‘Annabelle?’ Caroline intercepted her sister as Annabelle glided through the hall towards the staircase. The hall, its floor laid with black and white tiles, its walls painted white and hung with landscape paintings, offered a bright introduction to the handsome house. ‘You’re back from your drive? But where is Captain Burnside?’
‘Already in his room, I dare say,’ said Annabelle. ‘He was in a hurry to change and to go out again.’
‘He has another appointment? Another?’ Caroline repressed indignation. She could not be angry, not after his achievement in securing the letter.
‘I really don’t know,’ said Annabelle. In the bright hall, she was a summery prettiness in her blue finery, Caroline spectacular in her silken primrose. ‘He could perhaps be thinking of cutting a dash with strolling ladies. He wore his uniform for our outing as a compliment to me, and I swear he caught the eye of every lady we passed. I vow he looked so exciting that I could not count the many who glanced at him, and I should not be surprised to find he has arranged to meet those whose eyes were boldest.’
‘Tush and nonsense,’ said Caroline, suspecting the captain had worn his uniform further to impress Annabelle. She tried to be convincing as she added, ‘He is a gentleman. He would not take you out for a drive if his intention were to attract the eyes of other young ladies. I shall send word up to him to join us for tea. Do you wish tea?’
‘Oh, yes, but not for twenty minutes,’ said Annabelle. ‘I must freshen up and change first.’
‘Twenty minutes, then,’ said Caroline.
Captain Burnside appeared in the drawing room five minutes later, clad in quiet grey, with a neat white cravat. ‘Marm? You sent word for me to join you. Do excuse me, for—’
‘No, I am not going to excuse you,’ said Caroline, seated on the chaise longue. ‘I have not seen you all day. We shall take tea together in fifteen minutes, when Annabelle will join us.’
‘Frankly, marm, I’m pressed for time,’ said the captain, conscious of the soft ripple of primrose as she gestured for him to seat himself. ‘I assure you, I’ll be back for supper.’
‘No, it won’t do, sir.’ Caroline braced herself for a new battle of words. The challenge was there, in his presence and his assumption that he could go against her. ‘It was agreed at the outset that you would do as I directed. I direct you now to seat yourself and answer some questions.’
‘I’ll answer a hundred later, marm.’
‘No, now, sir.’
‘Oh, egad,’ muttered the captain.
‘I am afraid I did not catch that,’ said Caroline.
‘A frog in my throat, marm.’
‘Please sit down, Captain Burnside. I really do not think the business that seems to be calling you can take priority over your agreed commitment to me.’
Resignedly, he seated himself in a gilt and blue tub chair. ‘Your servant, marm.’
Excessively poised and grand, and also uncommonly ravishing, Caroline bestowed a kind smile on him. ‘Well, that is not incorrect, is it?’ she said. ‘But come, I am determined to be gracious, not quarrelsome, for I cannot forget the wonder of your accomplishment last night. I am greatly in your debt, as is my friend, Lady Russell, although you are an unknown figure to her.’
‘Oh, a remittance for half the agreed fee will make us quits, marm, and no more need be said about it. However, should Lady Russell, or her husband, ever require my services directly, I trust you’d recommend me. Ah, you are sure I must stay for tea?’
‘I am sure you must continue striving to bring about the required change in the feelings of my sister,’ she said, although she was coming to favour this less and less each day. ‘You dazzled her by wearing your uniform this afternoon, and she has stopped sighing over her infatuation with Cumberland. She is no longer mooning and languishing. However, please tell me how you managed to obtain the letter from Cumberland.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said, and fully resigned himself to his patron’s refusal to allow him to depart.
‘Well?’
‘You’ll recall my suggestion that it would be useful to have a friend in the camp of the enemy? I’m happy to inform you the sweet puss proved an invaluable help.’
‘Spare me, please, the endearments you bestow on the wench,’ said Caroline, disliking intensely the thought of what went on between him and Cumberland’s trollop of a maidservant.
