“Yes,” said Miss Milborne, losing her sparkle. “How well they suit, to be sure! I am happy to see George in better spirits.”
“Kitten always can contrive to cheer the poor fellow up,” said his lordship unconcernedly.
The poor fellow was saying at that moment: “I should like to know what the deuce Sherry means by making Isabella laugh like that! Yes, and he made her blush a moment ago! I saw her!”
“Do not look at them!” said Hero. “If I were you, I would not let Isabella see that I cared whom she danced with, George!”
“Well, I do care,” he replied unnecessarily. “Besides, I don’t see what should get into Sherry to make him flirt with her when he is married to you! For that is what he is doing, Kitten! There’s no getting away from it!”
“Well, if I do not mind it I am sure you need not.”
His brilliant, dark eyes glanced down into hers. “Do you not mind it?” he asked forthrightly.
She sighed faintly. “Only a very little, George. If we went into the other room we need not see them, and you could bring me a glass of orgeat, and we should be comfortable, don’t you think?”
He led her off the floor. “No. There is no comfort for either of us!” he said, with suppressed passion.
However, a certain measure of comfort was found in the refreshment saloon, for they discovered Mr Ringwood and Ferdy there, and Ferdy at once disclosed the nature of the wager which he had lost. Hero was a good deal amused, and George’s brow lightened for a moment. But it soon clouded again when he recalled that when he had made just such an attempt as Sherry’s earlier in the evening, it had not met with a like degree of success. When Sherry presently brought Miss Milborne in the saloon in search of iced lemonade, he bore down upon them instantly, and, ignoring Sherry, earnestly besought the Beauty to dance the next waltz with him. She excused herself, and would have joined the group round Hero had he not barred the way.
“You shall not fob me off so!” he said in a vibrant voice. “Why will you not so much as dance one waltz with me? What have I done to offend you? Answer me, Isabella!”
“Good gracious, nothing in the world!” she replied. “It is merely that I am engaged to dance — ”
“With Severn! It will not do! You will scarcely dance every waltz with him! You use me as though — ”
“For God’s sake, do not make a scene, my lord! Remember where you are, I beg of you! We are attracting attention!”
“I care nothing for that! Will you dance with me?”
“The next country dance, then, if you will but conduct yourself towards me with more propriety!”
He was obliged to be satisfied, but nothing could have been more disastrous than the dance so grudgingly granted to him. He attempted every time the movement of the dance brought them together to continue a conversation which soon developed into a lively quarrel; and as Miss Milborne disliked being made to look ridiculous, and was well aware of the amused eyes upon them, she came near to losing her temper, and said some cutting things, which she did not mean, but which George took in very bad part.
“Dashed if I ever thought I should be so diverted at one of Almack’s Assemblies!” said Sherry frankly. “All the same, Kitten, I think we’ll be off before George comes off the floor, or I shall have you kissing him again as like as not, for he’ll certainly need comfort from the looks of it. Are you coming, Gil?”
Mr Ringwood expressed his readiness to leave the rooms, and as Ferdy wandered up at that moment, the Viscount invited them both to return with him to Half Moon Street for some more invigorating refreshment than was to be found at Almack’s. The Sheringhams’ carriage was called for, and the entire party withdrew, falling in with Sir Montagu Revesby in the vestibule downstairs, and leaving the building in his company. Sherry naturally begged him also to repair to Half Moon Street, but before Sir Montagu had time to reply to this invitation an interruption of an entirely unexpected nature occurred. A figure which had been standing motionless alongside the house started forward, and was seen in the light of a street lantern to be a young woman, clasping in her arms a bundle wrapped in a shawl. If she had not been so haggard, she would have been remarkably pretty, but her face was deathly pale, and there was such a distraught look in her eyes that they seemed scarcely sane. She paid no heed to Hero, descending the steps of the house on Sherry’s arm, but put herself in Sir Montagu’s way, and said in a low, imploring voice: “They told me at your lodging that you would not see me, that you was come here, but I must, I must speak with you! For God’s sake, do not cast me off! Again and again I have been to your lodging, but it is always the same answer which I get! I am desperate, Montagu, desperate!”
