Beatrice Goes to Brighton (10 page)

His valet came running up and leaped up on the platform and shrouded his master in towels.

The sufferers gathered together in Lady Beatrice’s drawing-room two hours later. Hannah reflected that
she had never seen either Lady Beatrice or Lord Alistair so grandly dressed or looking so haughty and remote. She wondered just what had happened in that bathing machine.

‘The facts as we have them are this,’ said Hannah. ‘The maid, Josephine, has disappeared for good. All her belongings are gone, too. The bathing attendants, that is mine and Lady Beatrice’s, confess freely that they were heavily bribed to make themselves scarce because they were told a gentleman wanted to keep a romantic assignment in the sea. Both said such a thing had happened before. The authorities are searching for those men but evidently with little hope of finding them. Sir Geoffrey was out walking with his mother, nowhere near the beach. He is complaining bitterly that Lady Beatrice, not content with humiliating him with breaking off the engagement, is hell-bent on humiliating him further by claiming he had paid ruffians to abduct her and that it has nothing to do with him. Asked about his valet, he says his valet is on holiday. What are we to do?’

‘I could call him out,’ said Lord Alistair.

‘A duel? No, that would never do,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘I could not bear the scandal.’

He looked at her frostily. ‘There is one fact you may have overlooked, Lady Beatrice. Some interested spectators noticed me entering your bathing box naked. There is already scandal, and to lay such a scandal, I fear you must marry me.’

There was a long silence. Hannah looked at the couple hopefully. Lady Beatrice was sitting on a
backless sofa. She was wearing a green-and-
gold-striped
gown which showed her splendid figure to advantage. She was so still that the emerald brooch at the neck of her gown glowed with an unwinking dull green fire.

Then she said in a flat voice, ‘You have done enough, my lord. There is no need for you to sacrifice yourself on the altar of marriage.’

‘I think there is every need.’He strode to the window and looked out at the sea, his well-tailored back to her.

Hannah signalled to Benjamin and both quietly left the room. Hannah went only as far as the outside of the door. She turned and leaned her ear against the panels. Benjamin, already halfway down the stairs, saw her and darted back to join her and put his ear to the door as well.

‘It’s awfully quiet in there,’ he whispered.

‘Shhh!’ said Hannah fiercely.

‘My lord,’ said Lady Beatrice, ‘I know you wish to save my reputation, but reputation in my present circumstances no longer concerns me. I shall live quietly in the countryside somewhere with Miss Pym.’

‘Then have a thought to Miss Pym! Your damaged reputation might taint hers.’

‘By the end of the week, Brighton will have found something else to talk about. The circumstances were unusual. You saved me, my lord. Everyone knows that. Apart from a few scurrilous tongues, the rest will only admire you. I shall never marry again. And you, my lord, must never feel constrained to marry anyone out of duty.’

There was a long silence. Each was obscurely hoping that the other would make some move, show some sign of warmth, but Lady Beatrice was
frightened
of the effect he had on her senses. She had at long last gained freedom. If she gave in to him, she would never know freedom again. He would possess her mind and feelings and thoughts. Lord Alistair thought she had deliberately bewitched him, as she had bewitched so many. He was damned if he would let her know his proposal was prompted by other than duty.

‘As you will,’ he said indifferently.

Lady Beatrice felt a lump rise in her throat. ‘Where on earth is Miss Pym?’ she demanded.

Hannah opened the door and went in. ‘I had to fetch something,’ she said mendaciously.

‘I bid you good day,’ said Lord Alistair. ‘You will no doubt be much occupied during the remainder of your stay in Brighton. Perhaps we may meet again one day.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Lady Beatrice, forcing a smile.

Hannah looked at him miserably. Then she thought of something. As he was making for the door, she said, ‘I am sad that we can no longer count on your protection.’

He stopped and stood frowning. ‘After today’s episode, I doubt if Sir Geoffrey will ever dare to try anything again.’

‘Oh, I think he will,’ said Hannah, growing more cheerful. ‘I should think this set-back will make him more than ever determined to succeed.’

With something curiously approaching relief, Lord Alistair said slowly, ‘In that case, perhaps I should call on you. How long do you plan to remain here?’

Hannah looked inquiringly at Lady Beatrice. ‘Only another week,’ she said, ‘if that suits you, Miss Pym. Then I must return to London and sell what effects I can before my parents sell the house.’

