Miss Weston's Masquerade

by Louise Allen

  And her closeness to Nicholas, to the man she loved, would be the first sacrifice she would have to make. He would become as remote as any other gentleman to her, that was the price she must pay for her reputation. Already she was realising what a high price that was. Over those past few weeks they had been closer than many a married couple in so many ways.

  There was a tightness that was almost pain around her heart at the thought that she would never share that closeness again. see his quick grin as they shared a secret jest, feel his warm skin beneath her fingertips, burn to the pressure of his lips on hers. Now he was in Vienna, he would soon forget her. Godmama would see to it that he was introduced to all the right people and his sense of duty would do the rest.

  The scene outside blurred as unshed tears gathered at the back of her eyes and she was rubbing them angrily when the door opened and her godmother swept in, followed by a petite, sombrely-dressed woman of middle years.

  ‘Araminta, my goddaughter, Cassandra Weston. Cassandra, Miss Araminta Fox, my cousin.’

  Cassandra got up hastily and bobbed a curtsey, stumbling slightly over her unaccustomed skirts.

  Miss Fox held out a well-tended hand and nodded gravely, ‘Miss Weston, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.’

  Cassandra glanced at her godmother, uncertain how much this lady knew of her predicament.

  ‘Araminta is the only person in whom I have confided,’ Lady Lydford remarked, gesturing to them to seat themselves. ‘She has been lately acting as companion and housekeeper to her brother, the Bishop of Arundel, but following his recent marriage, she finds herself free to travel and I invited her to join me. It is our great good fortune that she arrived, unexpectedly early, two days ago.’

  Miss Fox took up the tale. ‘And as I was feeling rather indisposed after the journey, I have not been out into Society. For all anyone knows, you and I arrived together yesterday, having travelled in each others’ company from England.’

  ‘After all,’ Lady Lydford finished triumphantly, ‘who could be a more respectable chaperone than the sister of a bishop, and my own cousin?’

  ‘But how could you have known of my predicament?’ Cassandra felt slightly breathless. This upright spinster seemed to be entering into a scandalous intrigue with all the evident enjoyment of an actress.

  ‘Why, I am sure you would have been in correspondence with me, Cassandra,’ Lady Lydford said carefully. ‘We would have been exchanging letters for some time, and as soon as I heard of Lord Offley’s disgusting pretentions, I would have enlisted the aid of my trusted cousin.’

  ‘Of course, even in the Bishop’s Palace, we had heard whisperings of Lord Offley’s reputation. Rest assured that had I heard of your predicament, I would have done all in my power to assist you, so no-one would doubt the truth of this story for a moment.’

  Cassandra’s brain whirled at the facility these two respectable ladies were showing for intrigue. ‘But would no one have met us on our journey?’ she enquired dazedly.

  ‘Certainly not,’ Miss Fox rejoined stoutly. ‘My brother always insists I travel in a private carriage and stay in only the most select inns, avoiding English tourists.’

  Cassandra could not doubt it. ‘How will all this be explained, though? Surely it is not a tale we can recount openly?’

  ‘Indeed not,’ her godmother agreed. ‘Leave that to me and to gossip. Tomorrow morning, the dressmaker and hairdresser will call. In the afternoon, I will hold a small tea party for a few select friends.’

  ‘Only those of the utmost discretion, my dear Sophia,’ said Miss Fox, with a wicked twinkle.

  ‘But, of course,’ her cousin assured her with mock gravity, ‘I am counting upon it.’

  Cassandra closed her eyes and leaned her slightly aching head back on the cushions. How could she have doubted Godmama for an instant?

  ‘Sophia, my dear, this is a most select and mysterious gathering you have invited me to.’ Through the hinge-crack in the painted Chinese screen, Cassandra could see the Ambassador’s wife settling herself by the fireside. ‘I am quite agog for you have precisely the air of mischief you had about you when you were engaged in one of your pranks at Miss Lucas’s Academy.’

  ‘My dear Dorothea, that was quite thirty years ago. But just as I did then, I rely upon you now for your support and good sense, just as I do with Araminta.’

  ‘But tell me the secret – ’

  She broke off as the major domo flung open the double doors into the salon and announced, ‘Lady Hartley.’

