Then as she looked for them she saw that they were at the far end of the Supper-Room, talking earnestly to the Prince.
‘What are they plotting?’ Davita wondered.
She was sure that if it was against the Marquis, he would not be affected by it because he was far stronger than they were! Then she wondered what she meant by that.
The dance came to an end and the Prince rose to his feet.
“I have something to say to you,” he said in his deep voice with just a slight foreign accent, which made it sound very attractive.
The ladies all flocked towards him, looking as they moved in their full frilled skirts like the flowers that decorated the room.
“What is it, Your Highness?” one of them asked. “Have you a surprise for us?”
“Several, as it happens,” the Prince replied. “For one, there is a Cotillion when you will all get very attractive prizes.”
There was a cry of delight at this, and one woman said effusively:
“Darling Boris! You are always so generous!”
“I think we both are, Dolores, in one way or another!” the Prince replied. There was a shriek of laughter at the repartee and Dolores laughed too.
“Before the Cotillion,” the Prince said, “as it is my birthday, we must have a little celebration.”
“Your birthday!”
There were shrieks from everyone.
“Why did you not tell us?” “Why did we not know?” “We would have brought you a present!”
“All I need as a present is that you are all here,” the Prince replied. “I intend to cut my cake, then you shall drink my health in a very special wine that comes from my own vineyard in my own country.”
As he spoke, servants came in carrying an enormous iced cake on which flared a number of candles.
They set it down on a small table in front of the Prince, and as they did so Davita felt her hand taken by Violet.
“Let us get near so that we see,” she said.
She pulled Davita through the guests until they stood at the Prince’s side.
“I want my friend from Scotland to see this ceremony, Your Highness,” Violet said to him. “Everything’s new and exciting to her and this is something she mustn’t miss!”
“Of course not,” the Prince answered, “and I hope, Miss Kilcraig, you will wish me happiness in the future.”
“Of course I will!” Davita answered.
The Prince smiled at her, and picking up a knife , with a jewelled handle was ready to cut the cake.
“I must blow out the candles first,” he said, “and for as many as I extinguish, I shall have as many happy years.”
“No cheating!” somebody shouted.
“That is one thing I never do,” the Prince replied.
He drew in his breath and with one terrific blow extinguished every candle on the cake.
There were shrieks of delight, then everybody clapped.
“Now wish!” Violet said.
“That is what I am doing, but of course what I wish must be a secret!”
He inserted the jewelled knife into the cake and cut it, then as the servants took it away, others brought huge trays on which there were glasses of wine.
One servant brought a gold tray on which there were only three glasses and presented it to the Prince.
“Now these,” the Prince said, “are for myself and my two special guests this evening.”
He picked up the glass on the right and, turning to the Marquis, who was at his side, said:
“Vange, you and I have been competitors on the racecourse and at times in the race for love. I would like you to drink my health, and may we have many more years ahead of us as competitors and—friends.”
“You may be sure of that, Your Highness,” the Marquis answered, “and I promise I shall always do my best to defeat you!”
“And I promise I shall strive indefatigably to be victorious!”
There was a roar of laughter at this, then the Prince lifted the left-hand glass and the middle one.
Then to Davita’s utter surprise he turned to her and said:
“There is an old superstition in my country that a red-haired woman presents a challenge which all men find irresistible. May I ask you, Miss Kilcraig, as I think you are the only red-headed person present, to drink my health, and I hope that the future will prove a challenge both for me and for yourself!”
Davita took the glass from the Prince’s hand and said a little shyly:
“I ... I hope I may bring Your ... Highness both a challenge and good luck.”
“Thank you.”
The Prince raised his glass.
“Let us all drink to the future,” he said, “and, in the fashion of my country—no heel-taps!”
Everybody raised their glasses.
“To Boris!” they cried, “and to the future!”
Davita put the glass to her lips, and despite what the Prince had said, she was about only to sip the wine when Violet beside her whispered:
“You must drink it down! Otherwise it’s an insult!” Because she thought that to disobey such an instruction might draw attention to herself, Davita tipped the glass upwards and felt the liquid, which was soft, sweet, and tasted of strawberries, slip down her throat.
She was grateful that it was not the rather harsh, fiery wine she had expected.
Then as she turned her face to look at the Prince, she suddenly felt as if the whole room were moving.
At first it was just a movement like the waves of the sea. Then it seemed to accelerate and whirl as the Gypsy music was whirling, growing wilder and more insistent!
The sound became deafening and with it was a darkness which came up from the floor to cover her...
CHAPTER FIVE
Davita REALISED THAT her head was aching and she must be very tired.
Her mouth felt dry, and vaguely she wondered if she had drunk too much champagne the night before.
Her eyes felt heavy and seemed to be throbbing, and it was with an effort that she managed to open them.
Then she knew that she must be dreaming, for beside her on the bed, and she thought it was in her lodgings, was a man!
