The Runaway Bride, page 7
Consuelo had been taken aback when Captain Bannion had expressed a wish to dance with her, the more so as she observed the determination with which he overcame the good-natured objections of her companions in order to achieve his object.
‘Are you enjoying your ball?’ he asked as he whirled her expertly about the room.
‘Thank you, yes.’ It was shyly said, for his closeness confused her and the dance was making her breathless. To be sure, the captain did not have as light a touch or move with Enrique’s grace, but there was an exhilaration, a vitality in the way he waltzed, a disturbing sureness in the way he held her.
‘You are certainly very popular,’ he observed dryly. ‘It required a great deal of persistence on my part to secure this dance with you!’
She glanced up at him pensively through her lashes and his face ‒ eyes laughing, his teeth a blur of white ‒ seemed to dip and swirl, darkly etched against the shimmering lights.
‘I did not suppose that you would wish to do so.’
‘Not wish to dance with the most beautiful young lady in the room? For shame, señorita!’ His voice, softly teasing, disturbed her. ‘You may have cast me as the villain, but even a villain must be granted an occasional boon!’
She could feel a warmth stealing into her face and knew that her embarrassment was due as much to guilt as any other cause. If he could but know what a trick she was about to serve him, how different would be his manner. But a swift recollection of what was at stake stiffened her resolve. She could not allow any qualms of conscience to sway her now.
Nevertheless, she felt obliged to say in fairness: ‘You are not so bad! Indeed, you have been more tolerant than I had any right to expect and I would like to … to thank you!’
It was a halting little speech and she hoped devoutly that he would attribute the cause to breathlessness or nerves, or both. To her relief, this seemed to be the case ‒ at any rate, he seemed no more than surprised and mildly amused.
Soon afterwards the Prince Regent arrived with his party. As usual he had insisted in his genial way that no ceremonial be attached to his presence at the ball; Lord Covington had a saloon set aside as a card room and as soon as His Royal Highness expressed himself ready to do so, he would be escorted thither. But for some little while he remained in the ballroom, conversing amiably with all who approached him.
Once more he singled out Consuelo, beckoning her to come to him. She swept him her deepest curtsy, which delighted him. He was heard to sigh lustily that he was not a few years younger ‒ and slimmer! ‘For it might then have been my privilege to claim your hand for a dance, my dear little señorita. I was thought to dance prodigiously well in my day! Is that not a fact, Lady Covington?’ His twinkling eyes sought hers.
She smiled back dutifully, not altogether pleased to be appealed to as though she were a contemporary.
‘But alas, that day is long past,’ he sighed, unwittingly compounding his felony.
‘Then the matter is simple, Prince,’ Consuelo told him with one of her roguish glances. ‘If you wish it, you may have the very next dance and I will sit with you instead.’
He laughed heartily at this and allowed himself to be led to a nearby sofa where he would have an excellent view of the floor where sets for the quadrille were forming.
‘Who is this child who commands royalty thus?’ murmured Lord Cowley taking up a place beside Madame Garrishe. ‘Why have I not seen her until now?’
‘Señorita Vasquez is a visitor to our shores ‒ and a most charming one. We shall miss her greatly when she returns home, as she is shortly to do, for she is something of an original, is she not, Captain Bannion?’
‘She is certainly full of surprises,’ Nick agreed, watching the vivacious little figure so patently at ease with her magnificently apparelled companion.
Chapter Six
As the night wore on, Consuelo’s unremitting energy was the object of much envy and some speculation. She was very gay throughout supper, though she ate very little; it was, thought Madame Garrishe, as though she was seeking to cram into the few hours that remained to her as much pleasure as was possible.
It was something of a surprise, therefore, when Madame came upon her at last sitting alone in one of the anterooms beyond the ballroom. She looked pale and all eyes, prompting Madame to inquire anxiously if she were feeling perfectly well.
‘Oh, yes.’ Her wan smile seemed to refute the assertion. ‘It is only that I wished to be quiet for a few moments.’
