Mrs. Davis, conscious that her position was no longer a tenable one,
and driven to naughty extremities by the three-sided investment which
left her no alternative but to retreat--fighting--retired to her
chamber to consider the course by which she could best inflict a
Parthian stroke on the three enemies who, each from a different
motive, were responsible for her coming ejectment. She contemplated
nothing very terrible, it is true--only some exaggerated form of
mischief in keeping with her little lawless, whimsical nature. She was
not a tragic vengeance, and she nursed no very grievous resentment
over a treatment which, she was perfectly aware, she had done much to
deserve and little to be entitled to deprecate. She _had_ taken
advantage of a temptation to play, especially of late, a game of her
own rather than that of Hamilton, her employer and confederate; and
she _had_ wasted her opportunities rather on personal enjoyment than
in pursuance of any consistent effort to serve that gentleman’s
designs. She knew all this, admitted her own shortcomings; and yet,
though she had a physical liking for the rascal, she was not going to
let him escape scot-free, without any endeavour to retaliate on him
for his cool repudiation of her at the eleventh hour. She wished and
intended him no great harm; only she felt it a moral obligation on
herself to speak the last word in this comedy of misunderstandings. It
was worth while to show him that his supposed easy command of women
was subject to some little accidents of discomfiture and humiliation
where he chose to presume too much in his dealings with the
sharp-witted among them. After which she would be quite willing to
call quits with him.
Now, Hamilton, for his part, in leaping to a certain conclusion as
regarded Moll’s connection with the guitar incident, had shrewdly
approximated, but only approximated, the truth. Mrs. Davis, as we
know, had had nothing to do with the Duke’s visit; nevertheless the
Duke’s visit came to have something to do with Mrs. Davis. His
Highness--a singularly close observer, though with a congenital
incapacity for profitable reflection--had not failed to take stock of
the attractive little figure in the garden, nor to consider to what
possible uses he might convert the fact of its offence in the eyes of
the lady of whom he was enamoured. He might, for instance, by
privately threatening that offence with punishment for its
wrong-doing, terrify it into lending itself as an instrument to his
own designs. It should be worth trying; only it was necessary first to
secure an interview with the person of the offence. There was no
difficulty to be foreseen in that, save the one difficulty of eluding
scandal in the process; and, indeed, from the lady’s point of view,
there was no difficulty at all. For in very truth, from the moment
when, listening and peeping at the keyhole, Moll had realized the rank
of the Countess’s visitor, that amazing young person had been actually
busying her brain with speculations as to her own possible eligibility
as a royal favourite, though in the regard of the “second best” only.
It had been under the spur of that inspiration, indeed, that, deterred
by no false modesty as to her personal qualifications in the way of
looks and witcheries, she had appeared, singing, at the window, with
the view that questions might be asked about her--a piece of
effrontery which, seeing that it was ventured in the very face of the
high-born rival to be supplanted, might fairly be considered
unsurpassable. But diffidence was never one of Moll’s weaknesses.
So far, then, Master George’s native acumen had led him to within
sight of the facts; he had been wrong only in assuming the meeting to
be already a _fait accompli_. It was not, so far, and the reason was
this. The Duke could not afford to bid directly for the services of a
great nobleman’s presumed _chère amie_: but he could employ an agent;
and for this purpose he had selected Arran--as much through his
imbecility as through his relationship with the family a convenient
instrument--for the task of enticing the quarry into his preserves.
It was easily done, and after all at a minimum expense in tactics.
Arran, acting as his Highness’s decoy, and with no thought but to
accommodate his master in the sort of jest approved and applauded by
the gallants of his day, found no difficulty in getting into
communication with Mrs. Davis, or in arranging an accidental meeting
with her. Of course, at that, Moll refused utterly to be beguiled
offhand into committing herself to the mysterious interview entreated
of her; she was pettish, wilful, distracting; she showed a complete
obtuseness in realizing the nature of the rank which stood behind the
summons; she was wholly childish and adorable, and she ended by
chastising the impertinence which her innocent flirtations had seemed
meant to provoke.
And all the while she was calculating how best she could invite those
second approaches to which she was resolved in her mind to succumb.
The issue of that night decided her. The next day she sent a little
private note of penitence to Arran, and that same evening saw her
closeted with the Duke of York.
