The Girl in the Mask

by Marie-Louise Jensen

The ballroom was crowded but I faced it with less trepidation than formerly, buoyed up by my victory. The musicians were busy playing at the far end of the room, but no one was listening. Everyone was gossiping as though their lives depended upon it about the incident outside.

  I looked around the room. There were a number of familiar faces, but not one person greeted me with anything approaching friendliness. Mary saw me and turned her back. Several men stared at me unsmiling and the blonde girl glared at me. I smirked quietly to myself at having achieved such unpopularity in such a short space of time. And they didn’t know even half the truth about me. Perhaps when my father returned to the Bath he would see the pointlessness of our stay here.

  A tall, spare man with a military bearing and large grey moustaches approached my aunt and bowed before her. ‘Mrs Adamson,’ he said in a dry voice. ‘Allow me to tell you how delighted I am to be able to resume our acquaintance.’

  ‘Oh!’ exclaimed my aunt, clearly discomposed. ‘Yes indeed, how very … charmed, of course, to see you again.’

  Looking curiously at the man, who was a stranger to me, I was certain I saw his eyes glint. He seemed pleased at having flustered my aunt. ‘Harrogate, was it not? You were with your late husband. I should tell you how deeply sorry I was to hear of his sudden, unfortunate demise. My heartfelt condolences.’

  The words ought to have been kind, but somehow they weren’t. There was a sinister tone in the man’s voice. Aunt Amelia’s face flushed red and then white, and she choked on the reply she tried to utter. The man spoke again.

  ‘Are you going to introduce me to your charming … sister?’

  Why was it that so many men chose to flatter my aunt by pretending I looked like her sister? It wasn’t remotely complimentary to me to have it insinuated that I looked only a few years younger than a stout, wrinkled matron.

  ‘Ah yes … um … my niece, Captain Mould. Miss Williams. Sophia, this is Captain Mould.’

  I curtseyed and extended one hand. The man took it in his and bowed stiffly over it. His eyes didn’t leave my face as he did so, and the tip of his tongue darted quickly out over his dry lips as he examined me. It reminded me uncomfortably of the lizard Jack and I had caught in the shrubbery once. I shivered slightly and drew my hand out of his. ‘Pleased to meet you, sir,’ I lied.

  ‘And I to meet you.’ He took a pinch of snuff from his box and inhaled it without taking his eyes off me. ‘I hope you may be persuaded to honour me with a dance later this evening?’

  I felt my skin crawl. ‘I’m a very indifferent dancer, sir … ’ I began, but my aunt interrupted at once.

  ‘Nonsense, Sophia!’ She frowned heavily at me and I couldn’t miss the command in her look. ‘You will thank the captain prettily and accept.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ I said unwillingly with only the tiniest curtsey of acknowledgement. I was angry with my aunt for forcing me into this. Surely it was my right to refuse a partner if I chose to do so?

  At that moment, Nash approached us with his usual elegant bow and kind smile. ‘Miss Williams, may I be allowed to present you with Mr Charleton as your partner for the minuet?’ His eyes twinkled at me as if with some secret complicity. As he bowed and left us, I looked to Mr Charleton for an explanation, but his look was blandly innocent. He bowed without speaking, and held out his hand for mine.

  I’d been fully determined to avoid Mr Charleton tonight and to refuse him if he asked me to dance. But the Beau’s introductions for the minuet were not to be set aside. So I put my gloved hand in his and allowed him to lead me away from the sinister captain to the top of the room where we would soon take our turn to dance.

  ‘How fortunate I am to have secured your hand for this dance, Miss Williams,’ Mr Charleton remarked. I remembered the Beau’s smile, and frowned.

  ‘Did you ask Mr Nash to present you to me tonight?’ I asked suspiciously.

  ‘I may have dropped the merest hint in his ear,’ admitted Mr Charleton gravely. ‘And the Beau does love an intrigue—even the merest hint of one.’

  ‘There is no intrigue,’ I said swiftly, determined not to be drawn into friendship or anything else with Mr Charleton, no matter how charming he could be.

  ‘Ah, but the Beau believes there may be, and that is enough,’ replied Mr Charleton. His light tone, his easy agreement that nothing lay between us made me relax a little.

  ‘I fear you are unscrupulous, sir,’ I said with a reluctant smile.

