The Wicked Cousin

by Stella Riley

  By the fourth act when Charles Surface was selling his family portraits to a man he hadn’t realised was his uncle, the entire theatre was rocking with laughter; and the moment when the screen collapsed, revealing that Lady Teazle had been eavesdropping from behind it halted the performance for several minutes until the actors could make themselves heard again.

  The final Act closed in a storm of applause which prevented Mrs Abington from speaking the epilogue for quite five minutes and the cast took countless curtain calls amidst much cheering and stamping.

  When the curtain closed for the last time, Cassie said, ‘That was wonderful. I don’t ever remember laughing so much.’

  ‘Me neither,’ replied Philip Vernon. ‘Everyone said that this couldn’t possibly rival The Rivals but in my opinion Sheridan has outdone himself. What do you think, Audley?’

  ‘That it will be interesting to see what the critics make of it,’ replied Sebastian. And turning to Nell, ‘Lady Elinor – it was a splendid evening. Thank you for inviting me.’

  Nobly refraining from remarking that he had appeared to spend quite half the play watching Cassie, Nell merely said that she was happy he had been able to join them and led the exodus from the box to the crush outside it. Once again, the Cavendish and Caversham parties merged and everyone made their way slowly down to the equally crowded foyer.

  Outside on the street, people continued to chat whilst waiting for their carriages. Dolly Cavendish invited Nell’s party to join her own for a light supper. Jack Ingram thanked her but refused, saying that Althea was tired; a nod from Isabel had Philip smiling an acceptance; and, hearing Cassie say that she would go if her parents did, Sebastian was just about to take up the invitation on his own behalf when there was a sudden disturbance.

  A woman dragging a very small child of indeterminate sex pushed through the remaining crowd, shouting and waving an accusing fist.

  Amidst a fast and furious torrent of foreign words that only one person understood was a word that everyone understood.

  Sebastian’s name.

  Little by little, the previously laughing and chattering crowd fell silent while the woman continued to rant in her own tongue.

  ‘What’s she saying?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘No idea,’ shrugged Philip. ‘I don’t even know what language she’s speaking.’

  Sebastian did but had the sense to realise that this was no time to admit he spoke Portuguese and be forced to translate.

  ‘You! Finally I find you, Sebastian! And see – here is the child you abandoned!’

  So he stood like a stone, the blood draining slowly from his skin. And when, eventually, the female stopped speaking in order to shove the child towards him, he felt eyes piercing his back like knives as the people around him started to wonder.

  He looked down into the huge, frightened eyes of the child and then back at the woman. Finally, in a level voice pitched to carry, he said, ‘Who are you?’

  Her reply was another torrent of words; but this time a handful of them were in English. Among them were wife, child and starve … just sufficient to cause most of those standing nearest to Sebastian to distance themselves, muttering with shock and disgust. Cassie, by contrast, took an involuntary step towards him and would have taken another had she not been restrained by her mother.

  ‘No.’ Serena kept a firm hold on her daughter’s wrist. ‘You can’t help.’

  ‘But --’

  ‘No! You’ll make it worse for him.’

  Taking one brief glance at Cassie’s distressed face and determined to keep her out of this horror, Sebastian took a step away from her and towards the strange woman. Very briefly, he glanced round. A few yards away, Miranda was watching the drama unfold out of eyes avid with enjoyment which told him who he had to thank for this scene; and Richard Penhaligon was staring at her with an expression that meant he clearly knew it too.

  Turning back to the woman and shaking his head, Sebastian said clearly, ‘You are mistaken. I do not know you.’

  Another barrage of Portuguese followed, subtly laced with the words promise and marry. Whoever she was, thought Sebastian feeling extremely sick, she had been well-rehearsed.

  He tried again. ‘I think you are saying that some man has abandoned you. If that is so, I am sorry. But that man was not me.’

  By way of answer, the woman dragged the shawl away from the child’s unkempt head. Brilliant red hair glowed in the light of the theatre’s torches and the mutter which had been growing behind him became a collective gasp.

