London Calling (15 page)

“I do look . . . ‌nice, don’t I?”

“Nice?” Ruth repeated. “All the young men will be wanting to dance with you‌—‌you will not be able to keep them off.”

Marianne’s eyes widened and her shoulders hunched. “Dancing? Oh, no. I cannot dance.”

“Certainly you can,” Ruth said briskly. “You had dancing masters at school? Well, then.”

Marianne opened her mouth as though to protest, then caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. “Well—” She still spoke a little gruffly, but Susanna caught the beginning of a small smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. “Well, I will think on it.”

Miss Fanny was also watching Marianne, and Susanna thought there was something sad or sorrowful in her expression. Though she supposed that was small wonder; Miss Fanny had never had the chance to be young or to dance at masquerade balls.

And the next moment, Miss Fanny turned back to Susanna and said, “And now a costume for you‌—‌you must take the Pierrette. No, my dear, I insist. Julia would have been so pleased to have it be worn again.”

Susanna, looking up at Julia’s portrait, rather doubted it. But she accepted the costume with thanks. Ruth selected the gown of a French lady of the court, complete with high white wig and high-heeled shoes, and they gathered up their costumes, bidding Fanny and Marianne good morning.

When they were out in the hall, Ruth took Susanna’s arm and towed her into her own bedroom. She dumped the French courtier’s dress unceremoniously on the bed, shut the door, then turned to Susanna.

“And now, my dear, tell me what has happened. For it is plain something has‌—‌it is in your face for anyone with half an eye to see.”

Susanna rubbed her forehead. “I hope not. I cannot afford to give anything away. Aunt Ruth—” She stopped and exhaled. “Aunt Ruth, would it shock you very much to know that James believes there is a traitor in the Admiral’s house? And that we now think that traitor is Major Haliday?”

Ruth’s eyebrows rose. But she said, “When you reach my age, there is very little that shocks you about your fellow men. I knew there was a reason I did not like Major Haliday.” She frowned. “But if Major Haliday is the man your James is seeking, why does he not simply have him arrested? Taken into custody by the War Office?”

“Because there is no proof,” Susanna said. “And the Major is Admiral Tremain’s friend. Without proof of his guilt, how should the Admiral believe him capable of treason?” She swallowed. And then she said, “I am sorry, Aunt Ruth. I ought not to have told you so much. Please. Forget I said anything.”

Ruth squeezed Susanna’s hand. “My dear. You do not need to add worry for me on top of worry for your young man. But is there no way I can help?”

“Well—” Susanna hesitated. Then she said, “I need to get Major Haliday away from the rest of the party at Vauxhall Gardens tonight‌—‌so that James can speak to him. If you could help me, find a way to see that I get the chance?”

“Say no more. We will find a way.” Ruth nodded, then said, pressing Susanna’s hand again, “Everything will be all right in the end, my dear. You will see.”

Chapter 16

After that, the day passed with almost intolerable slowness. Susanna had to physically restrain herself from haunting the front hall, waiting for the afternoon post to be delivered. As it was, she felt her heart lurch and then quicken when at last Admiral Tremain’s butler brought the bundle of letters into the drawing room, where she had been sitting with the other women. Most were for Mrs. Careme, who was sitting at the table answering her other correspondence. There were two or three for Marianne and even one for Miss Fanny. And Susanna’s stomach dropped sickeningly before the butler said, “And there is one for you, miss.”

Susanna tore the message open, her fingers shaking. And then her breath went out in a rush. In James’s hand were the words:
Safely ensconced in my new lodgings. Not exactly Russell Square, but it will do. Will see you tonight. —J

And then, as a postscript, he had added:
One of
my new housemates
, with a pencil sketch beneath of an enormous cockroach with a snarling expression and a pair of wildly waving antennae.

“Good news, Miss Ward?”

Susanna looked up to find Miss Fanny watching her. She realized that she was smiling with the relief that filled her, and hastily composed her expression. “Nothing important,” she said. “Just . . . ‌just an amusing note from a friend, that is all.”

The remainder of the afternoon was easier; Susanna took up a book on the history of China from the Admiral’s library and managed to concentrate on a few chapters before it was time to dress for the masquerade.

Because of the size of the party, they were to take two carriages, and Susanna and Ruth, dressed in their evening’s costumes, found themselves riding with Miss Fanny and Marianne.

