by Jan Constant
“Good God—Emma!” exclaimed Sir Julian, penetrating her disguise without difficulty.
“W—what are you doing here?” she demanded furiously and spun her mount round in a tight circle, preparatory to flight.
“Stay where you are, ward,” ordered her guardian in a voice which brooked no argument. Seeing that he was being obeyed, he went on in a steely voice. “Dismount, if you
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please, Miss Beringer. Tie your mare to the back of the phaeton and then sit up here beside me.”
Reluctantly Emma did as she was bidden, while Julian Leyton sat tight-lipped and still. Reaching down, he seized her wrist and with an almost contemptuous gesture, flicked her into the high seat beside him. Acutely conscious of her attire and the tight overall breeches which revealed the length of her legs, Emma stared ahead as her guardian started toward the lights of the distant town.
“I’m waiting for an explanation,” he said at last. “I am sure you must have a perfectly valid reason for masquerading as a soldier and making a very bad attempt to hold up the users of the highway, but I find such outrageous behavior somewhat surprising—even for you.” He paused while his passenger stared uncomfortably ahead, seeking desperately and without success for some explanation which would satisfy him and yet not involve Elvira. “I am waiting, Miss Beringer,” he went on inexorably, making his ward wish that she was anywhere but where she was.
When the silence had lengthened, Sir Julian put his hand into his pocket and dropped a small object onto Emma’s lap.
“Could that have anything to do with this escapade?” he asked quietly.
Looking down, Emma could not stop herself giving a gasp of amazement; there on her knees was a gold and enamel watch, the ring of diamonds decorating its edge, sparkling coldly in the light from the moon.
Chapter Eleven
Enjoying the moment, Sir Julian glanced down at her, grim amusement at her consternation showing plainly on his face.
Emma sighed bitterly. “You knew all along—and let poor Elvira make herself ill with worry,” she accused, thrusting the offending timepiece toward him.
Pocketing the watch, Sir Julian drove on. “I had no idea that my sister was even aware of its loss. I only knew because, by good fortune, Captain Gray was in the party and had the sense to acquaint me of the matter. ”
“Johnnie Gray! I had no idea—”
“May I inquire as to the identity of your informant?” “Freddie Melvin. He came at once to tell Elvira.”
“He would have done better to come to me,” said her guardian, adding as he eyed his ward in no kindly manner, “And so would you, my girl.”
Feeling that he was probably right but refusing to admit as much, Emma shrugged eloquently. “You forget, Sir Julian, that you were from home when the matter arose. In fact you seem to have been much from home of late—and that being the case, pray tell me, how we were supposed to apply to you for help?”
Sir Julian glared at his companion only too aware of the truth of her words. “Be honest, Miss Beringer, and admit that this harebrained scheme was your idea of adventure- something to enliven your life and annoy me! ”
Emma looked interested. “Why should I wish to annoy you?” she inquired.
“I am well aware, ward, that that is your prime desire. ”
“Oh, pooh!” she exclaimed. “You forget the times when we have been f-friends. Why, I even thought—” realizing the impropriety of what she was about to say, Emma abruptly bit off her words and finished lamely, “that you would be pleased if I restored the watch.”
Sir Julian was not entirely deceived. “Now that, Miss Beringer, is quite untrue. If you thought at all, which I doubt, it was that you would have scored over me.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Emma wondered again and was rewarded by a tightening of Julian Leyton’s fingers on the reins.
“Because you are the most infuriating girl I know,” she was told grimly, and was jerked back in her seat as the horses responded to the mood of the driver and bounded forward.
The journey through London was achieved in silence, Emma admiring the knowledge which enabled her guardian to avoid all the main roads, save for a brief crossing of Oxford Street.
“I find this most interesting,” she told him brightly, refusing to be put down by his manner. ‘ ‘I used the back streets as much as I could, but even so had to skirt the park—you have managed to avoid all the thoroughfares.”