Madame sat down beside her and patted Consuelo’s clasped hands reassuringly. ‘It has been a very long evening, my dear ‒ and you have scarcely been off your feet in all of that time. I am sure that it would be no small wonder if you were now quite exhausted!’
‘Oh, no! That is not why …’ Consuelo’s colour deepened a little. She seemed loath to explain; in fact, her manner was altogether rather strange.
Madame Garrishe was curious, but made no attempt to press her.
Presently Consuelo moved restively and asked in a carefully casual way: ‘Do you think, Madame, that if there is a ‒ a decision made which affects one’s whole future happiness, that one should hold to that decision despite any qualms which may assail one?’
Something in the way she spoke made the old lady feel uneasy, but fearful of prying too far and perhaps frightening away any further confidences, she only said lightly, ‘Dear me! What a very profound question for so late an hour! It very much depends upon the nature of any such decision. Are you perhaps,’ she hazarded tentatively, ‘troubling yourself about the betrothal that your father has contracted on your behalf?’
Consuelo started, recovered herself, and said rather confusedly that it was something like that.
‘Well then, my dear child, if I were you I would put all such doubts out of my head. It may seem to you to be a very strange way to go about things, but some of the most satisfactory marriages have been arranged in this way.’ She was choosing her words with care, not wishing to distress the child by mentioning Lord Linton by name. ‘My own was just such a case. I had bestowed my affections elsewhere and quite thought my life at an end when Papa demanded that I give up my Jules and marry Monsieur Garrishe. But, of course, it was not so! Such passions seldom last and Monsieur and I lived together most agreeably for many years.’
Consuelo turned slowly and subjected her to an intensely searching look. ‘But ‒ forgive me, Madame, but did you love your husband?’
Oh, dear ‒ how foolish it had been to delve into matters that did not concern one! Madame reproached herself in vain.
‘I grew very fond of him,’ she said firmly. ‘There are, after all, many degrees of love ‒ some, like exotic blooms, are not destined to survive.’
‘And what happened to your Jules?’ Consuelo persisted.
There was an infinitesimal pause and a small involuntary sigh. ‘He went away.’
For some reason Consuelo did not react at all in the way Madame had expected. Gone was the subdued, indecisive girl ‒ it was as though whatever had been troubling her was suddenly resolved, and she was her own buoyant self again.
‘Thank you, Madame!’ she exclaimed enthusiastically. ‘I now know exactly what I must do.’
Madame Garrishe was not sure for what she was being thanked, but was relieved that her words seemed to have had the desired result. On the point of getting up, Consuelo leaned forward in her impulsive way to hug the old lady and press a kiss to her cheek.
‘In case we do not meet again,’ she said tremulously, ‘I want you to know that I shall miss you more than almost anyone! But I shall write to you, if I may, and I hope that you will remember me with sufficient fondness to write also to me!’
‘Oh, my dear!’ murmured the old lady, enfolding her in a tender embrace. ‘I, too, shall miss you ‒ and of course I will write. It would grieve me very much to lose touch with you.’
For a moment they clung together and then Madame put Consuelo gently from her, seeing the girl’s overbright eyes through the blur of her own tears. ‘Come now ‒ we are being very silly! And I shall see you again before you leave, for I am staying here tonight, or had you forgot?’
She was saved from a reply by a sound near the door. Henry came in, relief evident in his fair handsome face.
‘So this is where you are, Consuelo. Verena and I have been looking high and low for you!’
‘Well, you cannot have searched very far, Enrique, for I have been here all the time with Madame Garrishe.’
She gave a great sigh, released her friend’s hand with a smile and stood up. ‘And now I believe I should like to dance again,’ she said gaily.
Henry took her arm and shot her a meaningful glance. ‘It is almost two o’clock, my dear. Don’t you think …?’
‘But I am not in the least tired! Just one dance, Enrique, and then I will think.’
