by Joan Smith
“Fotherington must have been mixed up in it,” the dame said, nodding. “Several M.P.’s went along to help out with clerical duties. Perhaps he was giving away secrets to the enemy for money to pay his debts. He never came back to London—we heard later he shot himself in the mouth to avoid the shame of prosecution.” A collective frisson went around the table at the image this called up. “Helena disappeared from the face of the earth. I had not heard her name again until tonight.”
“And she is married again, is she?” one of the ladies asked.
“Back, and married to a Mr. Leonard, at the Horse Guards,” Lady Lyman said.
“I don’t know any harm of the lady except that she is forthcoming,” Mrs. Leadbeater said forgivingly. “I mean to say, it is not her fault if Fotherington went astray. Poor gel, left without a penny to fly with. I remember everyone felt sorry for her. She was quite popular. That is my trick,” she said, and scooped up the cards. “Your deal, Lady Lyman.”
The card game continued, and the gossip turned to Lord Byron and Lady Caroline Lamb.
Chapter Nine
The Royal Coburg lacked the finer amenities of Drury Lane, but it had boxes, at least, and it was to one of them that Gordon planned to take his sister.
“What do you mean, they are all sold out?” he demanded when the ticket seller told him this was the case.
“I could let you have a place in the gallery.”
“The gallery! My good man, I am with a lady!”
“Never mind, Gordon,” Cathy said with a sigh of disappointment. “Perhaps you could buy a seat now for tomorrow night.”
“Dash it, we have had the horses put to. We have crossed the demmed slippery bridge in this filthy cold weather. You cannot expect me to devote every night of the week to obliging my sister. You stay here, Cathy, I shall take a peek into the boxes. I know for a fact Edison and Swinton have a box, for they invited me to go snacks on it with them. They may be able to squeeze us in.”
He nipped upstairs, and Cathy stood alone, feeling more conspicuous than she liked, with the crowd pouring in. The audience was a somewhat motley crew, but there was a good sprinkling of the ton arriving. Before long, Gordon was back.
“It is just as I thought. Edison insists we join him. There is only one empty seat in the box, but I shan’t mind standing. Parker is bound to leave before half an hour. He cannot go a whole night without gambling. Come along. They are waiting for us. You know Edison and Swinton.”
She recognized two of the young gentlemen who rose to make their bows as chums of Gordon’s. Swinton insisted on giving up his seat in the front of the box to Cathy. Three other gentlemen were introduced, but in the confusion she did not catch their names. It felt a little strange to be completely surrounded by black jackets. Cathy feared her presence was restricting their merriment at first, for the most often heard speech was “Watch your language, my good man. There is a lady present.”
The gentlemen soon forgot she was a lady and the box echoed with the boisterous sound of England’s gilded youth, snickering, teasing, and abusing each other in language fit for an Irish chairman. The responsibility of behaving properly fell to her immediate partner, Edison. He was a portly blond with a round face, wearing a cravat that looked as if it had been put on with a pitchfork, and a jacket with padded shoulders. He civilly inquired if she was comfortable two or three times, and when she convinced him she was, his conversation dried up. He turned his glasses on the other boxes and forgot her.
Cathy feared he might fall over the railing when he discovered Miss Stanfield across the hall. In his excitement, he forgot not only his manners but the law of gravity as well. Cathy had to snatch at the tails of his jacket to keep him from tumbling out of the box.
The farce being enacted was an inane thing with less plot than shouting and running about, making faces at the audience. As the females wore daring gowns and the dialogue was not far from lewd, however, the gentlemen enjoyed it very much. Cathy soon became bored and turned her glasses on the other boxes.
She first examined Miss Stanfield, to discover what it was about her that had all the young gentlemen acting like moonlings. She was a petite blond lady with full cheeks, lustrous eyes, and a permanent pout. Her gown was a marvel of lace and ribbons, and her hair was tightly curled. She worked her fan very fetchingly, but for the rest, Cathy found nothing outstanding in her. She supposed it was some spoilt beauty like Miss Stanfield that Lord Costain would marry one day.
