Masqueraders

by Georgette Heyer

  His lesser height and strength did not seem to discompose the Unknown; he showed no signs of tiring; he was fighting still with the same force and cunning; he even seemed to be pressing his opponent. There was a parry, and, it seemed to Letty, two simultaneous lunges. Mr Markham thought he had found an opening, but as he lunged the Unknown’s sword shot out in a time-thrust quicker than the eye could follow, took Markham’s foible in a flickering parry, and passed on without a check to the heart. It was all over in the flash of an eyelid; dimly Letty realized that she had seen a marvellous piece of sword-play. The Unknown sprang back, gasping for breath; Markham seemed to crumple where he stood, and fell heavily to the ground.

  Letty’s eyes rested on him, full of horror and amazement. Only an instant back he seemed on the point of killing his opponent, and now there he lay, a dark heap on the ground.

  The Unknown was on his knee beside him, shutting him from Letty’s view; she stood still, clinging now to the frame of the door. After a minute the Unknown rose, and came to the coach. He was no longer smiling, and Letty saw the sweat glistening on his brow. She held out her hands to be helped from the coach. He put up his, and she sprang lightly down.

  ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘He was a villain, but he fought well.’ He turned, and bent to pick up Markham’s coat. In a moment he had a paper in his hands, and bent his head to inspect it. He turned, and gave it to Letty. ‘Destroy that, Letitia. You know what it is.’

  She hid it in the bosom of her gown. ‘Oh, thank you! thank you!’ she whispered.

  He held out his hand. ‘Remember that I am a highwayman!’ he said. ‘Give me the pearls you wear. I will return them to you very soon now. Can you trust me?’

  She unclasped the string. ‘Trust you! Oh, must you ask?’

  He shook his head, smiling faintly, and held out his hand again. She put hers into it, and he bent to kiss it. ‘I shall come again,’ he promised. ‘And next time you know what I shall demand.’

  She nodded; her eyes were shining; she knew neither hesitation nor bashfulness. He would come to claim her; if he chose he might ride off with her over his saddle now.

  He had pulled on his boots, and was struggling into his coat. In another few minutes he had leaped into the saddle again, and was bowing low over the horse’s withers. The fair hair was touched to silver by the moonlight; a jewel at his throat winked; and behind the mask Letty thought she saw his eyes gleaming blue. ‘Au revoir, ma belle! ’ he said, and straightened in the saddle. ‘Drive the lady back to town!’ he said curtly to the coachman. There was a quick word in a strange tongue for the man with the pistol; the restless horse was wheeled about, the three-cornered hat was waved once to Letty. Then the horse bounded forward, across the heath; the pace quickened to a gallop, and in a few moments both riders had disappeared over the brow of a little hill.

  Miss Letty rubbed her eyes; it was so like a dream, so unreal, that she began to doubt her senses. But the pearls were gone from her neck, and a few paces distant a dark figure lay on the ground – a figure that had once been Gregory Markham.

  Twenty-four

  Return of Miss Grayson

  Over the hill, some few yards from the road, which turned sharply that way, Prudence waited beside a light chaise. She was in riding clothes, with her bridle over her arm. The horses had been taken from the chaise; Prudence herself had dismounted, and she was standing in the shadow of a tree, a big coat covering her, and her hat drawn over her eyes. There was a worried look in her face; the fine mouth was close shut, and the grey eyes troubled and anxious. She could never be at ease when Robin danced abroad in this fashion, but long training had taught her to assume a calm she was far from feeling. She would scorn to importune her brother with her fears, but there could be no peace for her until he was come safe back again.

  She had not long to wait now before the sound of horses came to her listening ears. In another moment or two Robin had pulled up beside her.

  She stepped forward, with eager hands stretched out to touch him, as though she must make sure that way of his safety. He bent in the saddle to grip her shoulder a minute. ‘Madam Anxiety!’

  ‘All well, child?’

  ‘You see me safe and sound.’ Robin swung himself down from the saddle.

  ‘Markham?’

  ‘Just as the old gentleman planned. A good fight.’

  ‘You killed him?’

  ‘Certainly, child.’ Robin gave his bridle into John’s hands, and took off his coat. ‘Well, I must get me into my petticoats, I suppose. Hey-day!’

  ‘I can find it in me to be sorry for the Markham,’ Prudence remarked. ‘I tell the old gentleman it’s a polite murder.’