Lady Covington was at the far end of the ballroom when Henry led Consuelo out on to the floor. She frowned and moved towards them as quickly as she could without apparent haste, but as several people detained her along the way, the music had already begun and she was obliged to watch as they performed their part in a lively country dance. The numbers had by now reduced considerably, but those who remained, mostly younger people, were still enjoying themselves prodigiously.
‘That child should be in bed.’ Nick Bannion’s voice behind her was severe and made her jump. ‘She will scarcely be fit to travel at this rate.’
Verena had suffered a frustrating evening at Captain Bannion’s hands. There had been no mistaking his interest in her ‒ at times it had been quite markedly provocative, yet he had proved elusive at every turn. She knew not whether this was deliberate on his part, but it was not what she was used to! Never before had she encountered the least difficulty in bringing to her side any gentleman who took her fancy, and the captain’s behaviour ‒ whether intentional or not ‒ piqued her.
It showed in her voice as she said with a touch of asperity, ‘Surely, captain, you will not deny Consuelo and Lord Linton these last moments of happiness?’
He was quizzical, his eyes straying from hers to watch the graceful figures at that moment performing a light-hearted tours de mains. ‘Isn’t that being a trifle melodramatic? From what is, I admit, a brief acquaintance, I would hazard that the señorita at least is possessed of far more resilience than you give her credit for!’
‘Well, of course she is!’ Verena’s laugh was a trifle shrill, her bruised spirits exacerbated by hearing a note almost of admiration in his voice. ‘I am sure that no one can seriously suppose that Consuelo’s heart will be irrevocably broken when she leaves here! But even so ‒’
‘Ah, there you are, m’dear!’
Lord Covington’s jovial voice boomed in their ears. His wife drew in a sharp little breath.
‘And you, too, Bannion ‒ that’s splendid, splendid! I’ve just seen Prinny off … he spoke most kindly of you, sir … enjoyed his game of picquet with you, y’know. Said it was a treat to have a new set of brains to pit his wits against.’ His lordship chuckled. ‘Ye demmed near beat him, by Jove!’
Nick grinned. ‘Damned near! But that would hardly have been politic, would it?’
‘What? Ah, I see … quite so, sir. Enough said!’ He cast an indulgent eye over the dancers as the music drew to a close. ‘Now there’s a pretty sight, wouldn’t you say? Pity. A great pity.’ He sighed. ‘Still, I hope we’ve succeeded in making your stay an agreeable one at least, Captain Bannion?’ He glanced slyly at his wife.
‘Most pleasant, I thank you, sir,’ Nick said equably.
‘Captain Bannion is a little concerned that Consuelo will be overtired, my love, so ‒ ah, there you are, my dears …’ Verena was all sympathetic concern as the young couple came towards them laughing, swinging hands. ‘Consuelo, my dear child, I really do think it is time you retired. You have a long day before you, and Captain Bannion has been so accommodating that I feel we should make every effort to abide by his wishes now.’
Consuelo was careful to veil her eyes during this speech to hide their mischievous sparkle, and so looked suitably acquiescent. By the time she came to make her good-nights, she was able to achieve a convincing air of subdued gravity which affected Lord Covington so much that he was obliged to blow his nose very loudly after his ‘dear little puss’ had reached up impulsively to kiss his cheek.
She was aware that Captain Bannion was watching her intently and this fact alone was enough to put her on her mettle. She was proudly erect, a little tragic, as she bade him good-night and turned away with Henry, who had been permitted to walk with her to the stairs. Lord Covington mopped his eyes as he watched her go, and Verena called after her that she had a little something for her.
‘I will come to you shortly, my love!’
Safe in her room at last, the confused emotions of the past few hours found their release in a sudden burst of tears. This came as no surprise to Maria, who had been expecting something of the kind. The only surprise was that it hadn’t come sooner, with portmanteaux and bandboxes lying about the room, half-packed, for the past two days and Señora Diaz overseeing all in an ill-omened silence like a fat black crow.
Consuelo quickly pulled herself together, however, and submitted to being undressed with no more than a brief, regretful glance at the beautiful dress as it was laid down, folded, to await being packed with the rest.