When she had looked her fill at Miss Stanfield, she turned her glass along to the next box, and the next, assessing the ladies’ toilettes and the gentlemen’s faces and shoulders. In the farthest box on her left, she discovered Mrs. Leonard, and spent some time examining her.
She really was something quite out of the ordinary. Her palely beautiful face was designed on classical proportions, but it was the expression that caught Cathy’s interest. She was one of those rare ladies whose beauty is enhanced by repose. The evening before she had looked only pretty, but sitting so still in the shadowed box, she looked beautiful, and ineffably sad. Were it not for the diamonds glittering at her throat, she might have posed for a painting of the Madonna by some Renaissance master. She wore a plain dark gown that added more distinction than all of Miss Stanfield’s embellishments. Cathy wished she had such countenance, such poise. Mrs. Leonard was accompanied by an elderly lady.
Cathy wondered if the chaperone might be French. She was about to nudge Mr. Edison and ask for the dame’s name, when a black sleeve came forward from behind Mrs. Leonard, proffering her a box of bonbons. Cathy trained the glasses to see the man’s face. Presumably it would be Harold Leonard. She discovered he was a completely undistinguished man with gray hair. He might have been her father. She espied another man beside the elderly man, and focused her gaze on him. This was more like it! She caught a gleam of black hair, and a handsome profile.
Then the younger man turned, and she recognized the unmistakable features of Lord Costain. He was sitting in Mrs. Leonard’s box! How was it possible? No wonder he never gave herself a second look. What a perfect couple the two of them made. Cathy stared for a long time, then she nudged Mr. Edison’s arm and said, “Who is the chaperone with the beautiful black-haired lady in the corner box? Do you recognize her?”
Mr. Edison trained his glasses in the proper direction and emitted a soft sigh of pleasure. “I haven’t a notion, but the brunette is certainly an Incomparable. I shall ask Swinton. He might know.”
A moment later, Edison leaned over and said, “He don’t know the old lady, but the Incomparable is a Mrs. Leonard. The old duffer behind her is her husband. What a waste!”
“Thank you. I was just curious. I thought I recognized the chaperone.”
“Swinton knows all the beauties. This one ain’t exactly top drawer, but she has them all beat for looks. Caro Lamb is nothing to her.”
“Yes,” Cathy agreed, in a daze.
“I say, Miss Lyman, are you feeling all right?”
“I am fine, thank you,” she said, and attempted a smile. She set her glasses in her lap, in case Costain should see her spying on him.
The shouting from the stage and the laughter of the audience whirled around her unheeded. Costain and Helena Leonard, together. What did it mean? Had he been fooling them all along? Why had he set Gordon the task of following her, since he made little of Gordon’s startling discovery? As she sat, thinking, the answer came to her.
He was Helena’s lover, and he had chosen this underhanded way of having her followed. He wanted to know if she was being unfaithful to her lover as well as to her husband. Well, he had found out, and it served him right!
At intermission she told Gordon what she had discovered. He elected to remain behind with her while their companions went out to strut the halls. It seemed at first that the Leonards and Costain were not going to leave their box. They had arranged for wine to be brought in. The four of them sat sipping their wine and chatting. Cathy and Gordon moved to the
shadows at the rear of their own box and watched through their glasses. They noticed that the older lady talked to Mr. Leonard, while Costain entertained Helena. Occasionally Mr. Leonard said a word to them. Poor man. He did not suspect he had a viper in his bosom.
Suddenly Mrs. Leonard stood up. Costain rose and took her arm to lead her from the box. Mr. Leonard and the elderly female companion remained behind.
“Costain has been making fools of us!” Cathy said angrily. “He is her lover, and he suspects she has another. That is why he set you to watch her, to find out who the man is.”
“We don’t know that. You are jumping to conclusions. He wouldn’t be brazen enough to join his lover and her husband. It has got to be innocent.”
