An Unreasonable Match

by Sylvia Andrew

"In this case, it wouldn't be you, it would be me! And if you think I would risk my name and reputation just because you want to get even with Hugo you are very much mistaken, little brother! What has he been saying to you now?"

  "Told me off for riding my horse," Lowell said sulkily.

  "You mean galloping at full stretch along Pall Mall for a wager? I heard about that. He was right."

  "Oh, not you too, Hes!"

  Hester smiled, then grew serious. "Do you...do you really think we could get away with it? I would so love to go."

  "I'm sure of it." Lowell's face brightened. "Let's make a plan!"

  Hester laughed. This had always been Lowell's favourite saying when he was about to embark on some reckless enterprise. Entering into the spirit of it, however, she demanded, "Well then, what are the dangers?... My figure."

  "Hidden under coat, waistcoat and a well-arranged cravat." Then he added with brotherly candour, "Besides, there isn't much of it."

  Hester was too much a realist to be offended. "My voice."

  "Deep enough, but you needn't use it. You'd be there to listen, not to talk."

  "What about my hair?"

  "The front of your hair is short, anyway. We'll find something to do with the rest."

  "Admittance to the premises—under whose name?"

  "They won't ask. But the subscription is in Gaines's name, so if they did we'd use that."

  Hester thought for a moment. "It seems almost too easy," she said slowly.

  "Easy as falling off a log," said Lowell. "Trust me!"

  "The last time you fell off a log you broke your collarbone. But... I think I will try it."

  The walkers in London's Hyde Park were suddenly startled by Lowell's jubilant "Yoicks!"

  *

  Quite often during the ensuing days Hester wondered if she had gone mad. But then she reminded herself that she was about to enjoy a privilege normally denied to women, and her resolve held firm. She and Lowell held a dress rehearsal the day before the lecture, and when they had stopped laughing, she had to agree that she made a convincing youth, especially when Lowell produced her glasses and made her put them on.

  "By Jupiter, Hes, you make a better-looking fellow than most of my friends!"

  "You exaggerate. But I'm not bad."

  She stood admiring herself in the mirror. They had drawn her back hair into a knot, and hidden it under the inordinately high stand-up collar affected by young Mr Gaines. Her long legs were encased in yellow pantaloons, her upper half in a snowy shirt, an awesomely embroidered waistcoat and a starched, intricately folded cravat. Mr Gaines was inclined to dandyism, and her coat of blue superfine had handsome buttons, impressive lapels and well-padded shoulders.

  "I hope it will be all right, Lowell," she said suddenly. "I don't like to think of the consequences if we're found out."

  "We shan't be. Remember what I've told you— lengthen your stride, don't talk at all unless you have to, and keep your voice deep if you do. We'll take care to stay at the back out of sight. We'll be as right as rain, you'll see. Unless Hugo comes."

  "Oh good God! I never thought of that! I can't do it!"

  "Don't worry—he won't come," Lowell said comfortably. "He's taking Sophia Cleeve to Lady Sefton's soiree."

  "Then why did you say he might? Lowell, you are the world's worst tease!"

  All went well the following evening. They were admitted without question to the Society's headquarters in St James's Street, though Lowell was asked to sign in an impressive-looking register. Then they followed others to a large room at the back. This had clearly been a ballroom when the house had been in private hands, but it was now used as a lecture hall, with rows of chairs, a platform at one end and a balcony at the other. Hester had to restrain herself from clutching Lowell's arm as they made their way to a seat at the back under the shelter of the overhanging balcony.

  "Ideal!" whispered Lowell as they sat down. "Now all you have to do is to keep mum."

  "I won't forget. But Lowell, what did you sign? You seemed to write two names. Gaines and what?"

  Lowell looked uneasy. "They asked if I had a pseudonym. So I put... I put your name."

  "What?"

  "I wrote 'Euclid'. They were impressed. Don't worry! They were too busy to have a good look at us. Now hush, it's beginning. And remember! Not a word!"

