The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer (best mobile ebook reader TXT) 📕

AT the end of August, after having spent a moderately quiet summer in the country, Lady Lavinia was again seized with a longing for town and its attractions. She would not listen to Richard’s warnings of the atrocious condition of the roads, declaring that she cared not one jot, and go to London she must. After that one protest he desisted, and promised to take her there the following week, secretly counting himself lucky to have kept her so long at Wyncham in comparative cheerfulness of spirits. Lavinia was overjoyed, kissed him again and again, scolded herself for being such a wicked tease, and set about making her preparations for the journey.

The roads proved even worse than Richard had prophesied, and twice the coach nearly upset, and times without number stuck fast in the mire, causing the inmates much inconvenience. Carstares rode by the side of the heavy vehicle, in which were his wife, her maid, her tiny dog, and countless bandboxes and small parcels. In spite of the worry the constant stoppages entailed, he quite enjoyed the journey, for Lavinia was in excellent spirits, and made light of their mishaps, receiving each fresh one with roguish laughter and some witty remark. Even when the chimney of her bedchamber, at one of the inns at which they halted, smoked most vilely, she did not, as Richard quite expected she would, fly into a rage and refuse to spend another moment in the house, but after looking extremely doleful, cheered up and told dear Dicky that she would have his room while he should have hers. Then in the morning she would find him all dried up and smoked! In high good humour she went down to dinner with him, voted the partridges excellent, the pasties quite French, and the wine marvellously tolerable for such an out-of-the-way place, and kept him laughing at her antics until bed-time.

The journey was, of necessity, very slow, not only on account of the bad roads, but because whenever my lady caught sight of wild roses growing on the hedges, she must stop to pluck some. Then she and Richard would stroll along for some way, he leading his horse, the coach following at a walking pace. All of which was very idyllic, and had the effect of sending Richard to the seventh heaven of content.

When at length they arrived at Wyncham House, Mayfair, they found that the servants had arrived a week before, and had made good use of their time. Never, declared Lavinia, had the house looked so inviting—so spick and span.

One of her black pages proffered a small monkey with much bowing and grinning, and the murmur of: “Massa’s present.”

Lady Lavinia flew to embrace her Dicky. How did he guess that she had for so long yearned for a monkey? Surely she had but once or twice mentioned it? Oh, he was the very best of husbands! She danced off to her apartments in a state of ecstasy.

The beau monde was returning to town, and when, a few days later, Carstares conducted his wife to Ranelagh, they found the gardens fairly crowded and very gay. Lamps hung from tree branches, although it was still quite light; the fiddlers scraped away almost without a pause; fireworks shot up from one end; the summer-houses had all been freshly painted, and the Pavilion was a blaze of light.

Consciousness of her beauty and the smartness of her Georgia silk gown, with its petticoat covered in gold net, considerably added to Lavinia’s enjoyment. Her hair she wore powdered and elaborately curled down on both sides with dainty escalloped lace half concealing it, and a grey capuchin over all. Her tippet was gold-laced to match her petticoat, and to fasten it she wore a brooch composed of clustered rubies. Rubies also hung in her earrings, which last were of such length that the other ladies turned to stare in envy, and the bracelets that she wore over her long gloves flashed also with the great red stones. She was well-pleased with Richard’s appearance, and reflected that, when he chose, he could be very fashionable indeed. The claret-coloured velvet he was wearing was most distinguished, and the gold clocks to his hose quite ravishing.

They had not been in the Gardens ten minutes before a little crowd of men had gathered around them, professing themselves enraptured to behold the fair Lady Lavinia once more. One of them fetched her a chair, another a glass of negus, and the rest hovered eagerly about her.

Becomingly flushed with triumph, my lady gave her little hand to Mr. Selwyn, who had been once a very ardent admirer, laughed at his neat compliment, and declared that he was a dreadful flattering demon, and positively she would not listen to him!

Sir Gregory Markham, who brought her the negus, she discovered to have just returned from Paris. On hearing this, she broke off in the middle of a conversation with an enchanted French Chevalier and turned to him, raising her china-blue eyes to his face and clasping tight-gloved hands.

“Oh, Sir Gregory! Paris? Then tell me—please, tell me—have you seen my darling Devil?”

“Why, yes, madam,” responded Markham, handing her the glass he held.

She sipped the negus, and gave it to the Chevalier to take care of.

“I declare, I quite love you then!” she exclaimed. “What is he doing, and, oh! when will he return to England?”

Sir Gregory smiled.

“How can I say?” he drawled. “I fear monsieur s’amuse!”

She flirted her fan before her face.

“Dreadful creature!” she cried. “How dare you say such things?”

“Belmanoir?” inquired Lord D’Egmont, twirling his cane. “Enamoured of the Pompadour, is he not—saving your presence, Lady Lavvy!”

Lavinia let fall her fan.