“He has the gall for anything. Why did Costain not tell us about this when you asked him what we should do tonight? He felt he was safe, since you told him you would be at your club, and I said I would stay home and write letters. I begin to wonder just why Cosgrave does not trust him with any important work, Gordie. Perhaps Lord Costain put that translation I did for him to some evil use. I have abetted the enemy.”
“If you did, and I don’t believe it for a moment, you were an innocent dupe. They won’t lob off your head for that. I shall nip out and have a word with Leo,” Gordon said.
“No! He must not discover we are on to him.”
Gordon’s youthful face pinched to slyness. “We’ll play a covert game,” he said. “I shall edge up close behind them and see if I can overhear what they are saying. Pity I left off my disguise.”
Cathy felt a nearly overwhelming compulsion to go along with her brother, but common sense deterred her. One black jacket was much like another. Gordon might manage to overhear them without being noticed among the crush of black jackets, but a couple would be more noticeable.
“I cannot stay alone in the box, Gordon. Take me out to join Mr. Edison.”
“I will then, but be quick about it. The intermission is half over.”
They nipped smartly out into the corridor. If Mr. Edison was unhappy to be saddled once again with the chore of escorting Gordon’s sister, he was too polite to show it. In fact, Cathy took the notion he was happy to have a lady to flaunt in front of Miss Stanfield. They strolled past Miss Stanfield and her court for the remaining length of the intermission. Mr. Edison was seized by an unfamiliar streak of jollity each time they drew near the Incomparable. Cathy’s slightest remark set him off in peals of merry laughter.
“What a squeeze” is all she said, and he drew to a full stop just two yards from Miss Stanfield.
“Ha-ha, you are a regular jokesmith, ma’am. You have hit it on the head. A squeeze is exactly what it is. I feel like a lemon.” His eyes veered off to see if he was being noticed.
“You will be happy to hear you do not look like one, Mr. Edison.”
“I should hope I am not yellow! Ha-ha-ha. I may be a little green, but time will cure that.”
“You are certainly full of juice at any rate.”
“I should say so! You have hit it on the head. Just so long as you are not calling me sour.” Again he peered toward the Incomparable.
She had moved away, and Mr. Edison suddenly lost all his hilarity. “Well, are you enjoying the performance?” he asked.
“Indeed I am.” Especially since leaving our box, she added to herself.
Cathy kept her eyes peeled for Lord Costain and Mrs. Leonard, but did not see so much as a sign of them. The intermission was long, giving her time to see everyone in the corridor. They were not there. She could conclude only that they had left, and hoped that Gordon had contrived to follow them.
When the warning bell sounded, Mr. Edison escorted her back to the box. As they struggled through the crowd, she spotted Mr. Burack. He seemed to be looking around for the rest of his party. He saw her and nodded, then continued his scan of the crowd.
As soon as Cathy was in her seat, her eyes flew across the hall to Mrs. Leonard’s box. Only Mr. Leonard and the female companion were there. Cathy raised her glasses, and saw that Mrs. Leonard’s wrap still hung over the back of her seat. She planned to return then.
Suddenly Gordon appeared at her side. He tapped Cathy on the shoulder and beckoned her to the back of the box. “Swinton’s left. You can sit back here beside me and talk.”
She gave one last look to the other box just as Costain led Mrs. Leonard to her seat. They were both smiling innocently. Cathy joined Gordon as the curtain rose.
“What happened? Where did they go?” she demanded.
“He took her down to the lobby for a breath of air. I managed to overhear that much. She said she was feeling faint. I crept downstairs behind them, but it was impossible to go to the lobby without being seen. There was no one there but the fellow who takes the tickets and a couple of post boys. We shall follow them home, of course.”
“What can happen? Mr. Leonard is with them.”
“Then we’ll follow Costain.”
Cathy had no objection to this idea. The play seemed to last a very long time. Her head was splitting long before it was over. What occupied her mind was what she should do now that she was convinced Lord Costain had turned traitor to his country.
Obviously someone in authority must be told. The logical person to tell was his superior, Lord Cosgrave. She sensed that Cosgrave already mistrusted Costain, so he would listen to her.