  The lecture that followed was all Hester could have wished. It confirmed what she already knew, it presented her with the result of others' researches, it gave her food for a great deal of future speculation and thought. And to be in such company, such an atmosphere, went to her head like champagne. She clapped with enthusiasm when the speaker was thanked by Mr Garimond, and when comments from the floor were invited it was all she could do not to shower him with questions. Remembering Lowell's warning, however, she stayed in her seat. But then some nameless idiot got up and dared to cast doubt on the usefulness or purpose of substitute numbers, disparaging the study of algebra and "all that nonsense", and referring to the whole field as toys for adults with no practical application. This was too much. Forgetting all caution, she leapt up and demolished' the pretentious arguments, quoting the words of eminent mathematicians from all ages, and pointing out the vital work of cryptographers in times of war. A round of applause greeted her words and many turned to see this talented young speaker.

  Hester sat down to see Lowell staring at her in consternation. He whispered, "Of all the mutton-headed things to do...! We'd better lope off as soon as we can, otherwise we're for it. Look, the chairman's going to speak. We can slip out when all eyes are on him."

  But it wasn't so easy. They had hardly got to the end of the row when, after a brief conference on the platform, Mr Garimond stood up.

  "We believe the young man who has just spoken to be one of our most gifted contributors. Am I right in thinking we have Euclid here? If so, our president, whom most of you know as Zeno, is eager to make his acquaintance."

  Hester stopped and turned, eager to see "Zeno' at last. But to her dazed eyes the platform was filled with a tall, elegant figure. Dungarran, immaculate as ever, was standing at Garimond's side. "No!" she whispered. "No! He can't be!" She sat down suddenly in the empty chair at the end of the row. Dungarran appeared to be looking straight at her, and she cowered down behind the person in front.

  Garimond went on, "We should like young Euclid to come to the platform after these proceedings are over. And now..." He turned to other business.

  Hester was still sitting in a daze when Lowell hauled her up by the sleeve. "Come on, Hes! Unless you want to get caught here and now, we'd better get out. No one is looking at the moment. We can escape round the back of this pillar. Come on!"

  Hester allowed herself to be dragged away. Her knees felt as if they were made of wax, and Lowell had to support her as they left the building. He spotted a hackney coach a few yards away and bundled her into it. They drove the short distance to Half Moon Street in silence. Having spoken so eloquently just a few minutes before Hester could not now say a word.

  At Half Moon Street Lowell paid off the coachman, who cast a jaundiced eye over Hester and said gloomily, "The lad's 'ad a bit too much from the look of 'im... Want any 'elp wiv cartin' 'im in?"

  Lowell hastily refused and the coach drove off. Fortunately, Gaines's absence meant that there were fewer servants around to observe Lowell's efforts to get his sister safely hidden inside his room. It wasn't easy. Hester was still in a state of shock, and had to be led every inch of the way.

  Once inside Lowell poured a glass of brandy and held it to her lips. She choked, and shuddered as the spirit went down, but it revived her.

  "Lowell!" She took a deep breath. "Lowell, I can't believe it!" she said, clutching his sleeve. "Tell me it isn't true. Am I mad or was it indeed Dungarran on that platform?"

  Lowell nodded slowly. "I'm afraid he was, Hes." He looked at her sympathetically. "A bit of a shock, isn't it?"

  Hester gave a gasping laugh. "A bit? Dungarran as Zeno! I
t's impossible! He hasn't the brains."

  "Apparently he has."

  Hester felt as if her world had turned upside down. Her pride in her work, her delight in her exchanges with Zeno, her feeling of oneness with his mind—all these had been tossed into the air and now lay scattered around her. How could she reconcile all that with what she had learned tonight?

  "Hes..." Lowell's voice seemed to come from a great distance. "Hester, I don't want to worry you more than I have to, but it's time you went back to Bruton Street. Are you fit? Mama will be back soon."

  "Yes... Yes, of course." She got up and went to the door.

  "Wait! You can't go like that, Hester! What's wrong with you? You must change."

  "What? Oh, my clothes! Of course!" She looked round vaguely for her dress and the rest of her things.

  "Are you sure you can manage?" Lowell looked so concerned that she made herself respond.

  "Of course I can. Wait outside a minute or two. I'll call when I'm ready."