‘That will be quite all right,’ said Hannah, although the idea of returning to London with the dashing Lady Beatrice did not suit her at all. Always in her mind’s eye was the picture of her little apartment in South Audley Street and of Sir George Clarence sitting on the other side of the tea-table listening to her recount her adventures.

‘Perhaps,’ said Hannah firmly, ‘it might be a good idea if you called on us during the coming week, Lord Alistair. I should feel so uneasy and worried were your protection removed from us.’

‘I shall be glad to call on you,’ he said. He swept them a low bow and then he was gone. Lady Beatrice buried her face in her hands and suddenly began to cry. Hannah fussed over her, saying she was
overwrought
, saying she must rest after her ordeal. But Lady Beatrice was crying over her past behaviour, over all the men she had so cruelly led on and then rejected. She wondered whether any of them had felt so desolate as she did now. She wanted Lord Alistair to admire her, to love her, to cherish her, and she felt he never would. The ice around her heart had melted and all she could feel was pain.

Mrs Handford’s bulldog face was a muddy colour. ‘Are you mad, Geoffrey?’ she demanded, not for the first time. ‘Let us leave Brighton and leave Lady Beatrice alone. What if just one of those villains that Jackson hired had been caught and decided to talk. Think of the scandal! You could never hope for a title, and that very knighthood you now seem to hold so cheap would be taken from you.’

‘I covered my tracks,’ he growled. ‘Did I not send Jackson off on leave directly he had set the matter up?’

‘But that maid, Josephine. What if she were found?’

‘She won’t be,’ he said tersely. ‘I told her what would happen to her if she opened her mouth. Why must the silly wench go blabbing to that footman of Miss Pym’s?’

‘Because we did not think she would go about listening at doors and that is what she must have done; else why would that footman have been alerted in time to call Lord Alistair to the rescue? Let the matter drop, my son. Lady Beatrice is not for you.’

‘I want her,’ he said passionately. ‘Cannot you realize that? And I mean to have her. I am rich. Men can be bribed, and yes, even justices, should things go wrong.’

‘What of Lord Alistair Munro? He has powerful friends, and among those powerful friends is the Prince of Wales. It was said that Lord Alistair was naked in her bathing box!’

Sir Geoffrey’s face darkened. ‘I’ll find some discreet way to put him out of commission.’

His mother shrank back in her chair. She was
beginning to fear for her son’s sanity and cursed Lady Beatrice from the bottom of her heart.

With the departure of the Prince of Wales and his entourage from Brighton, gossip about Miss Pym quickly died. She had not been invited to the Marine Pavilion, she had not followed him to London, there was much more exciting gossip about the prince’s current mistress, Lady Jersey, and so people no longer turned to stare when she went past. Monsieur Blanc refused to talk about Miss Pym. The ball gown had been returned to him in perfect condition and the terrible footman had not betrayed the secret of the dressmaker’s nationality, and so Monsieur Blanc was anxious to distance himself from a lady whose footman had the power to ruin him.

Only Letitia Cambridge was still interested in Miss Pym’s comings and goings, although she did not tell her friends this. She did, however, call on Mrs Handford and warmly pressed that lady’s hand and sympathized with her over her ‘poor’ son’s broken engagement. ‘He is not to be blamed,’ said Mrs Cambridge. ‘Neither is Lady Beatrice. The fault, I am convinced, lies with that female, Miss Pym. Mark my words, she has poisoned Lady Beatrice’s mind against Sir Geoffrey.’

And forgetting that Lady Beatrice had never wanted to marry her beloved son, Mrs Handford listened eagerly, for surely it was Miss Pym who had persuaded Lady Beatrice to disobey her parents.

‘All poor Geoffrey wants,’ said Mrs Handford, ‘is an opportunity to see Lady Beatrice alone. You must
admit, Mrs Cambridge, he is vastly handsome, and I am sure he would succeed in wooing her were he allowed a few moments in private with her. And what of Lord Alistair Munro? Naked in her bathing box!’

‘As always,’ said Mrs Cambridge sourly, ‘Lord Alistair has the ear of the influential, and so there is no scandal. Instead he is hailed as a hero for having rescued her. But you have nothing to fear, dear Mrs Handford. Everyone knows Lord Alistair to be a confirmed bachelor.’

