Perdita

by Joan Smith

  The Griffords were so happy to have nabbed John that nothing could impair their good humor. Millicent wished to be on terms with her prospective neighbor, Perdita, when she should remove to John’s home, and to this end she attempted some friendly over­tures. I daresay the knowledge of our departure in the morning did more than anything else to concili­ate our hosts.

  There was some apprehension in my mind that John’s mother would greet us with less enthusiasm in London, now that no match between her son and Perdita was possible. But she was still a neighbor, and could hardly cast us out into the street before we heard from Mrs. Cosgrove. With the departure to look forward to, I got the evening in somehow. There was still the unfinished business of Stornaway and the money, but if we could leave very early, we might give him the slip. He could not break the door down at Alton’s place. We had only to deny him entrance till Aunt Maude came to rescue us. He had never mentioned Brighton, in any of his conversa­tions. There was no reason he should think it was our destination. No reason we must ever see him again. It brought a profound sense of peace.

  John remained below with the Grifford family for a while after the guests had all left. I prepared for bed, donned one of Mrs. Alton’s flannelette nightgowns, and went over our plans for the morrow. The thing to do was to leave very, very early. I would wait till I heard John pass by, and give him the message. I threw my pelisse over my shoulders when I heard his steps approach. I opened the door a crack to confirm it was John. “I must speak to you,” I whispered.

  He stepped just inside the door. “I have told the Griffords we will be leaving early,” he said. “With luck, I can be back here by tomorrow evening. I want to pick up a ring while I am in the city. Tony is leaving tomorrow, too. He knows a spot that will give a good bargain, on tick. He is a capital fellow, really. Pity Perdie had not taken a liking for him.”

  “Yes, the thing is, John, we want to leave very early. Not later than six-thirty, to avoid Stornaway, you know.”

  “He should be gone by the time I get back tomor­row night, too. This will all blow over. Tempest in a teapot. I hope he don’t carry out his threat with the FHC. I’ll step along now and speak to him before I leave. He was not half so angry with me today as before. Well, he has learned what manner of crea­ture Perdie is, and will no longer care a fig for all that. Let us settle on six for breakfast, then. We have made our farewells to the Griffords, so that is no problem.”

  “Six is fine. The earlier, the better.”

  “You might talk Tony up to Perdie a little, after I am gone, Moira. He would make such a jolly neigh­bor for us, and he would have to live with her, for he hasn’t a sou to his name.”

  He left, before I had to reply to this piece of folly. I leaned against the back of the door and sighed in relief. While I rested, there was a light tap on the door. I was sure John had forgotten something. Without a single worry, I opened the door, to be pushed into the room by Stornaway. He came in after me, shut the door quietly behind him, and said, “Parting is such demmed sorrow, but you really ought to do it somewhere other than under the new fiancée’s roof, you know. Bad ton.” He held a lighted cigar in his left hand, I noticed.

  “What do you want?” I asked, consciously lowering my voice, to prevent any passerby from hearing I had a man in my room. Lord, and they would be bound to smell the smoke, too.

  “Same thing as Alton,” he answered, with an irrepressible smile. "You. We men are all alike, feet of clay."

  “Feet! You are clay to the knees. Get out.”

  “Higher!” he said, the laugh taking on a lecherous tone.

  I started to back away. The pelisse slipped from my shoulder. I reached to pull it back. Stornaway’s hand came out and whipped it off, tossed it to the bed. I was dreadfully aware of that bed, spread out so conveniently behind us. I turned sideways, so that I might back against the dresser instead.

  He lifted his brows to see Mrs. Alton’s antiquated flannelette gown on me. At least it was perfectly concealing, more so than my evening gown. “I had not thought Alton would be a demanding gentle­man, to be sure, but I had thought he would do better than this by his women.”

  “I borrowed this from his mother,” I explained, looking for any subject but the one I knew was coming.

  “I shan’t ask how it came about. A fellow who drags lightskirts along on his betrothal visit would hardly cavil at having them under his ancestral roof. I must confess, though, I find it damned off-putting . . ." he added, with a dissatisfied frown. “Spinsterish!”

