The Smile of the Stranger

by Joan Aiken

  A violent blow sent Sir Groby staggering to one side; a second laid the other man senseless on the gravel. Sir Groby soon recovered; his false teeth had been knocked out by the blow, so, uttering imprecations which were all the more fearful for being incomprehensible, he dragged a thin evil-looking sword out of the cane that he carried. But the newcomer, who had seized a garden stake out of the hedge, knocked his blade aside and succeeded in felling him with another stunning blow.

  Then, approaching Juliana—who, during this rapid reversal, had stood petrified and paralyzed with astonishment—the man who had intervened so opportunely took her arm with the utmost solicitude, exclaiming, “Thank God, madam, that I have been the means of preventing such a brutal abduction! Pray allow me to restore you to your friends! I trust that you have sustained no injury?” Then, looking closer, in a tone of the most profound astonishment, “Good God! Do my eyes deceive me, or is it—can it be Miss Paget?”

  It was Captain Davenport.

  “Oh, sir!” exclaimed Juliana. “How inexpressibly thankful I am that you chanced to come this way at that moment!”

  “You cannot be more thankful than I am myself!” said he. “I shall never cease to rejoice and to congratulate myself on the fortunate circumstance that, low in spirits, weary of the bright lights and loud noise, I chose to retire from the tumult to this peaceful glade, and therefore was enabled to be the instrument of rescuing you from those abominable ravishers!” And he led the shaken Juliana back to the rows of seats from which the audience had been observing the fireworks display.

  There, fortunately, order had been restored, and they found Lady Lambourn, who, decidedly impatient, was urging Fanny and Kitty to look sharp and see if they could not spy out Sir Groby and their cousin, since the entertainment was now at an end and the night grew chill.

  “There you are, miss!” Lady Lambourn exclaimed as Juliana approached her. “But”—with a sharp look—“who is this? And where, pray, is Sir Groby?”

  During the brief walk from the alley Juliana had come to the hasty decision that, to avoid the public shame which must accompany a disclosure of Sir Groby’s baseness, she would not immediately divulge his part in the affair. She therefore said, simply, “Two wicked men tried to abduct me in a dark alley, aunt, and this gentleman was so very kind as to come to my rescue.”

  “Lord, what next?” exclaimed Lady Lambourn, and Fanny and Kitty burst into loud cries of amazement.

  “Why, cousin, what ever was you doing in a dark alley?”

  “Where, pray, was Sir Groby?”

  “What did the men look like?”

  “La, coz, what an adventure!”

  “Where is Sir Groby now?” demanded Lady Lambourn again.

  “I do not know, ma’am,” replied Juliana. “I have not seen him since the occurrence.”

  “He must be sought!” began Lady Lambourn, but Captain Davenport, with the most respectful, though mild authority, said, “If you will forgive me, ma’am, the young lady who has suffered this misadventure should instantly be taken home; she is half fainting, and it is not to be wondered at, after such a shocking occurrence. Shall I call her a chair? Or will you permit me to summon your conveyance?”

  Recalled thus to her duty as a chaperone, Lady Lambourn fretfully said, “Oh, very well—we had best all return home, I daresay, for the girls have been complaining of cold this half hour. I shall be obliged, sir, if you will call our carriage.”

  Bowing, Captain Davenport went off to do so, and soon returned to say that it was waiting for them at the front entrance. He had behaved, throughout, with the most striking dignity, propriety, and concern. His eyes had hardly met those of Juliana. But, on seeing them into the carriage, he bowed again and, taking her hand, just carried her fingers to his lips. Then he wished them all good night, promising himself the honor of coming to make his inquiries after Juliana on the morrow.

  Lady Lambourn was still restlessly looking about for Sir Groby.

  “Did you know that young man, Juliana?” demanded she as soon as the carriage was in motion.

  “Yes, aunt. I had met him when out walking with Miss Ardingly. He is a Captain Davenport; he was the same person who was so kind as to procure me a chair at the Pantheon the other evening.”

  “Very singular!” remarked Lady Lambourn, fixing her niece with a most suspicious eye. “Strange indeed that he should be on the spot to assist you on two occasions!”