‘Nonetheless,’ said Mrs Hanford uneasily, ‘why does he remain in Brighton with the prince gone?’

Mrs Cambridge patted one of Mrs Handford’s fat be-ringed hands. ‘He never did follow the prince. I am anxious to help you in any way I can.’

Mrs Handford did not find this behaviour at all strange, although she should have, considering the fact that Mrs Cambridge had gone out of her way in the past to cut the Handfords socially. ‘If only you could,’ she said.

‘I could watch them,’ said Mrs Cambridge eagerly, ‘and let you know when Lady Beatrice is alone, and then you could tell Sir Geoffrey to make his call.’

‘We would be most indebted to you,’ said Mrs Handford warmly. She knew her son had already tried to find another servant in Lady Beatrice’s household to give him information, but without success.

Mrs Cambridge threw herself into her new role of spy with enthusiasm. She wore a dark gown and pelisse and a heavy veil for the purpose of following
Miss Pym and Lady Beatrice. After one exhausting day, she reflected sourly that the couple seemed to be inseparable. Not only that, but they were followed everywhere by that footman of Miss Pym’s.

But on the second day, she had better luck. In the afternoon, Hannah emerged alone. The veiled figure that was Mrs Cambridge, followed by her veiled maid, set off in pursuit. Hannah stopped for a moment to look out to sea. She had not been bathing since her adventure. She wondered if she would ever have the courage to go into the sea again. She was once more lashed into her stays and a little piece of whalebone had worked itself loose from the cloth and was digging painfully into the soft flesh under her armpit. She glanced back and noticed two heavily veiled women watching her. They looked odd against the
background
of the green-and-blue sea, two still, mourning figures with noisy sea-gulls wheeling about them.

Hannah turned away and walked on. She was determined to stay away as long as possible. Benjamin had asked for the afternoon off, but Hannah did not mind being on her own. Lady Beatrice was left at home and, with any luck, thought Hannah, Lord Alistair might call, and something might come of that.

Mrs Cambridge paused and took out a prepared letter and gave it to her maid. ‘Run with that to Sir Geoffrey Handford,’ she ordered. The letter told Sir Geoffrey that he might find Lady Beatrice alone if he called immediately. Now, thought Mrs
Cambridge
, to try to keep that Pym woman from returning home too soon.

Hannah sat gloomily at the table by the window of the pastry cook’s where she had sat before with Lord Alistair and Lady Beatrice. She felt very flat and depressed, but glad for the first time that Lady Beatrice was not with her. Being with Lady Beatrice, reflected Hannah, was rather like becoming invisible. Lady Beatrice was so very beautiful that all stared at her and no one seemed to notice plain Miss Pym at her side, particularly now that Miss Pym was no longer a subject of gossip. Hannah thought of entertaining Sir George Clarence to tea. She could see him in her mind’s eye, his silver hair, his piercing blue eyes, but those blue eyes, instead of resting on
her
, were resting with admiration on Lady Beatrice’s beautiful face.

I must get rid of her, thought Hannah. Why did I ever ask her to live with me? I have not finished my journeys. I have not seen England. She herself, she knew, could learn to become content with a quiet life in some English village. But what of Lady Beatrice? Surely she would soon become restless and bored. Besides, the rent on the flat in South Audley Street had been paid for a year. It was a very fashionable address, but continuing to live there with Lady Beatrice meant putting Lady Beatrice next to Sir George, who lived hard by. Not that Lady Beatrice would surely be interested in a retired diplomat in his fifties. But could he possibly remain uninterested in her?

There must be some way to throw Lady Beatrice and Lord Alistair together.

A shadow fell across her and she looked up. A veiled woman was standing there. She threw back her
veil and Hannah immediately recognized Mrs
Cambridge
.

‘Do not be angry,’ said Mrs Cambridge. ‘I desire to speak to you.’

‘About what?’ demanded Hannah suspiciously.

‘You must forgive me for my appalling behaviour, but you see, I was so convinced that you had deliberately set out to make fools of us all.’

‘Pray be seated.’ Hannah indicated a chair
opposite
. She felt somewhat mollified. After all, it was Benjamin’s lie to the dressmaker which had started all the fuss.

‘I confess,’ said Hannah, after ordering tea for Mrs Cambridge, ‘that I was very angry indeed, but now, on cooler reflection, I can understand why you became so exercised on the matter.’