The Admiral's Daughter (14 page)

Listening to this astonishing narration, Maggie had been too much absorbed in her friend's tale to wonder why she had been chosen to hear it. But now, Miss Haversham having walked to the window in silence and remained there for some moments without stirring, she could not help saying—

“But why have you chosen to tell me all this?”

“You must think me very odd,” replied Miss Haversham, smiling, “but let us say simply that I have my reasons. I wished, first, not to mislead
you
about my identity. And I wished also to have your help.”

“My help! Why, what could
I
do?”

“First, I had better tell you what I set out to say at first, and to do so, I must tell you yet a little more, if you are not already tired of this tale.”

At Maggie's protestations to the contrary, Blanche Haversham continued: “Then let me finish quickly, for I think we had better join the others.

“I discovered this intrigue, and at last Charlie himself confessed. I am afraid he did not do so only for his conscience, but because he needed my help. He had done more harm than he intended doing, for in truth he had not meant to be really wicked, but through weakness had been led beyond his first intentions by the influence of more hardened men. He needed money—a great deal of money—and now, having failed to get it as he hoped, he had alienated those very persons who could have helped him most. He knew of Mr. Brummel's visit, for I had recounted it to him as a joke in one of my letters. And
now he urged me to take up the scheme for his sake, as it could help him.”

“Help him to get money?” demanded Maggie, astonished. “Why, how could it have done that?”

“Not so much money outright, but credit; when you are accounted a regular member of the
ton
, there is no limit to the bills you may run up without once being called upon to pay, until you are so much in debt that the King himself could not pay 'em. I protested at first, of course, but at last allowed myself to be convinced. It was not that I condoned my brother's conduct, but he was all the family I had, and torn between my own beliefs and that loyalty which must sometimes be placed above strict adherence to honesty, I could not refuse him. You must understand, besides, that he is the most persuasive man in all the world. I believe he could make a stone smile, if he liked. Oh! How I wish
now
I had not been so soft!

“But I had made up my mind, and having kept the card as a memento of Brummel's visit, went to call upon him. He was delighted, though not much surprised, and instantly set up the scheme. Before I knew it, I had a new wardrobe entire from the best dressmakers in Bond Street. A house was taken for me in Grove Street, a carriage hired, and I was proclaimed the brightest belle at Almack's. Brummel even changed my name—and yet let it be known that I was not who I claimed to be, saying he had found me on the Continent and that I had a tragic and mysterious past. The two together were enough to fascinate the whole
ton
, and as I saw at once what kind of people made up that world, and liked them not at all, they were the more impressed that I did not tumble before their quizzing glasses. Brummel saw to it that I had dancing lessons, and himself taught me a little French and Italian. He was quite giddy with his own success—the more especially as he had won a pretty sum of money from the Prince, who had bet him the ruse could not be carried off. And in exchange for this deceit, I was to be his very slave. Not a move could I make without his consent; I slept, ate, and paraded about for his pleasure, and the more sullen I became at this arrangement, the better the world liked me. My life became very like that of a bird in a gilded cage—the gilt, no matter how pretty, could not lessen the fact that I was imprisoned. I had the further pain of seeing my brother, who had nearly
lost his commission through his folly, be reinstigated with my help, and, in the shadow of my conquests, be admitted to Almack's, where he had nearly as much success as I had myself. No one knew he was my brother, of course: It was believed we were old friends, and that he knew my past. Everyone was clamoring to know about it, but playing the game to perfection, he teased them endlessly. Thus we have continued for five years and everyone, save myself, pleased beyond words. The more the game was played out, the more enmeshed I became. It had begun for me as the only means in my command to rescue my brother from absolute ruin. I believed, in my innocence, that there would be no more to it. Ah! If I had only known
then
what I know now! That the world, once it has got you in its hands, will not let go. It wraps its fingers around you, like some mysterious beast, and, so gently that one hardly knows it is there, begins to strangle you.”

