them coming to harm.

  She glanced down at the book, turning another page. It was a collection of poems, light and easy to read, and the diamonds in her ring sparkled as she toyed with the leather bookmark. Her thoughts wandered on to the evening, and her next meeting with Benedict. Would he be able to see the guilt in her eyes? Would he know that her love for him wasn’t as strong as his was for her? Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them savagely away. He didn’t deserve to take second place to a two-faced, heartless fiend like Nicholas, for he’d always been so loving, loyal, protective, and supportive. How could she have been so misguided as to hesitate for even a second? There wasn’t a contest, for Benedict was worth a thousand Nicholases.

  Sommers came suddenly to the library door. “Begging your pardon, madam, but Lady Hartley has returned. She wishes to speak urgently with you.”

  Urgently? Linnet looked at him in surprise. “Please show her in.”

  “Madam.”

  “Oh, and Sommers?”

  “Madam?”

  “Mary was to bring coffee to me in a while, would you have it served now? For two?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  He withdrew, and a moment later she heard Venetia’s skirts rustling as she hurried toward the library. Then she was there, looking very stylish in a light-blue velvet spencer and matching hat, and a gray taffeta gown that was so pale it seemed almost silver. But if she looked stylish, she also looked very flustered and agitated.

  Linnet rose, a little startled. “Whatever is it? Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong? Well, it isn’t right, and that’s a fact.”

  Linnet went to her, ushering her to an armchair. “Sit down and tell me what’s happened. Some coffee will be brought in a moment.”

  “Coffee? I could do with something a little more potent,” replied Venetia wryly, sitting down. She sighed, then. “Oh, that woman! If I could exterminate her, I vow I would.”

  “What woman?”

  “The Vulture of Paradise, who else?”

  “Oh.” Linnet resumed her own seat. “I take it you’ve encountered her somewhere?”

  “No, I’ve just been enlightened as to what she’s been up to since leaving here.” Venetia paused. “She’s making a positive feast of her success, and it’s already all over town.”

  Linnet leaned her head back. She’d been so engrossed in other things that she’d completely forgotten that the Cyprian would be bound to make as much capital as she could from her triumph.

  Venetia looked at her. “The fortitude of many of your gentlemen guests last night is quite amazing, for they went on from here to a little breakfast party in Portman Street, where the highlight of the proceedings was the appearance of La Jordan’s pet poodle—the four-legged canine one—with your ribbon tied very conspicuously to its tail. I gather that there was huge mirth at the spectacle, and the gentlemen eventually returned to their homes to gleefully spread this latest tale at your expense. I’m so sorry, Linnet, but I had to tell you. I didn’t want you to hear from anyone else.”

  The anger that had bubbled inside Linnet since finding out about Judith’s visit now rose hotly to the surface. “Oh, how I loathe her,” she breathed. “Why on earth is it so important to her that she makes me look as foolish as possible? Surely she can’t really be that unsure of her hold upon Nicholas?”

  “It seems she must be.” Venetia sat forward. “There were a great many successful wagers on her chances, for she more than came up to male expectations.”

  “She’s had a good deal of practice in that particular art,” murmured Linnet acidly.

  Venetia smiled. “There’s no disputing that. Well, now it appears to be your turn.”

  “My turn for what?”

  “For coming up to male expectations—where the placing of wagers is concerned, that is. White’s betting book is now rapidly filling up with gambles as to whether or not you’ll rise to the challenge next Wednesday.”

  “By creeping into her ball to remove a souvenir?”

  “Yes.” Venetia glanced uneasily at the door. “I trust your great-aunt isn’t likely to pounce upon me at any moment?”

  “She’s out.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it, for I’d hate her to think I was bent upon persuading you to throw your reputation to the winds.”

  “Actually, I have been thinking about somehow attending the masked ball,” admitted Linnet slowly.

  Venetia was startled. “Not because of anything I’ve said, I hope!”

  Linnet drew a long breath, coming to a sudden and irrevocable decision. “In fact, I’ve gone beyond just thinking about it, now I’m actually determined to do it. I’m so furious about last night that I simply can’t let her get away with it.” She was surprised to hear herself saying the words, for she really hadn’t realized how close she was to such a shocking decision; but the placing of her ribbon on the poodle’s tail was simply the last straw.

  Venetia was uneasy. “Linnet, you have to let her get away with it. It’s far too risky for you to try to go there…”

  “She managed the reverse.”

  “Well, as I think you said yourself after the ball, when we realized she’d been in your bedroom, she hasn’t got anything to lose. I doubt if she can remember when she was last respectable, but it’s very different for you.”

  “I know, but it’s all too much to endure now. She’s been blithely ridiculing my name throughout society, then she attended the ball and entered my room, and now she’s tied my ribbon to her wretched dog’s tail!”

  Venetia looked shrewdly at her. “That isn’t all, is it? She is also the one your lover played you false with.”

  Linnet looked away.