There was none other present but the young Earl, retained, possibly,
by his Royal Highness for the part of chaperon--a precaution not
ill-advised, the Prince may have been disposed to think, when he came
to re-view the visible attractions of his visitor. They were such,
indeed, that he felt he would have to keep a definite guard on his
susceptibilities if he were to come out of the interview unscathed. He
would have had no objection in the world to take this sugared bonbon
by the way, as a man might crunch a salted almond to add a zest to his
wine; only the stake at issue was too instant. The bottle might pass
while he was enjoying the appetizer. Wherefore he assumed from the
first an air of coldness and restraint. He bowed to the lady, and
assigned her a seat with a gesture.
“My lord has informed you,” he said, “of my reason for desiring this
meeting?”
Mrs. Davis shook her pretty head. “Not he!”
“O!” said the Duke. “It is explained in a few words. During a recent
visit of ceremony I was paying to--how shall I name her--your
unofficial hostess, I chanced to hear you singing outside the window
of the room in which I was seated.”
“La!” said Moll, with a shrug of her white shoulders; “to think of it!
And I never guessed but I was alone.”
She was not in the least overawed by the sacrosanctity of her company;
she would have “answered back” to the Pope himself in his own coin of
excommunication, or anything else, and certainly not less to a lay son
of his, however illustrious. She had no bump of reverence whatever on
her little noddle.
“You have a rare voice, Mrs. Davis,” said the Prince. “It is a
pity--is it not?--that it should be wasted on discord, when it might
be so much more profitably employed in winning you a way to legitimate
and decent fame.”
Moll opened her eyes. This, for a beginning, was not at all the sort
of thing she had expected.
“What discord, if you please?” said she.
“Tut-tut!” answered his Highness, hardly smiling. “Is not that a very
unnecessary question? We have not got eyes for nothing, ears for
nothing, intelligence for nothing. If the form of discord need not be
specified, it need none the less be understood. I will speak plainly,
however, and to this effect. Your position in a certain quarter of
Whitehall Palace is not, by whomsoever franked, a desirable one. It
constitutes, in short, a scandal to the place, and an insult to one
who is forced, against her will, to condone it.”
Moll rose to her feet, her eyes sparkling.
“Why?” she said.
“There is no need, nor desire on my part,” said the Duke coldly, “to
go into particulars. It is enough that the situation I have hinted at
must terminate.”
And this was all--this the sole reason for which she had been trapped
and beguiled into this interview with the great person? It appeared
so, and Mrs. Davis had nothing for it but to bear her disappointment
and chagrin with what philosophy she could.
And on the whole she bore them amiably. After all, Moll’s philosophy
fished in large waters, and if she failed in a catch, she was always
ready without complaint to rebait her hook and try again. There is a
sort of self-complacency in certain beauties which is too serenely
un-selfconscious to be called vanity. It is largely founded, I think,
on the flawless digestion which generally goes with physical
perfection.
“I suppose she has been putting you up to this,” she said, quite
coolly. “I call it mean of her, when she knows perfectly well that she
is the scandal, and not me. But, I see what it is; she wants to rid
herself of a witness she’s done nothing to make a friendly one; and
so, being afraid to tell me downright I must go, she hands over the
business to the one----”
His Highness put up his hand with such a grim, authoritative
expression that the young lady stopped, though with a rebellious gulp.
“My lord,” said the Duke, very smoothly addressing the Earl, “I think
perhaps this interview will not suffer by being confined to the two
most interested in it.”
He smiled and nodded. Arran, with an answering grimace, expressive at
least of as much mental vacuity as understanding, bowed low and
withdrew.
The moment they were alone, the Duke turned in his chair, and,
crossing his knees and leaning on one arm, bent his melancholy brows
on Moll in deliberate scrutiny.
“By _she_, madam,” he said, “you allude to----?”
Moll laughed shortly.
“O! don’t you know very well?”
“Don’t _you_ know,” he said, “that the young gentleman just left is
her brother?”
“Of course I do,” answered Moll, “and that that was why you wanted to
shut my mouth.”
He sat regarding her some moments longer, and then a little sombre
smile dawned on his face.
“You have a quick understanding, I perceive, Mrs. Davis,” he said.
“That may be a profitable or a perilous possession, according as it is
employed. I wonder it has never yet led you to realize the supreme
asset you have in your voice.”
