Fortunately, by the time they arrived at the Amphitheatre and had settled themselves in their seats, he forgot his chagrin in sharing the uninhibited enjoyment of the performance experienced by his two unsophisticated charges. The first part of the programme consisted of songs and dances against appropriate scenes such as a Dock Yard with several Artists at work on a large ship, ending with a spirited rendering of a Hornpipe; and a Tempest, which inspired a graceful Water Ballet.
“Now what is to come?” Melissa demanded excitedly of Helen, leaning over her shoulder to consult the programme. “Oh! ‘The Theatre of Florence, representing several Frontispieces of beautiful Fireworks, which have been displayed in different Parts of Europe.’ Do you suppose they will be real fireworks? But no, only pictures, of course.”
There was a short intermission between this part of the performance and the next, which promised to be even more exciting, as it would consist of horsemanship, juggling and acrobatics. Helen suggested that they might go and see if there was any sign of James, so they all strolled out into the passage leading to the foyer, glad of an opportunity to move about for a while. There was quite a press of people here, and presently Helen became separated from her companions, caught up between the wall of the passage and a jostling group who would not allow her to pass. An unmannerly push sent her against a door marked ‘Private’; it opened, evidently being insecurely latched, and she found herself partly thrust through into a long, narrow passage beyond.
Curious, because she guessed that this must lead backstage, she took a good look before attempting to regain her rightful place on the public side of the door. She saw two men at the far end of the passage, so deep in conversation that they remained oblivious both of the open door and the intruder. With difficulty she held back a startled exclamation as she recognised instantly that one of the men was Bertram Durrant.
The other man she had never set eyes on before. She had just enough time to notice that he was tall with auburn hair similar to Viscount Shaldon’s, and that he was dressed in a clown’s red and white striped costume with large white bobbles down the front of it, although his face had not yet been made up for the part. Fearful that at any moment Durrant might look that way and recognise her, she hastily stepped back into the crowd, pulling the door shut behind her.
“Oh, so there you are, Miss Somerby!” exclaimed Philip, in relief. “I shouldn’t have brought you both out here, for I never saw such a rag-mannered set of people as these! I think perhaps we had best try to resume our seats, and leave Somerby to make his own way to join us, as I’m sure he’s quite capable of doing. Will you take my arm, ma’am?”
Helen acquiesced, and they made their way back to their seats without too much difficulty, carried along in a stream of others with the same intention. But during the next few turns, which were juggling and vaulting, her mind was not completely on the entertainment before her; and when three tumbling clowns appeared — and in spite of the makeup, she recognised one as the man to whom Durrant had been speaking — her attention was even more distracted.
What interest could Durrant possibly have in a clown at Astley’s Circus? Could he in any way be connected with the management of the place? It seemed hardly likely that, even if Durrant had somehow managed to acquire business interests, he should involve himself in such a business as a circus. Was it then some undertaking of Lord Lydney’s, and Durrant was acting on his employer’s behalf? Or — more unlikely still — had this any connection with the errand for the Earl of Alvington which had taken Durrant down to Sussex some weeks since? And had any of it a possible connection with Durrant’s dark hints about trouble in store for Shaldon?
Helen drew her thoughts up with a jerk, softly laughing out loud at the absurdity of them. As the scene being enacted before them at that moment was supposed to make the audience laugh, this caused no surprise to her companions, who readily joined her. What in the world was she at, she asked herself mockingly, to let her curiosity and imagination run away with her like this? Durrant might need to talk with many unexpected people in discharging his duties as secretary to a Member of Parliament. As for Shaldon, as Mama had said, he was very capable of looking after himself.
Ah, and here was James at last, making his way past the disapproving spectators to gain his seat. Melissa’s speaking eyes shone as he quietly slid into it, and Helen was momentarily distracted from her previous train of thought to speculate on yet another possibility. It was beginning to look as if her impressionable friend had found a successor to the once adored Monsieur Falaise. Well, it can do her no harm, thought Helen philosophically, and settled down with an undivided mind to enjoy the brilliant display of horsemanship which was the chief feature of Astley’s.