  ‘Oh, I did not have it quite all my own way, be sure. He had some knowledge of the duello. I might pity him but for his treatment of Letty. That puts him beyond pity. Well, I’ll away to my dressing-room. Put the horses to, John.’ He went with a quick stride to a clump of bushes, and disappeared behind it.

  Prudence went to help John with the horses. Busy with a cheek-strap, she said: ‘Did he fight well, John?’

  ‘You know his way, Miss Prue! Ay, he was like a demon. But the other man had some skill, as he said.’ John smiled grimly. ‘I’d my barker ready.’

  Prudence chuckled. ‘John, John, you’re a rogue! Foul play, and would he ever have forgiven it?’

  ‘Or you forgive me for letting harm come to him, mistress?’ John backed his horse into the shafts. ‘His lordship will have it he’s the world’s greatest swordsman, but to my mind Master Robin’s his master. Ay, ’twas a good fight.’

  ‘How came the end?’

  ‘He made a time-thrust, Miss Prue. It would have done his lordship’s heart good to have seen it. Dangerous work, but there was never a head like Master Robin’s in a fight.’

  Robin came out presently from his sylvan dressing-room. ‘I doubt I look a hag,’ he remarked, stowing a bundle of clothes away under the seat of the chaise. ‘No mirror, nor any lights. How is it, my Prue?’

  She inspected him critically, and rearranged the loose curls as best she might. ‘It will serve. Do we come up with your lady?’

  Robin frowned. ‘There’s a risk, of course, but I don’t care to leave her to travel with Markham’s body. I suppose they will take him up.’ He glanced at her. ‘I had rather keep you out of this, child.’

  ‘Fiddle!’ said Prudence. ‘We’ve been to visit friends. Who’s to suspect? We must escort Miss Letty home. Lord, what a mad piece it is!’

  Robin slipped the gold ring from his finger and tossed it to Prudence. ‘Pocket that: she’s not to know. Egad, if this comes to your mountain’s ears I’m like to be sped.’

  ‘I’ll protect you,’ promised his sister. ‘I daresay he might guess the truth.’

  Robin watched John climb on to the box and gather up the reins. ‘It’s a most suspicious mind, alack. Well, en avant !’ He jumped up into the coach, and Prudence swung herself into the saddle again.

  Proceeding at a fair pace they came very soon upon the scene of the late duel. Contrary to Robin’s expectations the coach still stood in the road, though it had been turned to face towards London. Obviously much time had been wasted in discussion and argument. Miss Letty stood by the door; two of the men were carrying Markham’s body, covered by a cloak, to the coach.

  Prudence spurred forward, and came up to the group. ‘Good gad, what’s toward?’ she cried. ‘Upon my soul – Miss Grayson!’

  ‘Mr Merriot!’ Letty’s voice held a sob of relief. ‘Oh, Mr Merriot, please help me!’ She ran forward to Prudence’s knee.

  Prudence was all wonder. ‘But what a’ God’s name has happened? How do you come to be here at this hour o’ night? Who is with you? And what the plague have you there?’ Her riding whip pointed to the two men’s burden.

  ‘I can’t tell you; I can’t
tell you; it’s all so dreadful!’ Letty shuddered. ‘Gregory Markham’s dead, and oh dear! I can’t travel all the way back with him beside me. I can’t!’

  The light chaise pulled up with them; Miss Merriot’s face appeared at the window. ‘What’s this, my Peter? ’Pon rep, not you, Letty? Why, child, how comes this? Where’s your aunt?’

  ‘Kate!’ Miss Letty ran forward. ‘Oh, take me in with you! Mr Markham has been killed by highwaymen, and I don’t know what to do!’

  ‘Good God, child!’ Miss Merriot was aghast. ‘Markham? Highwaymen? But what have you to do with all this?’

  ‘I cannot tell you,’ Letty said hopelessly. ‘Please do not ask me!’

  Prudence gave a sharp order. One of Mr Markham’s men came to let down the steps of Robin’s coach. Letty was up to them in a twinkling, and had cast herself into the arms of Miss Merriot.

  Prudence began to ask questions, and received a multitude of answers. One man swore to two enormous ruffians; another described one small villain, and one huge one and the third man had no very clear idea of anything save that Miss Grayson’s pearls had been torn from her neck by a fellow who held a pistol to her head. There was some argument over this: not one of the braves could agree with another’s version. Prudence let them run on awhile, but silenced all soon with a curt word. ‘And not one of you to lift a finger? I make you my compliments. Put the body into the coach and drive back to town. You will be required to answer for this.’