There was a moment’s appalled silence. Everyone stood still, Ferdy goggling at the stranger, and Revesby holding himself tense, his hand clenched on his walking-cane. He looked suddenly pale, but it might have been the uncertain lamplight which made him appear so. His voice broke the silence. “My good young woman, you are making a mistake,” he said languidly. “I fancy I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
A moan burst from the girl. “Cruel! Cruel!” she uttered. “Acquaintance! Oh, my God! You shall not cast me off so, you dare not! I will follow you wherever you go! Have you no pity, no compassion? Will you disown your own child? Look! Can you see this innocent, and be unmoved by the ruin you have brought on me?” She opened the shawl as she spoke and disclosed a sleeping infant.
“Good God!” said Mr Ringwood.
“I never saw you before in my life,” said Revesby, still smiling, “You are certainly mad, and I must suppose you to have escaped from Bedlam.”
“Mad! No! Yet if I am not it is small thanks to you!” she cried wildly. “You said it should be well with me, you promised me — you swore to me — ”
“For the lord’s sake, Sherry, get your wife out of this!” said Mr Ringwood, in an urgent under-voice. “We shall have a crowd about us in a trice!”
Sherry, who had been standing transfixed by amazement, pulled himself together. “Yes, by God!” he said. “Here, Kitten, into the carriage! Can’t be dawdling here all night!”
But Hero had withdrawn her hand from his arm. “Oh, the poor creature!” she exclaimed pitifully, and ran down the remainder of the steps to the distracted girl.
“Now we are in the basket!” muttered Sherry. “Good God, Gil, what’s to be done? What a damned thing!”
“Think I’ll be going home, Sherry, dear old boy,” said Ferdy in a very cowardly manner. “Won’t be needing me!”
“No, Ferdy!” said Mr Ringwood firmly. “Can’t rat on Sherry. Devilish awkward situation!”
“You know what, Gil?” Ferdy confided in his ear. “Always said the fellow was a commoner! Proves it!”
“Well, I don’t like him: never did: but dash it, I’m deuced sorry for any fellow in a fix like this!” responded Mr Ringwood frankly.
“Yes, by God!” agreed Ferdy, struck most forcibly by this point of view.
Hero, meanwhile, had put her arm round the stranger. “Oh, pray do not — ! There, let me cover up the dear little baby! Don’t cry! Only tell me what it is, and indeed I will help you!”
“Kitten! No, really, Kitten! Dash it, you can’t — Not our affair!” expostulated Sherry.
For once she paid no heed to him; the girl was speaking in a panting voice. “Ask him if he dare deny his own child! Ask him if he did not promise me marriage! Ask him if I was not an honest maid when he saw me first? O God, what is to become of me?”
“No, Kitten, for heaven’s sake — !” said Sherry quickly, as Hero turned towards Revesby. “You can’t ask Monty — Why the devil don’t you do something, Monty, instead of standing there?”
“I beg Lady Sheringham will not allow herself to be imposed upon,” Revesby said, his voice a little strained. “The unfortunate female appears to be out of her senses. I recommend she should be escorted to the nearest Roundhouse.”
A moan from the girl made Hero clasp her more secur
ely in her arms, and say indignantly: “How dare you? Have you no compassion for the poor soul? Is this dear little baby indeed yours?”
“His! his!” cried the girl. “Look, is she not like him?”
Ferdy, peering at the unconscious infant, said dubiously: “Queer thing, the way females can see a likeness in a baby. Well, what I mean is they don’t look like anything much. Remember thinking so when my sister Fairford’s eldest was born. She and my mother would have it it was the image of poor Fairford. Mind you, I’m not saying he isn’t a plain-looking fellow, Fairford, but — ”
“Oh, be quiet, Ferdy!” interrupted Sherry, quite exasperated. “Yes, I thought as much! Now we are beginning to attract a crowd! Ten to one, someone will be leaving Almack’s at any moment, too, and a pretty set of gudgeons we must look — For God’s sake, Monty, take the girl away!”
“My dear Sherry, I have already stated that I never set eyes on her before in my life. I must decline any responsibility in this affair. If you are wise, you will summon the Watch and have the wench removed.”