The male riders performed the most difficult feats, of course, but there were two equestriennes who gained their share of applause. One of these was a strikingly pretty young female with golden hair and a slender, agile body. She rode astride, bareback, then stood up on the horse’s back, balancing on one foot as the animal charged round the ring.
“You’re not a bad horsewoman, Nell,” remarked James. “How’d you like to try that trick, though?”
Helen laughed. “No, thank you. I fear I should only make a sorry mess of it, and injure myself into the bargain.”
“But then you would have the very best of attention afterwards, you know,” Melissa said, looking shyly up at James.
He smiled at her, but shook his head. “If you mean me, I’m naturally flattered, Miss Chetwode. But it don’t do to doctor one’s own family.”
“I suppose not, but it does seem a waste to call in another doctor whom one may not like — that’s to say,” she amended, hastily, “does not know so well.”
“That’s the point, ma’am. People don’t pay any heed to the advice of their relatives. Besides, who’s to say a doctor might not abuse the situation, and poison off some wealthy connection?”
“No, what a dreadful suggestion! But of course you’re funning,” she added, seeing the twinkle in his eye. “That is just what Helen does to me, sometimes.”
“Then I won’t do so again, for we can’t have you positively persecuted by our family, what d’you say, Chetwode?”
“That I can’t imagine Miss Somerby persecuting anyone, in the first place. Secondly, I’m certain my sister can do her own share.”
“Well, of all the positively brotherly things to say!” exclaimed Melissa, in feigned indignation.
“Hush, we’ve come to the Finale,” warned Helen.
As the cast bowed before the thunderous applause, she noticed that the auburn-haired clown had joined hands with the pretty equestrienne, who was looking up at him with very much the same expression that had been on Melissa’s face while she talked to James.
CHAPTER XXI
The following day, Lady Chetwode decided that they should go shopping.
“For once you have been presented, my dears,” she informed the girls, “there will be no end of invitations to balls, rout parties and the like. And although Melissa’s wardrobe is not precisely scanty, one must be beforehand in such matters. Besides, I daresay Helen will be glad to see some of our fine Town shops, will you not, my dear?”
Helen readily assented, and the carriage was sent for to convey them first of all to Messrs. Clark & Debenham’s premises in Wigmore Street.
“If we don’t find anything to our liking there,” said Lady Chetwode, “we will try Grafton House or Layton & Shears. Indeed, it may be as well to look in at all of them, you know, for one cannot make up one’s mind in a minute over such an important matter as the material for a gown.”
The truth of this maxim was abundantly illustrated in the course of the following three or four hours. Helen was completely dazzled by such an abundant display of twills, bombazines, sarsenets, muslins, silks, satins, and velvets as the willing assistants laid out before them. As roll after roll of cloth appeared, a choice of any particular one became increasingly difficult for Melissa, never the m
ost decisive of females; and her Mama, also inclined to be vague, was obviously not the best person to guide her daughter’s wavering inclinations.
“The pink muslin is very pretty, Melissa, though I think yellow becomes you better. No, not lilac, my love; that would suit Helen monstrous well. What do you think, Helen? Would you like a length of this made up? I know your Mama has already provided you with a most extensive wardrobe, but one cannot have too many gowns for a come-out, you know.” Before Helen could reply to this, she was off again. “Oh, but that aquamarine silk is exquisite! And that silver gauze would look so pretty over this blue! I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps we should try somewhere else, for I quite despair of your ever making up your mind here.”
Helen looked with some compassion at the two seemingly tireless assistants who had been busy reaching down bales of material, often from high shelves, for the customers’ inspection; but they seemed quite unruffled, and made low bows as the three ladies left, thanking Lady Chetwode for her lack of custom with as much enthusiasm as though she had just placed a very expensive order. Helen could not help passing a comment on this to her hostess, but Lady Chetwode only smiled knowingly.