She sat meekly before the mirror as Maria unpinned her hair and brushed it until it shone before tying it back in a ribbon. When all was done, she dismissed Maria ‒ clinging to her for a moment with sudden unwarranted fervour, her eyes big and dark with emotion.
‘You need not worry about me any more, Maria,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘I promise you, I am quite resigned to what must be. Oh, and you need not wake me until eight o’clock.’
‘But señorita, I thought ‒’
‘It is arranged,’ said Consuelo firmly. ‘Eight o’clock.’
When the maid had gone, she prowled about the room in her nightgown, unable to settle anywhere for more than a moment. It would be necessary to write a note exonerating Maria from blame, she thought, and, suiting the action to the thought, did so swiftly, signing her name with a flourish ‒ the last time, she realized with a feeling of awe, that she would sign anything as Consuelo Beatriz Dominica Vasquez. When she left this place, it would be to start a new life and if … when she returned, it would be as Lady Linton!
There came a faint scratching on the door and her heart leapt. But it was only Lady Covington. She was carrying the carpet bag which contained Green’s suit and his hat.
‘Now then, you know what you are to do,’ she began without preamble, setting it down on the bed. ‘You know, I am still not sure that it would not have been better to have your maid in your confidence. If you should fall asleep …’
‘Dear Lady Covington, I shall not sleep ‒ I could not sleep. And see, I have my little watch here so that I shall know exactly when to creep down the back stairs to meet Enrique.’ Consuelo put up her head. ‘You can trust me to play my part, I promise you!’
‘Good.’ Lady Covington nodded, satisfied. ‘Well, I had better get back to my guests. There are still a few who have not yet left or retired to their rooms. I must speed them on their way! And besides ‒’ She half-turned and the pale green satin showed quite clearly the line of her thigh. She stood admiring the effect in the mirror for a moment before continuing complacently, ‘I have promised to show Captain Bannion the terrace by moonlight before he leaves …’ She smiled. ‘After all, the later he retires, the more likely he is to sleep soundly!’
‘Yes. That is very clever of you.’ Consuelo held out her hands. ‘Then I must bid you farewell, dear ma’am, and thank you for all that you have done for me!’
‘My love.’ Lady Covington pressed a cool cheek to Consuelo’s and stepped away. ‘I do hope all goes well with you. If so, we should meet again very soon.’
As soon as the door had closed, Consuelo tipped the contents of the carpet bag out on to the bed and, unable to wait a moment longer, wriggled out of her nightgown and was soon dressed in shirt and breeches, a colourful kerchief tied at her neck.
‘You make a very fine boy, I think,’ she told her reflection with some pride, preening this way and that. And it was true that her slender figure lent itself perfectly to the groom’s clothes. ‘But your hair will not do like that, amigo.’
She rummaged feverishly amongst the piles of baggage for Maria’s sewing box and, finding it, extracted a pair of scissors.
‘I do not know how well I may achieve this, but …’ With a frown of deep concentration, tongue pensively caught between her teeth, she snipped and sawed her way through her beautiful hair, struggling to reach the very back of it and resolutely banishing the unexpectedly powerful pangs of loss as the rich silken tresses fell one by one to the floor. ‘What is the sacrifice of a few hanks of hair, after all, when compared with the possible success or failure of so great a venture!’ she rebuked herself severely. ‘And besides, it will grow again very soon!’
She was in part consoled by the success of her impetuous actions, for the figure looking back at her in the mirror had now assumed a truly masculine air. She turned her head experimentally and the bobbed hair, in spite of its somewhat ragged ends, clung neatly to her head. It was like looking at a stranger. She rather thought Enrique would be angry at what she had done, but it was too late for repining. She pulled Green’s hat well down and hoped that the brim would hide her handiwork for the time being.
Her watch said that it was almost time to go. She put on the jacket and quickly collected her toilet necessities and the sprigged muslin dress which she had decided to take with her, cramming them carelessly into the carpet bag. Then she took a last look around the room, picked up her watch and pinned it to her shirt inside the jacket, and quietly opened the door.
