‘I am taking my little sister on a tour of the shops,’ said Annabelle gaily, and Deirdre could have killed her for that patronizing remark. ‘You know how it is, my lord,’ went on Annabelle, ‘these young things will get up to mischief if one does not keep them truly occupied.’
Lord Harry’s calm blue gaze turned on Deirdre.
‘And what mischief have you been getting up to, Miss Deirdre?’ he said.
‘Nothing at all,’ mumbled Deirdre, feeling like a gauche schoolgirl.
‘Then we shall have to invent some for you,’ he said. ‘I am going to the Jamesons’ masked ball tonight. Would that supply you with mischief enough?’
‘I have not been invited,’ said Deirdre.
‘But I have and I can escort you, with your father’s permission, of course.’
‘You cannot take her without a chaperone,’ exclaimed Annabelle, turning from flirtatious matron to stern matron all in a moment.
‘Of course not,’ said Lord Harry. ‘A respectable chaperone will be provided.’
‘Oh, in that case,’ said Annabelle brightly, ‘I can supply my little sister with a domino. It is blue which is not exactly your colour, Deirdre, but ’twill suffice.’
Lord Harry said he would call on Mr Armitage and make all the arrangements, then he made both ladies a magnificent bow, and strolled off.
‘What a man!’ said Annabelle, watching his well-tailored back retreating down Bond Street. ‘Oh, you are such a fool to turn him down, Deirdre!’
‘Ooooh! I wish you would stop putting on airs the whole time, Annabelle, and patronizing me in that stupid way. “My little sister,” indeed! And you were making sheep’s eyes at him in front of everyone in Bond Street. I have a good mind to tell Brabington of your behaviour.’
‘That’s just what a spiteful little cat like you would do,’ said Annabelle, tossing her curls. ‘If you say anything at all to Brabington, I shall pull your disgusting carroty hair out bit by bit.’
‘You are very vulgar and common, Annabelle,’ said Deirdre haughtily. ‘You have learned no manners at all.’
‘And you have learned no sense, you widgeon. Imagine letting such a prize as Desire get away. Of course, you are so countrified, such a rustic, you no doubt gave the poor man a disgust of you.’
‘If he has such a disgust of me, then why is he taking me to a masked ball?’
‘Because it is a masked ball and he won’t have to look at your insipid little face.’
Breathing hard through her nose with rage, Deirdre stamped on Annabelle’s toe. Annabelle rammed the ivory tip of her parasol into Deirdre’s instep.
Deirdre kicked Annabelle in the shins and Annabelle drew off and punched Deirdre in the midriff.
All this they performed with rigid social smiles pinned on their faces.
Then Annabelle began to giggle, and put an arm around Deirdre’s waist. ‘I haven’t changed, have I?’ she laughed. ‘Come along and I will get us ices at Gunter’s and I will behave myself.’
Deirdre grinned back and they moved off arm in arm down Bond Street. Deirdre wondered whether she should ask Annabelle about babies. But it was well known in the Armitage family that Annabelle desperately wanted a baby and so far nothing had happened. How odd! Perhaps she did not kiss her husband enough.
Deirdre was in such good spirits by the time she returned to Minerva’s house in St James’s Square that she was able to accept the fact that Lady Godolphin was to be her chaperone without demur. Deirdre was fond of Lady Godolphin, but found her embarrassingly eccentric and often wondered at Lord Harry’s very obvious affection for her.
Minerva was delighted that Deirdre should be seeing Lord Harry so soon again. Of course, it had been different when Deirdre had appeared afraid of the man, but now she was not, well, there was no denying that Lord Harry would be a delightful addition to the Armitage family.
Deirdre had seen Betty in the morning before she had left with Annabelle, but had been too embarrassed to ask the maid any questions.
But as Betty was helping her dress for the masked ball Deirdre at last blurted out, ‘I’m sorry I went to your room like that, Betty.’
‘I’m sorry too, miss,’ said Betty, putting the curling tongs on their little spirit stove to heat.
‘What were you doing?’ asked Deirdre. ‘I mean . . . I . . .’ Her voice tailed away.
