“How can you be so headstrong?” he fumed at her. “You know absolutely nothing of this man. He could well be dangerous, and I am certain he means to do you some mischief. That is quite the stupidest thing I have seen in many a day.”
“You may keep your criticisms to yourself, Mr. Hazelforth,” Cat returned sharply. “I shall do just as I please, and I shall thank you very much not to interfere further.”
“You may certainly risk your own stubborn neck for aught I care,” Hazelforth exploded, “but you have no right whatsoever to introduce such a questionable person to Lady Mouse's home.”
Cat could indeed see the validity of his censure, and the justice of it stung her to the core. Nevertheless, she was not one to readily admit an error in judgment. It was just as well, she thought huffily as they arrived at Montrose House, that there was no chance of a romantic inclination on Hazelforth's part, for each of them would very likely vie for the honor of murdering the other before their nuptials had long been concluded.
Chapter Eleven
Mr. Hazelforth left Cat at the door of Montrose House in what she considered to be a chillingly uncivil manner; indeed, he paused only a moment to scratch Caesar and Brutus under their chins before brusquely bidding her a good day. Had his demeanor been less forbidding as they left the park, Cat felt she might well have conceded her error in inviting the dubious Mr. D'Ashley to call. But I shall be damned, she thought wickedly, if I do any such thing now.
As Cat entered the foyer, she was greeted by an ecstatic Lady Montrose, who fairly pulled her inside the door. “Ah, Catherine, my dear, you have callers! Now don't worry about changing from your walking dress. Just go along in and greet them.”
At the prospect of still more callers that day, Cat groaned inwardly and hoped that she could contrive to make the visit a short one. Gritting her teeth determinedly, she turned toward the drawing room. It was with a great deal of pleasure, therefore, that when she opened the door she discovered none other than Cecily and John, just returned from their wedding trip on the Continent.
Cat flung herself into their arms with an enthusiasm and affection equaled only by that displayed by the two little terriers. “Cecily, my angel! John, my dear! Let me just look at you. Lord, how I have missed you both! Now you must sit and tell me everything. Shall I ring for tea? No, I see you have some. Where is Eveline?”
“Calm down, Cat,” Cecily laughed merrily at her. “I declare, you are acting just like me. Can London have changed you that much? Eveline is not here—she has gone riding out with somebody or another. Now, you sit down and have some tea with us. Our news is quite simple: the Continent, of course, is quite lovely, but I fear we have admired more great monuments, been lost in more cavernous museums, and stared into the depths of more dark paintings than even you and Eveline could bear. In short, we are come back to comfortable old England and are enormously glad of it.”
“Quite so,” John added with his characteristic succinctness.
During Cecily's speech, Cat had drunk in the sight of this pair. She had not known just how fond she was of this lighthearted couple until now. John looked much as he ever had, but Cecily seemed to have acquired a good deal of sophistication during her short time on the Continent. Her gown of azure blue trimmed in Bruges lace was elegantly styled and fit to perfection. Atop her golden curls sat a Victoria hat turned up on one side and ornamented with several ostrich feathers.
“I have just been acquainting myself with your charming cousins, Catherine,” Lady Montrose told her with a smile.
“Oh, yes,” Cecily chimed in, “and we are become old friends in just an hour's time. Lady Mouse and I shall be intimates before the day is much older.”
At this, Cat reflected with amusement that it was a good thing Cecily had so little to conceal or she might well be reading the secrets of her young life in the pages of the Daily Courant the next morning.
“It seems to me, Catherine,” Lady Montrose interjected, “that we must have some celebration in honor of your cousins now they are returned. What do you say to a fancy dress ball?”
“Oh, I should like that of all things!” Cecily cried out before Cat could reply. “I could be a shepherdess all in pink ruffles, and John could be a dear rustic with a peaked cap and a staff! It will be great fun, don't you think, John?”
“Won't wear a mask, Cecily. Deuced bother, masks. Dribble my punch down when I wear a mask.”
“Then we shall just wear little dominoes, my love. You see, Cat! John is just as excited as I am! I shall set about ordering my costume immediately. What a grand time we shall have!”