All this time the Sheringhams’ footman had been standing holding open the door of the barouche, apparently deaf and blind to what was going on. A couple of sedan chair bearers, who had lounged over from the opposite side of the street, now showed an inclination to take up the cudgels in defence of the deserted girl; the door of the Assembly Rooms opened and voices sounded. Revesby turned abruptly on his heel and strode off down the street. A despairing cry from the girl made Mr Ringwood shudder, and goaded Sherry into desperate action.
“Here, for the lord’s sake get into the carriage!” he said, pushing both women towards it.
“Yes, do pray come with me!” Hero said to her protégée. “The baby will take cold in this horrid, draughty street, and I promise we will look after you, won’t we, Sherry?”
“Yes. I mean — well, never mind that now!” replied her harassed husband. “Drive home, John!”
The coachman acknowledged this command with great stateliness; the door was shut on the two women; the footman jumped up behind; and the barouche moved forward, just as a party of ladies, with their attendant squires, began to descend the steps of Almack’s.
Ferdy was still staring at the spot where he had last seen Revesby. Mr Ringwood thrust a hand in his arm and drew him to walk with himself and the Viscount towards Half Moon Street.
“Never seen anything to beat it!” Ferdy said. “Fellow just walked off! Not a word to anyone! Ratted, by God! Bad, very bad!”
“You wanted to rat yourself,” Mr Ringwood reminded him.
“Devilish awkward start! Don’t know that I blame him.”
“No right to leave Sherry with the baby,” said Ferdy severely. “Not Sherry’s baby, dash it!”
“The girl’s mad!” Sherry said.
“No, she ain’t,” contradicted Mr Ringwood. “Dare say it is Revesby’s baby: wouldn’t be the first.”
“Well, damn it, man, what of it? Deuced unfortunate she should have run Monty to earth outside Almack’s, but no one ever supposed he was a saint!”
“Ferdy’s right,” said Mr Ringwood. “Fellow is a commoner! No business to leave the baby to starve. Easy enough to provide for it if it is his baby.”
“Girl seemed very certain of it,” offered Ferdy. “Said it was like him. Tell you what, Gil: take another look at the baby!”
“No use doing that. Fellow disowned it. Can’t force him to provide for it.”
“Dash it!” Sherry exclaimed. “If every bit of mus — ”
“Didn’t look to me like a bit of muslin, Sherry.”
“I don’t believe Monty — ”
“No, very likely you don’t,” said Mr Ringwood ruthlessly. “Fellow’s a damned rake, if you ask me.”
“Lord, who cares for that? Anyone would think — ”
“No one cares. Point is — ”
“Fellow has a perfect right to be a rake,” agreed Ferdy. “No harm in that. No right to leave the baby in the gutter. Bad ton.”
“That’s what I was going to say,” nodded Mr Ringwood. “Devilish bad ton!”
“It’s a damned coil!” Sherry said, frowning. “I wouldn’t have thought it of Monty! Dash it, there must be a mistake! Monty wouldn’t walk off like that if the wench had been one of his fancy pieces!”
“Looked devilish sick,” said Mr Ringwood dispassionately.
“Sick as a horse,” corroborated Ferdy. He added, after a moment’s reflection: “Would have myself. Dash it, middle of King Street! Everyone coming away from Almack’s! But I’ll tell you what, Gil: I wouldn’t have left Sherry with the baby. Not Sherry!” Struck by a sudden thought, he looked at his cousin. “What are you going to do with the baby, Sherry?”
“Damme, I’m not going to do anything with the baby!” replied Sherry indignantly. “It ain’t my affair!”
Mr Ringwood coughed discreetly. “Dear old fellow — Lady Sherry! What does she mean to do with it?”
“That’s it,” nodded Ferdy. “Seemed very taken with it.”
“She’ll do what I tell her,” answered Sherry shortly.
“Well, what are you going to tell her?” asked Mr Ringwood.
“I shall think of something,” said Sherry, with cold dignity.
Mr Ringwood began to think that there was more in Mr Fakenham’s desire to disassociate himself from these proceedings than he had at first perceived. He said tentatively: “Dare say you’d like us to leave you, dear boy. Delicate situation: won’t want guests!”