“The Pompadour! He had best have a care!”

“I believe there has already been some unpleasantness between his Majesty and the fair Jeanne on the subject of Devil. Since then she is supposed to have turned on him a cold shoulder.”

“I heard ‘twas he wearied of madame,” said Markham.

“Well, whichever it was, I am glad the episode is closed,” decided Lavinia. “‘Tis too dangerous a game to play with Louis’ mistresses. Oh, mon cher Chevalier! if I had not forgot your presence! But I am sure you say dreadful ill-natured things of our George, now don’t you? Oh, and have you held my negus all this time? How monstrous good of you! There, I will drink it, and Julian shall take the glass away … Voilà!” She handed it to D’Egmont and rapped Mr. Selwyn’s knuckles with her fan, looking archly up at him as he stood behind her chair.

“Naughty man! Will you have done whispering in my ear? I vow I will not listen to your impudences! No, nor laugh at them neither! Sir Gregory, you have given me no answer. When will Tracy return? For the Cavendish rout on Wednesday week? Ah, say yes!”

“Certainly I will say yes, fair tormentor! But, to tell the truth, Tracy said no word of coming to London when I saw him.”

She pouted.

“Now I hate you, Sir Gregory! And he has been absent since May! Oh, Julian, back already? You shall escort me to the fireworks then. Oh, my fan! Where is it? I know I dropped it on the ground—Selwyn, if you have taken it—Oh, Dicky, you have it! Thank you! See, I am going with Julian, and you may ogle Mrs. Clive, whom I see walking over there—yes, positively you may, and I shall not be jealous! Very well, Julian, I am coming! Chevalier, I shall hope to see you at the rout on Wednesday week, but you must wait upon me before then.”

The Frenchman brightened.

“Madame is too good. I may then call at Wyncham ‘Ouse? Vraiment, I shall but exist until then!” In a perfectly audible whisper, he confided to Wilding that “miladi était ravissante! mais ravissante!”

Lady Lavinia went off on her gratified cavalier’s arm, encountering many bows and much admiration as she passed down the walk, leaving her husband not to ogle the beautiful Kitty, as she had advised, but to saunter away in the direction of the Pavilion in company with Tom Wilding and Markham.

D’Egmont guided my lady into one of the winding alleys, and they presently came out on a large lawn, dotted over with people of all conditions. Towards them was coming Lavinia’s brother—Colonel Lord Robert Belmanoir—very richly clad and rakish in appearance. When he saw his sister, a look of surprise came into his florid face, and he made her a sweeping leg.

“‘Pon my honour—Lavinia!”

My lady was not fond of her brother, and acknowledged the salutation with a brief nod.

“I am delighted to see you, Robert,” she said primly.

“The mere word ‘delighted’ in no way expresses my sensations,” replied the Colonel in the drawling, rather unpleasant voice peculiar both to him and to the Duke. “Your servant, D’Egmont. I imagined, Lavvy, that you were in the country?”

“Richard brought me to town last Tuesday,” she answered.

“How unwise of him!” taunted the Colonel. “Or had he no choice?”

She tossed her head angrily.

“If you are minded to be disagreeable, Robert, pray do not let me detain you!” she flashed.

D’Egmont was quite unembarrased by this interchange of civilities. He knew the Belmanoir family too well to be made uncomfortable by their bickerings.

“Shall we leave him?” he asked Lavinia, smiling.

“Yes,” she pouted. “He is determined to be unpleasant.”

“My dear sister! On the contrary, I believe I can offer you some amusement. Lovelace is in town.”

“Captain Harold?” she cried incredulously.

“The same.”

“Oh, Bob!” Impulsively she withdrew her hand from Julian’s arm, transferring it to the Colonel’s. “I must see him at once! To think he is returned after all these years! Quick, Julian, dear lad—go and find him—and tell him ‘tis I, Lavinia, who want him! You know him, do you not? Yes—I thought you did. Send him to me at once!—at once!”

D’Egmont looked very crestfallen at having his walk with the goddess thus cut short, but he had perforce to kiss her hand and to obey.

“Yes. I thought you would be pleased,” remarked Lord Robert, and chuckled. “Allow me to point out to you that there is a chair—two chairs—in fact, quite a number of chairs—immediately behind you.”

She sat down, chattering excitedly.

“Why, ‘tis nigh on five years since I saw Harry! Has he changed? Lud! but he will deem me an old woman! Is he like to be in town for long, I wonder?—Dear me, Bob, look at the two ladies over behind that seat!—Gracious! what extraordinary coifs, to be sure! And cherry ribbons, too! … Tell me, Bob, where did you meet Harry Lovelace?”

The Colonel, who, far from attending to her monologue, had been sending amorous glances across to a palpably embarrassed girl, who hung on her papa’s arm while that gentleman stopped to speak to a stout dowager, brought his gaze