Tomorrow she and Gordon must go to the Horse Guards and seek an interview with Lord Cosgrave. The interview loomed before her with all the horror of a trip to the tooth drawer. How could Costain do such a thing? He was an officer and a nobleman. What had he to gain by betraying his country? It was all her fault. The beautiful Mrs. Leonard had led him astray. He must love her very much.
Cathy did not feel up to any more sleuthing that night. She could not believe that Costain would attempt anything when the lady’s husband was of the party. “You follow them, Gordon. I have a headache.”
“How the devil can I follow them if I have to take you home? Perhaps Edison ...”
“I cannot like to ask him. If we left now, you could take me home and be back on time to follow Costain.”
“Yes, by Jove. I have lost all track of the play anyhow, so I shall have to come back another time. Grab your wrapper, then, and let us go.”
Gordon whispered a word in Edison’s ear and he and Cathy left the theater. When they reached King Charles Street, Gordon said, “If you want to learn what happened, wait in the study. We can talk there without disturbing anyone.”
“Yes, I should like to hear what happens.” Since she knew sleep would be impossible, the study was as good a place to wait as any.
Lady Lyman had just retired when Cathy reached home. Cathy was relieved to be spared putting on a smile and pretending she had had an enjoyable evening. She went to the study and lit the fire that was laid for the morning, then poured a glass of sherry and sipped it while gazing into the grate.
The leaping flames did not warm her. She felt cold and empty inside. Costain was a traitor, and it was her duty to report him. She had no idea how long it might be before Gordon came home, but as it would probably be over an hour, she curled up in a padded chair and tried to get comfortable.
She had fallen into a lovely daydream when the tap came at the study door. Gordon had decided to enter this way. She rose and hurried to let him in. When she opened the door, Lord Costain stepped in, uninvited.
“Miss Lyman, I know it is late, but may I have a moment of your time?”
Chapter Ten
Cathy just stared, incapable of speech. She was not so much frightened as momentarily stunned beyond any sensation.
Costain watched as her lips trembled and her eyes, wide with fear, blinked nervously. “What an idiot I am! I’ve frightened you half to death. I am sorry, Miss Lyman. It is only your faithful old lion, Leo,” he said, smiling to ease her fears. His gloved hands reached out and gripped her wrists to steady her. “You’ll catch your death here. Let us close the door,�
� he said, and placing an arm around her shoulder, he drew her into the study.
She twitched away. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. Her voice, though breathless, sounded truculent.
“There is no need to bite my head off. I didn’t come to steal your books,” he replied in an injured tone. “When I saw your light on, I thought perhaps you expected me. I noticed you noticing me at the theater.” A smile grew on his handsome face as he removed his coat and tossed it aside, sure of his welcome. He walked toward the grate and held his hands out to the fire. “Ah, that feels good.”
“I thought it was you in that box,” Cathy said. When she took a seat on the sofa, he joined her. She was unsure how to behave, but soon decided to act as normally as possible. He thought a smile and a flirtatious word was all it took to con her. Let him think it! His conceit might serve her well.
“Those were the Leonards I was with,” he said. “You would have recognized the fair Helena. The old fellow is Harold.”
She nodded. “So I assumed. Who was the elderly lady?”
Costain stretched his long legs toward the blazing grate and drew a sigh of satisfaction. “A neighbor and relation, a Mrs. Newhart. Are you not curious to learn how I came to be with Helena?”
“I was wondering why you were with the Leonards,” she said, not stressing the plural, but using it intentionally.
He cocked a brow and said brashly, “Point taken. Harold was there, too, though he is eminently forgettable.”
“I noticed you forgot to include him at the intermission.”
“Oh, that was intentional. I am not that forgetful. But we are beginning in media res here. Let me begin at the beginning. I decided to follow Gordon’s lead and keep an eye on Mrs. Leonard this evening,” he explained. “That is why I did not call on you. I followed the Leonards to the Royal Coburg and went in behind them, hoping to add myself to their party. The boxes were sold out, and when Mr. Leonard saw me turned away, he offered me a spare seat in his box. Naturally I jumped at the chance.”