‘Well, miss, seeing as how vicar is never going to let John and me marry, we decided to force his hand. So we were making a baby.’
‘Oh.’ Deirdre thought furiously. But her thoughts seemed to be dominated by the memory of the nakedness and size of John Summer’s bare bottom.
‘Oh, so that is how it is done,’ she said at last.
‘Please don’t talk about such things, miss,’ said Betty earnestly. ‘It is not fitting that a young girl like yourself should know of such matters. I am that ashamed you saw us.
‘I won’t tell anyone, Betty,’ said Deirdre. ‘If one takes off all one’s clothes and goes to bed, does that mean one gets a baby?’
‘Like as not, miss. Please don’t talk about it. What if Lady Sylvester were to hear you?’
‘Very well, Betty,’ said Deirdre, knitting her brow. One green eye swivelled in the direction of Betty’s stomach.
‘Is the baby in there now?’ she asked. ‘I’ll not ask you anything else.’
‘Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t,’ said Betty, finally turning brick red. ‘Now, be a good girl and say no more.’
‘Just like bulls and cows,’ said Deirdre at last. ‘Ouch! That hurts. You are burning the back of my neck, Betty.’
‘You a vicar’s daughter!’ exclaimed Betty, tears starting to her eyes. ‘I just know you’re going to come out with one of them remarks when you oughtn’t.’
‘No, no, Betty, I promise. But you see it is all very curious.’
‘Curiosity kills,’ said Betty. ‘Now, Lady Peter sent round that domino, and Miss Minerva – I mean, Lady Sylvester says she has a pretty mask. I’ll just go and fetch it.’
‘It’s all right, Betty, I’ll go. I feel too restless to sit around.’
Deirdre went along the passageway, the dark blue taffeta skirts of her gown rustling as she walked.
But instead of going directly to Minerva’s room, Deirdre sat down at the top of the stairs and propped her chin in her hands. She always sat on landings when she was upset. It seemed a suitably in-between world. Stepping into an actual room seemed to mean she had to take some sort of action.
If she took off all her clothes and went into Lord Harry’s bed, she would get a baby and then he would be pleased. Naturally, he would marry her. But perhaps only the lower orders got babies that way. How odd to think of the ton cavorting about like beasts of the fields.
Deirdre gave a little sigh. That must be it. Mrs Armitage was always saying, ‘Only very common people do that,’ referring to everything from eating peas with your knife to crossing your legs. Therefore, it followed that perhaps one went about having babies in a more genteel way.
Lady Godolphin’s lecture had been worse than useless. Her many malapropisms made her quite unintelligible at the best of times.
Then, take the stately Minerva for instance. And her supremely cool and elegant husband. They could never . . . No, it must be something else.
With a little sigh, Deirdre rose and went to Minerva’s boudoir, absent-mindedly forgetting to scratch at the door first.
Minerva was locked in her husband’s arms. He was only in his breeches and Minerva was clad in the scantiest of petticoats. Her hair was tumbled about her flushed face. Lord Sylvester was kissing her with single-minded passion. Both were completely unaware they were observed.
Deirdre closed the door and stood gasping. She felt as if she had just been slapped in the face.
So it was all the same for everybody!
She went slowly back to her room and mumbled to Betty to fetch the mask ‘but not now, later.’
By the time she was to go downstairs a
nd meet Lord Harry, Deirdre was in a strung-up, excited state. Her eyes shone green in her pointed face. Her brushed and pomaded hair flamed above her delicately flushed features.
Erotic visions danced through her brain making her go hot and cold by turns.
She fervently hoped Lord Harry would not read her mind as he seemed able to do from time to time.
Grateful for Minerva’s blue velvet mask, Deirdre entered the drawing-room to find Lord Harry being entertained by her father and the squire.
The vicar was in high good humour, quite obviously seeing a new fortune about to join the Armitage family.
Lord Harry was wearing a black velvet mask with a black silk domino slung over his shoulders. He no longer looked easy and amiable but quite Satanic. His breeches were moulded to his thighs.
He really had very good legs, thought Deirdre, studying them carefully. Would his bare bottom be as huge and round as John’s, or would it . . . ?’