“Ah, but then they know quite well that next time I go into the shop I may well give them a large order, so it’s worth their while to show me every attention. Besides, if one serves in a draper’s, one must expect to pull out several rolls of cloth whether or not the customer eventually makes a purchase. Depend upon it, they are quite accustomed and feel no hardship.”
Helen would have liked to be more certain of this; but she said no more as they resumed their seats in the carriage to go on to Grafton House, which was the nearer of the other two shops favoured by Lady Chetwode. By now Helen was becoming a little more accustomed to London’s traffic, but at first it had made her stare in surprise. Smart town carriages, phaetons, curricles, and other sporting vehicles made their way with difficulty among brewers’ drays, stage and Mail coaches, carriers’ carts, hackney coaches, waggons with hay for the markets, and horseback riders. Even the pavements were always busy; in the fashionable quarters with modish strollers, and towards the City with scurrying clerks, tradesmen shouting their wares, postmen in scarlet coats going from door to door, grimy chimney sweeps carrying brushes, milkmaids with pails suspended from yokes across their shoulders, and sellers of lavender or other flowers in season. Noise and confusion seemed the lot of Londoners of every degree, she reflected, but one soon became accustomed and ceased to regard it.
They had barely entered the doors of the emporium in Grafton Street when an excited exclamation drew their attention to a young lady in a smart cinnamon velvet pelisse who was standing before one of the counters with an older lady, looking at some shawls.
“Helen, Melissa! Oh, how splendid to see you!”
It was Catherine Horwood. Although the three girls had kept up a lively correspondence with each other since leaving school, this was the first occasion on which they had all met. They broke out at once into animated chatter, almost forgetting to perform the necessary introduction between Lady Chetwode and Mrs. Horwood, who were not known to each other.
“Papa has taken a house in Bruton Street. It’s so vastly convenient for everything. Oh, you must come and see me. Mama, they may come, mayn’t they?” said Catherine, all in a rush.
Mrs. Horwood, a tall woman nearly as slender as her daughter and modishly dressed, smiled at Catherine’s eagerness. “Of course, Kitty.” She turned to Lady Chetwode. “I hope we may have the pleasure of a visit from you and the young ladies very soon, ma’am.”
Lady Chetwode caught a pleading look from Melissa, and bowed. “Thank you, ma’am. But I am wondering if perhaps you might permit your daughter to return home with us today, when you shall have finished your business in Town? That is, of course, if no prior engagement prevents it? I fear,” shaking her head and smiling, “that they are all three so eager for a good cose, they will scarcely endure to postpone it until another day.”
There was such a chorus of approval for this scheme that Mrs. Horwood had the utmost difficulty in making herself heard to agree to it; but it was eventually decided that they would separate for an hour in order the better to do their shopping, and that Catherine should then accompany her friends to Cavendish Square.
It was rather a squeeze in the carriage, for in the end several parcels and a bandbox had to be accommodated as well as an extra passenger; but it was all managed with so much goodwill and enthusiasm that only Lady Chetwode had the least consciousness of not being completely comfortable.
As soon as she was back at home again, she wisely left the young people to themselves, and retiring to her bedchamber, thankfully shook off her shoes and put up her aching feet on a stool.
“Now, tell me everything that’s happened since last we met!” demanded Catherine, as soon as the girls were alone. “Oh, yes, I know we’ve exchanged letters, but that’s not at all the same thing as a long chat, is it?”
Helen and Melissa enthusiastically agreed; and for the succeeding couple of hours their tongues were never still. At last Catherine said reluctantly that she supposed she ought to go, as her Mama would be expecting her.
“Oh, but you’ll take some refreshment first, will you not?” urged Melissa, belatedly recalled to a sense of the proper duties of a hostess. “That will give us a little longer, at any rate.”