  The Naval Attaché’s wife, resplendent in purple, swept into the room with warm greetings for her hostess. Cassandra felt confused as she was followed rapidly by a group of four ladies of similar age and bearing, all equally agog to hear the reason for this intriguing summons.

  Cassandra took advantage of the noise of greetings and the rustle of silk gowns to seat herself more comfortably in her hiding place. Godmama had suggested she observe the beginning of the tea party to ensure their stories matched. It would also be far less intimidating to meet these influential ladies, all pillars of the English community in Vienna, after observing them for a while without being observed herself.

  Once the introductions to Miss Fox had been made and the tea tray brought in, Lady Lydford cut across the individual murmurs of conversation. ‘Ladies, I have to confess I have asked you here with an ulterior motive.’

  ‘We suspected as much.’ The oldest lady present, Mrs Spencer, wagged her folded fan in a knowing way. ‘Your note contained such a hint of mystery I immediately cancelled an engagement at a picnic.’

  ‘You may have been surprised that my cousin, Miss Fox, has not been out in Society since her arrival last week.’

  ‘We assumed you were indisposed by the journey, my dear Miss Fox,’ the Ambassador’s wife remarked. ‘Personally, I am always prostrated by the shortest journey. You are quite a heroine to set forth on such an arduous one alone.’

  ‘Ah, but I was not alone,’ said Araminta primly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap.

  There was a moment’s silence, but Cassandra could almost feel the suppressed excitement in the high-ceilinged salon. Now, they were thinking, now we come to the scandal.

  ‘Some of you may be acquainted with Lord Offley, or at least know of his reputation.’ Lady Lydford dropped the words quietly into the silence but the result was as if she had said Fox! to a flock of hens.

  ‘Lord Offley?’ exclaimed Lady Hartley in awful tones. ‘That libertine rake? What connexion has he with you, Miss Fox?’

  ‘Absolutely none, I am glad to say,’ Miss Fox responded roundly, her back becoming, if possible, even more stiff. ‘At the Bishop’s Palace, however, we are not unaware of the opprobrium which attaches to that individual. I hesitate to call him a gentleman.’

  ‘And knowing of that reputation, my dear cousin did not hesitate to come to my aid when I apprised her of the crisis.’ Lady Lydford paused, and gestured towards Mrs Spencer’s cup. ‘A little more tea? Or perhaps a macaron?’

  Cassandra marvelled at the skilful orchestration of the group. Now the ladies were hanging on every word, tea cups quite forgotten as they anticipated an awful revelation.

  ‘No, no, thank you, Lady Lydford, I have quite sufficient.’ Mrs Spencer could bear it no longer. ‘What crisis?’

  The Dowager put her own cup down on the piecrust table beside her with deliberate care, and leaned forward in a confiding manner. Like marionettes on strings, the assembled ladies leaned forward, too.

  ‘I have a goddaughter,’ she began, low-voiced. ‘She is just eighteen, and has spent her entire life on her father’s estate in Hertfordshire, quite secluded. The poor child is motherless. her father, I must tell you, is a scholar of most eccentric habits.’

  Knowing looks passed between the ladies at this point, and behind her screen, Cassandra smiled at this masterful understatement.

  ‘Contemplating matrimony on his own behalf, her father has contracted her in marriage
to Lord Offley.’ Ignoring the sharp intake of breath around the tea table, Lady Lydford pressed on. ‘This sweet child, who is not yet out, and who knows nothing of the ways of the world, is, as you may have guessed, a considerable heiress.’

  Heads nodded. ‘Nothing short of a fortune would tempt that man to forsake his bachelorhood for a respectable marriage,’ Lady Hartley remarked. ‘Why, I heard the other day that he had formed a connexion with both daughters of a wealthy cit and was found….’ At this point her voice dropped to a whisper, and strain as she might, Cassandra could hear nothing but the gasps and exclamations of horror which swept the little group.

  ‘Exactly so,’ remarked Miss Fox, leaning back once more in her chair. ‘You may readily understand, dear ladies, why, when I received a letter from Sophie telling me of her goddaughter’s predicament and entreating my aid, I lent myself to a scheme that under other circumstances, I would not have countenanced.’

