London Calling (16 page)

Susanna followed the crowd to a hollow, where there hung another painted landscape, showing a rolling green hillside, on which a shepherd piped a tune to his flock of sheep.

“That will lift up in a moment,” Miss Fanny whispered in her ear. “And then you’ll see the cascade.”

Susanna nodded mechanically. Her eyes were scanning the crowd for James, but she saw not a sign of him. Then another bell sounded, and a murmur of excitement went round the crowd, followed by an expectant hush.

The painted canvas began to rise, and at that moment, someone placed a firm hand on Susanna’s wrist, and a voice in her ear said, “Don’t turn round.”

Susanna drew in her breath sharply, but resisted the impulse to turn, and the voice‌—‌James’s voice‌—‌went on.

“Don’t speak, either. Just nod your head. Understand?” She nodded, and James gave her fingers a brief squeeze of approval.

“Good. Major Haliday is here? You can get him to the Lover’s Walk?”

Susanna nodded, and felt James give a breath of relief. “Good,” he said again. “And you think he’ll come?” Another nod, and another squeeze of her hand.

“All right, then. I’ll meet you at midnight.”

Susanna nodded to show she understood, and, with a final clasp of the hand, James moved away‌—‌where, she couldn’t tell‌—‌off into the crowd.

She glanced a little nervously at Miss Fanny, standing to her right, and Mrs. Careme, a little distance to the left, but their eyes‌—‌and those of the rest of the party‌—‌were fixed on the scene before them. Susanna sighed and relaxed. They had apparently noticed nothing.

The spectacle was certainly one to capture the attention. A mountain, some four feet high, stood beneath the arch of a rainbow, with waving palm trees planted on either side, and a swift river of water running over the whole and into a pool below, where it foamed up, and then ran swiftly away.

As Susanna watched, the water slowed to a trickle and stopped, and the painted landscape descended once more.

Miss Fanny, beside her, drew in her breath with a sigh of satisfaction.

“So lovely, is it not? Though not quite as impressive as some years. I remember once when I was a girl, they had a miller’s house, and the water turned a little waterwheel. And someone told me they once staged a storm, and blew the thatch right off of a group of cottages. Still, this was very pretty, all the same. And now, what do you say to watching the tightrope demonstration? I’m told it is quite amazing.”

They watched the tightrope walkers‌—‌a pair of ladies in spangled pink tights‌—‌and then ate in one of the supper boxes ranged round the main square. The pavilion was lit from above by wax candles, and the walls showed a group of men and ladies in the long-waisted lace gowns and tri-cornered hats of a generation back, all playing at blindman’s bluff on a grassy lawn. Admiral Tremain huffed and grumbled over the food when it arrived.

“They call this a chicken? Why, it’s no bigger than a sparrow. And the ham‌—‌it’s sliced thin as muslin.”

Marianne arrived a little out of breath after the rest of the party was seated, accompanied by the earnest-looking young man Susanna had seen her dancing with earlier.

Admiral Tremain’s brows drew together in a ponderous frown. “Where have you been, Marianne? I expect you to remain with your own party and not go wandering off on your own.”

Marianne’s face darkened, the old, sullen look of resentment settling again over her features, but before she could reply, Ruth cut in swiftly.

“I was so glad to see you enjoying yourself, my dear. And now, pray, won’t you introduce us to your companion?”

She glanced inquiringly from Marianne to the young man and smiled.

Marianne hesitated a moment. Then, a little awkwardly: “This is Mr. Foster. I was at school with his sister.”

“Mr. Foster, I am delighted to meet you.” Ruth gave him her hand, and he bowed over it, stammering a little as he replied.

“And I you, ma’am.”

Seen up close, he was handsome in a shy, unassuming way, with pleasant features, a shock of fair hair, and very blue eyes. He shook hands all round, murmuring conventional greetings, but when he reached Mrs. Careme, she held his hand a fraction of a second longer than was necessary, and smiled beguilingly up into his face.

“I must thank you for looking after Marianne, Mr. Foster. It’s such a relief to her father and me, to know that she’s being taken care of.”

Her words relegated Marianne to the school room, and Susanna saw the girl’s lips tighten angrily.

“You must come and see us sometime,” Mrs. Careme went on. She still held Mr. Foster’s hand, and leaned forward as she spoke, smiling her bewitching smile.