Once again Miss Haversham paused, and once again Maggie was struck by the air of tragedy which lingered over her, and which was increased rather than diminished by the young woman's obstinate refusal to cower before it. She had actually smiled as she spoke the last words; the combination of the smile—so out of place at that moment—the lady's voice, and a kind of dark amusement in her brilliant eyes made Maggie shudder.

“Charlie would not, of course, leave off. As soon as he discovered what had been opened for him by my charade, he would not hear of my giving it up. And then—and then, of course, I met Mr. Montcrieff.”

Blanche Haversham's voice grew soft, and her face, hitherto so commanding and proud, softened with it. But in an instant she gave herself a shake, and hurried on.

“And now we come to the point, why I have tired you so long with this story. There were only five of us who knew the truth about me—Brummel, of course, and the Prince, who considered it the height of entertainment, my brother Charles and myself, and one other—your cousin, Lord Ramblay. Oh! do not ask me how
he
knew, for it is not in my power to divulge that. Indeed, I only tell you now because it was he who, of all of them, was the only one who understood my unhappiness, and who, till this day, has offered me the comfort of honesty without once compromising my position. Even now, when I hope to be betrothed
to Diana's brother and when I could so easily be a great weight on his mind, he has been nothing but kind.”

There were a hundred questions Maggie dearly longed to ask, a hundred points she desired to have clarified. What was the role her cousin had played in all of this? Why, of all men, should he have been privy to such a well-kept secret, which had continued now so long? And this new side of his character astounded her. Indeed, she would like to have told Captain Morrison's tale to her friend in order to have a second opinion about it. But there was not time to say another word, for just at that moment footsteps sounded in the hall outside, and in a moment the door was flung open.

“Ah, Miss Haversham—I thought I might find you here,” exclaimed Lord Ramblay, and then, catching sight of Maggie, stopped. “Why, Cousin—I did not see you at first. I hope I have not interrupted some private
tête-à-tête?
”

Miss Haversham smiled back at him. “No, no, Lord Ramblay—nothing like it. I have only been showing Miss Trevor your amazing collection of books. She solicited my help in finding her a novel, and I thought you would not mind our venturing in here.”

Lord Ramblay looked doubtfully back and forth between the two young ladies, and Maggie could not help but look a little guilty. He seemed not to notice, however, and remarked lightly, “Why, of course I do not mind. Only I am afraid Miss Trevor would have a greater success in finding a novel to her liking in the main library. This is only my little sanctuary, Cousin—and I suppose my own books would not amuse you much. I know how little fond ladies are of histories, and such kinds of dreadful old stories that make no mention of the latest fashions or current gossip.”

Even as she protested this abuse of her sex, in as light a tone as the Viscount's, she watched the two others closely. But not a flicker passed between them. No movement, either of their eyes or lips, gave away the secret knowledge they shared. She noticed, too, that while all his other guests addressed her cousin as Percy, Blanche Haversham, who must have been on a still more intimate footing with him, always used his title. And even now the two stood smiling at each other, but without any trace of the complicity that joined them.

Lord Ramblay had been to fetch a surgeon, who was now attending upon young Mr. Montcrieff, but it seemed he desired some assistance. Recollecting what his cousin had said earlier, Lord Ramblay inquired whether Maggie would go to them, or if Miss Haversham would go in her stead. Blanche Haversham was willing; none of that critical coldness she had leveled at her lover earlier was in her eyes
now.
But Maggie mentioned that she had often bound up the lesser wounds of her father's sailors when there had been no doctor nearby, and so it was decided she should go instead. Passing out of the doorway behind the Viscount, she turned to smile at her new friend. The smile was returned, and in that mutual glance was a wealth of understanding, and a little nod, which, on the part of Blanche Haversham, was full of questions. The returning look was more a reassurance than a flood of words could have been. “I understand you,” it said clearly, “and I do not judge you. I think you are the most glorious creature in the world!”