‘In short, marm, with Betsy’s assistance, the letter came to my hand.’
‘I opened Cumberland’s private writing desk, marm, and filched it.’
Caroline winced. ‘Captain Burnside, you entered his suite, broke open his writing desk and stole the letter?’
‘Tricky, marm, I agree, and there was also the risk of being nabbed and topped.’
‘Nabbed and topped?’
‘Well, it was Cumberland’s house, d’you see, and his private correspondence, and he’s fifth in line to the throne. He’d have had me dangling from Tyburn Tree if—’
‘Oh, dear God,’ gasped Caroline, shocked, ‘I did not ask you to commit yourself to the crime of burglary in the house of a royal duke, nor would I.’
‘Well, I’m a professional, marm, and as such I’m as nimble-fingered as the best. All in a day’s work for a patron, I assure you.’
Caroline rose in agitation and swept about, silken gown and underskirt rushing and rustling. ‘Captain Burnside, I don’t wish to be assured that such actions are all in your day’s work for me. I don’t wish to hear you are a common thief as well as an adventurer.’
‘Oh, I don’t count myself a common thief, marm. I can simply claim to being versatile.’
‘Have you no shame, sir, none at all? Are you also a footpad and a highwayman?’
‘A footpad?’ Captain Burnside looked askance at her. ‘A dark alley, an unsuspecting victim, and a blow from a cudgel? That’s a wounding question, marm. But I won’t say I couldn’t turn highwayman if a patron’s fee were encouraging enough. It’s a risky business, d’you see, with some coach drivers quick to try blowing your head off with a blunderbuss. Regarding Cumberland’s writing desk, marm: rest assured there was no damage. I merely picked the lock.’
Caroline stopped sweeping about and drew needed breath. ‘I shall pray for you, Captain Burnside. I shall pray for you to come to an honest turn in life, to use your many talents for the good of society and your own self. I beg you to change your ways, for the sake of your gentle mother and out of respect for the memory of your late, devout father.’
‘A kind thought, marm, and a shipping clerk’s work could well be for the good of society, but I ain’t too set on boring myself to death.’
Caroline confronted him. He sat at his ease, the scoundrel, his expression that of a man in deferential respect, but she thought she caught a glimmer of amusement in his grey eyes.
‘Sir,’ she said, the warmth of South Carolina in her voice, ‘I vow you a monster of prevarication. I do not believe you filched the letter, that you broke into Cumberland’s private rooms and opened his writing desk. You are amusing yourself at my expense. I won’t have it. The truth, I declare, is that you prevailed on Cumberland to exchange the letter for the IOU. Come, confess it.’
‘The truth, marm, is exactly as I presented it to you,’ said the captain affably.
Caroline vibrated. ‘Then I must pray for you,’ she breathed, ‘for, conscienceless reprobate though you are, I cannot forget you brought blissful relief to Lady Russell, and I am unable to bear the thought that one day you will end up being hanged.’
‘It don’t make me feel too comfortable myself, marm.’
‘Oh, you are a clown, sir, an idiot, senselessly wasting your talents,’ she cried, out of all patience with him. Captain Burnside silently remarked the splendour of her renowned beauty, her figure a tribute to the fertile nature of the American South, which bestowed lush ripeness on its lovelier female blooms. Caroline, fiery, was seized with a desire to slap his face again, not because of his impudent eyes, but because she wished to shock him into an awareness of his idiocy. But she controlled herself. A little shakily she said, ‘Captain Burnside, see, I will lend you sufficient money to set yourself up in a business of your own choice, a business that will not be boring to you. No, do not dismiss the offer out of hand, but give it sensible consideration, I beg.’
‘Very well, marm. I should be churlish beyond anything not to consider such generosity.’
‘There, I shall regard that as a promise from you, and perhaps from now on we might do away with a pretence of friendship, and strive to make it sincere.’