Color swept up from under the young man’s collar to the roots of his fair hair.

“Thank you. I . . . ‌I’d like that very much,” he stammered. He turned back to Marianne.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said.

Marianne’s face was stony. “You’re quite welcome.”

Mr. Foster looked a little taken aback. “I’ll call on you sometime, if I may.”

Marianne’s expression didn’t alter, and when she replied, her voice was hard. “Pray, don’t trouble yourself on my account,” she said tightly.

Mr. Foster looked helplessly from Marianne to Mrs. Careme and back again. “I’ll say goodnight, then.”

He moved off across the lawn. Mrs. Careme settled herself in her chair with a small, satisfied smile, and Marianne, eyes suspiciously bright, lips compressed, sat down in the seat beside Susanna, in a corner of the box.

“You were not very encouraging, just now,” Susanna said. The rest of the party was absorbed in some conversation of their own, so that she was able to speak without being overheard.

“Encouraging?” Marianne repeated. “Encouraging?”

“Yes‌—‌I shouldn’t think he’ll have the nerve to call on you at all, now.”

“Call on me?” Marianne fairly bit off the words. “He wouldn’t be calling on me. He would be calling on her‌—‌on Mrs. Careme. You must have seen the way he was ogling her.”

“I saw no such thing,” Susanna said. “I saw
her
ogling
him
, plainly enough, but anyone could see he had eyes only for you. And if you think any differently, you’re just being silly.”

Marianne stared at her in astonishment for a moment, and then she said, gruffly. “You really think so?”

Susanna smiled. “Yes, I honestly do.”

A wave of color swept over Marianne’s face. Then, she started, and looked dismayed.

“Oh, but I’ve just sent him away. What if he thinks I don’t want to see him?”

“He has not left yet. I doubt that he will go home before the fireworks. You might just happen to meet him when we all go to see the displays, and make it clear that you’d be very pleased to have him call.”

“Yes, I suppose I might.” Marianne actually smiled. And though she spoke little during the remainder of the meal, her face bore a glow of unaccustomed pleasure.

Susanna, too, was quiet throughout, though in her case the silence was occasioned by nerves rather than happiness. She was counting the moments that must pass until midnight. And watching Major Haliday, who was drinking glass after glass of wine. His face was growing red, his eyes bleared. Which also might bode well for James being able to frighten the truth out of him‌—‌but only if the Major did not drink himself into a stupor first.

At length, the meal concluded, and a steady stream of guests began to appear from all areas of the Gardens, making their way towards the main lawn where the illuminations and fireworks were to take place. Susanna saw Major Haliday drain the last of the wine from his glass, and her heart began to thump hard in her chest.

When the rest of the party rose, she caught Ruth’s gaze and nodded once. Immediately, Ruth moved to Helen Haliday’s side and began speaking‌—‌something about the dresses of a party of extremely fashionable ladies nearby; Susanna overheard Ruth say, “At once expensively and nakedly dressed‌—‌quite a triumph.”

Mrs. Haliday laughed, her taut expression relaxing as she followed Ruth’s glance. She and Ruth moved off together, following the stream of revelers towards the main lawn. And Susanna approached Major Haliday.

“Major Haliday?” The Major turned unfocused eyes on her, and she went on, making her voice sound timid and slightly quavering. “Would you . . . ‌do you think you might be so kind as to accompany me on a walk? I’m afraid I do not at all care for the fireworks displays myself. All that noise. And the fire. I am always so afraid someone might be blown to smithereens.”

She wondered as she spoke whether she was laying it on too thickly‌—‌but Major Haliday puffed out his chest and patted her hand. “Of course, my dear young lady. Of course. I know what women’s nerves are. Just you stay with me. I’ll look after you.”

Chapter 17

Major Haliday offered Susanna his arm, and she took it, moving off with him along the gravel paths that twined this way and that through the groves of trees. Luckily, the Major was too drunk to notice that Susanna was in fact choosing their direction. She steered him around the main square of the Gardens, where most of the spectators were assembled, and then, her hand still on Major Haliday’s arm, began to thread a way towards the eastern wall of the enclosure.

As she passed the waiting crowd, she did have the brief satisfaction of seeing Marianne and Mr. Foster, deep in conversation, standing under an overhanging tree. Though that was by far the pleasantest aspect of the walk. Major Haliday had apparently reached the maudlin stage of drunkenness, and was airing his grievances against the world, one by one: his gambling debts, the heartlessness of his creditors, the unfeeling behavior of his wife.