Miss Fanny had declined to don a costume‌—‌“Such things are for you young people. I’m far too old to be thinking of such things.”‌—‌but Marianne was dressed in the red velvet Guinevere gown, a dark cloak draped over her shoulders. She looked a little unsure of herself, Susanna thought. But her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she sat up straight in her seat, looking out the window with a bright, eager gaze as they moved through the darkened London streets.

At length, they crossed Westminster Bridge, and joined the long line of carriages that crowded the road to the Vauxhall Gardens gate. When at last they entered the Gardens, Susanna caught her breath. The place appeared as a kind of fairy land, the trees strung with hundreds of colored lanterns, the various paths and walkways lighted with chains of tiny white lamps glowing like stars. In the center of a grove of trees stood the grand Rotunda, ringed by colonnades sheltering the supper boxes, in which the revelers could partake of meals of cold chicken and ham.

They alighted from the carriage and ascended the steps of the Rotunda, which housed the dance floor and music room. Here, too, everything was ablaze with lights, the dancing flames of hundreds of wax candles showing a gorgeous pageantry of color as the guests circled and spun their way through the dances.

There were costumes of all descriptions. Gypsies linked arms with soldiers and monks, and Charles II’s danced side by side with Queen Elizabeths and Marie Antoinettes. An orchestra played from a balustraded gallery, and the noise, coupled with the sounds of hundreds of raised voices, was nearly deafening.

“Now, we must all put our masks on.” Mrs. Careme fixed a black satin covering over her eyes and nose, and turned to the rest of the group. She was dressed in the garb of some ancient Greek goddess, draped in a gown of filmy white that revealed her statuesque neck and shoulders, with a shining ribbon of green bound round her titian hair. She had been all but silent until then, her manner abstracted, but now she appeared to exert herself, and took the Admiral’s arm with an arch smile.

“I hope you mean to ask me to dance.”

Admiral Tremain stammered something and they moved off together to join the other couples on the floor.

Over the course of the next few hours, Susanna watched the circling dancers, and herself danced twice, once with an acquaintance of her Aunt Ruth’s, and once with Major Haliday. Major Haliday wore the garb of a Spanish bullfighter, with high leather boots and glittering gold epaulets. He had, by the time Susanna danced with him, been partaking freely of the wine and punch, and, while not actually drunk, was elated enough to be extravagantly gallant as they danced their way down the line, paying her several flowery compliments and making elaborate bows.

Which she supposed boded well for the success of her plan to lure him into the Lover’s Walk. Even if, thinking of what the Major really was and the risks he was causing James to run, Susanna’s fingers twitched with the urge to smack the admiring leer off his face.

Mrs. Haliday did not dance, but remained seated on the sidelines with Ruth, Miss Fanny, and the other matrons and spinsters. She wore the dress of a Gypsy, and looked the part, with gold rings flashing amidst the dark masses of her hair, and a brightly patterned scarf knotted round her waist. Her face was pale and set, and she watched her husband continually with blazingly intent eyes.

Susanna had just thanked Major Haliday‌—‌and managed even to make her voice polite‌—‌when a voice spoke at her elbow.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She started, and looked round. “James!”

He was masked, of course, but she recognized him at once. He was dressed as a highwayman, in a black cloak and flowing white shirt, with a pair of pistols at his belt.

“You are here already. I was not expecting to see you—”

She got no further. A voice, cutting across the upraised babble and chatter of the other revelers, cried out, “M. de Castres! It is Jacques de Castres, is it not?”

Instantly, James froze. He had taken Susanna’s hand, and now he gave it a warning squeeze, at the same time, turning smoothly to meet the one who had spoken.

Mrs. Careme came through the crowd towards them, body swaying gently to the beat of the music, one hand gracefully outstretched.

“M. de Castres, what a pleasant surprise,” she said, as she came abreast. “I had hardly expected to see you here. But I was not aware you knew Miss Ward.” Her green gaze flicked inquiringly from one of them to the other.

Susanna saw the corners of James’s mouth compress, but he replied smoothly, without hesitation, in an impeccable French accent.

“But of course, Madam. I make it my business to know every charming lady. Did I not take care to make your acquaintance as soon as I arrived in this great City?”

Mrs. Careme’s lashes fell, and she smiled.

“And dressed as a highwayman?”