‘Well said, marm,’ murmured the captain, ‘although it’s a strict principle of mine, in my relationship with a patron, to—’
‘Oh, a pest on your silly principles, sir! Your talents are proven, yes, but your principles are tush and taradiddle. I wish our relationship to be more friendly, and shall constantly press you, as a friend would, to turn over a new leaf and become an honest and worthy person, with aspirations even to become a gentleman. Do not look down your nose, sir, there is much to be said these days for becoming a gentleman. England, I know, has never lacked its sturdy yeomen and brave soldiers, but there is presently a regrettable lack of true gentlemen. You, sir, as an adventurer, are no worse than many persons of the quality in your pursuit and deception of innocent young ladies, or in the company you keep with baggages and trollops. I declare, sir, because of what you have done for Lady Russell, that I shall not only pray for your redemption, but do my utmost to discourage you from further promiscuity and even cure you of it.’
‘Faith,’ said Captain Burnside in honest admiration, ‘you’ve a deal of determined Christian goodness in you, marm, and I ain’t too sure I’ll be able to resist being saved. You, marm, are—’ He checked as the door opened and Annabelle came in, looking very refreshed. She had changed into a light muslin gown of cream ivory shade, and there was a peaceful smile on her face, as if she had collected her thoughts and analysed her confusions to her satisfaction, at least for the moment.
Seeing Caroline standing before Captain Burnside, she said demurely, ‘Caroline is giving you a lecture, Charles?’
Captain Burnside, acknowledging her arrival by coming to his feet, smiled. ‘A lecture, Annabelle? Not by any means. We’ve been enjoying a delightful conversation concerning friendship, and the pleasant obligations of one friend to another.’
‘Obligations?’ said Annabelle. ‘How dull.’ Reaching the captain, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder with her fan. ‘Charles, I would much rather have you wicked than dull. Why, I cannot conceive how you managed to be dull at all, for of all things you are the most entertaining of men.’
‘I ain’t remarked too much dullness in you, either,’ said Captain Burnside.
Annabelle laughed. Abruptly, Caroline turned away and pulled on the bell-sash to signal her servants that tea could now be brought in. In the kitchen, the bell rang loudly and demandingly, jerking angrily on its spring.
Turning again, Caroline saw that her sister and the captain had seated themselves on the sofa, a light, delicate Hepplewhite original that was not outshone by the rest of the furniture, all French. Annabelle was close to the captain, turned to him, her smile signifying the pleasure she found in his company. Caroline felt her own company was now unrequired. She also felt that Captain Burnside was not far from accomplishing the remaining part of his venture. All too visibly, Annabelle was as responsive to him as she could be at this stage. Their conversation was a lightness, she slightly teasing, he proof against all teasing in his imperturbability, and therefore that much more of a challenge. He really seemed to make no effort with Annabelle. He neither flattered her with his tongue, nor caressed her with his eyes. He returned her teasing remarks with the driest of comments, arousing gurgles of laughter in her.
The silver tea tray arrived and was set down.
‘Your Ladyship?’ said Helene, Caroline’s senior maidservant.
‘You may go, Helene. I will pour.’
‘Yes, milady.’
A few moments later, acknowledging herself de trop, Caroline said in her cool voice, ‘I have letters to write, and will take my tea into the library. You may serve Captain Burnside and yourself, Annabelle.’
Captain Burnside was up at once, to open the door for her. He also accompanied her to the library door, and opened that for her.
‘The bird’s coming to hand, marm,’ he said.
‘Pardon?’
‘Well, she ain’t quite so set on yielding unconditionally to Cumberland, I’ll wager that.’
‘If you are referring to my sister, Captain Burnside, kindly do so in civilized language.’
‘Well, there it is, Caroline, I’ll swear she could have yielded unconditionally, and I ain’t sure I could have put it in more civilized language than that.’
‘I meant, sir, that my sister is not a bird. Nor have I given you leave to call me Caroline.’
