A Date with Dishonour. Mary Brendan
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Название: A Date with Dishonour
Автор: Mary Brendan
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
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‘I can’t recall exactly; it’s many years since I was last here,’ Bea stated defensively. ‘I only had one trip here before we got carted off to the countryside by Papa.’
‘It doesn’t matter, in any case, where it is as you shall not go and meet him.’ Elise tightened her grip on Beatrice’s fingers to physically restrain her. ‘If you are spotted dawdling about on your own, or, worse still, with a stranger, it won’t only be Mrs Porter and her friends who are shredding our reputations.’ Elise nodded at two middle-aged ladies who were strolling just yards away. Mrs Porter raised a gloved hand, letting them know she’d got them in her sights.
Huge crowds were thronging the pleasure gardens that evening to enjoy the music. People were already milling about the stage, jostling for a prime position as the orchestra tuned up.
‘I’m not daft, you know!’ Beatrice protested. ‘I have arranged to meet him when everybody else will be occupied listening to the concert.’ She dimpled a smile, pleased with her strategy.
‘You shall not go!’ Elise vowed through gritted teeth. ‘And that’s final.’
‘I want to go home and tell Papa a gentleman is soon to come and speak to him,’ Bea announced defiantly. ‘I know you think me brazen for using such tactics, but who is to say that we might not suit well enough to make a go of it.’ She pressed back against the hedging, allowing people to pass them, obstinately refusing to move despite Elise’s tugs on her arm. ‘A marriage of convenience brokered by a couple’s parents for property and pedigree is equally distasteful.’
‘Not in the eyes of polite society,’ Elise hissed in frustration. ‘Anyway, you might yet meet a gentleman without resorting to sneaking about. Mr Whittiker claims his friends are here in abundance this evening.’
That comment elicited a grimace of mock horror and Elise sympathised with Bea’s sentiment. If Mr Whittiker’s friends were even a little like him then the stranger by the lake might indeed be a better bet.
‘I hope I do meet a fellow in the customary way,’ Bea said with asperity as they started to walk on. ‘But—’
‘Do you even know your blind date’s name?’ Elise interrupted crossly before her sister could again bombard her with reasons to act rashly.
‘He calls himself Mr Best.’ A little chuckle escaped Bea. ‘I imagine that is not his real name.
‘I imagine you are right!’ Elise acidly concurred. ‘Just as he knows full well you are not actually Lady Lonesome.’
‘It is quite dramatic is it not?’ Bea’s eyes were alight with excitement.
Despite her grave misgivings, Elise felt a twinge of the thrill enlivening her sister. Her compressed lips softened slightly. ‘Maybe...but you cannot go through with it because you will get us both hung.’ She gazed sombrely at her sister. ‘Promise me you will not go there and risk disgracing us all.’ When Bea remained silent Elise demanded more forcefully, ‘Promise me, Bea, or I will never forgive you for your selfishness.’
‘I promise...’ Bea sighed. ‘I shall try and make another arrangement to meet Mr Best in the daytime. And you can come along, too.’
‘Papa has found us a wonderful spot, very close to the stage.’ Verity had been walking ahead of them, with her parents, but had skipped back towards her friends to impart that news. She linked arms with them, urging them to hurry.
Chapter Four
Battling against a flow of revellers was forcing Elise to dodge nimbly to and fro to avoid sharp shoulders and elbows. But she couldn’t escape those people’s sly looks and she understood what prompted them.
Generally only one class of female went about Vauxhall Gardens unaccompanied and they were usually touting for business. Mortified as Elise was to be mistaken for a doxy, she nevertheless knew that finding Beatrice before she disgraced herself was more important than fretting over strangers’ hateful imaginings. Finally the throng thinned out and she settled into a fast walk along the shadowy path.
Elise felt her lungs burning with exertion, yet despite her discomfort she longed to hurtle on at an even faster pace. It was her first outing to Vauxhall and she hoped she had correctly remembered her sister’s vague indication of where the lake was situated. If she were heading the wrong way, she and Beatrice would both be in grave trouble. She’d be too late to drag her sister away before dratted Mr Best arrived for their tryst. Elise knew she mustn’t dash like a hoyden hither and thither and risk drawing further attention to herself. The entire matter had to be dealt with as discreetly as possible.
Inwardly she berated herself for letting Bea slip away from her side. At one moment they had been in a conversation with Mr Chapman, offering opinions on the talent of the musicians, at the next Elise had turned to find Beatrice had vanished. At first Elise had felt furious that her sister had gone back on her word; then she had striven to conceal her panic from the others in their party. Fortunately Mr and Mrs Chapman had seemed oblivious to any change in her. Fiona appeared quite serene, as she always did, waiting for Mr Whittiker’s return with some refreshment. Only Verity had interpreted her frantic glances.
Rightly or wrongly Elise had, on the day they’d arrived in London, confessed to Verity that she’d angled for an invitation because her sister was yearning to escape the gloom of the countryside and find a husband. She’d gone on to admit that Bea had been foolish enough to advertise for a mate.
Verity was a true and trustworthy friend. Despite being quite scandalised a few moments ago when Elise had whispered her fears over Bea’s sudden disappearance, Verity had promised she would try to concoct a plausible tale for their absence, if asked about it.
On the periphery of her vision Elise was again vaguely aware that someone else was striding away from the entertainment on a parallel path to the one she was taking. From beneath the brim of her bonnet she swung a discreet glance at him. He was tall and swarthy and imperious looking and from his sternly set profile she guessed he might be in a similar black mood to the one burdening her. Despite the vital nature of her mission she felt an odd compulsion to slacken her pace so she might study him more closely. He had an aura of such angry hauteur that, even at a distance, she felt a frisson of alarm ripple through her.
Suddenly he turned his head, glancing over before dismissing her. Just as abruptly his gaze snapped back and it narrowed on her as though an idea had struck him.
At the same time something struck Elise. The idea seemed so ludicrous that her eyes spontaneously widened on his handsome face and her steps faltered. He slowed down, too, calculatingly, so he was now behind her and able to watch her whilst she must twist her head awkwardly and obviously to see him. Before he’d slipped from her eye line Elise had noticed a subtle unpleasant change in his expression.
Despite her now sedate pace Elise felt her heartbeat increase tempo until the thud beneath her ribs seemed to quake her body. Her eyes darted along the prickly hedging to one side of her. But there was no gap, no escape route through which she might plunge to avoid that sardonic stare she sensed was boring into the back of her head. Yet, tense with anxiety as she was, an inner voice continued scoffing at her suspicion that such a gentleman might be Mr Best. From the glimpses she’d had of his distinguished bearing he certainly didn’t look to be on his uppers and in need of a spinster’s modest inheritance.
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