The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer (famous ebook reader .TXT) 📖

her. He, too, disappeared from view, and she guessed that he was coming to speak with her. He had evidently failed to perceive the Duke, who was just a little behind her in the shadow.

Richard and Mr. Fleming had left the box, and only Charles Holt remained, engaging Mrs. Fleming’s whole attention. If only Tracy would go! How was she ever to give Lovelace her answer with him sitting there so provokingly.

Captain Lovelace knocked at the door. Carelessly she bade him enter, and affected surprise on seeing him. His Grace looked at her through narrowed lids, and shot a swift glance at Lovelace, whose discomfiture at finding him there was palpable. Not a trace of emotion was visible on that impassive countenance, but Lavinia felt her brother’s attitude to be sinister, as if he divined her wishes and was determined to frustrate them. She watched him smile on Lovelace and beg him to be seated. Whether by accident or design, she was not sure which, he had so placed the chairs that he himself was between her and the captain. Skilfully he drew Mrs. Fleming into the conversation, and rearranged his stage.

Lavinia found herself listening to the amiable Mr. Holt, and out of the tail of her eye observed that Lovelace had fallen a victim to her cousin. She could find no way of speaking to him, and dared not even signal, so adroitly was his Grace stage-managing the scene. Lavinia was now quite certain that he was managing it. Somehow he had guessed that she had arranged to speak to Lovelace to-night, and was determined to prevent her. How he had found out, she could not imagine, but she was too well acquainted with him to be surprised. He would never let her disgrace herself if he could help it—she knew that. In whatever manner he himself might behave, his sister’s conduct must be above reproach; he would find some means of separating them until he could cause Lovelace to be removed. She did not in the least know how he would contrive to-do this, but she never doubted that he could and would. And then she would have to stay with Richard—Richard, who did not want her. If only Tracy would go! Ah! he was rising!

His Grace of Andover begged Captain Lovelace to bear him company in his box. He would brook no refusal. He bore his captive off in triumph.

A minute later Mr. Fleming re-entered the box. The third act had just begun when Richard reappeared, and softly took his seat. On went the play. Neither Tracy nor Lovelace came to the box during the next interval, and from her point of vantage Lavinia could see that Andrew had been introduced to the latter. She could guess how cleverly his Grace was keeping the Captain by him… .

Lord Avon, who had only a week ago returned from Bath, came to pay his respects. He had much to tell dear Lady Lavinia. How Cholmondely and Falmouth had dared to fight a duel in Crescent Fields, and had been arrested. How furious the Beau was, but how his age was beginning to tell on him, and how it was whispered that his power was waning. All of which at any ordinary time would have interested my lady quite prodigiously, but now bored and even annoyed her.

On went the play. Scrub and Boniface kept the house in a roar; all but Richard and his wife were enthralled. The incomparable Kitty failed to hold Lavinia’s attention. Would Lovelace manage to speak to her in the last interval? A solicitous enquiry from Mrs. Fleming roused her, and she had perforce to smile—to own to a slight headache, and to evince some interest in the play. One more interval: would he come? She became aware of a hand laid on her shoulder. Richard’s voice, gravely courteous, sounded in her ears.

“You are heated, my dear. Will you walk outside a little?”

She felt a mad desire to cling to his hand, and suppressed it forcibly. She rose, hesitating. Mrs. Fleming decided the point.

“The very thing. How considerate of you, Mr. Carstares! I shall like to walk amongst all the people, to be sure! Here is Charles offering to escort us, too! What say you, Lavvy?”

“I—oh, I shall be pleased to do what suits you best, cousin,” she answered.

“Then let us go, my love. Charles has an arm for each, so we may leave our husbands to chat.”

They went out into the broad passage and walked towards the foyer. There Lord March espied Lavinia, who was always a favourite with him, and came forward, offering his arm. Lavinia took it, thankful to escape from Mr. Holt’s vapid conversation. She let March conduct her to where his mother was sitting, with Mr. Selwyn at her elbow. Someone fetched her a glass of ratafie, and Montagu came to talk to her.

Stepping out of his box, Richard fell into the arms of his Grace of Andover.

“Ah! Dick!”

Richard eyed him coldly.

“You wanted me?”

Tracy saw Mr. Fleming approaching

“Only to ask if I may return with you to Grosvenor Square. I have something important to say.”

“Certainly,” bowed Richard, and turned aside.

Lovelace, who had succeeded in escaping from the Belmanoir claws, hurried in search of Lavinia. Not finding her in her box, he gathered she must be in the foyer and made his way towards it. As soon as she saw him coming she set down her glass and rose to her feet.

“Oh, Captain Lovelace! Have you come to fetch me back to my seat? I have scarce set eyes on you this evening. No, Markham, you may not come! No, nor you, my lord! Madam—” She curtsied low to the old Duchess and walked away on Harold’s arm.

When they were once in the deserted passage behind the boxes, he turned eagerly towards her.

“Well, my dearest? Well?”

Lady Lavinia’s mouth drooped miserably.