‘Ah, our new relationship of friendliness is yet to begin, marm?’
Caroline hesitated momentarily before replying. ‘You are making such a close and intimate friend of my sister, Captain Burnside, that I hardly feel you need my own friendship, after all.’
‘Quite so, marm, and allow me to carry your tea in for you,’ he said. He took the delicate cup and saucer from her, entered the library, and placed the tea on the desk. Following on in her coolest and most aloof manner, she seated herself at the desk.
‘You may return to Annabelle now,’ she said. ‘I will see you later, at supper, unless you have an assignation with some unfortunate innocent.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘That is, no. I’m considering the advisability of leaving innocents to their innocence. I thought, for this evening, a three-handed game of cribbage, if you’d care to, and if you and Annabelle have no ball to attend.’
‘Cribbage?’ she said, and her aloofness slipped away and her eyes sparkled. She adored cribbage, and was quick and decisive in her play. Annabelle was also an enthusiast. ‘Very well,’ she said, and began to sip her tea.
‘A guinea a game, shall we say?’ murmured the captain. ‘And half a guinea for each hand of double figures?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Caroline, ‘you will cheat, and Annabelle and I will lose a small fortune each.’
‘Give you my word, marm.’
‘As a gentleman?’ she said drily.
‘As a friend,’ he said.
Caroline, having mellowed, smiled. ‘You must first receive Annabelle’s agreement,’ she said. ‘We are both free to play. The only ball we have to attend is Lady Chesterfield’s, not for a little while yet.’
‘You will grace it, marm, grace it,’ said the captain, and returned to Annabelle.
Two coiffured heads were bent over their cards. Annabelle’s fair hair shone softly golden in the light of the evening sun that streamed through the windows of the card room. Caroline’s auburn curls showed tints of dark, fiery red. Her lips were pursed, her eyes animated.
Captain Burnside, leaning back in his chair, viewed her from over the top of his hand. Magnificent. She held her four cards fanwise in her left hand, having made her discard, as usual, with no obvious self-doubts. One might have thought her pursed lips an indication that she had not left herself with anything but an average hand. But the light in her eyes belied this.
Annabelle, not yet having made her discard, rearranged her cards and studied them again. Her blue eyes were roundly contemplative. It was their roundness that contributed so much to her young look. She too pursed her lips, and at once looked prettily kissable.
Captain Burnside waited patiently, but Caroline murmured, ‘Why not shut your eyes, Annabelle, and make a blind discard?’
‘I am considering tactics, not a score,’ said Annabelle. They were into their third game. Caroline had won the first, and might have won the second too if Annabelle had not pipped her with a resounding final hand of twenty-four. All three of them were close to home in this third game. Caroline was on her mettle, frankly hoping to do Captain Burnside in the eye, and Annabelle was no less ambitious to pip her sister again. Annabelle was five guineas up on the captain and two guineas up on Caroline. Caroline was three guineas up on the captain.
Annabelle made her discard, and cut the pack for Caroline, who turned up a two. Captain Burnside led.
‘Nine.’
‘Nineteen,’ said Annabelle, placing a king down.
‘Twenty-nine, and a pair,’ said Caroline, also showing a king.
‘Thirty-one,’ said Captain Burnside, coming up with a two. He and Caroline advanced their pegs. They each had a cribbage board of black ivory, with white ivory pegs. The captain needed nine for game, Caroline five and Annabelle seven.
‘Four,’ said Annabelle.
‘Two for a pair,’ said Caroline, matching her sister again.
‘Bother,’ said Annabelle.
‘Six for three pairs,’ said the captain, putting down a third four.
‘Oh, you sweet man,’ laughed Annabelle, and put down the fourth four, which scored her twelve and gave her the game. It also credited her with half a guinea, on top of a guinea for the game. ‘You are lagging, Charles.’
‘Early days, dear girl,’ said the captain, ‘and my blood ain’t up yet.’