Ten

MR. MONTCRIEFF'S WOUNDS
were greater than they had seemed at first. The spraining of an ankle was compounded by a cut upon the shin, much deeper than it looked. The cut was in danger of festering, and the surgeon, when he saw that Maggie knew what she was about, gave her careful instructions for the patient's care. He was to have complete quiet and bed-rest, though the proposed journey to London, if it were conducted quietly and easily, would not harm him, so long as he went straight away to bed when he arrived. Miss Montcrieff cried out at this, nearly smothering her brother in yellow curls and whimpers, and it was plain that
she
had not the presence of mind to nurse him. But Miss Haversham, who had watched quietly throughout the proceedings, now offered to go with her friend. At this suggestion, young Montcrieff looked infinitely gladdened. His smooth young face, which had looked very low all morning, brightened instantly. In truth, it was a splendid suggestion! They should all stay at Grosvenor Square, and when he was recovered, they should dance the jig together as merrily as she pleased! Miss Haversham smiled, and said nothing; Maggie was struck again by the resolution of the young lady, and once more wondered that she should be in love with such a foolish character as Montcrieff. It is true he had borne the pain better than she had expected, and even smiled when the surgeon had twisted his ankle back into place. That he was very sweet, and cheerful, and madly devoted to Miss Haversham, she doubted not; yet he did not possess that profundity of character which the lady had to such a degree.

Throughout the proceedings, Lord Ramblay stood quietly by, and, had Maggie noticed, she might have seen him gazing at her as she worked with an intensity out of
all proportion to the task. Maggie did not notice, but Miss Montcrieff did; and when the surgeon rose to go, she followed the Viscount resolutely out behind the doctor, and drawing him aside in the passage, mocked at him for being incapable of taking his eyes away from his cousin. Lord Ramblay looked surprised, and said, in a milder tone than the young lady's petulant manner deserved:

“Why, it is no such thing, Diana! I only admire the capable way she undertook the work, which was not pleasant, I imagine. She has a deal more mettle than her bantering manner would make it seem.”

“Pooh!” cried Miss Montcrieff, who had been incapable of looking at the wound until it was wrapped up. “Anyone could have done the same! Why, if anyone had asked me,
I
should have bandaged it up! In any case, I only taunt you for looking at your own cousin in such a way. It makes me envious, for you never look at
me
thus!” And Miss Montcrieff tapped him playfully upon the sleeve with her fan. Lord Ramblay, however, did not see the joke.

“Nonsense, my dear Diana. I do nothing but gaze at you admiringly,” he said, in a resigned tone, and with a little sigh escaping his lips. “If I looked at you any more than I do, I should have no sight for anything else. Besides, you cannot blame me for taking an interest in my own cousin, whom I have never met before.”

But Miss Montcrieff was not so easily satisfied.

“Do you think her beautiful?” she inquired in a critical tone. “
I
do not. She is too tall, and her mouth too wide. And besides, she has got that manner, which is entirely too comical for my taste.”

Perhaps a little doubtful as to the meaning his fiancée wished to ascribe to the word “comical,” Lord Ramblay smiled. That she had a very laughing manner he would allow, and that it did not suit him completely, also. And yet, if she was not an absolute beauty, she was very handsome, and her handsomeness was made greater still by the bloom of perfect health and the expressiveness of her eyes, which he thought very fine. But aloud he said, “No, she is not beautiful.”

The remainder of the party, assembling for dinner, was quickly informed of the events of the morning. The ladies, who had first scoffed at so slight an injury, were now
alarmed by Diana Montcrieff's exaggerated depiction of the wound. Lady Ramblay, emerged at last from her apartments, stared down from the head of the table through her raised glass.

“What!” she cried in her commanding tone, which was rather like the blaring of a bugle before a battle. “Why was not I informed of it?”

“There seemed no need, madam,” replied her son from the opposite end. “The wound was not half so bad as Diana has painted it, and the surgeon was fetched at once. My cousin helped him very capably, and there seemed no point in disturbing you as well.”