Rebel Heiress (35 page)

He interrupted her. ‘No names, I beg, my dearest life. You do not know what I have risked to come to you here. My grandmother thinks me indisposed. Recognition might mean my ruin.'

Sally gave her deep, unmistakable laugh behind her veil. ‘Let us not talk of ruin, friar,' she said. ‘Tell me instead why you have so begged and blandished me for this private interview, which, I must tell you, I grant with the greatest reluctance and have no wish to prolong.'

He snatched her hand again. ‘My dearest creature, how can you be so cruel? You know all too well how I pine, how I
suffer, how I die for love of you. All I ask is the opportunity to give-up everything for your sake: career, fortune, title, what do I care for them if I cannot have you? Lady Beaufrage — Sally — may I not call you beloved? Only tell me that you are not altogether indifferent to my devotion, my passion, my adoration.'

The nun stood very still. ‘Have you forgotten, reverend father, that I have a husband, and you a betrothed who is my dearest friend?'

‘Forgotten? No. How could I, when I regret it every day of my life? But let us for once be honest with ourselves, you and I. You do not love your husband. It is not possible for a woman of your calibre to care for a gambling wastrel such as he. As for my betrothed; you have long known that it is to be the merest marriage of convenience on my part, and I am beyond that now. Without you, I cannot live. With you, the world would be paradise, exile an Eden. Sally, my love, say you will fly with me.'

‘That is enough, Mr. Rivers.' A new note in her voice now. ‘I have heard you patiently. Now it is my turn to speak. I owe you, I collect, an apology in some sort, since I have purposely led you on to see how far you would go. It is far indeed. So you would, for the sake of my fortune — for I do not flatter myself with any belief in your passion — no, no, for my fortune only you would blandish me into betraying my husband and my friend, both of whom I love. Do I see you start, friar? Does it surprise you to hear that I love the man you have been pleased to call a gambling wastrel — and who is worth ten of you, Mr. Rivers. It would take greater powers of persuasion than you are master of to make me false to him — particularly since I am to bear his child. You would look a fine fool, would you not, escorting an increasing mistress round the lesser courts of Europe. For that, I take it, is the life you had mapped out for me. That is the Eden you have to offer. I cannot think how you came to take me for such a fool. I am no green girl to be caught with a languishing look and a romantic tale. I have had an eye to you this long time now, and I find your proposals as unflattering as they are expected. You forgot, I collect, that I am a businesswoman, with informants everywhere. Now I see you flinch. Yes, I am aware that you have so mortgaged your expectations from your grandfather that if he does not oblige you with a speedy death you face certain ruin. I am aware, too,
that he has been so inconsiderate, these last few days, as to take a turn for the better. No wonder you are mad for love of me. Since you must inevitably flee the country, and since my friend Miss Marchmont has more sense than to go with you, I can see that I and my moneybags might make you admirable companions. Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have taken my goods to a happier market. I think you and I have played our last scene of pretty passion.'

With an oath, he raised his hand to strike her. Henrietta was about to start forward to her defence when a man's figure appeared from the back of the conservatory.

‘Villain!' Cedric Beaufrage had him by the collar. ‘Touch my wife at your peril.'

‘I thank you, Cedric.' Sally's voice had lost none of its composure. ‘You are arrived most happily. Perhaps you would be so good as to see Mr. Rivers to the door. I think he will go without protest. He wishes a scandal still less than we do. And if you are thinking of fighting him for my sake, my love, I wish you will think again. He is not worth it. Henrietta' — she raised her voice slightly — ‘have you anything to say to Mr. Rivers before he takes his leave?'

Henrietta came forward. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘One word. Here is your ring, Charles, and good-bye.'

‘What a romantic scene,' said a voice from the doorway.

‘Quite a little drama,' added another.

‘For all the world like Covent Garden,' said a third.

The voices were unmistakable, and the three Miss Giddys, elegantly, if unsuitably garbed as the Three Graces, swept into the conservatory. For once, Henrietta was glad to see them. Their arrival broke up the scene as nothing else could have done. Without another word, Charles turned and left the conservatory. Cedric paused for the merest moment, took his wife's hand and held it in a strangely moving gesture against his cheek, then turned and followed Charles. Left to face the Miss Giddys, Sally took Henrietta's hand in silent warning.

‘I fear we have intruded,' said the first Grace.

‘On a most interesting scene,' said the second.

‘Dear Lady Beaufrage,' said the third.

‘And Lord Beaufrage, of course,' said the first. ‘Such touching devotion.'

‘But as for your charming companion —' All three turned masked faces to look in blind question at Henrietta.

‘And hers.' The third Grace, turned for a moment to look towards the door through which Rivers had vanished.

‘Dear Lady Beaufrage, you must be so good as to enlighten us. You know how our poor dear Fanny frets over a mystery.'

‘She will make herself ill.' Henrietta had by now identified the first Grace as Miss Giddy herself.

‘My dear ladies' — Sally took the hands of two of the Graces — ‘you cannot, surely, be suggesting that I betray the secrets of the masquerade? What? Am I, a mere nobody, to be instructing you in the manners of the
ton
? My companion, as you can see, wishes to remain nameless, and so does hers. But, come, I know your discretion so well …' And she bent and whispered something into the nearest eagerly offered ear. The Miss Giddy thus favoured let out a little shriek and whispered in her turn to the sister on the other side of her, who turned with a gasp to the third and last Grace. Then all three moved towards Henrietta, dropped her the deepest of curtseys and hurried, still passionately whispering, out into the crowded rooms.