  “Cousin has found herself a beau!” The twins giggled.

  “Hush, girls! I trust that Juliana has a better sense of duty than to encourage any pretensions which would run so completely counter to my wishes for her!”

  Juliana made no reply. She was, in truth, so shocked and agitated still by what had passed that her mind was in confusion; had Sir Groby, she wondered distractedly, planned the whole abduction from the start? She could not help hoping that the blow with the hedge stake had deprived him of any further wish or ability to continue his pursuit of her; indeed, she could not but pray that it had put an end to his odious existence. She was too tried and distressed to be drawn into an argument with her aunt, and remained silent for the rest of the journey back to Berkeley Square.

  As she fell asleep she could not help reflecting, as her aunt had done, on the coincidence of Captain Davenport’s having twice come to her rescue within such a short space of time; she wondered if he had, perhaps, observed her being drawn off by Sir Groby, and whether he had followed with the intention of intervening? If so, what did that mean? Was it possible that he felt an interest in her—an attraction toward her? Or were his motives simply those of friendship? But if he had known her identity, why pretend surprise on recognizing her? Perhaps he had too much delicacy to wish his interest to be suspected at such an early stage of the acquaintance?

  Exercising her mind on these speculations, Juliana became less agitated. And the image of his grave, concerned face—so like that of Charles the First—the brief touch of his bearded lips on her hand—these were the last things she thought of before she fell asleep.

  Seven

  Next day no word came from Sir Groby, and Lady Lambourn, Fanny reported, was in a rare taking, beyond all reason cross and twitty.

  Juliana dreaded a summons from her aunt; if interrogated, she must tell the whole tale, she had decided, and she was utterly cast down at the thought of the scene that must follow. But no summons came. Lady Lambourn was said to be laid down upon her bed with the headache, and did not appear until a late hour.

  Meanwhile, more and more cards and invitations arrived for Juliana; she did not know what to do about them. All were from complete strangers.

  Captain Davenport called to inquire after Juliana’s health and spirits, and she received him in the breakfast parlor, suitably chaperoned by Miss Ardingly; he stayed no longer than the ten minutes enjoined by ceremony, and his remarks did not pass beyond polite commonplace, but the look in his eyes told another tale.

  In the afternoon Count van Welcker likewise called, and, since Lady Lambourn was not about to deny him admission, he invited Juliana and Miss Ardingly to come for a drive in his curricle.

  “What do you think, ma’am?” Juliana asked Miss Ardingly. “My aunt did not wish me to go out yesterday—?”

  “Lord, she can’t keep you mewed up in the house forever,” said the old lady robustly. “I don’t know—I see no harm in it, I must confess!”

  Plainly she was much taken with the prospect of the drive herself, so with this encouragement, Juliana was glad to accept, and greatly enjoyed the pleasant airing. Count van Welcker’s cheerful company and friendly conversation were exceedingly soothing to her distressed spirits. He chatted on a variety of amusing topics: told how Lord Rockingham and Lord Orford had made a match for five hundred pounds between five turkeys and five geese to race from Norwich to London—“Who won?” inquired Juliana. “A fox got two of the geese, ma’am s
o the bet was called off”; how Thomas Whaley had betted that he would jump from his drawing-room window into the first barouche that passed, and kiss the occupant; of the special costume worn by gamblers at Almack’s.

  “They remove their evening dress, ma’am, and put on frieze greatcoats, or turn their coats inside out for luck. They tie up the lace ruffles at their wrists and leather thongs, and, to guard their eyes from the light and keep their hair from falling forward, they affect high-crowned hats with broad brims, adorned with flowers and ribbons.”

  “How very singular!” exclaimed Juliana, who could not help being diverted, despite her low spirits.

  “But I forget, Miss Paget, your aunt is an habituée of the rooms, and no doubt has told you these things.”

  “No, indeed she has not,” said Juliana.