“O! I see well enough you too want me out of the way,” said Moll,
perking a scornful nose. “What is the good of going round about it
like this? I’m dangerous where I am, I suppose. Very well, then I must
be got rid of.”
He laughed.
“Too impulsive, too impulsive, my little lady. Dangerous you could be,
that’s patent, to any man’s peace of mind. But, as to the sense in
which you mean it----”
She broke in with a little imperious stamp.
“As to that, I’m not to be misjudged by you or any one. When I said
the scandal wasn’t in _my_ position, I meant it. If you think I’m
there as my lord’s doxy, you’re precious well mistaken. I hate the
beast--and if it’s a question of scandal, ’tis her ladyship ought to
go. There, she ought; and you know why.”
“I don’t, on my honour.”
“Then, you’d like to.”
“Ah! that, maybe, is quite another matter.”
He looked at her, she looked at him.
“Come, Mrs. Davis,” he said, after a minute of silence: “I’m sure we
are on the way to understand one another.”
“O! are we?” said Moll, with a sniff.
“Scandals,” he said, “have nothing to do with facts. An apparition
might cause one. You may be as innocent as a babe, but appearances are
against you. Therefore you must suffer for appearances. Now, about
this voice of yours.”
“Well, what about it?”
“With that and your face for fortune, you might, under proper
auspices, prove an incalculable success.”
“What do you mean by auspices?”
He leaned forward, lightly touching his breast with his fingers.
“Patronage: a Royal Duke’s. And in the meantime, pending developments,
we might consent to condone this offence, leaving you undisturbed in
your present position.”
“I see,” said the girl, after a pause, her eyes rather glowing--“I
see. And that, you mean, is to be your reward to me by and by for
consenting, if I do consent, to act now as your creature and decoy to
help you to your fancy. You’ve no objection to letting me remain on
the spot, in spite of my polluting it, if only I’ll act my best for
you as an informer and go-between.”
“Such intelligence,” said the Duke, “combined with gifts so sweet,
should ensure you, properly directed, a prosperous future.”
“Well,” said Moll, “it’s a bargain if you like. Only wait while I
think.”
A sense of mischief was already alive in her. Defrauded in her higher
expectations, she cared nothing for that conditional promise of
patronage, except that it humiliated even her to be thought worthy of
it. She had the wit and the gifts, if she chose to exercise them, to
prevail in that direction without any help from outsiders. Feeling
rather at bay, in the midst of this group of self-interested plotters,
she was driven at last to abandon her position in a revel of
retaliation on them all. Only how could she manage it--how? Let her
think.
“You’re a great gentleman, I know,” she said suddenly; “but, where
love’s concerned, even princes have to take their place among the
ranks. Have you never fear of a rival?”
He gazed at her sombrely some moments, without speaking.
“Do you know of any?” he asked at length.
“I know of a coming meeting,” she said.
“With whom?”
“Kit’s his name. I’ve learnt no more.”
“How did you learn that?”
“Never mind how. I’ve not been in her company these weeks for
nothing.”
“And when and where is this meeting to take place?”
“At half past eight o’clock to-morrow evening, in the--in the Mulberry
Garden”--she chose the place and time at haphazard.
“What!” cried his Highness, biting his lip: “so public!”
“O!” said Moll; “there’s nothing so private, for that matter, as a
vizard. And--and he’s to wear a green scarf in his hat to be known by
her, and she a green bow in her bosom to be known by him. If you
doubt, you’d better go and see for yourself.”
My lord Duke’s countenance had fallen very glum. A shadow seemed to
overspread his face.
“It is a good thought,” he said. “Kit, did you say?”
“Kit, sure.”
“Supposing I were to be Kit?”
Moll clapped her hands in delight.
“And pretending it,” she cried, “find out all about the other!”
“H’m!”
His Highness was plainly disturbed. He sat awhile pondering, a gloomy
frown knotting his forehead. Presently he looked up, with a deep sigh.
“Well,” said he, “you have already proved your title to my favour. I
will consider of this matter; and, in the meantime, keep, you, as
silent as the grave.” He rose, put a finger to his lips: “Not a word
to any one,” he said. “You shall hear from me again.” And he led her
to the door, smiled on her, hesitated, laughed away the temptation,
and bade her go.
And then he returned to his seat, and sat gnawing at his nails for the
next half-hour.