  “Let us talk in the morning,” I suggested, taking a tentative step towards the door, hoping he would follow.

  He followed all right, came smack up behind me, and put his two arms around me. “Sure, Molly, we’ll talk any time you like,” he said in a soft, caressing voice, “but now . . ." He lowered his head and kissed me on the ear, which has a very peculiar effect on a person. It sent a shiver through me. I jerked away. His hand clamped my wrist in a hard grip.

  “Long threatening comes at last, my pet. Time to pay the piper. Now you wouldn’t want to set up a scream and scandalize a polite household, would you, Molly old girl? A fine way to repay Alton for his troubles.”

  “I will scream, if you don’t leave,” I threatened, but my voice was weak. People know when you are bluffing.

  He swung me around to face him, still gripping my wrist. "Time and patience have run out. This tale of procrastinated rape, in the time-honored tra­dition of Richardson, has reached its climax. I want you, Molly.”

  “But it is Perdita you—bought,” I said, stumbling over the awful word.

  “I didn’t get her, and now I have changed my mind. I want you. You sharp-tongued vixens wear better. Am I not an obliging fellow, to let her off the hook? I have concluded you guard her so carefully because she is a virgin. I am not in that line,” he said. “You are more in my style.” During this bold speech, he let his eyes wander over Mrs. Alton’s gown, which cannot have told him much. At the end, he remembered his cigar, took a puff, and blew the smoke out, some of it flying into my face.

  “You underbred boor!”

  “I had not intended more than having a few words with you at your door, or I would have left my cigar behind. It was seeing Alton slip out that put ideas into my head. I shall get rid of the cigar, if that is what is putting you off.”

  He did not let go of my wrist as he ground the cigar into the moist earth of a fern on my bedside table.

  "There is a good deal more about you than the cigar that puts me off, sir.”

  “Tell me what it is. I am eager to please you. And I think I know how to do it, too. Shall we discuss terms? You have five hundred already. Keep it, as there is no abbess or pimp to pay off. I’ll give you a thousand a year during pleasure. I don’t care to get into any annuity. I travel light.”

  “Don’t offer me any more insults.”

  The chin came up, while he looked down his nose at me. “Fifteen hundred, then. That should be an insult to please the most rapacious.”

  “Get out—now.”

  “Two thousand per annum. My top offer. Take it or leave it. I cannot believe Alton was half so gener­ous.”

  “This has nothing to do with generosity.”

  “Everything has its price. For curiosity’s sake, I should like to know your customary one, Molly.”

  “It has failed to register on your consciousness that I am a woman, not a thing.”

  “I noticed it some time ago. You certainly are a woman, a magnificent one, especially when you are angry. I bet they all tell you that,” he said, injecting a tone of admiration into his bold voice, while he tried once again to get his arms around me. “Twenty-five hundred,” he said, in a coaxing way, his voice growing husky.

  “I’ll—I’ll get the five hundred somehow,” I told him, backing away, but he kept following me. “I’ll save it up. It will take a little while. I only make a hundred a year . . ."

  “You are not exacting a sufficiently high sum from Alt
on, or from April’s prospective patron, ei­ther. Her earnings alone should provide you more than that.”

  “Miss Brodie does not have earnings. She has an income, which Sir Wilfrid handles for her.”

  “Molly, my dear girl, there is no need for this sham. I like you as you are, flaws and all. I am a wealthy, generous man.” There was a reasonable sound in his voice that had not been there earlier. Much good it would do me. He was not willing to listen to my reasoning, only his own. "This has been very amusing, a French farce, with lovers darting in and out of doors, but I want to settle the matter tonight.”

  “Please go. Someone might hear you, and that cigar smoke . . ."

  He laughed. “It never ceases to amaze me, how you girls will suddenly take into your heads to discover propriety, at the most implausible moments. Well, this is a proper household, and your friend has just got himself engaged, so perhaps it will be best to postpone it till tomorrow. But tomorrow, Molly . . ."

  Tomorrow I would be gone. “Yes, tomorrow,” I said, in a placating way, as I urged him towards the door.