  Venetia sighed. “You’re in earnest about this, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a tap at the door, and Sommers escorted a maid in with the tray of coffee and almond wafers.

  As the tray was set on a table before her, Linnet waved them both away. “I’ll serve, Sommers, so you may go.”

  “Madam.” He bowed, ushered the maid out again, and then closed the door behind them.

  Not a word was uttered as Linnet sat forward to pour the coffee from the elegant silver pot into the dainty gold-and-white porcelain cups. She handed one to Venetia. “Would you care for a wafer?” she asked.

  Venetia was exasperated. “How on earth can you ask something so mundane after just telling me you seriously intend to secretly gatecrash a demirep’s masked ball?”

  “Bold plans shouldn’t come before politeness.”

  “Bold, ill-advised plans,” said Venetia. “Have you really considered the implications? Let’s presume that you do succeed, and that you steal a tro
phy, what will happen then? Do you imagine it won’t get out over town? She’s bound to see that it does, for she obviously wishes to harm your reputation.”

  “Whatever she says will merely be seen as another of her fanciful tales about me,” answered Linnet. “I don’t intend to give her any proof that she can use in public. Whatever I take, I’ll send back with a verbal message, not a written one. All I’m concerned with is that she knows I’ve dealt her blow-for-blow, and I really couldn’t care less about the rest of society, or about the contents of White’s betting book.”

  Venetia studied her. “You have been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

  “I couldn’t sleep, and I just found myself considering the matter. Then, before you came, I was doing the same, but it wasn’t until you told me about my ribbon gracing the poodle’s tail that I realized how carefully I’d been mulling it all over.”

  Venetia sighed. “And how do you imagine you’re going to do all this without people knowing what you’re up to? Benedict, for instance? Have you thought about his reaction? He won’t like it at all, for no gentleman of honor could possibly accept his future wife’s risking her entire reputation in such a place of ill repute.”

  “I don’t intend to tell him. The masked ball is next Wednesday, which also happens to be the night of his reunion dinner at East India House.”

  “Reunion dinner? What reunion dinner?”

  “Didn’t you know? It’s something to do with his time in Madras, but I’m not exactly sure of the details. Suffice it that he’s otherwise occupied on that particular night. So is my great-aunt.”

  “With Lady Anne Stuart?”

  “Yes.” Linnet smiled conspiratorially. “It also so happens that I, like you, have been sent an invitation to Lady Lydney’s postponed rout, an invitation that I intend to accept, and which I will let it be known I’ve accepted. I’ll tell my aunt that Mary will be my chaperone, as she was when I went to the exhibition with Benedict, except that I won’t be going to Lady Lydney’s rout at all. When my aunt has left for Lady Anne’s, my carriage will depart as well, its blinds down so that no one will know it’s empty. I’m sure La Jordan will have someone watching this house that evening, she’s bound to want to be sure of my movements after all the noise she’s been making. She’ll be vastly reassured if my carriage is seen leaving, apparently for the rout. Anyway, after my aunt has gone, and my carriage, I will actually depart from the mews lane, in a hackney coach hired for the occasion. It will take me to Portman Street.”

  Venetia drew an unhappy breath. “Linnet, I know that what happened last night has upset you a great deal, but I can’t help wondering what exactly it is that’s driven you to want to retaliate. Is it the Bird of Paradise herself? Or is it more to do with Nicholas?”

  “He has nothing to do with it,” replied Linnet quickly.

  Too quickly. Venetia studied her closely. “I thought last night that a change had come over you after he’d arrived. You seemed a little, er, reserved.”

  “You imagined it.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Venetia continued to look at her. “Linnet, I know I asked you if Nicholas had had second thoughts about you, but I didn’t ask you if you’d had second thoughts about him.”

  Linnet wasn’t actress enough to hide the truth, and could only look guiltily back at her.

  Venetia was dismayed. “Oh, Linnet…”

  “I still intend to marry Benedict, and I mean to make him happy.”

  “Trusting to providence all the while?”

  “Nicholas has no place in my life now, no matter what my feelings may or not be, and I know Benedict and I can be happy together.”

  “Linnet…”

  “No, Venetia, I don’t wish to discuss it anymore, just as you do not wish to discuss your mysterious gentleman love.”

  Venetia lowered her eyes at that. “Touché,” she murmured.

  Linnet looked anxiously at her. “Do—Do you intend to tell Benedict?”

  “That you still love Nicholas? Of course not! Whatever do you take me for? I love Benedict, but I also love you, and I still want to see you both happily married. I happen to agree with you, you see. You will make him happy, and your marriage will be the closest thing possible to a real love match. Now then, shall we forget your feelings for Nicholas and concentrate upon your plans concerning a certain bal masque?”

  Linnet managed a weak smile.

