Philippa Carr - [Daughters of England 06]

by The Love Child

  As the days went on I began to think that I had perhaps attached too much importance to the matter. After all, what had happened was no credit to him. Perhaps he wanted to forget it too.

  Yet he had looked at me with that sly mockery which had set the fear rising in my heart. I must hope that he had forgotten, and I would suggest that we return to Eversleigh sooner than we had planned.

  At length I was able to hobble about, but I still had to take care, and Harriet suggested that a visit to the theatre would not be too taxing and this was arranged.

  “After all,” she said, “you only have to walk to the carriage and then from it into the theatre.”

  It seemed a good idea and I was glad to be able to get about. I had said nothing more about Beaumont Granville and I presumed the incident had been forgotten.

  It was always exciting to be in a theatre—particularly with Harriet, who knew so much about it, having, of course, once been a player herself. The play was William Wycherley’s The Country Wife, which even Harriet had never seen, and I felt my spirits rising.

  We had a box near the stage and Carlotta was chattering rapidly, asking questions of Harriet as to who was that and who was this, which delighted Harriet, though she admitted she had been stagnating in the country for far too long.

  “We really must come to Town more often, Gregory,” she said.

  “Oh, yes, please, we must,” cried Carlotta.

  The smell of orange peel was strong in the air; it mingled with the apothecaries’ scents and the less pleasing odours of humanity. It was all part of this somewhat unreal but intriguing world of the theatre. The orange girls proffered their fruit to the young men in the pit who were clearly, and not very successfully, aping the nobility and doubtless making assignations. There was a great deal of giggling and general noise until some elegant lady, masked and accompanied by an exquisite dandy, entered one of the boxes. Then there would be a brief silence while the company studied her in awed curiosity.

  The play began. It was quite amusing and I felt better than I had since I had seen Beaumont Granville. Perhaps I had exaggerated, I told myself. It was just a passing encounter. What could he want with me now? I was no longer the young girl I had been when he had cast his lecherous eyes on me. Moreover, he had not made any effort to renew the acquaintance. It was just that initial shock which had unnerved me and that, having led to this silly accident, had made me feel that trouble was looming.

  Then suddenly I noticed that Carlotta’s attention was not on the stage. She was gazing at the box opposite, which a short while before had been empty.

  It had an occupant now. At first I thought I was imagining this. He had been so much in my thoughts. But there was no doubt. Of course it was Beaumont Granville. He had come late to the play and there he was smiling at Carlotta. My fears were intensified. He looked strikingly handsome. He certainly lived up to his name. He was dressed in the latest fashion. His square-cut coat of thick silk material was braided across the front in many rows and the buttons were rubies. He wore one of the very fashionable wigs which I had noticed since coming to London. They were profusely curled and heavily scented. The curls fell about his shoulders, almost obscuring the most elegant of white silk cravats. The air of worldliness, combined with that Grecian perfection of feature, showed the world that he was a man who would have few rivals for good looks.

  I would have preferred to see the ugliest man possible sitting in that box instead of that exquisite dandy.

  I glanced at Harriet. She had seen him, too. I was aware of the smile at the corner of her lips.

  Suddenly I knew. They had told him we were coming to the theatre and he was there to see us, to torment me as he was well aware he did, to amuse himself with what to him would seem a piquant situation.

  I had ceased to concentrate on the play. I was only aware of the secret looks which crossed between my party and him.

  I gave no sign—at least I hoped I did not—that I had seen him. I tried to keep my eyes on the stage and pretend to be absorbed by the action; but I could not have told anyone, had they asked me, what the play was about.

  After the first act he came to our box.

  “What a delightful surprise!” He was bowing over our hands, his manners matching his appearance.

  I realized by the looks exchanged between him and Carlotta that it was no surprise; it was an arrangement between them.

  Oh, my God, I thought, what does this mean?

  “I am hoping,” he was saying, “that you are going to sup with me after the play.”

  “What a lovely idea!” cried Carlotta.

  “That would be delightful,” said Harriet. “How kind of you! One should always sup in good company after the play. One of the delights of playgoing is to pick the piece apart afterwards. Don’t you agree?”

  “I do with all my heart,” said Beaumont Granville. “Would you care to sup at my place or go somewhere else?”

  “I really think we should decline this kind invitation,” I said.

  They were all looking at me. He was forcing an expression of concern onto his face, although trying not to show that he was suppressing amusement.

  “It is my first outing,” I stammered. “I really feel …”

  It sounded so hideously selfish. Because I wanted to go home I was stopping their pleasure.

  Gregory, always kind, said: “I’ll take you back if you like, Priscilla.”

  They were all looking at me and I thought: No, if they are going to be with him, I must be there to see what happens. I could sense the situation becoming more and more dangerous.

  “We will cheer you up,” said Beaumont Granville, looking at me pleadingly. “I have a very fine malmsey wine which I should like you to try. Do come. The company will be incomplete without you.”

  “You will certainly not be able to refuse an invitation so graciously given,” said Harriet.