‘The decanter is at your elbow, Captain, if that is any help,’ observed Caroline, graciously the hostess.
‘I’m obliged, Caroline, much obliged,’ he said, and poured a measure of brandy into his glass.
He had one virtue at least, she thought. He was never in his cups. He drank modestly. He had an acceptable liking for red wine, and a reasonable partiality for good brandy. She did not like men who were primly teetotal. It made them lack a zest for living. But she liked even less those who drank to excess, for in their cups they lost all manliness.
The fourth game began. Caroline ran away with it. Annabelle had not seen her sister so animated. She rarely spoke about her marriage, but Annabelle knew it had robbed her of sparkle. It was surprising that a mere game of cribbage could bring that sparkle back. The light in her expressive eyes was almost as brilliant as her jewelled hair clasp.
‘Damn me,’ said Captain Burnside mildly, as she ran out with a hand of twenty, a combination of sevens, eights and a nine, ‘are you sure one of those eights ain’t been up your sleeve? I’m holding three myself.’
‘What?’ Caroline pounced and scattered his cards. ‘Oh, you are not, sir! There, you have two eights and two sixes.’
‘Egad, so I have. I own to sweet relief, dear lady, that there’s been no sharping.’
‘Idiot!’ cried Caroline, and burst into laughter.
‘Temporary myopia on my part,’ murmured the captain, ‘so sorry.’
Annabelle’s eyes danced.
The play continued. The sisters were at one in their desire to get the better of Captain Burnside, Annabelle because it was fun, Caroline because it was a challenge. Annabelle played her cards either with gurgles of triumph or moans of despair. Caroline played hers with an animated flourish. The captain played his affably, and with a sporting acceptance of all the knocks he took. Fortunes fluctuated, then took a decided turn in his favour. Caroline’s butler came in to light the candelabrum above the table, and Helene brought glasses of fresh lemonade sweetened with honey for the sisters.
The captain laid down a hand of sixteen to win his fifth consecutive game, and to put the sisters in debt to him.
‘Oh, you wretch,’ said Annabelle.
Caroline, catching his eye, said, ‘Your hands are becoming almost unbelievable, Captain.’
‘I can’t dispute it,’ he said. ‘Shall we cry quits?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Caroline spiritedly.
‘I shall play one more game, then retire,’ said Annabelle. ‘I am feeling sleepy.’
They played the game, which Caroline won. Annabelle stifled a yawn and rose from the table.
‘You are owing me two and a half guineas, dearest,’ said Caroline.
‘Am I, dearest?’ Annabelle smiled. ‘Well, you would not take money from a sister who has so little, would you? There, I’ll settle with a kiss.’ She leaned and kissed Caroline on the cheek. ‘And what do I owe you, Charles?’
‘A trifle, a mere trifle, dear girl,’ said the captain benevolently. ‘Ah, nine guineas. And a half.’
‘So much?’ said Annabelle. ‘Oh dear. You would not accept a kiss too, I suppose?’
‘Willingly,’ said Captain Burnside.
‘There, you are the sweetest man,’ said Annabelle. A little dreamy, a little melting from the fun of the evening, she dipped her head and kissed him. On the mouth. Caroline stiffened, for her sister’s kiss was warm, generous and quite against acceptable behaviour. ‘Goodnight,’ said Annabelle, now a little flushed, ‘I’ll leave you two to play on until the candles gutter, if you wish.’
When she had gone, Captain Burnside said, ‘Shall you retire too, marm?’
‘Shall you?’ asked Caroline coldly. ‘Or shall you sit and dream of more kisses? Oh, how I despise myself for placing Annabelle in your path, for I cannot help feeling you will take advantage of her in the end.’
‘You have my word I won’t, marm. If I read her correctly, she has no money.’
‘Oh, you are an out-and-out blackguard, sir. I vow myself feeble for being concerned at your probable fate, for you deserve the most miserable one. As for Annabelle’s lack of money, there are always her trinkets.’