“Oh no, you don’t!” retorted his lordship.
“Just as you please, Sherry!” said Mr Ringwood. “Only thought you might prefer to be alone with Lady Sherry!”
“Well, I wouldn’t!” said his lordship bluntly.
They had arrived by this time at his house. They were admitted by Bradgate, who informed them that my lady had taken the young person upstairs to her bedchamber. His manner indicated that he accepted no responsibility for this, and washed his hands of whatever consequences might ensue. The Viscount told him to fetch the brandy to the drawing-room, and escorted his two friends up the one pair of stairs which led to his apartment. A fire burned in the grate, but the candles had not been lit. The Viscount thrust a taper into the fire and went round the room kindling the wicks, a heavy scowl marring his countenance. The canary hanging on the window embrasure awoke, apparently in some confusion of mind, and began to sing its morning hymn. The Viscount, with a few bitter animadversions on birds in general, and misguided friends in particular, cast a cloth over the cage and the song ceased abruptly. The butler shortly appeared with a tray, and said in accents of extreme repulsion that he understood that the young person would be spending the night in the spare bedroom. He then withdrew, and the Viscount exclaimed: “Well, that’s a nice thing! If it isn’t just like Kitten! Now what am I to do? I’m dashed if I’ll have Monty’s chere-amie in my spare bedroom!”
“Baby, too,” said Ferdy, shaking his head. “Bound to squall. They do. Very awkward, Sherry. Don’t know what you can do.”
“Well, for God’s sake let us have a little brandy!” said his lordship, striding over to the table and seizing the decanter.
It was some time before Hero came downstairs, but after about half an hour she put in an appearance, still wearing her silk and gauze ball dress, but with her jewels discarded and her curls a little ruffled. She came quickly into the room, a look of great distress in her face, and went towards Sherry with her hands held out, and saying impetuously: “Oh, Sherry, it is so shocking! She has told me the whole, and I never thought anyone could be so wicked! It is all too true! That dear little baby is indeed Sir Montagu’s own child, but he will not give poor Ruth a penny for its maintenance, no, nor even see Ruth! Oh, Sherry, how can such things be?”
“Yes, I know, Kitten. It’s devilish bad, but — but you have only the girl’s word for it, and I dare say, if we only knew — ”
“Might be a mistake,” explained Ferdy, anxious to be helpful.
She turned her large eyes towards him. “Oh no, Ferdy, there can be none indeed! You see, she told me everything! She is not a wicked girl — I am sure she is not! She is quite simple, and she did not know what she was doing!”
“They all say that,” said Mr Ringwood gloomily.
“How can you, Gil? I had not thought you would be so unjust!” Hero cried. “She is nothing but a country maid, and I can tell that her father is a very good sort of man — respectable, I mean, for no sooner did he discover the dreadful truth than he cast her out of his home, and will not have anything to say to her, which always seems to me shockingly cruel, though Cousin Jane says it is to be expected, because of the wages of sin, which comes in the Bible! Indeed, she is quite an innocent girl, for how could it be otherwise when she believed in Sir Montagu’s promise to marry her? Why, even I know better than that!”
Ferdy, who had been listening intently, said at this point: “Now, that’s a thing I wouldn’t do, Gil! One thing to seduce a girl — though, mind you, I think it’s a mistake, myself! Only leads to trouble, and the lord knows there are plenty of ladybirds on the town! — quite another to tell her you mean to marry her. Dash it, too smoky by half!”
Disregarding this interruption, Hero hurried on: “Sherry, she is in such distress! I do not know how she has survived, and if it had not been for a good natured woman who took pity on her, she must have died of starvation! But it seems that this woman is one of the fruit women at the Opera House, and perhaps Ruth ought not to stay with her, for I recall that you told me, Sherry, that those women — ”
“Yes, well, never mind that!” said Sherry hastily.
“Oh no! I remember you said I must not mention it! But the thing is that she took Ruth in, for Ruth came to London to find Sir Montagu, never dreaming that he would refuse even to see her! But he is the most heartless — Sherry, indeed I am sorry to speak so of a friend of yours, but it is beyond anything! To seduce this poor, ignorant girl — for that is what he did — !”
Friday’s Child Page 22