  “You agree, then?”

  I did not actually say yes, nor even nod my head, but I did not deny it, which he took for agreement. “We’ll take April wherever she is going, and I will take you to a place I have, a very nice house,” he said. I smiled nervously, wishing he would stop these plans. “We are going to be very happy, Molly. We shall suit admirably. You’ll see. Don’t judge by the way I have been carrying on with April. I was only vexed at being outwitted by a—by you and Daugherty.”

  I got him to the door as he spoke, listened to ensure the hall was empty, then opened the door an inch to peek out. “Can’t we seal it with a kiss at least tonight?” he asked, but still in a reasonable manner.

  “No, I . . .”

  “Yes.”

  I was in his arms, with his head coming down to me. His lips found mine. Believing me to be a profes­sional at this sort of thing, he did not hold anything back. I was subjected to a ruthless, long, passionate embrace that left me weak, breathless, shaken with shock.

  “There goes my sleep. This is going to be a long night,” he said, with a glowing smile, friendly. Then he kissed the tip of my nose, and slipped silently out the door.

  The most amazing thing about the encounter was how enjoyable was the chore for which certain women were paid staggering sums of money. No, I think there was one item more amazing still—that I was considered dashing and desirable enough to qualify. Like Tuck’s theatrical performance, one was mor­ally bound to object, to take dire offense in this case, but if one were a legal wife, it would be a different matter.

  I wondered, as I sat on the edge of my bed looking out at the moon, what Lady Dulcinea was like. I indulged, too, in a little self-pity. Every girl or woman one met, or the ladies at least, were being helped to a husband. Millie’s parents threw her a party, Lady Dulcinea’s got her Stornaway, Maude would make a good match for Perdita. Who was to act for me? I would obviously not settle for being Stornaway’s mistress, but I would look sharp when we got to Brighton. I would find someone, and it would not be an aging widower, either. If Stornaway could admire me as a woman . . . But it was best to forget Lord Stornaway.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  The sky was just lightening when I awoke, tired, my eyes gritty from lack of sleep. I made a hasty toilette in cold water, noticed Stornaway’s cigar butt in the potted fern and threw it out the window, then went next door to rouse Perdita. It took five minutes to get her from her bed. While she complained and dressed, I packed up our few belongings and tidied her room, which she had managed to reduce to an utter shambles. The kitten bounced off a chair in the corner and meowed under my feet. We moved qui­etly along the hallway to prevent awaking the other sleepers. Already the servants were up. The aroma of coffee greeted us, along with sounds from the breakfast parlor hinting at cups being placed on the table. With a rising sense of urgency, I told Perdita we would have only coffee, to hasten our departure.

  "If John is even up yet,” she answered, smothering a yawn.

  John was not only up but already into a breakfast of gammon and eggs. Millicent sat at his side, looking disgustingly bright and chipper for six o’clock in the morning. I did no more than glance at them. Stornaway was up, too, sitting at the end of the table with an anticipatory smile decorating his face.

  I stopped dead in the doorway, my eyes flying to John. The gentlemen disturbed their eating to arise and make us welcome. John had the decency at least to look embarrassed, but beneath the embarrass­ment was a firm sense of purpose, as he outlined the change of plans.

  “It happens Stornaway is going back to London today, girls, and has offered to drop you off at Mama’s. It will save me the trip.”

  With Millicent smiling her approval, it was diffi­cult to enter into the tirade that was building up inside me. Perdita took the offer as another compli­ment to her own charms. Tired as she was, she cast a coquettish smile on Stornaway as he placed her chair. I said literally not a word, but I had not the least notion of leaving Bromley Hall in any carriage but John’s. When I took my seat beside John, he leaned over and said in an undertone, “No need to frown like Jove, Moira. I explained the whole to him. We’ll talk before you go.”

  So eager was I to hear this talk that I had only half a cup of coffee, before making an excuse to return to my room. I cast an imperative stare on John, who joined me in the hallway within a minute.

  “You have got to take us, John. You cannot desert us now.”