She could see his white shirt and his dark head, and when she shut her eyes to try to make herself wake up, she could feel again the dryness of her mouth and the pain in her head.
Suddenly there were voices and laughter and she opened her eyes to see Violet in the doorway of a strange room and beside her Lord Mundesley.
For a moment their faces swam in front of her eyes,and there was another face too, and she was sure that she was having a nightmare.
Then Violet was saying angrily:
“Really, My Lord! It is disgraceful of you to behave in such a manner to my poor little friend who has only just arrived from Scotland!”
It was then Davita realised that Violet was not looking at her but was speaking to somebody beside her.
Slowly, because she was so frightened that it was almost impossible to move, she turned her head.
The man she had seen in what she thought was a dream was the Marquis!
Now in a horror that made her feel spellbound she was aware that they were lying on a huge canopied bed, with silk curtains falling from a gold corola, side by side on lace-edged pillows.
“I must wake up, I must!” Davita told herself.
But the Marquis did not disappear. He was there in his white shirt without his evening-coat, and he was real ... real!
As if he was as bemused as she was, he lay very still for a moment. Then slowly he raised himself on the pillow, saying as he did so:
“What the devil is all this about?”
Only when he was sitting up on the bed did he see that Davita was beside him, and as he looked at her Violet said again:
“You have behaved disgracefully! I cannot allow my friend’s reputation to be injured, so you will have to make reparation!”
Without saying anything, but with an expression of ange
r and contempt on his face, the Marquis rose from the bed and Davita felt sure that he was feeling as strange and as hazy as she was.
He picked up his evening-coat, which was lying on a chair, and as he started to put it on Lord Mundesley said:
“It is checkmate, Vange! There are only two things you can do—marry the girl, or pay up.”
Davita drew in her breath.
It was gradually percolating through her befuddled mind what had happened. She remembered the toast on the Prince’s birthday, and the way she had been forced to drink the whole glass of wine because Violet had said that otherwise it would be an insult.
Suddenly she understood. She had been drugged! She remembered the room seeming to swing round her before she was overwhelmed by a darkness which rendered her unconscious.
The same thing must have happened to the Marquis, and this was what Violet and Lord Mundesley had been planning: to discredit him, to pay him out for beating Lord Mundesley’s horses at the races and for treating Rosie in the way he had.
But why should she be part of the plot?
She knew she must tell the Marquis that it was nothing to do with her.
But because her lips were so dry, although by now she was sitting up, it was impossible either to move or to speak.
She could only watch what was happening, finding it hard to breathe.
The Marquis had put on his evening-coat, and now as he pulled his lapels into place he said in an icy voice: “Let me make it clear that I will not be blackmailed!”
“I think you might prefer it to being sued for breach of promise,” Lord Mundesley said with a sneer.
The Marquis did not reply, and with what Davita felt was an unassailable dignity he started to move towards the door. Then Violet said:
“As Davita is not lucky enough to have any jewellery to keep, I should imagine a sum of—say—five thousand pounds would mend a broken heart.”
The Marquis by now had reached the door of the bedroom, and as he went to open it Lord Mundesley said mockingly:
“It is no use, Vange! You are caught—hook, line, and sinker! We have a photograph, in fact several, of you together with this poor, innocent child, and let me point out she is not a Gaiety Girl but respectable and innocent—or rather she was!”
The Marquis walked three paces back to face Lord Mundesley.
The two men confronted each other and Davita saw that the Marquis’s fists were clenched and she thought he would strike Lord Mundesley.
With an effort she found her voice.
“N-no ... please ... ! This is ... wrong ... very wrong ... I ...”
Before she could say any more, Violet was beside her.
She caught hold of her arm, digging her fingers into the softness of the flesh as she said in a hissing whisper:
“Be quiet! Don’t say anything!”
“B-but ... I ...” Davita began, then realised that neither of the men had paid any attention to her interruption.
“I know only too well why you have done this,” the Marquis was saying, and his voice was low and controlled.
“You have had it coming for some time, Vange,” Lord Mundesley replied. “This time I have slipped under your guard and the only thing you can do is to pay up. As Violet says, it will cost you five thousand pounds to buy the photographs from me.”
The way he spoke was even more unpleasant than what he said, and once again Davita knew that the Marquis was considering knocking him down.
Then, as if it was beneath his dignity, he said:
“Go to the devil!”
Then he walked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
For a moment there was silence. Then Violet gave a little cry and asked:
“Have we won?”
“We have!” Lord Mundesley replied. “He will pay up because there is nothing else he can do.”
He walked to the end of the bed and, resting his arms on it, leant forward to look at Davita.
“Well, my pretty little Scot,” he said, “I have done you a good turn. With five thousand pounds in your pocket, there will be no need for you to go looking for employment for some time!”
As he spoke, Davita was vividly conscious of the look in his eyes, which made her shrink away from him as she had done in his carriage.
She was not only afraid of him, but she hated him so violently that for the moment she was aware only of a disgust which made her feel sick.