  The ladies could hardly contain their excitement at these horrid revelations. Lady Lydford inflamed them further by saying in a voice of quivering intensity, ‘I know, dear friends, that I may rely on you all for the utmost discretion and support.’

  There was a chorus of murmured assent around the little circle, as she continued, ‘I arranged for Cassandra to slip away, with her maid, of course, and meet my cousin in London. From there, they set forth on their journey to Vienna for my goddaughter to seek sanctuary at my side.’

  ‘And not a mile too far from the influence of such a man,’ added the Ambassador’s wife. Seeing the most influential lady present had endorsed the plan, the others lost no time in adding their voices in support.

  ‘But are you certain she was not seen on her journey? What if he has hastened after her?’ enquired Mrs Spencer, anxiously.

  ‘I am quite certain,’ said Miss Fox, straight-faced, ‘that she was not seen in my company on the journey.’ Cassandra smiled wryly at the skill of the two ladies in manipulating the conversation. Miss Fox’s obvious utter respectability and Lady Lydford’s scandalous revelations combined to make a most titillating tea party.

  ‘Now Cassandra is off his hands, her father will not concern himself further with her. I intend to bring her out myself, and, of course, present her at Court when we return to London, once mourning for Princess Charlotte is over.’

  ‘A large fortune, you said?’ ventured one of the ladies, as if it were a mere detail.

  Lady Lydford tilted the heavy teapot on its stand and replenished a cup. ‘Oh, more than respectable,’ she rejoined, equally casually.

  Watching through the gap in the screen, Cassandra admired her godmother’s skilled manipulation of her audience, then found her admiration replaced by a small frisson of apprehension. If Lady Lydford was as intelligent as she appeared, it was going to be very difficult to keep secrets from her. How could she hide the way she felt for Nicholas from his mother?

  She was jerked out of her brown study by Miss Fox enquiring if she should fetch Miss Weston from her room.

  ‘If you would be so kind, Araminta.’ Lady Lydford turned to her guests. ‘I am sure our friends will be sensible of a young lady’s feelings and not allude, in any way, to the distressing circumstances.’

  Cassandra picked up her skirts and tiptoed out of the door behind the screen. She found Miss Fox waiting for her at the head of the grand staircase which swept up in a double curve from the ballroom.

  ‘Could you hear all that passed?’ Miss Fox paused to tease out one of Cassandra’s newly-dressed curls high on her forehead. ‘You look quite charming, my dear,’ she added, nodding with approbation at the high-waisted, high-necked sprigged muslin gown. ‘Just arrange your shawl a little lower on your arms. There, that should have given the old pussies time to smooth down their fur before your appearance.’

  When Cassandra looked at her in astonishment at her frankness, she added drily, ‘If you had spent as many hours in the company of clerical wives as I have, my dear, you, too, would be an expert on gossiping middle-aged ladies.’

  Cassandra’s heart was thumping uncomfortably by the time she was ushered into the salon by Miss Fox, and she felt her colour rise under the scrutiny of the assembled ladies.

  Her embarrassment and the effort of remembering not to stride in her unaccustomed skirts kept her almost tongue-tied as the presentations were made, and she sank down gratefully at her godmother’s side and accepted a cup of tea.

  ‘From Ware in Hertfordshire, ma’am,’ she said, replying to the Naval Attaché’s wife, while trying not to listen to Mrs Spencer whispering to her neighbour.

  ‘Such a pretty child, and quite nice style.’

  She caught her godmother’s eye and received a small nod of approval, which gave her the courage to respond quietly and calmly to the unexceptionable questions the ladies were asking her.

  She was just asking her godmother’s permission to join a party driving into the country the next day, when the major domo announced, ‘The Earl of Lydford, my lady.’

  Cassandra felt herself go pale, but fortunately the ladies were far more interested in the eligible Earl of Lydford than in her reaction to him.

  He stood just inside the room, self-assured and extremely handsome in a coat of deep blue broadcloth, his long legs encased in a pair of white trousers which Cassandra knew were new. His waistcoat was pale yellow silk with a broad grey stripe that she had helped him choose in Lyons, and at his throat, the snowy folds of his cravat were impeccable.