  Twenty minutes later Hester was back in the Bruton Street house. Her parents had not yet come in, and she was able to bid Lowell goodnight and go upstairs without encountering any of the family. Her maid exclaimed at the state of her hair, but Hester was too tired to listen, or to offer any explanation. In near silence she got ready for bed and when her mother came in she pretended to be asleep. The house gradually settled down for the night and Hester was left lying wide-eyed, alone with her thoughts.

  They were not pleasant. She had learned to laugh both at herself and at those young men who had made her so unhappy six years before. It had taken time, but she had managed it. She had gradually forgotten the hurt and heartache they had caused, though her determination never to marry had remained undiminished. And, since coming to London again, she had found no reason to change her mind. She had comforted herself that she would go back to her attic when the Season was over and take up her secret work once again, her secret, totally satisfying relationship with a man called Zeno. She had basked in the knowledge that here was a man—however old, however distant— whom she admired, and who in turn admired her...

  But tonight Dungarran, the heartless, shallow man of a frivolous society, someone whom she cordially disliked, for whom she certainly had little respect, had been revealed as Zeno, her hero and mentor. The world in which she had found such comfort, the world of the journal and Zeno, had been shattered. The only possible way to put the pieces back together again would be to change her view of Dungarran. Radically... The thought appalled her. She couldn't do it!

  Her last and most despairing thought was that Zeno had been revealed as someone who knew Hester Perceval. Knew her already, and already despised her... Hester hid her face in her hands in despair.

  Chapter Five

  But as the night wore on hope started to grow once more. All was not lost. As long as Robert Dungarran remained ignorant of Euclid's identity, she and Zeno could continue their work together. It would not be easy to reconcile Dungarran, the indolent man of fashion .and one of her cruellest critics, with the figure of Zeno, the serious mathematician and her treasured friend. But, if she were strong-minded enough, she could derive some ironic amusement from the situation—the respect Zeno and Euclid had for each other contrasted with the dislike and contempt felt between Robert Dungarran and Hester Perceval. Yes! It could work. That was how she would regard it—as a piquant, amusing situation. She must, if she were to survive.

  By the time Friday dawned, Hester was, on the surface at least, almost her normal self again. When she found that her glasses were missing, she concluded that she had probably left them in her brother's rooms on the night of the lecture, and walked quite cheerfully round to Half Moon Street. It was, in any case, time to have a talk with Lowell.

  Lowell was in, and glad to see her. "I called at Bruton Street yesterday to see how you were. But the house was deserted."

  "We spent half the day with Aunt Elizabeth. Have you seen my glasses? I must have left them somewhere here the other night." As they rummaged among the piles of books and newspapers she went on, "You know, I think London has done Robina a lot of good. She's such a pretty thing, and now she actually appears to be coming out of her shell."

  "Good for her! Aunt Elizabeth is far too strict with all the girls!"

  "If only she weren't such a perfectionist! Poor Robina is forever afraid of failing to live up to her mother's expectations. Ah! here they are!" She picked up her glasses and put them on without thinking. She continued, "It's not that Aunt Elizabeth is unkind. Not at all. Did you know that she's thinking of inviting poor Deborah Staunton to live with them in Abbot Quincey?"

  "Deborah! At the Vicarage! For God's sake, don't tell Hugo! He'd never come home if he heard that." They both grinned. Lady Elizabeth's niece Deborah had a genius for getting into scrapes, and Hugo had been involved in one or two of them a couple of years back. He still hadn't forgiven her. He had sworn at the time that he would never come within a mile of the girl again! There was a short silence, then Hester said, "Lowell, I've been thinking..."

  Lowell instantly grew serious. "About Dungarran?''

  "Yes. I couldn't see straight on Wednesday night, but now I've had a chance to think it over. If we can only keep him from finding out that I'm Euclid, there's nothing to stop us carrying on as before. Is there?"

  Lowell thought. "You mean writing for the journal and the rest? I suppose not," he said slowly. "And it shouldn't be all that difficult to keep Euclid's identity a secret. Dungarran is most unlikely to spend a lot of time finding him, it's not his style. Besides, how could he do it? The only clue he might have is Gaines's name from the register, and Gaines is safely tucked away in Devon for the summer. He would have to go to some trouble to find out this address, and I can't see him doing that—it can't be all that important. No, Hes, I think you're safe."