“You wouldn’t think it to look at her,” Major Haliday slurred at Susanna on a gust of alcoholic breath. “But she’s a hard woman, Helen is. A very hard woman. She doesn’t understand me‌—‌doesn’t understand me at all. You may not believe me, but I’m a very lonely man, Miss Ward.”

He leaned towards her, his breath hot in her ear‌—‌and Susanna had to hold herself in check to keep from physically recoiling. They had entered the Lover’s Walk. The lanterns were fewer and farther between, and the way dark. Susanna saw several couples, arms intertwined, taking advantage of the dimness for a covert meeting.

She was praying the grove where she was to meet James might be close by when they finally emerged into a clearing with a statue‌—‌she hoped it was indeed the statue of Milton‌—‌in the center. She let out a breath of relief. And in the same moment, Major Haliday pulled her closer, one arm circling her waist as he looked down at her. “By Jove, you are a dashed handsome girl,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Susanna’s skin crawled. She had managed to remain civil so that she might lure Major Haliday here‌—‌but she drew the line at actually being kissed by him. She planted both hands against the Major’s chest and shoved as hard as she could.

Had the Major been sober, he might have easily overpowered her. But he was drunk and unsteady enough on his feet that her push sent him toppling backwards onto the ground. He landed with a jarring thud, and his face darkened with anger. “Now see here—” he began.

But in the same moment, Susanna saw James‌—‌still dressed in the black garb of the highwayman‌—‌striding towards them. Susanna let out her breath in a rush of relief and stepped back from the Major. “Do you know, I believe I should like to see the fireworks display after all.” She spoke rapidly. “It is supposed to be the highlight of any trip to Vauxhall, and it would be a shame to miss it.”

Before the Major could answer, she darted away up one of the paths, nearly caroming into another courting couple, who looked at her resentfully before moving on. Susanna leaned against the trunk of a tree to catch her breath. She and James had not discussed what she would do after she had brought Major Haliday to the Milton Grove. And it was imperative, of course, that she remain out of sight, so that the Major would not suspect her of being part of a plot. But that did not mean she might not contrive to overhear what James and Major Haliday said.

Moving cautiously, Susanna retraced her steps, skirting the grove and fetching up behind a thick clump of hedges. The screen of bushes and the darkness were enough‌—‌she hoped‌—‌to conceal her from sight. But the grove was lighted by a single lantern, casting enough glow for her to see Major Haliday and James. The Major was still sprawled on the ground where Susanna’s push had sent him, and as Susanna watched, James took the other man by the collar and hauled him‌—‌none too gently‌—‌to his feet.

James said something‌—‌Susanna could not hear what‌—‌in a low tone, and Major Haliday sputtered angrily.

The Major’s matador costume was disheveled, his collar undone, and he swayed a little as he said in a belligerent tone, “Now see here. Just who the hell do you think you are?”

James’s voice was cool‌—‌pleasant, even‌—‌though Susanna caught the undercurrent of anger. “Who I am is hardly important. Of far more importance is who you are. Or rather, what you are.”

The Major blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve been working as a spy, stealing military information from Admiral Tremain and passing it to French agents in this country.”

Susanna heard Major Haliday draw in his breath with a gasp, though he tried to bluster.

“I don’t know what you mean. Never been so insulted. I ought—”

James’s voice, sharp as the crack of a whip, cut across Major Haliday’s protestations.

“Don’t trouble to deny it. You were seen last night. At the Blue Fountain.”

The Major stared at James. And then his face turned sullen. Rather like a sulky little boy, caught with his hand in the jelly jar, Susanna thought. “Now see here. I don’t have to stay here and listen to this.”

James’s mouth, beneath the black edges of the mask, looked tight with distaste. But he said, still calmly, “You don’t have to, but it would be a far wiser course for you if you did.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.” Major Haliday’s voice was angry.

“I can think of several. But for one thing, this pistol”‌—‌Susanna heard the sound of it being drawn from James’s belt‌—‌“is no costume affair. It’s quite real and fully loaded. If you listen, you’ll hear that the fireworks have started.” A boom in the distance proved the truth of the words. “No one would notice the sound of a gun going off now.”