  “You must not!” cried Carlotta passionately.

  “Ah,” put in Beaumont Granville, “I believe she is wavering.”

  “It is good of you all to be so concerned whether I come or not.”

  “Then it is decided,” said Beaumont Granville. He sat down and we started to discuss the play. When the interval was over he returned to his box, but I was aware that throughout the play he was watching us.

  There was some diabolical scheme working in his mind.

  He shepherded us out of the theatre, through the crowds to our coach. He had sent his home and said he would share ours if we would permit it. I noticed how people made way for him; some called a greeting. He was clearly well known and many were in awe of him. He had an air of importance which I could see had aroused Carlotta’s admiration. In fact I was beginning to realize that Carlotta’s admiration was great and that he very much enjoyed this.

  His house was only a short distance from ours.

  “See what near neighbours we are!” he said. “A town house is so necessary. I have an estate near Dorchester, but I confess I spend more time in London than in the country.”

  “I have never been to Dorchester,” said Carlotta.

  “I hope to change that one day,” he answered.

  The house was furnished in a manner to be expected of one with such elegant tastes and he was clearly proud of it.

  Supper was ready for us, which showed he had had no doubt of our accepting his invitation. His servants waited on us silently and efficiently. The malmsey was indeed excellent, and so was the food, and I could see that he enjoyed playing host.

  He spoke of the play and the players knowledgeably, and he and Harriet were engaged in spirited conversation.

  Carlotta listened, hardly ever taking her eyes from his face. Now and then he would look at her and smile tenderly. I was stricken with horror. This was the ultimate nightmare. I could not believe it. She was giving him that kind of hero worship which young girls sometimes feel for older men.

  It could not really be what I feared. He must be over thirty years older tha
n she was. My imagination was in a fever. I was suffering from some form of hallucination.

  I said: “You have a very fine establishment here, sir. Is your wife in the country?”

  He turned his false smile on me. “I have no wife. No, I have never married. I have been too much of a romantic.”

  “Oh, is that so? I should have thought your romantic ideals might have led you to marriage.”

  “I suppose I was always looking for the perfect woman. Nothing less would suit me.”

  “Then it is not to be wondered at that your search was fruitless,” put in Harriet.

  “I am not disturbed that life may have passed me by.” He was looking at Carlotta now. “I think my good angel was preserving me. Do you know, it is a belief of mine that if you want something and are determined to get it, and will not allow yourself to be diverged from the main object, it comes to you in time. I am not old yet. In fact I feel fresher and more vigorous than I did in my extreme youth. No, dear ladies, I do not despair.”

  “You have travelled a great deal?” I asked.

  “I have seen much of the world. But having seen it I want most of all to settle down here in England … living my life between this city and Dorset. A little of the country is good now and then. It makes you appreciate how much more invigorating is life in the town.”

  “Oh, I do agree,” said Carlotta. “I wish we could come to London more often.”

  “Perhaps you will … now that you are becoming a young lady of fashion.”

  She laughed. “Oh, do you really think I am that!”

  “In the very best sense. I deplore those people who follow a fashion slavishly, particularly if it is ridiculous and does not suit them.” He had turned his admiring gaze on Carlotta. “You are too young to remember the hideous manner in which women wore their hair in Charles’s time. How they could endure those little rows of curls on the brow I cannot understand. Créve Coeurs, they called them. Heart-breakers! At least that’s what I suppose they meant. Surely there was little less designed to keep a man’s heart intact. I like to see ladies follow their own styles, as you all do so admirably, and not become slaves to the mode of the moment.”

  “The lady we saw in the Mulberry Gardens … do you remember?” Carlotta was smiling at him. “She really did look ridiculous.”

  “She had so many patches that they looked like a heavenly constellation,” he replied.

  In Mulberry Gardens! Carlotta had betrayed the truth to me. During those days when I had been confined to my room, they had been meeting!

  I do not know how I lived through that evening. I tried to hide my fears. I tried to be as merry as they were, and all the time I was endeavouring to discover how much they had seen of each other, how far this acquaintance had progressed.

  If only we had not come to London!

  It was late when we returned home. He put us into our carriage, kissed our hands with grace and charm, and as we made the short journey from his house to ours, my thoughts were in turmoil.

  When we stepped out of the carriage and went into the house, Carlotta slipped her arm through mine.

  “How is the ankle?” she asked.

  I had forgotten it. I could think of nothing but this fearful thing which was looming up over me.

  “I scarcely feel it,” I answered.

  “I thought it must be painful. You were so quiet this evening.”

  “Well, perhaps I felt a little … shut out.”

  “Shut out! What do you mean?”

  “You have apparently been seeing a great deal of that man while I have been incapacitated.”

  “Oh, we have met once or twice. He always seemed to be where we were.”

  “By arrangement?” I asked.

  She flushed a little.

  “Oh, come,” I said, “he knew we were going to be at the theatre this evening.”

  “I told him we were going. Why shouldn’t I? It was no secret.”

  “You seem to be on very good terms with him.”