Catherine demurred but was not difficult to persuade, so Melissa sent for some tea. This had just arrived in the drawing room and she was about to dispense it to her friends when the door opened to admit her brother Philip, accompanied by Viscount Shaldon.
For a moment both gentlemen were taken aback; they had evidently expected to find the room unoccupied.
“What, you here, Mel?” asked Philip. “I quite thought you would still be out shopping. Pray excuse us. We’ve no wish to intrude.”
They made their bows, prepared to quit the room instantly.
“No, pray don’t go,” said Melissa. “I should like to present you to my friend Catherine Horwood, whom we encountered in Town.”
The presentations were duly made, and the gentlemen bowed again. Catherine blushed a little on being confronted with two such personable gentlemen at once, for she was rather shy.
“Miss Somerby is, of course, already known to you,” Philip Chetwode said to Shaldon.
“To be sure,” replied Shaldon, smiling. “Our acquaintance is of very long standing, is it not, Miss Somerby?” He turned to Melissa. “And how d’you do, ma’am? I trust not too fatigued by your expedition?”
“Oh, no, it was most diverting,” she replied. “But pray be seated. Will you take tea with us?”
The gentlemen exchanged a brief glance which indicated to Helen, at least, that tea was not their favourite beverage. Nevertheless, they politely accepted a cup and tried to look as though they were enjoying it. Shaldon took a chair beside Helen, while his friend seated himself between the other two young ladies.
“And how is that rascal Patch?” enquired Shaldon, having first asked after Helen’s parents. “I daresay he misses you sadly.”
She laughed. “Oh, he is well up to form, I fear! Mama tells me in her latest letter that he is in Cook’s bad books for stealing a mutton chop from right under her nose the other day!”
Shaldon shook his head gravely. “Tut, tut, a most abandoned creature, evidently. But time may tame him, as it does with most of us. And how are you enjoying your stay in Town, ma’am?”
“Oh, prodigiously, I thank you! Today we have been making a tour of some of the shops, and yesterday we paid a visit to Westminster Abbey and Astley’s Circus.”
“Two vastly different diversions. I will not ask what you thought of the Abbey, but do tell me how you enjoyed the Circus?”
“Well, the day was somewhat marred by a sad accident which befell an elderly woman who stepped in front of a coach just as we were leaving the Abbey,” replied Helen, her hazel eyes solemn. “But James took her off to the hospi
tal, and later he was able to give us a fairly optimistic account of her condition. As for the Circus” — her face lit up again with animation — “I never enjoyed anything half so much in my life!”
She proceeded to give him a lively account of all that they had seen at Astley’s. Philip Chetwode, who was watching the pair while at the same time conducting a conversation with Catherine and his sister, was surprised to see that man of the world, Shaldon, apparently deriving so much entertainment from such unsophisticated chatter. The fact was that Shaldon was once more yielding, as he had done during his brief visit to the Rectory, to the influence of Helen’s infectious laughter and the enchantment of watching the changing expressions on her lively face.
She sobered suddenly and lowered her voice.
“The oddest thing, sir,” she said. “I saw Durrant there, in conversation with one of the clowns. Not in the public part of the building, though, for inadvertently I entered a door marked private.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Durrant? And with a clown, you say? That’s certainly unexpected. I would not have supposed him to be a follower of the motley.”
“No more would I. And I did very much wonder—”
She hesitated, while he regarded her quizzically.
“Cynthia Lydney told me some weeks since, while I was still at home, that Durrant had been down to Sussex on some errand for my Lord Alvington,” she went on, impetuously. “And that made me wonder, too. You see—”
“An errand for my father — in Sussex?” he asked incredulously. “That’s deuced odd! But I fail to see any connection between that and Durrant’s friendship with a clown from Astley’s Circus. It seems there exists some such connection in your mind, however, Miss Somerby?”
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