  ‘Absolutely. But I had to have the opportunity of asking you how you enjoyed the spectacle of Sir Oswald in the mud just now?’

  I smiled, recalling the deep satisfaction of seeing my enemy in the mire. ‘The poor gentleman! Surely no one could deserve such an unfortunate incident less?’ I paused in dreamy recollection and added: ‘I fear his costly raiment must be quite ruined.’

  ‘Oh, without doubt.’

  ‘You were very quick to defend the chairman,’ I said. ‘Are you quite sure it wasn’t his fault Sir Oswald fell a second time?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ replied Mr Charleton. ‘I saw the fellow trip him. It was very neatly done.’

  ‘But you said … ?’

  ‘Really, Miss Williams. Have you forgotten already that Oswald insulted me too? Besides, he struck the chairman. One should never strike one’s social inferiors. It is most unjust.’

  I smiled. Mr Charleton was a man more after my own heart than I’d had any idea of. He’d found a subtle way of exacting his own revenge.

  ‘Who is your aunt’s friend?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘A Captain Mould, apparently,’ I told him, my smile fading.

  ‘A singularly appropriate name,’ said Charleton with a curious glance in the gentleman’s direction. ‘He must be a new arrival, for I’ve not seen him before.’

  ‘How would you notice one man among such crowds? And in my opinion, Mr Lizard would be a more suitable name for the man.’

  ‘Mr Lizard?’ replied Mr Charleton with a slight smile. ‘You disliked him then?’

  I shuddered in reply. The couple ahead of us began to dance, and Mr Charleton led me forward so that we were ready to start once they reached the bottom of the room. ‘He’s a friend of your aunt?’ Charleton enquired, his eyes seeking out the captain in the crowd. I looked across to where Captain Mould stood, still talking to my aunt, their heads close together.

  ‘I don’t know about friend,’ I said. ‘She knows him, but she didn’t seem pleased to see him. She seemed almost … frightened.’

  ‘How very interesting,’ said Charleton, his eyes still on Mould.

  ‘Why is that interesting?’ I asked curiously, wondering why Mr Charleton always asked me so many questions about my family. Mr Charleton didn’t reply immediately. It was almost as though he hadn’t heard me. Then suddenly he smiled, relaxed and light-hearted again.

  ‘Oh, no reason. Put him out of your mind for now, Miss Williams,’ he recommended. ‘And try to recall the steps of the minuet. I have a corn upon one toe tonight, and will suffer agonies if you step on it.’

  ‘Oh, you are a bad liar, sir!’ I retorted, forgetting all about my aunt at once. ‘You don’t wish me to embarrass you before all these lords and ladies!’

  ‘Just so,’ he agreed. We danced down the room without errors. Mr Charleton moved with such confidence and grace that I felt easy myself. Despite my nerves and fear of muffing the steps, I experienced for the first time a measure of exhilaration. I could almost understand that there might be something in this craze for dancing.

  I felt relieved and buoyant as we reached the bottom of the room without mishap. I sank into my curtsey as Mr Charleton bowed over my gloved hand once more. He raised my fingers to his lips in one graceful movement, so that he had kissed and released them before I had a chance to object. The colour flooded my face, but before I’d thought how to react, a most unwelcome voice spoke from behind me.

  ‘Very prettily done, Miss Williams. Now you are promised to me for supper and the first country dan
ce.’ I turned to find Captain Mould at my elbow, an unpleasant smile twisting his lipless mouth.

  ‘You are mistaken, sir,’ said Mr Charleton at once. He took my hand and drew it through his arm. ‘The lady is mine.’

  ‘Not at all, young man. Your pleasure is over; mine is merely beginning.’

  ‘At the Bath, sir,’ countered Mr Charleton, his tone politely instructive, ‘the partner in the minuet has the pleasure of accompanying his fair lady during supper.’

  ‘I would challenge that right,’ said Captain Mould, stepping forward. As he did so he thrust his sword hilt forward threateningly.

  I saw Mr Charleton’s eyes sparkle in response to this. ‘You are offensive sir,’ he said softly, dropping his free hand onto the hilt of his own sword.

  My eyes flew from one to the other of the two men, my heartbeat quickened with excitement. Were they really disputing the right to take their refreshments at my side? It seemed out of all proportion.