“If we should be met and recognized, your reputation would be in rags,” he pointed out curtly.
“How kind and thoughtful you are,” Emma murmured ironically.
“Don’t try me too far,” she was warned. “So far you have come off unscathed—due to the fact that I am prepared to believe that you were acting, however misguidedly, in what you thought were Elvira’s best interests. However, I am no fool, Miss Beringer, and am well aware that you were spoiling for an adventure. . . . And that this henbrained scheme of yours was put into operation without care or thought.”
“Now, that is untrue,” said Emma in a small voice. “I thought of it a great deal and could come up with no better solution. Would you have me let those wretches, between them, ruin Elvira’s life?”
“No,” admitted her guardian after a pause. “I’ll accept that your motive was of the best and, for that reason alone, have not read you the lecture you deserve. Good God, ward, have you no idea of the danger in which you ran? You were playing at highwayman, but the real thing is to be found on Hampstead Heath—and a tobyman does not care to find a rival on his ground. Many an amateur highway robber has been found with a bullet in his body. ”
Emma shuddered and hung her head. “I—did not think—”
“I daresay—and what if you had stopped Devern? Have you not considered that he would very likely defend himself?”
Beginning to feel that she had, indeed, been foolish, Emma was saved from having to admit as much by the fact that they arrived at the gate of the stables at that moment. Sir Julian climbed down, taking the reins with him, and unlocked the gate, just as a sleepy groom appeared to take the carriage and horses into his care.
With an uncomfortably tight grip on her elbow, Sir Julian led her through the garden, letting himself in the back door and, without bothering to light a candle, urged her past the kitchen, from behind the door of which came sounds of laughter and loud conversation, up a flight of dark stairs to the hall. Here, he allowed her the luxury of a light, retaining his own grip on the candlestick as she reached out to take it.
“Who besides ourselves knows of this escapade?” he asked quietly.
“Elvira—and my maid.”
He nodded grimly. “Keep it so,” he advised, dropping the watch into her hand, “and make sure that my sister does the same.” Releasing his hold on the candlestick, Sir Julian
bowed ironically and stepped back. “Good night, Miss Be- ringer.’’
Glad to have escaped retribution, Emma ran quickly up the stairs, glancing down from the landing to see her guardian standing where she had left him, watching her retreating figure. The sweet sound of Elvira playing the piano and singing carried from the room behind. For a second they exchanged gazes before, with a curious gesture, half-salute half-dismissive flick of the fingers, he turned away, and she continued up to her bedroom to await the arrival of an expectant Elvira.
“And that was all?” As soon as she was able, Elvira had made her escape from the withdrawing room and hurried to her friend’s bedroom. “He didn’t rage and threaten to beat you?” she asked incredulously.
“Of course not,” replied Emma stoutly, not willing to admit that physical violence had been her first fear in the moment when she had recognized her victim. “In fact Sir Julian was surprisingly forebearing.” Even to herself she sounded a little puzzled and added lightly, “I begin to suspect, Elvira, that he is not entirely the ogre you would have me believe.”
“Is he not?” wondered the other darkly. “Then, all I c
an say is that something has caused a change of character—that bump on the head, perhaps. I’ve heard of such things.”
Relief and excitement had caused her voice to rise, and Emma put a finger to her lips in warning.
“What I don’t understand,” she went on more quietly,” is Ju’s behavior. He came in as if nothing untoward had happened. Why, he even kissed me and asked most kindly after your welfare the instant Aunt Diana acquainted him with your indisposition. It makes me feel quite uneasy.”
“Mmm,” agreed her listener thoughtfully, “but what I’d really like to know is—where was Lord Devern? I swear he did not cross the heath, and yet Freddie said he was due to dine with the Melvins.”
Elvira stared at her, wide-eyed with sudden supposition. “You don’t think that they . . . duelled again?” She gasped.
Emma considered and then shook her head. “I expect Sir Julian made him see the error of his ways in that cutting way of his,” she said.