  Someone said, ‘For shame, Audley! It would cost little enough to provide for the brat.’

  Several voices agreed with this.

  ‘And if the child was mine,’ said Sebastian coldly but with little hope of being attended to, ‘I would have done so. As it stands, I have never seen this woman before in my life.’

  Cassie looked about her at faces grown suddenly hostile and thought, How can anyone believe this? And why aren’t our friends helping? They must know it isn’t true – that it could never be true. Engulfed in anguish, she watched Sebastian facing his accusers, looking so terribly alone; and swinging round on her father, she said, ‘Do something!’

  ‘That won’t wash!’ a new voice was saying. ‘Where else did the child get that hair?’

  His expression grim, Charles Delahaye moved to Sebastian’s side and said, ‘Whatever the truth of the matter, you need to get mother and child out of the street.’

  ‘And take them where? Home with me? I think not.’

  Harry Caversham emerged at Sebastian’s other side.

  ‘Give her some money and she’ll go away.’

  ‘She won’t. She’s already been paid for this performance – and me handing her money, merely reinforces the illusion.’ He dropped his voice and said, ‘You recall what I told you the other day? Look over your left shoulder.’

  Harry looked. ‘Hell!’ he breathed. Then, ‘All right. We can sort this out later. But for now, something needs to be done.’

  ‘Certainly it does. So if the woman and her child have nowhere to go, I will take them.’

  The firm, cool tones of Isabel Vernon effectively silenced the contemptuous rumbling of those who stayed to see the entertainment through to its conclusion.

  ‘No, Isabel – really!’ expostulated Philip. ‘We can’t possibly --’

  ‘Yes, we can – and fortunately, here is our carriage.’ She walked to the woman and, smiling, laid a gentle hand on the child’s head. Then, pantomiming in time with her words, ‘Come and I will give you food and a bed. You will be safe. Yes?’

  ‘Sim,’ agreed the woman. ‘Yes. Obrigado.’

  ‘Good.’ Isabel turned quietly to her husband and said, ‘I’ll take her home. You can follow – and Mr Audley had better come with you.’

  ‘But --’

  ‘No, Phil.’ It was Harry who spoke, his tone extremely grim. ‘Sebastian wouldn’t leave a by-blow to starve any more than you or I would. There’s mischief at work here. Let me send Nell on with Dolly, then you and I and Sebastian can take my carriage.’

  ‘You’re coming too?’ asked Philip.

  ‘Yes. And I only wish Rock was here as well.’

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  By the time the gentlemen arrived in Great Jermyn Street – Lord Nicholas having elected to tag along with the others – Isabel had installed her unexpected guest in a bedchamber with food, water for washing and such things as could be found for the child.

  ‘Her name is Luiza and she’s Portuguese,’ said Isabel when what Harry called the Council of War had assembled in the library and refreshments had been brought. ‘That is all I’ve managed to find out since she either can’t or won’t speak English. But I’m hoping you can help with that, Mr Audley.’

  Sebastian nodded wearily. His brain was still reeling and he felt ill. All he could see ahead was imminent disaster because, unless he could prove that the child wasn’t his and the whole scenario speci
fically created to make him look like the worst kind of libertine, no one was going to believe there was smoke without fire. Rumour would do Miranda’s work for her and he felt as if he’d strayed back inside The School for sodding Scandal.

  He said, ‘Yes. I have a basic grasp of Portuguese. Does she know I’m here?’

  ‘Not yet. First, I’d like your assurance that the child upstairs is not yours; and I also think Philip and I should be told whatever it is Harry already knows.’

  ‘The child isn’t mine. I’ve never seen that woman before. I believe the whole charade to be the work of a woman called Miranda Silvarez – but I can’t prove it.’ He glanced round the circle of faces and said simply, ‘I’m sorry. And grateful, Isabel. If you hadn’t stepped in, I’m not sure …’ He stopped, making a small helpless gesture.

