A Regency Charade (14 page)

On this fateful Friday morning, she had permitted her mother’s dresser to arrange her hair. She wanted to look as lovely as possible, for she needed all the self-confidence she could command. The dresser had devised a very complicated and modish arrangement, with small ringlets lining the forehead and a number of bouncy curls gathered tightly at the temples and permitted to fall over the ears in a bushy mass. Priss thanked the abigail and dismissed her, but as soon as the dresser had left, Priss had picked up her hairbrush and brushed out the entire coiffure. She had enough to strain her nerves without giving herself the added distraction of worrying about the effect of an over-elaborate hairstyle on a husband who no longer was familiar with his wife’s appearance.

She brushed for half an hour before the crimping which the dresser’s hot iron had impressed into each strand had been smoothed out. Then she tied the entire mane into a single knot at the nape of her neck—as she had done every day for years—and went over to her bed to select one of the four gowns she had laid out on it. The first one she put on was a mauve jaconet with a ruffle of soft lace at the neck and a row of acorns embroidered in purple along the hem. But after a glance in her mirror, she decided it was insipid, and she took it off. Next she tried the sapphire-blue lustring, which some gentleman whose identity she no longer remembered had told her brought out the blue of her eyes, but she discarded
that
because it was too daring for afternoon wear. A pink round-gown of Persian silk was next discarded because of its tendency to cling too suggestively to her thighs, and the gray crape with its row of silver buttons down the front was rejected for making her look like an evangelical. She had gone back to the mauve and was buttoning the back when her mother tapped on the door and came in.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t finished dressing! It’s after
two
! And what have you done to your
hair
?” Lady Vickers exclaimed nervously.

Priss turned to her with an expression of dismay. “I look a veritable dowd, don’t I? Oh, Mama, I don’t know if I can go through with this!”

Lady Vickers was immediately conscience-stricken for adding to her daughter’s nervousness. “Nonsense, my love, of course you’ll go through with it. Everything will be fine, I know it! I shall find you both in each other’s arms before an hour goes by. You look positively lovely. You always do, even
without
a proper coiffure.”

Lady Vickers believed every word she’d said. In her eyes, her daughter’s beauty was so marked, it would shine through any disguise, resist any embellishment, overcome any unflattering costume. Of course, the way the girl had pulled back her hair
was
rather severe, and the dress she’d chosen was perhaps somewhat unpretentious, but since it was far too late to do anything about it, it was best to put a good face on it.

And as far as the interview with Alec was concerned, Lady Vickers didn’t see why it should not go well. Mr. Hornbeck, who had paid a call just yesterday—the dear man had taken to paying a call each fortnight, when he came to London on business with his bank—had agreed that there was every reason to hope. Priss had not done anything so very terrible to Alec that she should be past forgiveness. She had, admittedly, been a silly chit in her handling of that
cloying
Edmonds fellow, but she’d been a mere child. Certainly a man of Alec’s character could see by this time that the entire matter had no relationship to their marriage.

With murmurings of optimistic encouragement, she urged her daughter out of the room. It was time to go downstairs, to make sure that everything in the drawing room had been polished and dusted to perfection, that fresh flowers had been arranged in all the vases, that the tea things in the sitting room had been set out properly and that all the servants had been warned against any intrusion. Nothing—not the slightest little detail—must go wrong today.

Priss twisted her fingers together nervously as they descended the stairs. At the bottom, she turned to her mother with a troubled hesitancy. “Mama … promise you won’t take offense if …”

“What is it, dearest? Don’t tell me you think
my
hair is overdone!”

“Oh, Mama,
no
!” the girl exclaimed with a quick laugh. “Your hair is exactly as it ought to be. I only … wish to ask if you would mind
terribly
if I greeted Alec alone.”

“Mind? No, of course I don’t. You are quite right to wish to do so, and I should have thought of it myself. If I were present, there would be a great deal of time wasted in polite interrogations and empty responses, and then I should have to make a patently obvious excuse for leaving the room—”

“Exactly. And, if all goes well, you shall see him later at the tea table—”

“When conversation shall be much more delightful and relaxed!” Lady Vickers concluded happily. “Go on, then. Into the drawing room with you. I shall be waiting in the sitting room until you’re through. And Prissy, my love, do not hurry the interview on my account. I shall be quite content with my embroidery, I assure you.”