Henrietta could not help laughing. ‘Sally,' she said, ‘what in the world did you tell them?'

‘Why, that you were royalty, of course. They are convinced that they have seen Princess Charlotte meeting — who knows? Not Young Frog, I am sure. It will be all over town tomorrow, and by the time the Miss Giddys discover that Princess Charlotte was safe at the opera tonight they will be too deeply embroiled to trouble us further. But, look, here comes Cedric full of ardour and devotion. You will find, my dear, that married quarrels are even more interesting than those of lovers. Ah' — she turned to greet Cedric — ‘here you are, love. What do you say? Shall we dance together and confound the gossips?'

He took her hand. ‘My dearest, I am yours, always, to command. But tell me — is it really true?' He led her away towards the dancers.

Left alone, Henrietta stood for a moment in silence. Then, ‘Simon?' she whispered.

‘Henrietta!' He emerged from the further conservatory. ‘I … I do not know what to say.'

She laughed and held out her hand to him. ‘Then say nothing, but take me out into the garden instead, for, I tell you, I am heartily sick of the smell of dead leaves and mould.' And
then, as they moved, still hand in hand, out and down terraced steps to a rose garden: ‘Tell me, did you ever see anything more like a scene from one of Mr. Sheridan's comedies? Did not Sally play her part to perfection?'

‘Play it? You mean — Henrietta, you know?'

‘Yes. All that — and more.' She gave a little sigh, her hand settling more closely in his. ‘Simon dear, I have been jilted. I shall be the butt of society. The Miss Giddys will have their way with me at last. I hope' — she turned to look up at him — ‘I hope you are going to come to my rescue.'

He smiled down at her. ‘I should not wish to see you suffer, Henrietta.' His hand on hers made her a more passionate answer.

‘No? You think, perhaps, you will take pity on my lamentable condition?'

He was laughing now. ‘Oh, Henrietta, you are incorrigible. Who but you —' To finish the sentence he pulled her into his arms. Around them the garden stirred gently into life. Moonlight was fading and a bird tried out its morning song. From the house, the sounds of a last waltz died away. At last he let her go. ‘Come, my love, it is time to be unmasking. Morning is here.' Very gently he untied the strings of her mask, then, removing his, bent to kiss her again.

‘Good heavens,' said a familiar voice.

‘Why, 'tis Miss Marchmont,' said another.

‘And Mr. Rivers,' said a third. ‘Mr.
Simon
Rivers,' it added reproachfully.

Gently, Simon released Henrietta, sharing as his lips left hers, a little laugh of purest happiness. ‘Yes,' he turned to face the avid Miss Giddys, his arm still protectively round Henrietta. ‘Miss Marchmont has made me the happiest of men. Come, my love, we must tell your mother our good news.'

‘And her father,' said Miss Giddy.

‘Lord Marchmont is this instant arrived from Paris,' said Miss Letitia.

‘I wonder what he will say to this strange news,' said Miss Patricia.

But they were left to wonder alone. Simon had taken Henrietta across the dew-drenched lawn and up the terrace steps to the door of the main ballroom. Indoors, the lights of the chandeliers looked tawdry after the cool dawn glow outside. The dancing was over now and the rooms nearly empty. Only,
here and there, a masked couple still laughed together, prolonging the night's merriment into the dawn. In the room beyond, Henrietta saw Sally and Cedric talking to Lady Marchmont and a tall man in travelling dress — her father.

He turned as they approached. ‘Henrietta, my dearest child.'

In an instant she was in his arms. Letting her go at last, he looked from her to Simon. ‘So the Miss Giddys were right for once, and I am delighted to hear it. You'll never be the wrong Mr. Rivers to me, Simon.' He shook him warmly by the hand. ‘It's the best news since Paris fell, even if it does mean that I am to have a radical for a son-in-law.' He laughed. ‘You see, I have had my informants, too, and more reliable ones than those Three Graces. Mr. Gurney wrote to me the other day.' This with a quizzical glance for Henrietta. ‘He's a good friend.' To Simon, who looked puzzled. ‘He spoke in the highest terms of your prospects. You know' — back again to Henrietta — ‘I always thought you would make an admirable wife for a politician yet always wondered about those rebel American notions of yours. You'll suit a Whig much better than a Tory. But you'll have to keep an eye on your wife, Simon, or she will be out there on the hustings beside you, preaching rights for women and I don't know what else.'

‘Sir' — Simon took Henrietta's hand — ‘beside me is just where I want her.'

Jane Aiken Hodge was born in Massachusetts to Pulitzer prize-winning poet, Conrad Aiken, and his first wife, writer Jessie McDonald. Hodge was 3 years old when her family moved to Great Britain, settling in Rye, East Sussex, where her younger sister, Joan, who would become a novelist and a children's writer, was born.

From 1935, Jane Hodge read English at Somerville College, Oxford University, and in 1938 she took a second degree in English at Radcliffe College. She was a civil servant, and also worked for Time Magazine, before returning to the UK in 1947. Her works of fiction include historical novels and contemporary detective novels. In 1972 she renounced her United States citizenship and became a British subject.

Leading Lady
Rebel Heiress

This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Reader

Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, LondonWC1B 3DP

First published in Great Britain 1975, Hodder & Stoughton

Copyright © 1975 JANE AIKEN HODGE

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eISBN: 9781448210084

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