“I believe we can have all the arrangements made and entertainments devised in two weeks' time, if we put our heads to it,” Lady Montrose continued, toying speculatively with her lorgnette. “I shall speak to Matey this very day. If we open the doors into the conservatory and out from there into the orangeries, we should have room for thirty couples. That would be just the right size, don't you agree, Cecily?”
As the two ladies began to plan the upcoming festivity, Cat could not help but feel somewhat superfluous to their gaiety and turned to John who sat quietly by, basking in his wife's energies.
“It seems we are to leave you no peace at all in which to enjoy your homecoming, John. Tell me, have you taken a house?”
“Indeed, we are not five minutes' walk from here, Cat, so you and Cecily can contrive your visits most conveniently. We are fortunate in having such ready access to our families, for my parents are here, as well as my cousin Hazelforth, I hear from Lady Montrose.” Here John paused significantly, and it was clear that he meant her to say something, but she knew not what. She was sincerely tired of explaining her situation, as well as disturbed by the role Hazelforth had taken.
Luckily, she was saved the annoyance of relating the particulars, for Cecily broke in, “My parents have told me of your predicament, Cat. What a nuisance! I know it must be hard on you, but do not worry. We shall help you make the best of it, I promise. Besides, I believe this costume ball should be the very thing to divert you from your troubles.”
“I fear I have all too much diversion of late,” Cat replied wryly. “I don't believe I have had an entire evening to myself since I arrived. Tonight there is a dinner party, a ball on the weekend, and next week we are all engaged to go to Vauxhall Gardens with Mr. Abelwhite.”
“Vauxhall Gardens!” Cecily exclaimed with a laugh. “How decadent! However will you contrive to read your latest novel in such dim light?”
“Perhaps I can impose upon Mr. Abelwhite to hold my lamp! Do please meet us there, both of you,” Cat begged, “for we have a great deal to catch up on. Your enthusiasm for the Continent is not what mine might be, but I should love to hear of your travels in any case. Besides, I gather I shall need all the daunting presence of my family if our Mr. Abelwhite is truly the rogue Mr. Hazelforth paints him.”
John, who had not seen Cat deliver a good verbal trouncing in some time, pronounced the proposed outing a capital idea. Lady Montrose, on the other hand, now begged off, owning that she had much rather avoid the night air as long as she knew Cat would be adequately attended. John and Cecily soon took their leave as they had a number of other calls to make, but promised to join the party at Vauxhall the following week, as well as pledging to dine often at Montrose House in the days that followed.
Indeed, those days were so taken up with engagements and Cat's attention was so arduously engaged by her new concentration on decorum that she hardly felt herself. It was, as she told Eveline, as if someone else altogether had assumed her life and her true personality was moldering away unused on some dark shelf. Under propriety's deadening influence, one smiling face blended into another, and Cat vowed that she could hardly tell one new acquaintance from another, nor even distinguish her own personality from theirs. Hazelforth and Sommers often helped make up their party, but Cat's attention was so often engaged by her own endeavors and Hazelforth remained so strangely aloof that they found little opp
ortunity to converse. Time, however, passed in a heady reel, and soon the evening of their excursion to Vauxhall arrived.
If Mr. Abelwhite had formulated any designs on Cat, he was soon forced to rethink his stratagem, for, in spite of the initial promise suggested by Lady Montrose's absence, the size and composition of Cat's party proved to be daunting indeed.
He had called just as dusk was beginning to deepen, and very gracefully bowed the ladies into his waiting barouche, paying them many fine compliments. Had either of the ladies been called upon to express a candid opinion, they, too, would have been forced to agree with Mr. Abelwhite that they did indeed look charming. Cat was dressed in a gown of fine silver gauze over a midnight blue, accented by silver spangles woven into her hair; Eveline wore a gown of subdued heliotrope edged with pearl silk.