  Then it seemed that no one could decide where to take Mr Markham’s body: that was the reason of all this delay. Prudence settled it out of hand, and gave orders for its conveyance to Mr Markham’s lodgings. With cool foresight she recommended that the officers of the law should be instantly apprised of this terrible happening. Having seen the post-chaise drawn to one side of the road, she nodded to John, and Miss Merriot’s carriage drove past.

  Inside the light town coach Miss Letty clasped Robin’s hand and shivered. Robin had much ado to keep from catching her in his arms. She was shaken and frightened; she had seen death – and violent death at that – for the first time; and she had undergone an eleventh-hour rescue. Robin soothed gently, and when she grew calmer ventured a question or two. ‘Did you say it was highwaymen, child?’ he asked in a puzzled voice.

  Miss Letty nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, two of them. They stole my pearls.’

  Robin affected surprise. ‘But, my dear, highwaymen don’t offer to fight duels,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ said Miss Letty, ‘but these men were certainly robbers.’

  Robin smiled in the darkness, well-pleased. His flighty lady-love could keep a discreet tongue in her head, it seemed. ‘What was the man who fought Markham like to look at?’ he inquired.

  There was the tiniest pause. ‘I don’t know,’ said Letty. ‘Just like anybody.’

  ‘Short or tall?’ Robin pressed.

  ‘Oh, of medium height – rather tall!’ said Letty, blandly disregarding the truth. ‘And he had brown hair – and – and he was not at all out of the common way.’

  There was nothing more to be got out of her. Her unknown hero had imposed silence, and silent she would be. Questioned, she had not the smallest hesitation in lying. If there was to be a hue and cry after the Unknown she would do all that lay in her power to throw dust in the eyes of his pursuers.

  It was close on midnight when the chaise drew up at Sir Humphrey Grayson’s door, and no sooner had the steps been let down than both Sir Humphrey and Miss Grayson came hurrying out. There was at once a babel of exclamation.

  ‘Letitia!’

  ‘Thank God!’

  ‘Oh, my child, where have you been?’

  ‘Once more your good friends to the rescue!’

  Robin leaned out to speak to Sir Humphrey. ‘I bring her back to you again, sir. I daresay she will tell you more than I am permitted to know. I don’t need to ask you to be kind to her.’

  Sir Humphrey sighed. ‘Another scrape! I have to thank you once more, ma’am.’

  ‘There is not the necessity, sir. We happened to chance that way; we had been visiting at Barnet. Take her in, sir: she’s worn out, and, I believe, has suffered much. Drive on, John.’

  ‘You will not enter? A glass of wine – ?’

  ‘I thank you, sir, but it grows late, and we must hurry back to my Lady Lowestoft’s. You’re ready, my Peter?’

  Letty, clinging to her father’s arm, watched the chaise roll away down the street, with the neat figure of Mr Merriot riding behind it. She heaved a deep sigh, and whispered urgently: ‘Papa, papa, I must speak with you alone! Send Aunt to bed!’

  Miss Grayson the elder was in a severe bustle. ‘Letitia, you pass all bounds! Come within doors, for heaven’s sake, brother. You will explain yourself, Letitia, if you please. How came you to be lost in the gardens, and where, pray, have you been?’

  They stood now in the lit hall of the house. Letty shook her head wearily, and cast an appealing, urgent glance up into her father’s face. His mood was of annoyance at this fresh escapade, but he read such lingering horror in his daughter’s brown eyes that he silenced his sister. ‘I will have a talk with Letitia myself, sister, with your leave. Come into the library, child: you will be the better for a glass of Madeira.’

  Miss Grayson was affronted. ‘As Letitia’s chaperon, brother, I feel I have the right to know more of this!’ she declared.

  ‘So you shall, Cordelia, but later. Do not let us forget that I am Letty’s father.’

  Hearing that note in her brother’s voice Miss Grayson thought it as well to retire. She sniffed loudly, and saying that she hoped Sir Humphrey would read his erring child a sharp lesson, flounced off up the stairs to her own apartment.