Priss watched as her mother disappeared into the sitting room where the tea table had been set with the finest china and plate in the house and decorated with a huge centerpiece of yellow mums and pink-edged snapdragons in the hope that, a short while later, it would be the scene of a festive celebration. As the door closed behind Lady Vickers, Priss felt a tremor in her stomach. It was almost time. By the time she’d instructed Craymore on his part in the affair and waited for him to bring a decanter of the best Madeira to the drawing room, Alec would be knocking at the door.

She was not at all sure she could endure the suspense. She took a deep breath, grimaced and clenched her fists. She
had
to endure it. Her entire future depended on the way she would handle herself this afternoon. All her hopes and desires had somehow centered themselves on the little drama to be played out in her drawing room today, and she had to rise to the occasion. She had, if necessary, to be calm, wise, loving, forgiving, understanding, brave, serene and true. She had to play Jeanne d’Arc, Elizabeth, Beatrice or Portia—whatever the occasion should demand. The only trouble was that she almost didn’t know how to play
herself
any more!

Well, there was no more time for reflection, except perhaps for one more quick look at her own reflection in the mirror. The face that stared back at her was a stranger’s—a pale woman whose frightened eyes seemed much too large for the pallid little face. She shut the eyes, sent a silent little prayer to the heavens for pity and aid, and then went off to find the butler.

From the time
he
awoke on the Friday of his appointment with his wife, Alec, too, found himself unreasonably tense. A morning ride in the park with Ferdie failed to ease the churning in his stomach. A quiet luncheon in his own dining room, with only the
Times
for companionship, gave him a brief breathing spell, but when he went into his dressing room to change into appropriate clothing for the call to Hanover Square, the flutterings and mutterings of the usually indifferent Kellam threatened almost to undo his nerves entirely.

Kellam made such a complete and unwarranted furor over the trappings of his costume that Alec could only stare at the fellow in baffled fascination. Kellam wavered in unaccustomed agony over the choice between the oriental or the
trone d’amour
as the proper fold for the neckcloth; he lingered pensively over the waistcoats, swinging between the apricot cassimere and the striped linen in a torment of indecision; and finally, he was completely unable to make up his mind between the Lincoln green superfine and the
cachou de Laval
in the matter of the coat. At last, Alec’s patience snapped, and he pulled the brown coat from the fellow’s grasp and shrugged into it. “What on earth has gotten into you today, Kellam?” he asked irritably.

“Nothin’, Cap’n. On’y tryin’ t’ be a bit ’elpful-like. Thought t’ meself that ye’d wish t’ look yer best today.”

Alec glared at him depressingly. “There’s nothing so very special about today, I tell you.”

“So ye say. But ye needn’t think t’ tip me a rise. Y’re as jittery as a frog on a washin’ block, an’ that’s the truth.”

“Perhaps so,” Alec acknowledged, turning to the mirror for a last look, “but I don’t see why
you
should be so greatly affected.”

“Why not, I asks ye? ’
Oo
, I’d like t’ know, wuz the tom-doodle ’oo sat up nights listenin’ to ye cryin’ out ’er name?”

“What has that to say to anything? First of all, I’ve long since gotten over that. And second, I’m going to see her to obtain her agreement for an annulment,
not
, as I’ve told you a dozen times, for a
reconciliation
!”

Kellam’s mobile face indicated his profound disappointment. “But ye could
try
, couldn’t ye? Wiv ’ow y’re lookin’ like a reg’lar dash an’ all, I’d go bail she’ll like ye again.”

“Will you never cease your blasted nagging? I don’t
want
her to like me again! I don’t like
her
any more!”

“Oh, very likely!” the batman said with heavy irony. “I ain’t no fool, ye know. I ain’t blind, neither. I see wot I see.”

“Then buy yourself a pair of spectacles!” Alec said sourly, picking up the envelope that Newkirk had sent round and striding to the door. “When I return, I’ll be well-nigh a single man again. And as merry as a mouse in the malt over it!”

“Ye don’t say. Then the more fool
you
!” Kellam shouted after him as Alec slammed the door.