While Cat was well aware of the reputation of Vauxhall Gardens as a place where unbridled flirtation, intrigue, and worse held sway, she was unprepared for the very real beauty of the place which greeted them when their carriage arrived. The gardens, which were in full bloom, filled the air with a heady aroma and were lit by thousands of small lamps making the landscape a veritable fairyland. The strains of a small orchestra filtered through the trees, accompanied by the slight tinkling of crystal goblets and the echoing laughter of coquettes.
Mr. Abelwhite led the ladies to a small pavilion he had reserved and ordered champagne and ices to be served, but before long Cat and Eveline were very much disconcerted to find that a number of quizzing glasses turned upon them as they took their seats.
“Ah, ladies, you are much noticed tonight. Well, that is no surprise, for you are both vastly more handsome than any others in the gardens. I am quite sensible of the privilege of your company, you may rest assured,” Abelwhite told them with an ingratiating smile. Cat and Eveline, who were already becoming quite annoyed with his excesses, merely nodded as civilly as they could and addressed themselves instead to the champagne which was, according to Mr. Abelwhite, the only beverage available to alleviate the warmth of the evening.
A good many gentlemen of Mr. Abelwhite's acquaintance contrived to pass by their pavilion in the first half hour after their arrival. While Cat was unable to articulate the nature of her misgivings at these introductions, she could not help feeling very much like a prize pony at the fair, so closely was she scrutinized. It would indeed have surprised her very little had one of them expressed a desire to examine her teeth. Soon enough, Cat found herself inexpressibly weary of their superficial conversation, and she allowed her attention to wander idly to the crowd assembled about them.
The concept of Vauxhall Gardens had always appealed to Cat's democratic notions, for admission was only limited by the ability to pay a nominal fee. Nevertheless, it was quite shocking to see, at tables not far removed from their own, indisputable members of the demimonde. Moreover, these ladies in their scandalously sheer gowns and plunging necklines were all too clearly revealing in their irreverent condition.
Cat had never been one to condemn a fallen woman; on the contrary, she had incurred the censure of a number of her more pious neighbors when she had imposed her will upon her uncle and insisted that female members of the staff who had found themselves with child must be supported through their difficulties and allowed to remain at the Hall. Nonetheless, Cat had always associated any fall from grace with an accompanying sense of remorse. These ladies displayed nothing of the kind, however, and were, to all appearances, enjoying themselves and the attentions of their masculine compatriots immensely. Noting Eveline's heightened color and downcast eyes, Cat began to feel quite contrite about their presence, and she regretted her headstrong acceptance of Mr. Abelwhite's invitation.
“Drat the man!” Mr. Abelwhite's bad-tempered exclamation broke through Cat's reflections. “Here comes that tedious Sir Harold Talbot. Whatever does he mean, following us here?”
Cat could hardly imagine a person more out of place at Vauxhall Gardens unless it were Parson Tweedle, but there indeed was Sir Harold being carried toward their pavilion in a sedan chair.
“Miss Catherine! This is indeed a pleasure. And Miss Bailey, is it? Bartell? Bostich?”
“Miss Bartlett,” Cat corrected him through clenched teeth.
“Of course. Just what I said. Miss Bartley. Abelwhite, help me down here. There, careful now. Ah, an empty chair! Good show! Slowly, slowly, don't drop me all at once,” he cautioned as he slid into the seat just vacated by Mr. Abelwhite. “There now. Where are you sitting, Abelwhite? You can't just stand around gaping like a trout—go and find yourself a chair.”
Mr. Abelwhite, much disgruntled at this turn of events, cast a petulant look in Sir Harold's direction and went to find an attendant.
“You are looking quite well, Miss Catherine. Healthy color. Clear eyes. All of that. No unmanageable dogs skulking around, eh?” With that, Sir Harold indulged in a short, mirthless laugh.
“I do hope you are feeling better, Sir Harold,” Cat remarked with studied sweetness. “I was just saying to Miss Bartlett yesterday, I don't have the least idea what came over my dear little criminals. They are usually so submissive.”