Elvira looked at her. “Don’t you like him?” she asked. “At one time I quite thought . . . that is, I hoped—well, to be honest, I began to think of you as one of the family. ” Suddenly Emma found her hands of immense interest, studying each pink fingernail with care before replying lightly, “What nonsense, Elvira. You know that we took an instant dislike—nothing has happened to change that. Indeed, I find myself quite set in my ways.”
“You just said that you did not believe him the ogre—”
‘ ‘That was a figure of speech, ’ ’ Emma interrupted quickly. ‘ ‘Sir Julian is—just a normal man. A trifle more arrogant and indifferent to other’s wishes to be sure, but still the embodiment of the fashionable male.”
The other girl could not hide her disappointment. “I thought that when you said he had been so—understanding and when he had asked so pleasantly after you, that you had made up your differences.” Aware that her friend was regarding her frowningly, she faltered to a stop, her lip trembling.
“Sir Julian and I do not have differences,” Emma announced grandly. “We have insurmountable divergencies! Besides,” she went on in a determinedly bright tone, “we are forgetting Miss Plantagenet.”
“How I wish we could!” exclaimed Elvira feelingly. “I dread her marrying Ju. She will make life quite dreadful with her interest in her elevated ancestry and her single-minded determination to make everyone conform to her own idea of social behavior. I daresay she will expect me to curtsy to her whenever we meet! I’ve a good mind to mention the family legend,” she finished darkly.
Emma was interested. “What legend?” she asked. “Do tell.”
“Well, it’s only a story I heard from my old nurse years ago—it’s nothing, really, and I daresay totally untrue. ...” Seeing her friend’s growing impatience, she went on. “The tale is that it was one of our ancestors who actually unseated Richard the Third and Henry Tudor knighted him for it—”
Emma sighed with bliss. “And our dear Jane has no idea of this?”
“She can’t have, can she?” Elvira answered ingenuously. “I do not think that she would care for it at all, do you?”
“I am very sure that she would not,” agreed the other girl and fell thoughtfully silent, certain that the information could be used to advantage.
Any qualms she may have had about putting a halt to any hopes of a betrothal between Sir Julian and Miss Plantagenet were dissolved when Lady Beauvale, a woman who rarely saw bad in anyone, remarked after a visit from the paragon that she really was a most tiresome girl.
“As you know, Emma dear, I would not for the world have it go further, but I do find Miss Plantagenet a little difficult. To expect Mrs. Beaufort, who is rising eighty, apart from being a cadet branch of the Lovat family, to bow first, is quite unacceptable. She really does place herself too high! To think of her and my dearest Ju—I fear that she will not make him happy.”
Diana Beauvale looked so worried that Emma hastened to reassure her. “They have not made the announcement, yet. There is time for the affair to come to nothing.”
“How I hope so,” Lady Beauvale sighed before, conscious of indiscretion, she again counseled Emma to silence. “Let us talk of other things,” she said. “Your birthday is almost upon us. We must consider how to celebrate, though to be sure, I hope that the fact of your majority will make no difference to how we go on. Now, would you like a dance, perhaps?”
“You are too kind and have done so much for me already, ’ ’ protested Emma.
“Nonsense, my dear, I’ve enjoyed every moment. I insist upon this little gesture. . . . Surely you would not disappoint Elvira, who has been waiting upon this event?”
“I should like above all things a visit to the theater,” replied Emma, giving in gracefully, as a half-formed plan slipped into her mind. “A family party, if you please.”
‘ ‘Made up of your young friends, you mean? ’ ’ asked Lady Beauvale doubtfully.
“Not entirely,” replied Emma. “You and Elvira and Sir Julian—”
“That would mean that Miss Plantagenet must have an invite, too,” warned the older woman.
‘ ‘If it must be so, I shall make her very welcome, ’ ’ Emma agreed soulfully.