  Venetia smiled, too. “So, at the moment we have your great-aunt obligingly removing herself to Lady Anne’s and we have Benedict out of the way at East India House. What we don’t have is your disguise, and the way you intend to get in to the house in Portman Street. Since you’ve been thinking so long and so deep upon the first items, I’ve no doubt you’ve done the same concerning the latter.”

  “Yes. I thought your dressmaker might be approached to alter one of my gowns.”

  “My dressmaker?”

  “She’s infinitely more discreet than Madame Leclerc, who positively trumpets gossip over town. I thought that you and I could decide upon a suitable gown, and then keep it at your house. I could then call upon you, and your dressmaker could take measurements and so on.”

  “And no one here in Carlisle House would be any the wiser?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, my dressmaker it is.” Venetia hesitated. “I take it that this gown is going to be a la Cyprian?”

  “Within reason. I don’t intend to look completely abandoned.”

  “Just a little abandoned,” murmured Venetia, smiling.

  “Just a fraction.”

  They both smiled, but then Venetia became serious again. “Oh, Linnet, I’m filled with misgivings about this…” she began unhappily.

  “I’m set upon doing it,” interrupted Linnet. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the gown. Next I’ll need a wig to hide my hair.”

  “I have one.”

  “Do you?” asked Linnet in surprise.

  Venetia looked a little embarrassed. “When I had my hair cut short like this, I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing, so I purchased a wig in order to hide the devastation, if necessary. As it happened, I rather liked my hair short, and so I’ve never used the wig. It’s yours, if you wish.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Like my hair used to be, long, curly, and very dark-brown.”

  Linnet smiled. “It sounds the very thing. All I need now is a mask, and I think I have one somewhere. I haven’t been to a masked ball for a few years now, and the mask hasn’t been used in all that time, but I’m sure it will be lying in a drawer or cupboard somewhere in my room. It’s one of those masks that conceals the top of the face to just below the eyes, and has a veil below that.”

  Venetia sat back. “Right, so we now have everything sorted out except how you intend to gain entry to the house.”

  “All I’ve come up with so far is to try to get in through the mews lane at the back, and then through the gardens and kitchens. I don’t think she’ll have the lane entrance guarded. All the guests will be masked, and any guards would have to ask them to show their faces. That wouldn’t be the thing.”

  “She said blithely,” murmured Venetia dryly. “Linnet, there’s many a slip ‘twixt cup and lip, so don’t take any of this lightly. You have so much to lose if it all goes wrong.”

  “I’m not taking anything lightly, you may be sure of that,” replied Linnet softly.

  Venetia smiled a little. “I’m relieved to hear it. By the way, there’s one thing you haven’t mentioned. The small matter of the trophy you’ll have to steal if you’re to equal her exploits. Have you thought about it?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s quite simple. I intend to find the Bird of Paradise’s bedroom and take one of her gaudiest plumes.”

  Chapter 20

  There were only four days to Judith’s ball, and many plans to lay in that short time. At Carlisle House, only Mary was told what was going on, for she had to accompany Linnet to and from Venetia’s house for fit
tings of the gown that was being altered. The maid was horrified to learn of her mistress’s intentions, and did her utmost to dissuade her, but it was to no avail, for Linnet was firmly set upon exacting her full revenge, and wasn’t open to any persuasion to the contrary.

  A trustworthy hackney coachman was engaged to wait in the mews lane behind Carlisle House on the evening of the Cyprian’s ball. Mary’s soon-to-be-married cousin lived next door to just such a coachman, and Linnet was assured that he could be relied upon to carry out his task with the utmost discretion. Apart from this man, and Venetia’s circumspect dressmaker, only Linnet herself, Venetia and Mary knew anything about what was being planned, and that was the way Linnet intended to keep it.

  Strangely enough, it didn’t prove too difficult to find a suitable gown in Linnet’s wardrobe but it had to be made more respectable, rather than less! Two summers previously she’d worn a dark-green tunic dress and citrus-yellow undergown combination that at the time had pleased her very much, but her taste had changed since then, and the item had hung forgotten for more than a year. The undergown had never been intended to be worn on its own, and the bodice was consequently somewhat skimpy, in order that the wearer of both undergown and tunic dress together would not feel uncomfortably hot at a crowded function. It was little more than a petticoat, barely respectable over the bosom, and no doubt the Judith Jordans of the world wouldn’t have hesitated to wear it as it was, but for Linnet it was just unthinkable. She was prepared to be a Cyprian for an evening, but not that much of a Cyprian! The dressmaker was therefore instructed to provide the gown with lacy puffed sleeves, and to fill the neckline in with lace frills, as well as decorate the bodice with beaded embroidery. Even with these adjustments, the gown would still be improperly bold, but she comforted herself with the thought that her true identity would be safe behind a mask and a wig. She also convinced herself that it would all be worthwhile in the end, for even though society would never know what she’d done, Judith Jordan most definitely would. She did have another reservation about the gown, however, and that was that it was yellow, the color in which Nicholas liked her most of all.