The altercation with Kellam had so churned his stomach that Alec decided not to take his carriage for the ride to Tyrrell House. A brisk walk, he hoped, would settle his agitation. He set off with energetic strides toward his destination, but he couldn’t seem to shake Kellam’s words from his mind. Why on earth was the fellow so eager for him to be reunited with Priss? The unpredictable batman had never even
met
the lady! Alec knew that Kellam had his best interests at heart—during the dark nights of the campaign they had each confided to the other the details of their lives and had come, each of them, to care deeply for the welfare of the other—but what made Kellam believe that a reconciliation would be the answer to Alec’s prayers? Alec couldn’t remember painting a picture of Priss for the fellow that would put her in so favorable a light, yet Kellam persisted in believing the best of her. The way the fellow spoke of her, one would almost believe he’d been intimately acquainted with her for years! He seemed even to know what she
looked
like! It was very strange indeed.

So deep was he in his ruminations that he failed to hear his name being called from a passing hack. It was not until the occupant of the carriage jumped out and ran toward him that he awoke from his reverie. “I say, Alec!
Alec Tyrrell! Ho
, there!” the fellow was shouting as he ran toward him.

Alec gaped. “Good lord, it’s
Gar
!”

Garvin Danforth thrust out a hand in enthusiastic greeting. “I can’t believe my good luck! I was just on my way to Tyrrell House to see you!”

Alec flushed. He had not seen his school friend since Gar had stood up with him at the wedding. They had exchanged a few letters during the war, but Alec hadn’t written a word about his separation from his wife. “I’m no longer … er … staying at Tyrrell House,” he said awkwardly.

“No? Then where have you and Prissy moved? It
was
a stroke of luck, then, that I spotted you. And look at you! I hardly
knew
you when I first saw you. You’ve turned into a … well, I may as well say it … a veritable
Corinthian
! I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on such a marvelous coat. And that beaver at an angle … and the silver-headed cane! You’ve come a long way from our Oxford days, old man. But let’s not stand here. Come up in the hack and I’ll take you home. You’re a sight for sore eyes, I can tell you. And I’m impatient to see your beautiful wife as well.”

Alec hesitated. He had neither the time nor the inclination to explain matters to Gar here on the street. “I can’t now, old fellow,” he said embarrassedly. “I’m on my way to a long-standing and important … er … meeting. I’ll explain later. Where are you staying?”

Gar’s face fell. “I’m putting up at Long’s, in Clifford Street. I’m only in town for a fortnight. I’ve been so deucedly immersed in my bibliographical work—but you don’t know about that, do you? Well, in any case, Lord Hawthorne—it’s his library I’m reorganizing—practically ordered me to take a holiday, and I immediately thought of you. I was certain you’d have sold out of the army by this time, so I thought we could spend some time together …”

“And so we shall,” Alec assured him. “In fact, you can put up at my place. Plenty of room there, and you’ll like it better than a hotel.”

Gar brightened at the invitation. “That
would
be grand! But perhaps you’d better ask Prissy first. Females have an aversion to unexpected guests and surprise visits and that sort of thing.”

“Good lord, Gar, you sound like a married man! Don’t tell me you’ve taken yourself a wife!”

Gar laughed. “Me? Not likely. Too wrapped up in my work to be in the petticoat line. But Lady Hawthorne—my employer’s wife, you know—never likes unexpected guests, so I thought—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll come by your hotel later and explain everything. But now I must rush off. See you later, Gar.”

He hurried down the street, uncomfortably aware that Gar was watching him. The encounter had not done a bit of good for his spirits. It had merely reminded him of the awkwardness of his situation. Even after the decree of nullity would have been acquired, he realized, he would be beset with difficulties. Everyone he’d ever known as a married man would have to be informed. Old friends, like Gar, would be shocked and disapproving. And … good God!… what would his
grandfather
feel when he learned the truth?

With his mind in a troubled whirl, he tapped his cane irritably on the door of Tyrrell House. Above and beyond all his worries, the necessity of facing Priss now was the worst prospect. His bitterness toward her was so strong he wondered if he could manage to behave in a civilized fashion. Perhaps it would be the better part of valor to retreat and face her another day, when he might feel less hostile.