Any one of her Peninsula friends would have suspected her of duplicity, but Lady Beauvale did not know her well enough to recognize the danger in the voice of innocence and merely inquired kindly, ‘ ‘What is there at the theater that you so want to see?”
“Edmund Kean is playing at Drury Lane; I saw a broad sheet the other day. ”
Lady Beauvale looked even more doubtful. “It sounds rather intellectual, my dear. I had supposed that you would prefer something lighter . . . Garibaldi, perhaps.”
Emma shook her head. “I have never seen Mr. Kean and have heard so much of him. Do, please say that I may have a theater party, dear Lady Beauvale.”
“Very well, Emma, if that is what you want, though, I believe Elvira will be sadly disappointed.”
And so she proved to be, gazing at her friend in undisguised horror. “The theater?” she cried, as if threatened with a torture chamber. “And Shakespeare—not even a burlesque! Shakespeare!” she repeated bitterly. “A modem play would have been a little better. How could you choose Shakespeare? Why, he is old-fashioned and full of history and deadly boring to be sure.”
‘‘You’ll enjoy it, you’ll see—”
‘ ‘I won’t—I hate blood, and Shakespeare is forever putting out people’s eyes and cutting heads off! I vow that you are a ghoul, Emma Beringer,” she told her spiritedly, ‘‘and do not deserve a birthday treat, if you waste it so!”
“You will enjoy it when you get there,” Emma told her firmly and would not allow herself to be talked into changing her mind.
‘ ‘Well, it’s the strangest thing I have ever heard of, ’ ’ pouted Elvira, admitting defeat. “And to wish to invite Jane Plantagenet is above all astounding!”
Emma would only say that if the lady in question was to become a member of the family, then it was time the effort was made to cultivate her acquaintance.
The younger girl could only look at her askance. “Pooh!” she retorted, suddenly looking enlightened, “what nonsense. Only Ju could want to cultivate Miss Plantagenet— you, wicked girl that you are, are planning some mischief, I do declare.”
Emma merely looked the picture of shocked innocence and firmly denied any such intention, retiring to the library in order to make herself acquainted with the play, the better to enjoy it, so she informed her friend. However, a few days later when Miss Plantagenet, arriving to pay a morning call on Lady Beauvale, met them in the hall on their way to walk in the park and insisted upon accompanying them, her goodwill was sadly tried. At first all was well as they exchanged idle pleasantries and then, making sure that their maids were out of hearing, Jane Plantagenet turned to both girls and assured them in superior tones that they both had her heartfelt sympathy and understanding.
“What for?” Emma demanded, while Elvira turned a guilty
shade of pink and murmured confused apologies.
“As nearly a sister, I feel able to give my advice and support, you know,” began Miss Plantagenet, with a gentle smile.
“Forgive me, Miss Plantagenet,” Emma said, a dangerous note in her voice which most people would have heeded, “but, in the interests of fact, I must point out that you and I are not in any way related nor likely to be.”
“Not in the usual sense,” agreed the other kindly, “but in the near future—” She paused delicately before going on with an arch smile. “You shall be my . . . ward-by-marriage—if all goes well, of course.”
“If Sir Julian comes up to scratch, you mean,” put in Emma baldly, tired of the other’s delicate mind.
Miss Plantagenet’s smile vanished. “My dear Miss Beringer, it pains me to hear such a vulgar expression!”
Emma went on relentlessly. “If Sir Julian comes up to scratch as you hope, we shall still not be kin, I am happy to say. In a week’s time I shall be of age!”
Surprise and quickly concealed dismay crossed Jane Plantagenet’s face before haughty disdain superseded them as she looked down her nose at Emma. “Good manners make me refrain from comment, Miss Beringer, apart from saying that no doubt Sir Julian will be as relieved as I at the news. ”
“It is not news; Sir Julian knew when was my birthday all the time—though, believe me, he will be no happier than me at ending it! ’ ’ Emma was goaded into saying. ‘ ‘This year my birthday is even more welcome than usual. To be out of leading reins and irksome control will be a joy.”