James bowed. “I am a thief at heart, Madam. If the good Admiral Tremain is not careful to attend you as you deserve, I shall be sorely tempted to steal you away from him.”

Mrs. Careme laughed, and James bowed again.

“And now I must leave you.” He bent low over their hands, first Mrs. Careme’s, then Susanna’s. As he released Susanna’s fingers, he murmured, “We obviously cannot talk here. Meet me at the cascade at nine o’clock.”

Susanna had just time to nod understanding, and then he was gone, threading his way swiftly through the jostling crowd without a backward glance.

Mrs. Careme watched him go, a faint smile playing about the corners of her lips.

“A very charming man, M. Jacques de Castres.”

“Very.” In spite of herself, Susanna’s tone was dry, and Mrs. Careme gave her a sharp look.

“Shall we go back to the others and sit down?” Susanna added hastily. “I confess I am a little tired. It must be the heat.”

The room was hot and stuffy, which she hoped would excuse her flushed cheeks. Together, she and Mrs. Careme made their way across the dance floor to where Ruth and Mrs. Haliday were seated. Admiral Tremain sat with them, though he sprang up at once on their arrival, and, at Mrs. Careme’s request, moved off in search of glasses of punch for them all.

Susanna seated herself beside Ruth, and drew a long breath of relief. Ruth gave her one swift look, then, fixing her eyes on the dancers, said in an undertone, “Have you seen James?”

“Yes. I am to meet him at the cascade at nine,” Susanna replied quietly. “Do you know where that is? I hadn’t time to ask.”

“The cascade? Yes, it is . . .”

Ruth broke off, for Miss Fanny had caught the last words, and leaned over. “The cascade? Were you speaking of the cascade? My dear Miss Ward, you will enjoy it excessively. I saw it the last time we were here, and I have never forgotten it. I do not know when I was more amazed. Why, we must all go and see it tonight. I believe they set it off at nine. Yes, we must certainly all go. Charles, don’t you agree?” This, as Admiral Tremain rejoined the group, bearing a glass of punch for Mrs. Careme and another for Susanna.

“We must all go to see the cascade, mustn’t we?” Miss Fanny asked again.

Admiral Tremain gave his sister-in-law a tolerant smile. “Yes, yes, certainly we may go. I think they sound a warning bell when they’re about it set it off. We’ll keep our ears open and go out when we hear it, eh? Should be about an hour from now.”

“You will enjoy it, I am sure, Miss Ward,” Miss Fanny went on, turning back to Susanna. “It is quite an amazing sight.”

Susanna did her best to smile, though her heart had sunk within her. How was she to manage a meeting with James, hemmed in among the rest of her party?

The remaining hour until nine o’clock seemed to crawl by. She did not dance again, but kept her eyes fixed on the dance floor, hoping for some glimpse of James’s dark form.

She saw no sign of James, but to her surprise, she did catch sight of Marianne, moving with unexpected grace down the dance, escorted by a tall, earnest-looking young man in the black robes of a Catholic priest. Her face was alight with laughter, and her color bright.

Ruth, following Susanna’s gaze, smiled and nodded. “I knew that girl had it in her to be attractive. If nothing else, I intend to see that she gets a fairer chance at happiness than she has had so far, poor thing.”

At long last, the hour drew near to nine, and from somewhere outside in the Gardens, Susanna caught the peal of a bell. On that signal, many of the other dancers elected to leave the ballroom. Susanna, together with the rest of the Tremain party, was swept along on the tide of the crowd as the guests spilled out and onto the lawns.

The weather that day had continued unseasonably warm, and the air was still balmy, with a breath of gentle breeze murmuring through the trees. Mrs. Haliday had elected to remain behind, while her husband had professed himself bored with such amusements. Marianne was, presumably, still dancing, but Susanna, Ruth, and Miss Fanny, together with Admiral Tremain and Mrs. Careme, made their way along one of the lighted walkways.

If she had not been so much in the grip of nervous tension, Susanna would have enjoyed the walk. The Gardens were lovely, the trees hung with hundreds of glowing oil lanterns, the way lined with cleverly constructed mock temples and grottos, with moss-grown ruins artistically arranged among groves of high Spanish oaks and chestnuts. There were paintings of gods and goddesses, lit from behind by more colored lights, and others of landscapes, showing the craggy peaks of the Alps and the spindly trees and blasted trunks of the Greek countryside.