  ‘I’m glad you have the wit to perceive it. If we are to speak of customs, I should call your attention to the notion of a mere youngster giving way to his elders and betters,’ said the captain.

  Mr Charleton smiled. He bowed gracefully in acknowledgement of defeat. ‘You do right to remind me, sir. What, after all, are my youth and appearance to a young lady, compared to your age and experience?’ He turned to me and bowed again. ‘Miss Williams, I leave you in very safe hands. You could scarcely be safer with your own grandfather.’

  He couldn’t have chosen a better parting shot. The captain’s victory was empty, having laid himself open to that insinuation. He glared at Mr Charleton’s retreating back, his jaw working. Then he recollected himself, turned and abruptly offered his arm. ‘Miss Williams, that young man needs a sharp lesson. Will you come with me and take some refreshment after your exertion?’

  I had no choice but to lay my hand upon his arm and follow him to the table. It was laughable to call the minuet an exertion of course; those few steps and some bobbing up and down were nothing.

  I was forced to dance the next dance with the lizard. Even though I took great care to answer his attempts at conversation with rudeness and to step upon his feet several times, he hung about me for the remainder of the evening, apparently undeterred. I returned home weary and unnerved, for I felt that in Captain Mould I had met someone who would not be so easily held at a distance.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I felt too tired and dispirited to venture out into the city that night. But I’d barely climbed into my bed when I was disturbed by a soft scratching at the window. A dark shadow loomed on the other side of the glass. I’d made a number of unsavoury acquaintances recently, and I didn’t like the idea of any of them finding their way to my bedroom window.

  A hand was pressed against the glass and I noted with relief the mutilated little finger. Of Jenny, I had no fear. I threw open the window at once. ‘Hello! What are you doing here?’ I asked, keeping my voice low to avoid being overheard.

  ‘Looking for you, o’ course,’ was the acerbic reply. ‘I don’t climb around on roofs for me good ’ealth.’

  ‘Why are you looking for me? And how did you find me?’

  ‘You ain’t the only one as can follow folk,’ she retorted. ‘I needs your help.’ She threw me the small oil-skin wrapped parcel of my shoes and heavy purse, and added: ‘And find a safer spot for that lot if you don’t want to lose it all.’

  ‘I have nowhere,’ I said, shocked by the realization that I could have been robbed by anyone who followed me onto the roof. ‘I have a maid and a father who both search my room.’

  Jenny sighed and beckoned me out onto the parapet. ‘Look here,’ she said, slipping her fingers under the tiles until she found one that was loose. Lifting it carefully, she revealed the shallow roof space beneath. I cautiously pushed my precious parcel into it. ‘Now no one can’t find it unless they knows it’s there.’

  I nodded, grateful for her help, even though it meant she now knew where I kept my money. ‘So what was it you wanted from me?’ I asked. We both sat crouched in the gully of the parapet. The night air was chilly. I wrapped my arms around my knees. I thought Jenny’s face looked swollen, as though she’d been struck, but when she saw me looking at her, she turned her face away. In the distance a cat mewed and faint footsteps rose from the street below.

  Jenny stared out across the rooftops in silence for a few moments and I wondered if she was going to answer me at all. At last with a sigh, she turned to me.

  ‘It’s like this,’ she said. ‘I ain’t no better at hiding me money than you. Me dad caught me taking the horses back to the stable. I thought he was drunk and asleep. I couldn’t’ve guessed he’d be there. I hadn’t had no time to hide the ready. He got it off me and now he wants more.’

  ‘I’m so sorry he took your money from you,’ I said. I’d wanted it to benefit her, not her father. I pulled the purse out of its hiding place, dipped my hand into it and offered her a handful of guineas. Jenny pushed my hand away impatiently with a shake of her head. I saw her eyes flash white in the darkness as she rolled them. ‘Ain’t too bright, are you?’ she remarked. When I still remained silent, confused, she said, ‘Oh never mind! I got to get going now.’

  ‘Jenny, wait … ’ I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, but I didn’t want her to go. I was lonely and I could tell she was unhappy. ‘What do you want?’ I asked.

  Jenny paused and looked at me in the darkness. ‘You knows all the smart folks. You know when some of them’s coming and going. You could let me know.’