  Miss Ardingly spied innumerable acquaintances out walking or riding, and wished to speak to somebody every two minutes; consequently their progress was at a dawdling pace. During one of these interludes, when Miss Ardingly was occupied in absorbing conversation with a Mrs. and Mr. Chumleigh, Count van Welcker remarked to Juliana, in a low tone, “I am glad to have this opportunity of speaking to you, Miss Paget. The ton gossip has it, my dear, that your aunt plans to marry you off to Sir Groby Feverel. Is this true, by any chance?”

  “Oh, sir, not if I can help it! I have the utmost detestation for Sir Groby, and would do anything not to be married to him!”

  “I should have thought as much,” said he.

  “Sir, what can I do? My aunt assures me that no one else will offer for me, since I have no portion, and because my mother disgraced herself in some dreadful way, and—”

  Juliana could not bring herself to reveal Lady Lambourn’s abominable bargain with Sir Groby, and stopped short.

  A look of astonishment came over Count van Welcker’s round, good-natured face. “Nobody offer for you!” he ejaculated. “What a simpleton your aunt must be! Why, I know at least half a dozen young fellows who are dying of love for you at this very moment, after a single meeting! You are the Toast of the Town, my dear! Your aunt must be quite totty-headed. Why, for the matter of that—”

  He checked himself as Miss Ardingly turned from her conversation. They had no more chance for private talk on that occasion, but Juliana was happy to think that in the Count she might have found a friend and partisan. But of course he was very much occupied and might have no time to spare for her problems. The Prince of Wales was about to marry his imported German princess, and, as one of the members of the Prince’s entourage, Count van Welcker must have a hundred tasks to perform.

  That evening Lord Lambourn, for once, had undertaken to escort his family to the theater—a rare favor to which, Juliana discovered, neither his wife not his daughters looked forward with any pleasure at all.

  “Pa always thinks it his duty to go with us at least once in a season,” Fanny told Juliana, who was remodeling for her the sleeves of an evening gown of pink-and-green-striped tabaret silk. “Otherwise he is afraid the ton will begin to say that he and Ma must have quarreled since they never go anywhere together. Pa cannot abide scandal. So he takes us to Drury Lane to be bored by some horrid tragedy… Is my dress finished, coz? Do you not think it vastly smart?”

  Juliana though it hideous, but was too civil to say so. She was wondering whether it might be possible to make an appeal to her uncle during one of the intervals in the performance.

  Lord Lambourn did not accompany his family in the coach to Drury Lane, but met them there, having dined at his club. He had procured a stage box for his party, and immediately sat himself down at the back and immersed himself in a newspaper, while the twins hung over the front of the box, waving to their friends.

  “We had best amuse ourselves while we can,” said Kitty, “for the piece is that horrid Hamlet, the most dismal fustian, with a story that nobody could follow, and the hero dies in the end; I have seen it before. Never mind! I see the Ellesmeres in their box, so we can go round in the first intermission for a fine frolic.”

  That will be my time, thought Juliana, for her aunt was already absorbed in conversation with some card-playing friends. Juliana herself glanced about the theater in mingled curiosity and apprehension, hoping to see Captain Davenport, fearing to see Sir Groby. She wished she had thought to mention to the Captain, that morning, that they were to go to Drury Lane in the evening. But still, what difference would that make to him? She discovered neither the Captain nor Sir Groby, but she did see Count van Welcker, in the opposite box, with a party of very fashionable people. He, likewise, observed Juliana, and gave her a low bow, making a gesture to signify that he wished to come round in the interval to pay his respects. Juliana was obliged for his politeness, but, there goes my chance to be alone with my uncle, she thought.

  “Why, cousin Jule,” said Fanny, “there’s your beau!”

  “What beau?” said Juliana, with suddenly quickened breath.

  “What beau? Why, the monstrous fine young man who saved you at Ranelagh—there he is—see—with a quiz of a woman, old enough to be his mother!”

  “Perhaps it is his mother,” suggested Juliana. “Where do you see him?”

  “There—see—in the gallery—no, he is gone. But you may see the lady, still there, with a blue gauze scarf and a spangled fan.”

