“Right. His Majesty is threatening to come on a visit.”
“A great expense.”
“That’s not the problem. It’s Rose. I’ve heard a whisper that His Majesty is going to try his luck with her.”
“And you want the visit stopped?”
“But how?”
“Leave it to me.”
♦
The earl and Lady Polly had intended to keep the news of the captain a secret, but Rose was accompanied on her walks by her maid and a footman. Two days after the captain’s visit, as she was walking along a country lane, she was only dimly aware of the footman, John, and her maid, Yardley, talking in low voices. But she heard the name ‘Cathcart’ and swung round.
“What about Cathcart?” she demanded.
“I was saying that we did not often get callers,” said Yardley, “and John here was remarking that the last caller was a certain Captain Cathcart.”
“Back to the house,” ordered Rose and set off at a great pace.
She marched into her father’s study as soon as she arrived home. The earl was asleep in an armchair by the window, a newspaper over his face. Rose snatched the newspaper away and shouted, “Pa! Wake up!”
“Eh, what?” The earl struggled awake and looked up into the furious face of his daughter.
“What was that man doing here?”
“What man?”
“Cathcart.”
“Oh, him. Just a social call.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t you dare to question me, my girl! I told him to call if he was ever in the neighbourhood and he did, and that’s that. Now run along.”
♦
After a few days, as Rose was being dressed for dinner by Yard-ley, she heard a carriage arriving and went to the window and looked down. Her mouth tightened into a thin line. Captain Harry Cathcart descended and then helped a woman down from the carriage. He held out his arm to her and they disappeared below the window up the stairs to the main door. “Hurry up!” snapped Rose to her maid. “We have visitors.” She waited impatiently while the maid finished strapping her into a long corset and putting on her stockings and attaching them to the long suspenders. Then came the knickers, several petticoats and a taffeta evening gown. Her hair was then pulled up over the pompadours, or rats, as the pads were commonly called, and pinned in place. Rose snatched up her evening gloves and put them on as she headed rapidly out of the room. She made her way down to the drawing-room to find only her mother there. “Dinner has been delayed a little,” said Lady Polly. “You father has business to attend to.”
“What business?”
“I am afraid I do not know. I never interfere in your father’s business affairs.”
“It’s something to do with me. I know it.” Rose paced up and down.
“The world does not revolve around you,” said the countess sententdously. “Do sit down.”
But Rose continued to pace.
The doors were thrown open and the earl appeared, followed by Harry and a cheaply dressed over-made-up girl. She was wearing a tight gown of lavender crepe de Chine. The neckline was very low and the gown appeared to be held up by two strings of beads on the shoulders. Her hair was an improbable shade of gold. Rose thought she must have travelled in evening dress, for there had surely been no time for such a quick change.
“Captain Cathcart, you know,” said the earl. “May I present Miss Daisy Levine.”
“Pleased, I’m sure,” said Daisy, sinking down into a low curtsy. Her face was covered in white lead with two rouged circles on her cheeks and her long eyelashes were darkened with lampblack. Her large green eyes were slightly protruding.
Lady Polly stared at her husband with a look of outrage on her face.
“I’ve told Brum to lay two more places for dinner,” said the earl. “We’ve got fifteen minutes. I wanted to keep this from you, Rose, but the captain says that for reasons of security you must be told, and all the servants as well.”
Rose sank down into the nearest chair, her legs suddenly weak. From the look of amazement of her mother’s face, she realized it was a mystery to her as well.
“Perhaps you will explain, Captain,” said the earl.
The captain courteously helped Miss Devine into a chair and then sat down himself.
“His Majesty plans to come here on a visit,” he began.
“But that’s wonderful!” cried Lady Polly. “It means our dear Rose is re-established.”
“I am afraid not,” said Harry. “It appears His Majesty means to try his luck with Lady Rose.”
There was a stunned silence, finally broken by a giggle from Daisy. “Wish he’d try me. I’d be set up for life.”
“He must be put off coming but in such a way as not to offend him,” Harry went on. “Miss Levine is an actress. She will play the part of a servant who has contracted typhoid.”
“Is that necessary?” asked Rose, finding her voice at last. “Could we not just tell him one of our servants has the typhoid?”
“I think someone from the royal household will be sent here to confirm the fact. We must be prepared for that. A telegram will be sent off tomorrow.”
“The servants will all need to be told of the subterfuge,” said Rose. “Would it not have been easier to pretend to hire Miss Devine? Then she could have pretended to have contracted typhoid. In that way, none of our servants would need to know.”
“Miss Levine will be excellent in the part of someone dying of typhoid,” said Harry. “I doubt if she would last a day as a servant without being dismissed. Besides, there is not time to find her fake references.”
“I’m ever such a good actress,” mumbled Daisy, beginning to be intimidated by the glacial stare the countess was taming on her.
“Dinner is served,” intoned Brum from the doorway.
The earl and countess went first. Harry offered his arm to Rose. She ignored him and walked alone after her parents, so he offered his arm instead to Daisy.
♦
Dinner was a nightmare for Rose. She hated Harry. She was sure he must be mistaken.
The earl was a kindly man, so he courteously asked Daisy about her theatrical career. Daisy, warmed by wine and attention, revealed she was a Gibson girl, one of that famous chorus line. She told several funny stories and the earl and Harry laughed appreciatively while Rose and her mother picked at their food.
When Lady Polly finally rose as a signal to the ladies to follow her to the drawing-room, Rose pleaded a headache and retired to her room.
She allowed Yardley to help her out of her dress and to unlace her corset and then dismissed her, saying she would cope with the rest herself. Rose found these days that she craved solitude. She had begun to slip out in the evening after everyone had retired, climb down the tree outside her window and go for a walk in the garden, so that when she did finally go to bed, she would be tired enough not to lie awake, playing her humiliation over and over in her head.
When the house was finally silent, she put on a divided skirt and jacket, opened the window and began to climb down.
Harry’s room afforded a good view of the moonlight-bathed rose garden underneath. He saw a dark figure slip across the rose garden and disappear through an arch at the end.
He left his room and went down the staircase. He did not want to go through the process of unlocking the great front door, which had been bolted and locked for the night, so he went into the earl’s study, opened a window and stepped out onto the terrace.
He silently made his way round the house to the back where the rose garden lay and walked across it and then through the arch at the end.
He found himself in a knot garden, laid out in the original Tudor lines, the low box hedges protecting the flower-beds.
The moon had gone behind the clouds and he could dimly make out a figure seated on a stone bench.