“How is the ankle?” she asked.
I had forgotten it. I could think of nothing but this fearful thing which was looming up over me.
“I scarcely feel it,” I answered.
“I thought it must be painful. You were so quiet this evening.”
“Well, perhaps I felt a little … shut out.”
“Shut out! What do you mean?”
“You have apparently been seeing a great deal of that man while I have been incapacitated.”
“Oh, we have met once or twice. He always seemed to be where we were.”
“By arrangement?” I asked.
She flushed a little.
“Oh, come,” I said, “he knew we were going to be at the theatre this evening.”
“I told him we were going. Why shouldn’t I? It was no secret.”
“You seem to be on very good terms with him.”
“Why not? He is so kind. And is he not amusing? I think he is the handsomest man I ever saw.”
“You mean among the old men of your acquaintance?”
“Old? Oh, one never thinks of age in connection with Beau.”
Oh, God help me, I prayed, it has gone further than I thought.
“He is so much more interesting than young men,” said Carlotta. “He has the experience of the world which they lack.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Why have you taken against him! He was so kind to you in the Exchange. I think you’re rather ungrateful.”
“So you have seen him more than once or twice when you have been out with Harriet?”
“Yes … a few times …”
“And have you ever seen him when you have been alone?”
She turned to me almost angrily. “When have I been allowed out alone? You all seem to think I’m a baby. Well, I’m not. And I don’t intend to be treated like one.”
I felt desperately uneasy. It was worse than I had thought.
I had to see him alone. I had to discover what he was planning, for that he was planning something seemed obvious to me.
Carlotta! Could it really be that he was leading her into seduction? What had he said? He had a passion for young virgins. He was cynical in the extreme, I knew. Oh, yes, he was planning something. I could sense that. There was an air of triumph about him when he looked at me. He would be remembering that night when he had forced me to submit to his will, when he had humiliated me beyond endurance. If there had not been so much at stake I should never have agreed to such a bargain.
I imagined that his life had been full of adventures such as that. He would revel in this. It was his nature to wish to subdue people mentally and physically. He was proud, arrogant, vain and cruel. He saw himself as the only person of any importance in the whole world. His desires must be granted and if he had to contrive to achieve that end, he was only too pleased to do so. Intrigue was the breath of life to him. There had been one time when he had lost and he bore the scars to remind him.
Oh, God help me, I prayed. If he attempts to ruin Carlotta’s life there will be a second time. I will do anything … anything rather than that shall happen.
I thought I would first speak to Harriet and see what she had to say. She was a woman of the world. She must have some idea of his intentions.
It was midmorning. She was not yet up but was in bed sipping a dish of chocolate which one of the maids had brought to her.
“Priscilla!” she cried. “So early! And skipping around like a young lamb. That’s a good sign, I’ll warrant. The ankle is behaving in that seemly manner which all good ankles should.”
She was clearly in a good mood and was just about to launch into a comment on the Wycherley play when I said: “I’m worried about Carlotta.”
“Worried! Why, the child is having a wonderful time. And what a little beauty, eh?”
“It’s this man … Beaumont Granville.”
“What a charmer! He has enlightened the days, I’ll admit.”
“How much has he been seeing of Carlotta?”
“Oh, it is Carlotta, is it?”
“Harriet, you don’t seem to understand what sort of man we are dealing with. Yet you know what happened in Venice.”
“My dear Priscilla, as I have said before, that was all those years ago. Most of us have adventures in our youth which might be considered shocking. We grow out of them and if we are wise we forget them.”
“Carlotta is still in the schoolroom. I don’t want her to see this man. He is old … old in years and old in iniquity. I want her removed from him.”
“She adores him. It is amusing the way in which her eyes light up at the sight of him.”
“It doesn’t amuse me.”
“Of late it has become increasingly hard to amuse you. Don’t grow old before your time, Priscilla.”
“I’m worried about Carlotta and that man. I want to go back home. She is my daughter and I want you to help me as you did before.”
“Of course I’ll help you. But really, Priscilla, you are like one of those fearsome Puritans. It’s good for Carlotta to have this little flutter. It is preparing her for life.”
“I don’t want that man to have a hand in the preparations. He’s dangerous. I don’t like him.”
“You’ve made that obvious.”
“I thought you wanted her to have Benjie.”
“Of course, she’s going to have Benjie, but she has to grow up a little more. Stop fretting, Priscilla. Everything will be all right.”
I could see that I should get little help from Harriet, but something would have to be done. What?
An impulse came to me. I had to discover what his plans regarding Carlotta were, and I had an idea that he might tell me, out of bravado. He was so sure of himself and already he was weaning her from me. I had always been impulsive, and no sooner had the idea occurred to me that I must talk to him than I began making my preparations to do so.
I left Harriet, and within an hour had put on my cloak and hood and was walking the short distance between our houses.
I was admitted by one of the servants I had seen the previous night. He showed no surprise at the sight of me. I supposed he was accustomed to women calling on his master.
I was shown into a small room leading from the hall and asked to wait.
He came almost immediately—exquisitely dressed as ever—his square-cut, mulberry-coloured velvet coat open to show his very fine waistcoat; his knee-length breeches were of the same shade of mulberry; his shoes had high red heels, which made him taller than he actually was; and he carried a jewelled snuffbox in his hand. I don’t know why I should have noticed his clothes at such a time, but the manner in which he wore them always made one notice. He was one of the leaders of fashion and well known for it throughout Court circles.
He bowed, holding the snuffbox in his left hand, and taking my hand in his right, kissed it. I shrank visibly.
“What a pleasure!” he murmured. “Once you came to visit me in Dorchester. Now you come to London … of your own ardent wish in both cases.”
“I have come to talk to you,” I said.
“Dear lady, I had not the temerity to imagine that you had come for any other reason this time.”
“What is your object in making yourself so agreeable to my family?”
“I am always agreeable,” he answered, “and my object is to extract as much enjoyment from life as it will offer.”
“And what does this particular enjoyment involve?”
“Pray be seated.” He laid the snuffbox on the table, and brought out a gilded chair for me. He sat on another close to the table. “It is a very interesting situation,” he went on. “It is all very clear to me. So the delightful Carlotta is the result of that peccadillo of yours. A most delightful result, I must say. And her father was Jocelyn Frinton. That is most interesting. Poor fellow, came to a bad end through that low-born monster, Titus Oates. But not before he gave us this delightful creature.”