“Scared? Of course I’m not scared. Why should I be?”
“You may have your reasons. Do you know, I am beginning to wonder if you should not have come as Cinderella. She was the lady who had to leave the ball before midnight, wasn’t she?”
I laughed, but I did not think my laughter was very convincing. Now I had to concern myself with planning my retreat, which was not going to be easy, for he was going to be very watchful.
“Let us dance,” he said. “Shall we go down to the garden?”
“No,” I said firmly, deciding it would be easier to escape from the crowded salon than from the garden.
There was a big clock in the salon. It had been decorated with flowers and put there for the occasion. It struck the hours and I could imagine the scene when it came to twelve.
It was now half-past eleven.
I looked about. I could see nothing of Olivia. Was she equally nervous? We danced. The hand was slowly creeping up. Twenty minutes to go. At ten minutes to twelve Thomas would be there waiting. I had to find Olivia if I could. She would certainly be there—perhaps she was crouching in the porch waiting for me already.
A quarter to.
I dared not wait any longer.
“I need a drink,” I said. “Could you get me a glass of champagne?”
“Are you bracing yourself for the revelation?” he asked.
“Perhaps. But please do get it for me.”
“Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”
The bar was in a corner of the salon. I had to be quick. I hurried through the crowd … down the staircase to the hall. The door was open and Olivia was in the porch.
“I thought you were never coming,” she whispered.
“It was difficult to get away.”
“Thomas is already there. Here.”
We ran. Thomas was opening the door of the carriage and we got in.
“All present and correct?” he said, laughing.
We started up. I lay back in the seat—relieved, yet deflated because it was now all over.
“What was it like?” asked Olivia.
“Wonderful. What did you think?”
“I’m glad it’s over.”
“Did you dance much?”
“Quite a bit.”
I said: “The salmon was delicious and the champagne …”
“You didn’t drink too much, did you?” she asked anxiously.
“What is too much? I only know that I felt light-headed and very excited and that it was the most wonderful evening of my life.”
“Here we are, ladies,” said Thomas.
Olivia said: “You’ll be all right. Rosie will be waiting to let you in at the back door.”
“It’s all arranged,” I replied. “Perfect strategy. This is an example of expert organization. It went without a hitch, I think, though I was pursued by a very inquisitive gentleman.”
“It’s not over yet,” warned Olivia. “I shall be on tenterhooks until you are out of the costume.”
Thomas alighted and went up the stairs to ring the bell.
The door opened and Olivia went in.
“Now we’re off,” he said.
In a few minutes we were at the mews and I was running across to the back door.
I stood in the shadows, waiting for Rosie. I waited. Nothing happened. Surely she would have come straightaway to let me in. That had been the plan. I began to feel cold, then a little anxious. What had gone wrong? Where was Rosie? What could I do, locked out of doors, dressed in this absurd costume?
Suddenly the door opened. But it was not Rosie who stood there. It was Olivia.
“I couldn’t get away before,” she whispered.
“Why? Where’s Rosie?”
“Come in quickly. I’ll have to make sure no one sees you.”
We made our perilous way to our bedroom. Olivia would not speak until we were there. She was pale and trembling.
“Something happened. Rosie isn’t here.”
“Where is she then?”
“I don’t know. One of the servants let me in. She didn’t know where Rosie was, so I had to come and open the door for you.”
“It’s most unlike Rosie to let us down.”
“I can’t understand it. She was so interested. Never mind. We’ll hear in time. You’d better get out of those things quickly. I shan’t feel safe until you do.”
It was an anticlimax to a wonderful evening. What had happened to Rosie? She had always seemed an unusual person. No one would have suspected she was a domestic servant when she went off on her evenings. There had always been a fear at the back of my mind that one day Rosie would leave us. I knew that several of the menservants eyed her with relish. She would marry, I was certain. Indeed I wondered sometimes if she had not done so already. There was a brooding speculation about her. Secrets in her eyes, little spurts of laughter—most of all when she came back from her evenings off.
There was nothing to do now but undress quickly. How sadly deflated I felt shorn of my royal garments. I was no longer an exciting woman, hiding behind a mask. I was myself—a girl, not yet “out,” insignificant, far removed from that fascinating woman I had believed myself to be a few hours before.
That man had fostered my belief. Rupert of the Rhine! I laughed to myself. I wondered who he was. Surely I should soon be brought out into society. I was only just turned seventeen, but it was time, as everyone said.
I slept little that night.
In the morning there was a certain tension in the household. I learned from one of the maids that Rosie had gone.
“Gone!” I cried. “Gone where?”
“That’s what we don’t know, Miss Caroline.”
“Didn’t she come home last night?”
“Well, Mrs. Terras said she did come in. She was the only one who saw her. She’s gone now though.”
“Gone without saying goodbye.”
“Looks like it. Her things has all gone … all her lovely clothes.” * It was incredible.
I was so taken aback that I tried to question Miss Bell. I doubt whether she would have told us had she known, but it was obvious that she was as much in the dark as the rest of us.
Our father had not gone to the bank that morning. The carriage had come round and been sent away. He was in his study—not to be disturbed.
There was a strange atmosphere throughout the house. But perhaps I imagined that as I was so sad because Rosie had gone.
I was in the schoolroom reading with Miss Bell—Olivia had come in and sat with us as she sometimes did—when there was a knock on the door and one of the servants entered holding a dozen red roses.
“They’ve just been delivered, Miss,” she said.
Miss Bell rose. She read: “For Miss Tressidor.” Then: “Oh, Olivia. For you.”
Olivia flushed and took the roses.
I said: “They’re lovely.” Then I saw the card attached. Written on it was: “Thank you. Rupert of the Rhine.”
I turned away. I thought: He knew who I was. And he has sent the flowers for me.
Olivia was looking puzzled.
Miss Bell smiled. “Obviously one of the gentlemen at the ball,” she said.
“Rupert of the Rhine …” began Olivia.
She looked at me.
“Rupert of the Rhine,” went on Miss Bell. “He would have been in some sort of armour, I suppose. Rather difficult to achieve.”
“There was no one in armour.”
“It was evidently someone who noticed you,” said Miss Bell.
The maid was hovering. “Shall I put them in water, Miss Olivia?”
“Yes,” said Olivia. “Please do.”
I could not concentrate after that.
Miss Bell said: “You are reading very badly this morning, Caroline.”
Olivia did not mention the flowers to me. I suppose it did not occur to her that anyone would have known that I was at the bail. I tried to figure out how Rupert knew.
While Olivia and I were taking tea with Miss Bell in the small sitting room which was used for such occasions, one of the maids came in to announce that Mr. Jeremy Brandon had called. Miss Bell looked at Olivia, who flushed a little. It was quite in order for young men who were interested in young women to call discreetly at the house and see the object of their interest in the company of a chaperone.