  At that moment they heard a knock on the street door and a murmured discussion. A minute later the servant came to ask if Mr Perceval would see Lord Dungarran.

  Hester looked at Lowell in consternation, and shook her head imploringly. But Lowell knew better. It was impossible to deny such an important visitor, impossible even to keep him waiting.

  "Show Lord Dungarran in, Withers." Then he turned to Hester and said rapidly, "Be as female as you can, Hes. High voice, fluttery manner—you know! And for goodness' sake, take your glasses off!" Hester snatched off her spectacles just as Dungarran strolled in, ducking slightly as he came through the low door.

  "Good afternoon, Perceval. I hope you don't mind my calling like this without warning."

  "Not at all, not at all," said Lowell with a fair degree of calm. "I believe you know my sister, sir."

  "Miss Perceval! Forgive me, I didn't see you there in the shadows. How d'y do?"

  They exchanged the usual greeting and enquiries. Hester knew that, in common courtesy, she should offer to leave the gentlemen to it. But she was determined to stay. She sat down firmly by the window and smiled sweetly. "Pay no attention to me," she said airily. "I shall return to Bruton Street in a few minutes, but meanwhile I shall sit here and gather my strength. The weather is so fatiguing, do you not think, Lord Dungarran? My brother was just about to offer me some lemonade. Weren't you, Lowell?"

  "Why...y...yes!" Lowell put his head out of the door and talked to Withers.

  Dungarran walked over to the bookcase and examined the titles there, Hester regarded him from her vantage point by the window. He looked his usual, calmly superior self, and yet how differently she now saw him! Somewhere behind that lazily fashionable facade, was Zeno, her respected ally and friend, a man whose mind she knew better than anyone else's. She savoured the notion. The feeling that she knew more about Robert Dungarran than he knew of her was strangely heady!

  Dungarran cleared his throat and turned. "Were you with Hugo and Lady Sophia at Lady Sefton's soiree, Miss Perceval?"

  "Last Wednesday? No. I was otherwise engaged." Amusement threatened to bubble to the surface. It was hard not
to laugh. What would the gentleman say if she told him where she had in fact been?

  "Ah!"

  With a touch of audacity she asked, "Why? Were you, Lord Dungarran?"

  "No. I too, had a previous engagement." He turned as Lowell came back. "Ah, Perceval!"

  "Now, how can I serve you, sir?" Lowell cleared one of the chairs by the simple expedient of throwing a pile of journals to the floor. "Do, pray, take a seat."

  Dungarran sat down. There was a pause. Then he began. "I have to say I was surprised to find you in possession here, Perceval. I thought to meet a Mr Gaines—a Mr Woodford Gaines."

  The servant came in with some cool drinks. When he went out Lowell said casually, "The house does belong to Gaines, yes, but he recently left London..."

  "Very recently," said Hester, giving Lowell a significant look.

  Lowell nodded. "Very recently. He lets me have rooms here, and for the moment I'm the sole tenant. Do you know Gaines?"

  "Not...exactly. I thought I saw him with you the other night."

  "Saw me? Where?"

  "At a lecture on mathematics."

  There was a small noise as Hester's glasses slithered to the floor. Dungarran rose from his chair and gathered them up.

  "You're lucky, Miss Perceval. They don't appear to be broken."

  "Oh...oh, thank you, but they're not mine, sir!" she said nervously. "I must have picked them off the seat. Are they yours, Lowell?"

  Lowell rose nobly to the occasion. "They might belong to Gaines." Then he turned to his visitor. "I'm sorry, no, I wasn't with Gaines on Wednesday evening. I was with my sister." He laughed. "A lecture on mathematics would be the last place my friends would expect to find me!" His sister looked at him sharply. Lowell, too, was enjoying this game, but she hoped he wouldn't overplay it. He went on, "But why do you ask?"

  Dungarran smiled lazily. That smile, thought Hester viewing it objectively, might well charm an unwary bird out of a tree—but the bird might end up feeling it had made a mistake. "I'm sorry. You must think me impertinent. At the risk of boring you, I should like to explain. I have a...slight interest in mathematics myself, and for some time now I've been in correspondence with a gifted mathematician, someone whom I only know as Euclid..."