“Yes,” she said, “I shall have to come with you.”

The tone was damping, to say the least of it, but he did not seem to notice it.

“Lavinia! You mean it?”

“Yes,” she assented, still more dejectedly.

“My beautiful love! You will really come? When? At once?”

“At— Oh, no, no!”

“Darling, the sooner the better. I understand ‘tis a great step to expect you to take in a hurry, but I assure you ‘tis wisest. Can you come tomorrow?”

Her big eyes dilated.

“No! No! I—oh, I cannot leave Dicky so soon!” She ended with a sob.

“But, Lavinia, my dearest! You surely do not want to stay with him?” he cried.

“Yes I do!” she answered. “I—I don’t want ever to leave him!”

This blighting speech left him gasping.

“You—but—heavens! what are you saying? You love me!”

“No, I don’t!” she contradicted. “I always s-said I d-didn’t. I love my husband!”

“You are distraught!” he exclaimed. “If you love him, why do you consent to elope with me?”

She looked at him reproachfully.

“There is no one else,” she said mournfully.

“Good lord! What—”

“I have to elope with someone—because—Dick—d-doesn’t love me any more—you see. I will come with you, and I will try to be good.”

He kissed her hand quickly

“Sweetheart! … I still think you are not yourself. You will think differently tomorrow—you do not really love Carstares.”

She shut her mouth obstinately, tilting her regal little head.

He watched her anxiously.

“If you really do love him, ‘tis ridiculous to elope with me,” he said.

Her fingers tightened on his wrist.

“But I must! You don’t understand, Harry! You must take me! Don’t you want me?”

“Of course I do, but not if you are longing to be somewhere else all the time. The whole thing seems preposterous!”

“‘Tis all dreadful!—dreadful! I have never been so unhappy in my life! I—oh, I wish I had not been so heedless and selfish!”

Lovelace pondered for a moment, as they stood outside her box; then, seeing that people were returning to their seats, he opened the door and took her in.

“Listen, dear! This is the maddest scheme ever I heard; but if you are determined, you shall carry it through. Come to my lodgings tomorrow evening! Bring as little baggage as possible; I will have all ready, and we will post at once to Dover. Then in time I hope you will forget Richard and come to care for me a little.”

“You are very, very good, Harry! Yes, I will do just as you say and, oh, I am sorry to put you out like this! I am nought but a plague to everyone, and I wish I were dead! You don’t really love me, and I shall be a burden!”

“I do indeed love you!” he assured her, but within himself he could not help wishing that he had not fallen quite so passionately in love with her. “I’ll leave you now, sweet, for your husband will be returning at any moment.” He kissed her hands lightly “A demain, fairest!”

How she sat through the last act Lavinia could never afterwards imagine. She was longing to be at home—so soon to be home no longer—and quiet. Her head ached now as Richard’s had ached for weeks. More than anything did she want to rest it against her husband’s shoulder, so temptingly near, and to feel his sheltering arms about her. But Dick was in love with Isabella Fanshawe, and she must sit straight and stiff in her chair and smile at the proper places.

At last the play was ended! The curtain descended on the bowing Archer, and the house stamped and clapped its appreciation. The curtain rose again—what! not finished yet? Ah, no! it was but Garrick leading Mrs. Clive forward. Would they never have done?

Mrs. Fleming was standing; she supposed they were going, and got up. Someone put her cloak about her shoulders: Richard—for the last time. Mr. Holt escorted her to her coach, and put her and her cousin into it. He and Mr. Fleming had their chairs; so only Richard and Tracy went with the ladies. The Flemings were staying with friends in Brook Street, just off Grosvenor Square, so that when they had put Harriet down, only a few more yards remained to be covered.

Lavinia wondered dully why Tracy had elected to come with them. What did he want? Was he going to warn Dick of her intended flight? He little knew the true state of affairs!

At the foot of the staircase at Wyncham House she turned to say goodnight.

She merely nodded to Tracy, but to Dick she extended her hand. He took it in his, kissing it, and she noticed how cold were his fingers, how burning hot his lips. Then he released her, and she went slowly up the stairs to her room.

His Grace watched her through his eyeglass. When she was out of sight he turned and surveyed Richard critically.

“If that is the way you kiss a woman, Lavinia has my sympathies,” he remarked.

Richard’s lips tightened. He picked up a stand of lighted candles and ushered his Grace into the drawing-room.

“I presume you did not come to tell me that?” he asked.

“Your presumption is correct, Richard. I have come to open your eyes.”

“You are too kind.”

His Grace laid his hat on the table, and sat down on the arm of a chair.

“I think perhaps I am. It may interest you to hear that Lavinia intends to elope with our gallant friend the Captain.”

Richard bowed.

“You knew it?”

“Certainly.”

Andover looked him over.

“May I ask what steps you are taking to prevent her?”

“None.”

His Grace’s expression was quite indescribable. For a moment he was speechless, and then he reverted to heavy sarcasm.

“Pray remember to be at hand—to conduct her to her