  “You misunderstand. We had a long talk last night, the two of us. I convinced him he was wrong about Perdie. He’s not going to blackball me with the FHC. Quite a decent chap, really, when you come to know him.”

  “How did you convince him? He would never lis­ten to me.”

  “You’re a woman,” was the unhelpful answer. “He listened to me right enough. Told him your whole story—about old man Croft, and that trollop Perdie’s papa got shackled to, the lot. He is very sorry he acted so awful, wants a chance to apologize, make it up. Now listen to sense, do, Moira. How should I be sending a couple of actresses to put up with Mama? Go with him, and I won’t have to make that demmed long trip there and back today. Millicent and I were planning to go to visit her Aunt Hazel this afternoon. Rich as a nabob. She might give us a set of sterling silver plate, if we butter her up right.”

  Even in the midst of my turmoil, I could not but smile at John’s new turn for domesticity and acqui­sition. "You are sure he understands? We will be in a fine state if he has gammoned you.”

  “Lord, Moira, men don’t gull each other. He knows full well I would be obliged to call him out if he tried anything. Wouldn’t care for that, and he on the edge of an engagement himself. Now there is a good point to bear in mind if he does try anything off-color. You have only to let drop the name Lady Dulcinea, and he’ll fall into line. He wouldn’t want that blue sock he’s dangling after to hear a hint of his carrying on.”

  “You think he might try it, then! You have just admitted it.”

  “I don’t. I know full well he won’t do nothing havey-cavey, for he told me so. He only wants a chance to make it up to you and Perdie for the way he’s pestered the pair of you to death.”

  As he finished this speech, the others joined us in the hallway.

  “All set and ready to go, ladies?” Stornaway asked, in a perfectly polite manner. There was no mischief in his eyes. Really, I thought he did look slightly repentant.

  “This has worked out very conveniently,” Millicent congratulated the group. “Now John and I can begin paying some visits to relatives who have not met him.”

  “The weather looks good, too,” Stornaway pointed out, glancing towards the windows. “We should be in London by early afternoon. I have an appointment this evening.”

  After a few more respectable utterances from him, I was convinced he had accepted the truth about us. It would be amusing to hear his apologies and ex­planation
s. John and Millicent came out to the front to wave us off.

  The apologies were not so amusing as I had hoped. As to the explanation, it was practically nonexis­tent, but at least he did apologize, and behaved with decency. "I am sorry for the difficulty I have caused you both since our meeting,” he said as soon as we got rolling. "We all know what caused my misappre­hension. The less said of the affair, the better. So, ladies, I cannot believe you plan to remain indefi­nitely with Mrs. Alton in London. A Mrs. Cosgrove, Alton mentioned as your chaperone. Aunt, is she?”

  "She is my aunt, and Moira’s cousin,” Perdita told him. "We are going to stay with her in Brighton, if she will let us.”

  “Is there some doubt about it?” he asked, looking startled.

  As I firmly declared “no,” Perdita said, “Oh, yes,” and went on to explain.

  I had very little to do but listen during the re­mainder of the morning. Perdita, her imagination and dramatic instinct activated by a handsome lis­tener, went into a lengthy spiel of her melodramatic background. A tear oozed out as she mentioned her mother’s death. Her stepmother was sunk from being a common, jealous female to a positive ogress, who would force her to have the libidinous Mr. Croft, and steal her fortune into the bargain if she could.

  "Quite like a romantic novel,” Stornaway men­tioned, properly awed. “Just what is the extent of your fortune?” I measured a calculating stare on him, but his eyes rested on Perdita. We were in his carriage, not the curricle. His tiger drove the latter; he had passed us a few miles before. It was beginning to appear to me the gentleman had a new set of designs on my charge. Whatever Lady Dulcinea might look like, she could not possibly be prettier than Perdita. He had described the lady as dull, which was a charge never levelled at Miss Brodie. In fortune, it was unlikely the noble Dulcinea outranked my cousin. The only other matter up for comparison was behavior; Perdita’s assorted tricks had never disgusted any other suitor, once her fortune was known. I supposed Stornaway was not that different from other men in that respect.