  ‘What we know so far is this,’ said Harry, sparing Sebastian the need to think. ‘On the heels of all the talk about Bedford House, there was a piece of filth in The Whisperer the other day – apparently coming from nowhere. Between those two things, the Silvarez woman tried to foist herself on Nell and Cassie at Vauxhall – and she was at the theatre tonight with Richard Penhaligon. All of it adds up to what Sebastian has already told myself, Amberley and Rock. She’s out to do him harm.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Nicholas, baffled. ‘I mean – I never thought much of Penhaligon. But what have you done to this female?’

  Sebastian looked up, a crooked smile curling his mouth. ‘I said no.’

  Nicholas didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Ah. That would do it, I suppose.’

  Philip shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He said, ‘If this is going where I think it is, I’m not sure Isabel needs to hear it.’

  ‘Don’t be foolish, Philip,’ said his wife crisply. ‘I’m not prone to the vapours and there are things to be decided.’ She turned to Sebastian. ‘I imagine you will want to question Luiza. My own suspicion is that the child isn’t even hers. Aside from the dissimilarity of colouring – a brown-eyed, black-haired mother and a blue-eyed, red-haired child – I haven’t seen her show an ounce of maternal feeling. The poor little thing can’t be more than two years old and is too terrified even to cry.’ Isabel paused to conquer the disgust in her voice. ‘But if I’m right about that and you are right about this being a plot, how was it arranged?’

  ‘Miranda was married to a Portuguese count and lived for some time in Lisbon which is where I met her,’ said Sebastian tiredly. ‘She wouldn’t have had much trouble finding Luiza – indeed, she may even have brought her to England when she returned herself. As to the child … I don’t know. An orphanage, perhaps? But I suppose I must begin by speaking to the woman. Perhaps with only Isabel present?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Isabel rose with a purposeful air. ‘I’ll have a maid summon her. Meanwhile, you may take Harry and Nicholas to your study, Philip – assuming they don’t wish to leave?’

  ‘And miss the next instalment?’ demanded Nicholas. ‘Hardly!’

  Left briefly alone with Isabel, Sebastian said, ‘It is uncommonly good of you to help in this way – especially since Philip isn’t happy about it. Why you are doing it?’

  ‘I don’t think you deserve this and I’m sure that unfortunate child doesn’t. As for Philip, he occasionally falls victim to attacks of old-maidish prudery which luckily never last very long.’ She eyed him shrewdly. ‘I’m going to say something which is none of my business, Mr Audley. If, aside from the obvious, you are worrying about what Cassie Delahaye may be thinking – don’t. She is nobody’s fool.’

  ‘I know.’ The scene outside the theatre had left him incapable of dissembling. ‘I know she’s not. But if this mess can’t be cleared up, I can’t go near her. I won’t risk her being smeared with the mud that will be thrown at me.’ He sounded utterly sick. ‘And even if I was stupid enough to call in Conduit Street, Charles would have me kicked down the steps.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘It’s what he ought to do. We all know how the world works. I can shout my innocence on every street corner – but who is going to believe me?’

  A tap at the door heralded the maid Isabel had sent to bring Luiza downstairs. She said breathlessly, ‘My lady, I’m ever so sorry but she’s gone!’

  ‘Gone?’ Isabel stood up. ‘That’s ridiculous. She can’t have gone. Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, my lady. That poor little mite’s huddled up in a corner and no sign of the mother.’

  ‘Perhaps she left the room and got lost. Have you searched the house?’

  ‘Mr Porson’s got the footmen doing it now.’

  Isabel spared a glance to where Sebastian had dropped his head in his hands. Then, turning back to the maid, ‘Very well, Mary. Send Porson to me when he knows the situation – and go to his lordship’s study and ask him to re-join me here.’

  The maid curtsied gratefully and sped off.

  ‘That,’ remarked Sebastian, sitting up, ‘is all I need. We’ll never find her now. But at least we know the child isn’t hers – so I suppose that’s something.’

  Philip walked in followed by Harry and Nicholas.

  ‘Isabel? What’s happening? Where is the child’s mother?’

  ‘Gone,’ said Isabel bitterly. ‘At least, it seems so. I’m just waiting for Porson to confirm it. Meanwhile, I’m furious with myself. I might have guessed she wouldn’t wait to be questioned – particularly if she knew Sebastian can speak her native tongue.’