‘True, her jewellery has its appeal,’ murmured the captain, idly shuffling the pack, ‘but I ain’t disposed to lift ’em from so sweet a girl. No, she shall be safe from me, marm. Be assured. Well, shall it be two-handed cribbage, patron, or bed? It’s almost midnight.’
‘We shall cut for deal, Captain Burnside, and play for five guineas a game, not one, and I will give you a hiding, sir, and collect from you every last shilling of what you will owe me.’
‘It’s to be war, then, marm, with no talk of kisses?’
Flushed, her eyes glittering, she said fiercely, ‘I would rather kiss the hangman.’
‘Quite so, marm. Ah, at the moment, you are owing me several guineas from the three-handed game.’
‘You may take them into account at the end of this game.’
She played then in a spirit of fierce determination, while knowing determination needed luck as an ally. Her mouth was set, her eyes gleaming, her concentration prevailing over whatever tiredness she felt. She sent her servants to bed at Captain Burnside’s solicitous suggestion. She and he alone remained awake, he retaining his smooth, affable approach, and she sustaining her spirited challenge. If he wondered what had upset her so much, he did not ask.
She seemed reckless in her discarding, so quickly did she place each pair on the table, but the turn-up cards consistently went her way. She pegged advantageously, and her hands scored generously. She outran him by four games out of the first five. A candle spluttered. Her eyelids began to feel heavy. Her lashes began to droop. The quietness of the house, the silence of the street outside, and the lateness of the hour all induced a soporific effect. But she played on.
‘You are ready now to cry quits, marm?’ The captain had won three in a row.
‘No, sir. I shall not be the first to yield. I am a Howard of South Carolina, and my ancestors were pioneering the first settlement of Charleston while yours were no doubt running errands for Sir Walter Raleigh. Deal, sir, you are not yet owing me half enough.’
‘I ain’t quite owing you anything yet, d’you see—’
‘Deal, sir, I like you better when your tongue is silent, though in truth I like you not at all.’
Captain Burnside smiled. She eyed him simmeringly from under languid lids, thinking of his cool, outrageous acceptance of the kind of kiss Annabelle should not have given. How dare he, a man so undeserving and unprincipled, allow himself such intimacy with her impulsively indiscreet sister?
They played on. She fought her creeping tiredness. Her head sank, her jewelled hair clasp glittered as it nodded. She jerked herself awake. She laid a card, a jack. ‘Ten,’ she said.
Captain Burnside, laying down a jack himself, said, ‘Twenty, and two for a pair.’
‘Thirty,’ she breathed in sleepy triumph, and showed a third jack. ‘Which scores me six.’
‘Fiendish,’ murmured the captain. ‘Pass,’ he added.
‘Thirty-one,’ she said, placing an ace down to score another two.
‘Faith,’ he said, smiling, ‘you’re a tigress.’ But his patron did not respond. Her head was down, heavy eyes closed. A slumbrous little murmur escaped her. ‘Damn me, here’s a pretty kettle of fish, our magnificent magnolia has closed her petals for the night.’
He came to his feet and touched her lightly on the shoulder. She did not stir. She was in sound, healthy sleep. He stooped and lifted her from her chair. She was full-bodied, but he made light of her. She murmured, put her arms sleepily around his neck, turned herself in on him and warmed her bosom against his chest. Her head sank on to his shoulder. He carried her up the stairs, and at her door he set her gently on her feet. She swayed against him. With one arm around her, he opened the door and carried her into her dressing room. There he placed her in an armchair. Her head fell forward, causing her bodice to sigh and gently gape. Curving splendour softly gleamed in the light of a night candle. Carefully, the captain set her head back, and the bodice corrected itself. Curving splendour for the most part disappeared into the shadows. He went to his own room, smiling. There was nothing about feminine magnificence to cause any man to frown.