  Nicholas strolled across to bend over his mother’s hand, calmly ignoring the frigid glint in her eye. ‘Mama, if I had any inkling you were entertaining so many charming ladies, I would have hurried home sooner.’ He began to bow to the ladies in turn. ‘Mrs Spencer, it must be at least two years since I had the pleasure, Lady Hartley, I trust I find you in good health. Miss Fox, I was sorry to miss you at breakfast. I must admit to rising late after yesterday’s journey.’

  Cassandra watched him making his rounds of the room, leaving the ladies flushed and fluttering in his wake. His technique, she realised, was to make each and every one of them believe that were it not for the inconvenient existence of their husbands, he would be slain by their charms.

  ‘Mountebank,’ she whispered as, finally, he stopped before her, eyes twinkling.

  He bent low over her hand. ‘At last, Miss Weston. Or may I call you Cassandra, for we are as good as cousins? Last time we met, I was in a ditch rescuing your puppy, was I not?’

  ‘Up a tree, and it was my kitten,’ Cassandra replied tightly.

  ‘Of course, it was. May I sit here?’ Not receiving a reply, he sat down anyway and accepted a cup of tea from his mother while assiduously avoiding her eye. ‘Even at the tender age of fifteen, I was your devoted slave.’ Nicholas gave her a sudden grin which made her heart lurch.

  ‘So far from being my slave,’ she countered, ‘you did nothing but pull my pigtails and twit me about my freckles!’

  The ladies laughed at these childish reminiscences, but Lady Lydford cut in hastily. ‘Enough of this, Nicholas, you must not tease Cassandra. You forget, she is no longer a child of eight, but a young lady.’

  ‘There is no danger of that, Mama,’ he said smoothly, turning his attention to Miss Fox as the colour rose hectically in Cassandra’s cheek.

  The infuriating man! Cassandra set down her cup with a sharp click, and schooled her face so as not to scowl. What game was he playing? He had obviously not been expected at this afternoon’s tea party, that much was obvious from Lady Lydford’s reaction, however well she covered up her irritation.

  But if she thought Nicholas had done with his sparring, she was mistaken. ‘Another macaron, Cassandra?’ He offered her the plate with a warm smile.

  ‘Thank you, no,’ Cassandra replied coolly, trying to think of a safe, neutral topic of conversation. Finding none, she lapsed into silence.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said in a slightly lowered voice. ‘My teasing has discommoded you.’

  ‘Not at all, my
lord.’ She was pleased at the indifference in her tone. ‘I am sure you were only humouring me, for you think of me as a child, one who was an inconvenient brat in the past, perhaps?’

  ‘My dear Cassandra, now you are threatening to discommode me.’ She had certainly succeeding in disturbing some of his air of assurance. There was a glint in his eye that was not all amusement, and one finger tapped the arm of the sofa.

  ‘Oh, no, my lord,’ Cassandra protested sweetly. ‘Why, I declare nothing could discommode you, not raging torrents, nor foreign footpads.’

  ‘Touché, Cassandra,’ he whispered. ‘Changing from breeches into skirts has done nothing to improve your temperament.’

  Their secret squabble was interrupted by the Ambassador’s wife rising to her feet, apparently a signal to the lesser ladies to take their leave also.

  In the flurry of goodbyes Cassandra received several promises of future invitations. Lady Hartley said that her daughters would be charmed to take her about with them. ‘I expect you, Lydford, will have many calls on your time,’ she remarked archly as he bowed her out.

  As soon as the door closed behind the last guest he collapsed gracefully into a chair, legs stretched out on the carpet. ‘Mother, I congratulate you. A more worthy collection of influential gabble-mongers you would be hard put to meet anywhere. And, if I recollect, only Lady Hartley has daughters to dispose of.’

  ‘You are out of touch, Nicholas. The elder is betrothed to Sommerson, and the younger is the reigning beauty in Vienna. She has no need to fear competition.’ Lady Lydford dismissed the Marriage Mart and turned to her son in renewed irritation. ‘What were you about, Lydford? You nearly ruined my entire strategy, arriving like that. Why, you might have put Cassandra completely out of countenance with your foolery.’

  Nicholas snorted inelegantly. ‘Ha! Nothing puts Cassandra out of countenance, as I have found to my cost these last seven weeks. Why, if someone particularly disturbs her, she takes a pistol to them.’