  ‘And the child?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Oh she’s left that for me to deal with,’ Sebastian informed him sardonically. And then stopped as the butler came in.

  ‘My lady, I regret to say that the young person has indeed left the premises – we believe, through the garden door. She has also taken the silver cutlery and cream jug from her supper tray. Meanwhile, I have sent Mary to remain with the child until such time as your ladyship decides what must be done.’

  ‘Excellent, Porson. Thank you.’ The butler withdrew and Isabel looked back at the assembled gentlemen. ‘Do any of you have a suggestion about what we are going to do?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sebastian stood up. ‘If you will keep the child tonight, I’ll do my best to make other arrangements tomorrow – though I’ve no idea how or what. But this is my mess and I won’t see you burdened with it longer than necessary.’

  There was a brief airless silence. Then Philip said, ‘Sit down, Sebastian. You can’t solve this on your own. So sit down and let’s think it through. But first, you’ll take a brandy. You look as if you need it.’

  ‘Thank you, no. I --’

  Nicholas stopped any further protests by the simple expedient of shoving Mr Audley into the nearest chair while Philip poured brandy for everyone, including Isabel.

  ‘Now,’ said Harry. ‘Putting the child’s future aside for a moment, what are you thinking of doing with regard to the Silvarez woman?’

  ‘Christ,’ muttered Sebastian. ‘I don’t know. There’s not much I can do. I’ve no proof, so confronting her isn’t going to achieve much. She’s hardly likely to admit it – not even to me privately, let alone to anyone else. And the fact that Luiza has vanished doesn’t help. It will look as if I’m being forced to make the provision I’ve previously refused.’

  ‘What about Penhaligon?’ asked Nicholas. ‘He knows Silvarez so he may know what she’s up to. He may even have had a hand in it, for God’s sake. If frightening him a bit – or even a lot – might produce some information, I’ll be happy to help.’

  ‘That isn’t a bad idea,’ said Philip slowly. ‘He may know something. And he’s taken to practising at Angelo’s most days so it won’t be hard to track him down.’ An idea struck him. ‘If we could pair him up with Rock, we’d have the information in no time.’

  ‘I’d rather go and sit on him,’ grunted Nicholas.

  ‘We know,’ grinned Harry. ‘But we don’t need Rock. At least, we do in other respects and one of us can see to that tomorrow. But we don’t need him to face
Penhaligon over the foils. Sebastian will do just as well.’ And when the other men stared at him, he added simply, ‘He held Rock for eleven minutes. Saw it myself.’

  ‘I agree that Penhaligon is involved in this,’ said Sebastian slowly. ‘A few weeks ago, a couple of fellows who trot at his heels tried taunting me into a particularly vile wager while Penhaligon sat in a corner and watched. But I don’t see how fencing with him at Angelo’s will help. I can’t scare a confession out of him using a weapon he knows can’t possibly hurt him. He’ll laugh.’

  ‘He won’t. I’ve seen him fence. You can wipe the floor with him and make him look a complete idiot before witnesses. Then, if he’s still reluctant to talk, Nicholas can sit on him.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Nicholas raised his glass in gratitude.

  ‘Fighting talk is all very well,’ remarked Isabel, ‘and I’m sure I wish you all well with it. But the scandal that is bound to result from this evening still has to be dealt with. And equally important is the future of that child upstairs. I hope that by tomorrow I can coax some words out of her – enough at least to determine if she’s English. But --’

  ‘Stop.’ Sebastian suddenly sat up, a new light in his face. ‘She? The child is a girl?’

  ‘Yes. Didn’t I say?’

  ‘No. And I didn’t ask. I just assumed …’ He stopped and then, dropping back in his chair, gave way to weak laughter. ‘A girl. Thank you, God. Miranda’s made a mistake.’

  Philip frowned. ‘I don’t understand. What are you talking about?’

  ‘Colouring,’ said Sebastian succinctly. ‘Red hair and blue eyes.’