Shocked rigid by her thoughts, Deirdre blushed so much that her sympathetic father helped her solicitously to a chair, convinced her garters had fallen down. In the vicar’s great experience, that was the only thing that made a girl blush when no one had said a word to embarrass her.
Minerva entered the room on her husband’s arm and poor Deirdre blushed again.
Before they were about to leave, Minerva drew Deirdre a little away from the others.
‘It seems you do not hold Lord Harry in dislike,’ she whispered.
Deirdre shyly shook her head.
‘Then remember to be modest and well-behaved,’ said Minerva. ‘Gentlemen do not like fast young misses, nor do they like girls who encourage liberties.’
‘Oh, really,’ rejoined Deirdre sarcastically. ‘I shall behave just like you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Minerva simply, failing to notice the sarcasm in her sister’s voice. ‘I hope I set a good example.’
Lord Harry strolled up to say they were leaving.
‘The Jamesons are a rather wild couple,’ cautioned Lord Sylvester. ‘I believe the company is to be of the most select, but I do not need to tell you, Deirdre, that the most respectable people can behave in the oddest manner when they are in costume.’
‘Then there will be nothing in either my dress or Miss Deirdre’s to incite us to wild behaviour,’ laughed Lord Harry, ‘for our only concession to fancy dress is our masks and dominoes.’
It showed the low state of Lady Godolphin’s mind that she, too, was wearing ordinary evening dress and carrying a mask on a cane in front of her face, for usually, Lady Godolphin dearly loved fancy dress. Colonel Brian had not even a mask, and from the way the elderly pair were glaring at each other it looked as if they had been rowing quite ferociously before Lord Harry and Deirdre arrived.
It transpired, however, when they arrived at the Jamesons’ in Soho that the rest of the guests were less inhibited. A duke was dressed as an Hungarian Hussar, a knight as a double-man, half-miller, half-chimney sweep. A captain went as a gamester with cards sewn all over his clothes; a countess was an Indian Sultana with one hundred thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds on her head-dress; one duchess appeared as a running footman and another as the Witch of Endor.
But there never was a masquerade without its sensation and this time a certain Major Humphries of the Guards provided it. His effort was received with much disapproval. As the Gentleman’s Magazine later reported: ‘A figure of Adam, the unavoidable indelicacy of the dress, flesh-coloured silk with an apron of fig leaves worked in it, fitting the body to the utmost nicety, rendered it the contempt of the whole company.’
Or as one wit described it:
‘When we entered this paradise, judge, my dear madam,
With what pleasure we met our first ancestor Adam,
Good God! ’twas so awful to see whence we sprung,
For the dress to his body most prettily clung.’
But although the company pretended to be shocked the Major’s scandalous costume seemed to spice the ball with an air of licence. The guests drank quantities of wine more quickly than usual; they flirted and ogled through the slits of their masks with gay abandon.
One gentleman had arrived dressed as a thatched cottage complete with the insurance company’s badge on the front which prompted one noisy parry to set it on fire ‘since it was covered’ and it was fortunately put out with several bottles of champagne before the poor inhabitant of the cottage was incinerated.
Lord Harry twice had to rescue Deirdre from a dancing partner who had become overwarm in his attentions.
‘I really should not have brought you,’ he said. ‘Now, I have lost Lady Godolphin.’
‘No matter,’ said Deirdre, delighted to have him by her side again. ‘Perhaps, my lord, if it should please you, we could move a little way away from the press of dancers.’
‘By all means. There is an empty box over in that corner. If we are very quick, we shall reach it before anyone else decides to take it up.’
The ballroom was formed by a chain of saloons. Round the edge of each saloon boxes had been erected, made of flimsy garlanded lattice work.
Lord Harry helped her into the vacant box and then said he would fetch them some refreshment. The arrangement of the garlands, which were made of silk flowers, afforded a certain shelter from the eyes of the dancers at the ball.
Some couples were making the most of the semi-privacy and were cavorting about in such a manner as to leave Deirdre in little doubt as to how the aristocracy made love.