  “Why not? He is so kind. And is he not amusing? I think he is the handsomest man I ever saw.”

  “You mean among the old men of your acquaintance?”

  “Old? Oh, one never thinks of age in connection with Beau.”

  Oh, God help me, I prayed, it has gone further than I thought.

  “He is so much more interesting than young men,” said Carlotta. “He has the experience of the world which they lack.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Why have you taken against him! He was so kind to you in the Exchange. I think you’re rather ungrateful.”

  “So you have seen him more than once or twice when you have been out with Harriet?”

  “Yes … a few times …”

  “And have you ever seen him when you have been alone?”

  She turned to me almost angrily. “When have I been allowed out alone? You all seem to think I’m a baby. Well, I’m not. And I don’t intend to be treated like one.”

  I felt desperately uneasy. It was worse than I had thought.

  I had to see him alone. I had to discover what he was planning, for that he was planning something seemed obvious to me.

  Carlotta! Could it really be that he was leading her into seduction? What had he said? He had a passion for young virgins. He was cynical in the extreme, I knew. Oh, yes, he was planning something. I could sense that. There was an air of triumph about him when he looked at me. He would be remembering that night when he had forced me to submit to his will, when he had humiliated me beyond endurance. If there had not been so much at stake I should never have agreed to such a bargain.

  I imagined that his life had been full of adventures such as that. He would revel in this. It was his nature to wish to subdue people mentally and physically. He was proud, arrogant, vain and cruel. He saw himself as the only person of any importance in the whole world. His desires must be granted and if he had to contrive to achieve that end, he was only too pleased to do so. Intrigue was the breath of life to him. There had been one time when he had lost and he bore the scars to remind him.

  Oh, God help me, I prayed. If he attempts to ruin Carlotta’s life there will be a second time. I will do anything … anything rather than that shall happen.

  I thought I would first speak to Harriet and see what she had to say. She was a woman of the world. She must have some idea of his intentions.

  It was midmorning. She was not yet up but was in bed sipping a dish of chocolate which one of the maids had brought to her.

  “Priscilla!” she cried. “So early! And skipping around like a young lamb. That’s a good sign, I’ll warrant. The ankle is behaving in that seemly manner which all good ankles should.”

  She was clearly in a good mood and was just about to launch into a comment on the Wycherley play when I said: “I’m worried about Carlotta.”

  “Worried! Why, the child is having a wonderful time. And what a little beauty, eh?”

  “It’s this man … Beaumont Granville.”

  “What a charmer! He has enlightened the days, I’ll admit.”

  “How much has he been seeing of Carlotta?”

  “Oh, it is Carlotta, is it?”

  “Harriet, you don’t seem to understand what sort of man we are dealing with. Yet you know what happened in Venice.”

  “My dear Priscilla, as I have said before, that was all those years ago. Most of us have adventures in our youth which might be considered shocking. We grow out of them and if we are wise we forget them.”

  “Carlotta is still in the schoolroom. I don’t want her to see this man. He is old … old in years and old in iniquity. I want her removed from him.”

  “She adores him. It is amusing the way in which her eyes light up at the sight of him.”

  “It doesn’t amuse me.”

  “Of late it has become increasingly hard to amuse you. Don’t grow old before your time, Priscilla.”

  “I’m worried about Carlotta and that man. I want to go back h
ome. She is my daughter and I want you to help me as you did before.”

  “Of course I’ll help you. But really, Priscilla, you are like one of those fearsome Puritans. It’s good for Carlotta to have this little flutter. It is preparing her for life.”

  “I don’t want that man to have a hand in the preparations. He’s dangerous. I don’t like him.”

  “You’ve made that obvious.”

  “I thought you wanted her to have Benjie.”

  “Of course, she’s going to have Benjie, but she has to grow up a little more. Stop fretting, Priscilla. Everything will be all right.”

  I could see that I should get little help from Harriet, but something would have to be done. What?

  An impulse came to me. I had to discover what his plans regarding Carlotta were, and I had an idea that he might tell me, out of bravado. He was so sure of himself and already he was weaning her from me. I had always been impulsive, and no sooner had the idea occurred to me that I must talk to him than I began making my preparations to do so.

  I left Harriet, and within an hour had put on my cloak and hood and was walking the short distance between our houses.

  I was admitted by one of the servants I had seen the previous night. He showed no surprise at the sight of me. I supposed he was accustomed to women calling on his master.

  I was shown into a small room leading from the hall and asked to wait.

  He came almost immediately—exquisitely dressed as ever—his square-cut, mulberry-coloured velvet coat open to show his very fine waistcoat; his knee-length breeches were of the same shade of mulberry; his shoes had high red heels, which made him taller than he actually was; and he carried a jewelled snuffbox in his hand. I don’t know why I should have noticed his clothes at such a time, but the manner in which he wore them always made one notice. He was one of the leaders of fashion and well known for it throughout Court circles.

  He bowed, holding the snuffbox in his left hand, and taking my hand in his right, kissed it. I shrank visibly.