At this remark, Eveline was forced to turn away and cough into her handkerchief in a very suspicious manner. Sir Harold, however, was oblivious to the irony of Cat's remarks and launched recklessly into a lecture on the stringent training to which he submitted his own hounds. “First thing they must learn is absolute and total obedience,” he expounded. “Whatever I tell 'em to fetch, they must try with all their might to comply. I recollect Bounder as a pup, tugging away at a pair of andirons with all his might.”
“You mean you set them impossible tasks! How can you be so excessive?” Cat exclaimed.
“Good for 'em,” Sir Harold grunted, beaming at his own expertise. “Give me a month or two with your rascals and you'd not know 'em.”
“Indeed,” Cat responded, horrified at such a prospect, “I don't imagine I should.”
Sir Harold helped himself liberally to the refreshments and refilled the glasses all around. Cat, who by now had drunk considerably more champagne than she was used to, had been looking rather hazily through the crowd for the arrival of John and Cecily; she now spotted them among the advancing throngs and caught their attention. She was dismayed but a good deal gratified to see that they were accompanied by both Hazelforth and Mr. Sommers, who were able to arrange additional chairs to be brought with a good deal more efficiency than Mr. Abelwhite was apparently capable of mustering.
The champagne was responsible for at least a momentary softening of her recent animosity toward Hazelforth, and Cat found herself hoping that the evening would offer an opportunity to mend the rift in their relationship. True, she did not appreciate his meddling, but she did, after all, value his friendship.
“Sit down, sit down,” Sir Harold invited them, pouring Mr. Abelwhite's champagne all around and ordering more. “Good of you to join us here.”
“Why, Cat,” Cecily exclaimed, looking about, “wherever has your Mr. Abelwhite gone?”
“That numbskull puppy!” Sir Harold interjected with a scornful chortle. “Young fool didn't have a chair. Standing around like an idle footman, so I sent him off.”
At this remark, Cat found that she had to bite her tongue quite soundly to keep from laughing out loud; this exercise was quite useless, however, when Mr. Abelwhite did return. For though an attendant was indeed following him with a chair, his private pavilion was by now so crowded with unexpected guests that there was no place for him in any case. The look of pained annoyance on his face was so comical that Cat and indeed, Eveline, were forced to turn away under the guise of a whispered tête-à-tête.
Recovering himself quickly, Abelwhite greeted the newcomers and addressed himself to Cat, “Perhaps, Miss Mansard, you would care to take a short turn about the gardens. I'm sure you would enjoy seeing the main pavilion and the orchestra.”
Both Hazelforth and Sir Harold looked so incensed by this invitation that Cat
found herself willfully moved to accept it, and taking Abelwhite's proffered arm, the pair withdrew into the gardens. These were laid out so skillfully and with such splendor that Cat at first did not notice that they were not proceeding at all in the direction of either the main pavilion or the orchestra. As they threaded their way through the throng, Abelwhite pointed out this or that interesting personage, or called her attention to various favorite fountains or statues. Only when the press of the crowd grew less did Cat realize through her fogged senses that they were leaving the main thoroughfare and entering a more secluded and quite dark footpath.
“Mr. Abelwhite,” she protested with some apprehension, “I fear you have mistaken a turn. Let us turn back the way we came.”
Disregarding her hesitation with a short laugh, he steered her into a small, secluded courtyard. “Forgive my impetuousness, Miss Catherine, but I felt I must get you away from that noisome crowd. I have yet to see you alone, you know.”
“Certainly that is as it should be, Mr. Abelwhite. Please, do take me back to the others.”
Instead of complying, Abelwhite merely moved to block her retreat before continuing, “Pray, give me a moment. Since I first met you, I have longed to see you here in the moonlight. And here you are at last, shrouded in silver like Artemis herself. Pray let me worship at your shrine!” Had Mr. Abelwhite knelt at her feet after such a ludicrous speech. Cat would merely have been chagrined; she was, however, much alarmed to find that instead of that course he chose to fling himself at her with alarming energy, taking her into his arms.
“Great heavens, Mr. Abelwhite!” remonstrated Cat, shocked back into sudden sobriety. “Do stop this silliness at once and take me back to my party. Whatever can you mean by this?”
“I mean, dear lady,” he declared in fervent tones, “that I adore you!”
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