  Before Juliana could locate the lady, however, the lights went down, and the curtain rose. Juliana found herself moved and absorbed by the play, but her cousins fidgeted and whispered throughout, Lord Lambourn continued to peruse his paper by the light of a lamp that burned at the back of the box, and Lady Lambourn maintained a conversation in low voices with a card-playing crony. Judged as family entertainment, Juliana decided, the occasion could hardly be called a success.

  The moment the curtain came down for the interval, the twins darted off to visit their friends; Lord Lambourn moved out into the corridor to discuss politics with two parliamentary acquaintances; and Count van Welcker arrived to pay his respects. He begged leave to present Juliana to some of his friends who were desirous of meeting her. But Lady Lambourn, giving him a cold look, said sharply, “I regret, sir, that my niece is promised in Lady Bethune’s box. Come, child,” and she almost dragged Juliana away; all the latter could do was give Count van Welcker a regretful and apologetic smile. On the way back from the Ellesmere box (where Juliana had nothing to do but listen in boredom to a lot of vapid chatter) they encountered Captain Davenport. They were hurrying, for the curtain was about to rise; so was he; he seemed greatly startled at meeting Juliana there—said he had not anticipated the pleasure of seeing her at the theater that evening, since it had not been mentioned that morning—but his whole expressive, manly countenance was overspread with such a glow of delight at sight of her that Juliana, though frustrated in her plan to speak to her uncle, still could not but feel an elevation in her spirits.

  She sat through the remainder of Hamlet in a happy dream, and sustained the worst of its vicissitudes with composure.

  After the main performance a farce was to be shown entitled The Deuce Is in Him; however, to the astonishment of the whole party, Lord Lambourn, who had again been conversing with his colleagues in the second interval, suddenly re-entered the box and, in the most peremptory manner, ordered his family to make ready for departure.

  “But, Pa!” exclaimed Fanny and Kitty in horror. “We have not seen the farce! And that’s the only part of the whole entertainment that’s worth watching! We can’t go home now!”

  “Be silent!” said Lord Lambourn, and escorted his family down to the carriage with such a black countenance as allowed of no argument. He accompanied them in the coach, but maintained a thunderous silence during the whole journey; it was not until they were all assembled in the saloon in Berkeley Square that he revealed the cause of his vexation.

  “Madam!” he said, addressing his wife, but giving Juliana a very angry look. “At the th
eater tonight I have learned of two circumstances which have filled me with the gravest displeasure and apprehension. The first concerns that depraved woman—with whose name I prefer not to sully my lips—I refer to my niece’s female parent; that woman, madam, is in town; was, indeed, in that very theater—!”

  Juliana gave a gasp, but her uncle continued, without heeding her astonishment.

  “And my second reason for bringing you away so speedily was that I discovered, and I cannot describe what chagrin—what horror—from some of my acquaintance, that my niece—that this young girl—due to her disastrously ill-judged association with Count van Welcker—has become a Toast—a Toast!—among Macaronis and Corinthians, among park saunterers and counter coxcombs; she has become a Byword; she is referred to by the sort of person who would never be invited to enter this house as—as the Balloon Belle; or, even worse, as—by a sobriquet with which I prefer not to sully my lips—it refers, madam, to a domestic utensil!”

  Though she could not help being amused at the difficulties to which her uncle was put in order to avoid sullying his lips, Juliana was greatly abashed at this, and colored deeply. The twins, though gazing awestruck at their father, could not forebear a titter; Fanny whispered to Kitty under her breath, “Miss Potts!”

  Lady Lambourn gave a faint scream and sank into a chair, fanning herself.

  “How comes it, madam,” thundered Lord Lambourn, “that this has been allowed to occur?”

  “I am sure it was none of my fault, Lambourn,” whimpered his wife. “How could I help it? Juliana had undergone this disastrous adventure before she ever set foot in my house. Was it my fault if Count van Welcker recognized her at Almack’s?”

  Lord Lambourn was not to be appeased.

  “You should have kept a closer watch on her, ma’am, and not encouraged the attentions of such a person. You should have anticipated something of the sort! Now our family is disgraced! My own daughters must also, by polite society, be associated with this outrageous vulgarity! I must request that the young lady leave our house at once—she cannot remain any longer beneath my roof. She must return to Hampshire directly!”