  I was shocked. It was bad enough that I’d robbed my own father. But at least there was some justification in my own mind for what I’d done. To betray the movements of strangers to a couple of highwaymen was quite another thing. That would make me a criminal.

  ‘I don’t think … most of them are here for the season, you see,’ I said. ‘They won’t go outside the city walls until the end of the summer. Besides, I don’t know any of them. I’m a newcomer and not … not what you might call popular.’

  ‘So you won’t help, is that it?’ asked Jenny flatly.

  ‘I don’t see how I can,’ I said helplessly.

  ‘I’ll see you around then,’ said Jenny. When I said nothing more, she got up and disappeared into the darkness. I could hear the soft rattle of the roof tiles under her feet as she climbed and then she reached the drainpipe and the night fell silent.

  I felt low after she’d gone. I couldn’t shake off the feeling I’d failed her. But I’d told her the truth. Even if I’d wanted to help, I really didn’t know anything about the comings and goings of the people of the Bath. I hugged my knees tighter to my body and shivered.

  * * *

  I slept badly and was up early, hoping to go and pay the chairmen and to see Mr Allen at the post office while my aunt was at the baths. At a quarter past six, I looked through my closet and discovered to my fury that my wrap-around gowns had both been removed. I rang for Dawes at once. She took an age to appear, heaving and puffing for breath, with all the bleary-eyed appearance of the recently and rudely awakened. ‘Where are my old gowns, Dawes?’ I asked, ignoring her red face and shortness of breath.

  ‘Your aunt ordered them … given to the scullery maid, Miss,’ gasped Dawes. ‘She said as how you wouldn’t need them any more.’

  Shaking with fury, I hurled a scent bottle against the wall. It shattered in a satisfying explosion of glass. ‘How dared you remove my clothes without my say-so?’ I demanded in a voice that wasn’t steady.

  Dawes stood rigid, her face disapproving. ‘It’s your father as pays me, Miss, and his and your aunt’s orders I’m under. Not yours.’

  ‘Get out,’ I said, clenching my fists.

  Dawes withdrew at once, closing the door with a snap. I heard her heavy tread descending the staircase. I looked around for something else to throw. There were only my hairbrushes and having hurled them at the wall, I was left with no further vent for my rage. I resorted
to pulling all my expensive gowns out of the closet and throwing them one by one onto the floor. They were none of them suitable for visiting the less fashionable parts of town. In my frustration, I kicked a ball gown across the room and sat down heavily on the bed.

  I was trapped in the house by fashion; how ridiculous. Meanwhile, warty Sam would be waiting for me by the tavern, hoping for his fee, as arranged. He would be angry, and justifiably so. I considered he deserved to be paid after humiliating Sir Oswald so beautifully for me last night.

  After allowing despair to overcome me for nearly half an hour, I finally pulled myself together. I extricated the plainest of my walking gowns from the tangled heap on the floor and pulled it on. I didn’t bother with the hoop at first, but the trouble was, without it the gown was too long and trailed along the ground. It would become soiled as soon as I stepped outside the front door. Sighing with exasperation, I pulled the gown back off and flung it on the bed while I fumbled with tapes and buckles. I was determined not to call the odious Dawes back up to help me. By the time I realized my flat shoes were still out on the roof, I was already caged in hoop and gown and had no hope of climbing through the window. Reluctantly, I picked out the least preposterous of my new shoes to wear.

  It was some time later that I finally emerged from the house in high heels and swaying petticoats. I would need to hurry, at this rate, to make it back before my aunt returned for breakfast. I walked into the city, picking my way through the dirty streets, holding the petticoats of my blue gown as high as I dared. An elderly buck in velvet and lace paused in Cheap Street, to stare at me, openly inspecting my ankles. I hurriedly dropped the hem of my petticoats a little to hide them, cursing softly when the fabric skimmed a muddy puddle, picking up a dark stain.

  I was attracting notice. In my shabby gown and old shoes, no one had looked at me twice. Dressed as a fine lady, people stared to see me walking by myself. I was relieved to finally turn into Slippery Lane. Sam was lounging against a wall, picking his teeth while he waited for me. When he saw me approaching, he straightened up and threw the stick into the kennel. ‘You’re late,’ he growled by way of greeting.