  Sir Humphrey took Letty into the library, where a fire burned still. With austere kindliness he forbade all attempt at explanation until she should have swallowed some wine. This was soon brought by a curious servant. Letty was obliged to drink, and her father had the satisfaction of seeing some of the colour return to her pale cheeks.

  She put back her cloak, and with quivering fingers pulled the letter from the bosom of her gown. ‘Take it, Papa! Take it, and burn it!’ she said in a voice of strong agitation.

  Surprised he received the paper, and unfolded it. An exclamation broke from him; he stood with the letter in his hand, staring down at his daughter. ‘How came you by this?’

  Her tired eyelids fluttered upwards. ‘Mr Markham had it.’

  ‘That scoundrel! He gave it to you?’ Sir Humphrey’s voice was sharp with anxiety. ‘Good God, child, don’t tell me –’ He broke off, afraid to put his dread into words.

  ‘He said – he said he would expose you unless I would elope with him again. I could not think of a way out.’ She clasped her hands nervously in her lap. ‘He said if I told you he would publish the letter. There seemed to be nothing I could do. I was to fly with him to-night: I did not want to, papa! I have been so miserable! We reached as far as to Finchley Common, and then –’ She stopped, and after a moment’s hesitation leaned forward in her chair. ‘Papa, if I tell you the truth, will you promise to keep it secret? I am bound to divulge nothing, but I must tell you. He could not have meant me not to tell you. If I don’t you could never understand. But you must keep it secret, papa, or I may not tell you!’

  He put the letter into the fire, and watched it shrivel, and burn. ‘Hush, child! My poor girl, you suffer for my folly, but that villain imposed on you. There was not enough in that paper to send me to the gallows.’

  ‘Was there not?’ she had but a faint interest in it now. ‘I did not know. But you do not promise, papa! you do not promise!’

  He sat down beside her and took her hand. ‘What is this secret? You won’t tell without my promise? Why then, I must give it you. Don’t keep aught back from me, Letty
!’

  ‘I must go back so far,’ she said hurriedly. ‘As far as to the masked ball my Lady Dorling gave. You remember?’ The whole story came tumbling out, and ended with the Unknown’s reappearance this evening.

  Sir Humphrey was thunderstruck. A gasp escaped him at the tale of the duel; he put a quick question or two, and seemed to be almost incredulous. When his daughter came to the end he rose up from his chair, and took a turn about the room, his hands linked behind his back. ‘Markham dead!’ he ejaculated several times. ‘Good God, the scandal!’

  ‘I know, I know, but I could not help it, papa!’

  ‘No, it has been my fault,’ he said sadly. ‘And but for this strange masked man you would be in a bad case now. We must brave it out. But have you no notion who your preserver may be? If he knows you, you must surely know him!’

  ‘I do not, papa. He is not like any man of our acquaintance.’ A blush flooded her cheeks. ‘Papa…’

  He observed her heightened colour. ‘Well, child?’

  She looked frankly up at him. ‘I do not know his name, papa, nor anything about him, but I am going to marry him. He said – he said that next time he came it would be for me.’

  Sir Humphrey did not know what reply to make. At last he said: ‘That is for the to-morrow, Letitia. We must know something more of him. But certainly, provided his birth be respectable, he deserves to win you. I look forward to the day when I may have the honour of taking his hand.’

  Whereupon Miss Letty promptly cast herself into his arms, and burst into tears.

  Twenty-five

  Mystery of the Masked Man

  There could be no evading a lively scandal; Sir Humphrey had foreseen it; Robin had a dread of it. By noon next day Society spoke of nothing but the sudden and horrid death of Gregory Markham, and the frustrated elopement of the pretty heiress. The news was all over the town; the Merriots’ share in the night’s work was known with the rest, for Mr Markham’s coachman naturally told it all to Mr Markham’s valet, who, in his turn, repeated it to Mr Devereux’s man. The ball once started rolled swiftly through London, and at length reached the ears of Sir Anthony Fanshawe. He had it from Mr Belfort at White’s club, and Mr Belfort was able to give him better information than most, for he had made a point of calling in Arlington Street as soon as he heard the strange story. Mr Belfort, never having been at all in sympathy with Markham, saw the happenings as a rollicking adventure, and was about to make a ribald comment on Miss Letty’s share in it, when he remembered Sir Anthony’s close friendship with the Graysons. He coughed, glared at Devereux, standing by, and relapsed into solemn silence.