Then it swept over her with horror that she had been humiliated and made a participant in Lord Mundesley’s and Violet’s plot to extract money from the Marquis.
However, some instinct of self-preservation warned her not to say so at this moment, and she merely turned her face towards Violet, saying desperately:
“I ... want to ... go ... home!”
“That is where I’ll take you,” Violet answered.
She helped Davita off the bed, but when her feet touched the floor she felt as if the room were still swinging round her and she staggered.
“You’re all right,” Violet said. “You’ll soon sleep it off.”
She put her arm round Davita’s shoulders to lead her towards the door.
“I will help you,” Lord Mundesley said.
Davita shrank away from him as Violet said:
“Leave her alone! She’s all right. Just see that the coast is clear. She won’t want to talk to anybody at the moment.”
“Oh ... no ... please ... !”
“Don’t worry,” Violet said as Lord Mundesley went ahead of them. “Nearly everyone’s left by now, and the rest are too drunk to know whether it’s Christmas or Easter!”
“What ... about the ... Prince?”
Davita vaguely remembered seeing him peering through the door when she first woke up.
“He thinks it’s a fine joke!” Violet replied. “He won’t talk, and most of the others didn’t realise what had happened. We got you out quick and up the stairs while the rest of the party were toasting their host.”
“How ... could you ... do such a ... thing?” Davita asked.
“I’ll tell you later.”
They reached the stairs and Davita was walking more firmly but she still held on to Violet’s arm.
Lord Mundesley’s carriage was at the front-door, and as they drove away she leant back and shut her eyes, determined not to talk about it to him.
However, she was obliged to listen to him chuckling and gloating over the Marquis’s discomfort in what she knew was a most unpleasant manner.
“I never thought to catch him at such a disadvantage!” Lord Mundesley said in a self-satisfied voice. “Violet, my pet, you are a genius!”
“I’m not worrying about your revenge,” Violet replied, “and I couldn’t care one way or the other if the Marquis has better horses than you. What I did was to help Davita. She’ll be all right now and will need assistance from no-one ...”
There was an accent on the last word that made Davita think Violet was aware of the proposition Lord Mundesley had made to her.
Then she told herself it was impossible, but unless she was blind Violet must have noticed the way he looked at her, which had been very revealing.
‘I hate him! I hate him!’ she thought, and did not open her eyes until they reached their lodgings.
Then her hatred of Lord Mundesley gave her a burst of energy which enabled her to hurry past him as he assisted first Violet and then herself to alight and be halfway up the staircase before they had reached the hall.
As she turned to climb the second flight, she glanced down to see Lord Mundesley pulling Violet into his arms, and she wondered how she could allow anyone so revolting to kiss her.
It was an inexpressible relief to reach her own bedroom and take off her mother’s gown, feeling she had besmirched it and would never wear it again, before Violet came into the room.
“Now don’t be upset, Davita,” she said in a coaxing tone. “I know it was a bit of a shock, but when you get the Marquis’s cheque tomorrow, you�
��ll thank me from the bottom of your heart.”
“I will not ... take his ... money,” Davita said in a low voice.
“Don’t be such a little fool!” Violet said sharply. “You know as well as I do you’ve no alternative, unless you’re prepared to accept the suggestion which I suspect Bertie’s prepared to make you.”
Davita drew in her breath.
“I’m not half-witted,” Violet went on. “I know he fancies you, even though he may not have said anything yet.”
Davita hoped the relief these last words gave her did not show on her face, and Violet went on:
“Not that I’d mind losing him as much as all that—there’s plenty of others! But I know Bertie, and he’d soon tire of you after he got what he wants.”
This was the phrase that Davita had heard in her childhood, and it made her think of Jeannie and how she had killed herself and her baby because the Piper could not marry her.
“How can ... you be so ... friendly with him ... Violet?” she asked. “He is ... a married man.”
Violet laughed.
“I’m not expecting Bertie or any of his kind to marry me,” she said, “but he gives me a good time, and he’s generous when it comes to gowns and sables. There’s a dozen like Willie, bless their hearts, but they haven’t got two pennies to rub together.”
“But it is ... wrong,” Davita murmured.
Violet gave a little laugh and turned her back.
“Undo my gown, there’s a dear, and stop worrying your head over me. I’ve saved you from being faced with the eternal question of ‘starvation or sin,’ and that’s all that need concern you for the moment.”
Davita unbuttoned her gown and Violet with difficulty moved round the tiny room towards the door, saying as she went:
“Good-night, and tell them downstairs that no-one’s to wake me ’til I call. I’m dead on my feet!”
As she shut the door behind her, Davita put her hands over her face and sat down on the bed to try and think.
It was ten o’clock before Davita had finished her packing and asked Billy to carry her trunks downstairs and fetch a hackney-carriage.
She knew that Violet would not wake for at least another two hours, and by that time she would have disappeared.
A Night of Gaiety Page 9