A young man vaulted into her box and swept her into his arms.
Deirdre let out a scream and tried to push him away but her scream was drowned in all the noise.
His mouth was about to descend on her own, twist her head as she might, when, suddenly, she was free.
Lord Harry lifted the young man bodily out of the chair next to Deirdre and flung him on to the dance floor.
‘And I didn’t spill a drop,’ he said cheerfully, placing a bottle and two glasses on the little table in front of them.
‘It is very strange,’ said Deirdre, looking about her, ‘that one should receive so many lectures about how to go on in society, and then to have to look at . . . all this.’
‘Society is very two-faced,’ said Lord Harry. ‘I was amazed to find you returning to Town so quickly.’
‘Papa would have me go with him.’
‘Ah, you must be his favourite daughter.’
His newest marriageable daughter, thought Deirdre. ‘He is fond of us all, I think,’ she said aloud.
‘Do you wish me to volunteer to return with you to Hopeworth on a visit so that you may escape Town? I fear Mr Armitage still views me in the light of a future son-in-law.’
‘No, we shall be returning in a few days’ time, perhaps.’
She felt uneasy with him. His masked face turned him into a stranger. She was painfully aware of his closeness.
He was looking about him, his eyes glittering through the slits of his mask. ‘I think I should take you away from here,’ he said. ‘Things are liable to get out of hand. Goodness knows what has happened to Lady Godolphin. If I leave you to go in search of her, I may find you being attacked when I return. And if we both look for Lady Godolphin, we shall be sadly jostled in the press.
‘Then it is not exactly convenable to escort you back in a closed carriage without a chaperone, but I feel your family would not like to see you here in such surroundings. So I think escaping with me is the better of two evils.’
‘Do let us go,’ said Deirdre who did not like to confess the behaviour of the guests shocked her in case she seemed too unsophisticated, and was glad to think she should be alone with him, away from this riot, if only for a short space of time.
As they threaded their way through the saloons Deirdre suddenly saw Lady Godolphin, sitting in a box with Colonel Brian. They seemed to be having a heated argument. Her step faltered.
‘What is it?’ asked Lord Harry, looking down at her. ‘Have you seen Lady
Godolphin?’
‘No,’ lied Deirdre, turning her head determinedly in the wrong direction.
Once alone with him in the darkness of the carriage, Deirdre found his silence almost unbearable.
All at once, she was afraid she was going to be handed over to Minerva while the night was still young.
And perhaps, after that, she might not see him again.
‘It is only eleven o’clock,’ she ventured. She gave a little laugh which sounded false in her own ears. ‘It is very early to be thinking of going to bed.’
‘I agree,’ said Lord Harry, ‘but since I have now become your chaperone, ’twould be best if I took you straight to Lady Sylvester.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘In lodgings, in Bond Street, near where I met you.’
‘Are you comfortable there?’
‘Very comfortable.’ His voice sounded amused.
‘I would like to visit them one day.’
‘Gladly.’
‘I could visit them now.’
‘You shock me, Miss Deirdre. You cannot be contemplating visiting my bachelor lodgings at this time of night.’
‘No one would know, except your servants. I do not want to go to bed so early.’
‘Now, when do you go to bed when you are at home?’
‘Hopeworth? About nine o’clock in the winter, later in the summer.’
‘Then it is already long past your bedtime.’
‘But no one goes to bed here before dawn, no one in the whole world,’ said Deirdre, meaning the world bounded by St James’s Square and Grosvenor Square.
‘Are you not afraid of what might happen to you were you to be alone with me in my lodgings?’
‘I am sure you would behave like a gentleman.’
‘I might be tempted to kiss you, Deirdre.’
‘Well,’ faltered Deirdre, ‘that would not do at all since we are not to be wed.’
‘No. On the other hand, I really should like to marry someone, you know, and, as I told you, I am very lazy. The thought of pursuing females and meeting their families exhausts me. I have already met your family and you have met mine. What a pity we cannot get married. It would save a great deal of trouble, although this time I don’t think anyone would accept the invitation or send us a present. They would say it is all a hum.’
Deirdre and Desire Page 18