Madame Flirt
how the latter was to appear at the New Theatre. Mrs. Egleton, a dark
young woman somewhat pallid and with eyes which suggested that she had a
temper which she would be ready to show if put out, was languid and
patronising. Though it was past noon the lady had not long got out of
bed, and her dress was careless, her hair straggling, her complexion
sallow and the dark half circles beneath her eyes were significant of
nerve exhaustion. She had in fact the night before sat up late gaming,
dancing, eating, drinking--especially drinking--with a party of friends.
The time was to come when she and Lavinia would be closely associated,
but at that moment it was the last thing that entered into the heads of
either.
Mindful of her appointment Lavinia set out early. She had taken great
pains over her toilet and she looked very attractive. She had no need of
paint and powder. Excitement had brought a flush to her cheek. The
fluttering of her heart, the impatience at the lagging time were new
sensations. She had experienced nothing like this disturbing emotion
when she set out on a much more hazardous enterprise to meet Archibald
Dorrimore. The difference puzzled her but she did not trouble to seek
the reason. It did not occur to her that she was really and truly in
love with Lancelot Vane.
She had plenty of time to reach the trysting place, but to walk slowly
was impossible. Her nerves were in too much of a quiver. It hardly
wanted a half hour of seven o'clock when she entered upon the path,
leading from St. James's Palace to the pond.
Vane was not less desirous of being punctual than Lavinia, and he had
indeed arrived at Rosamond's Pond some five minutes before her. While he
was impatiently pacing by the side of the water and anxiously looking
along the path by which he expected she would come, a lady whose dress
was in the height of the mode and masked approached him. In those days a
mask did not necessarily imply mystery. A mask was worn to serve as a
veil and a woman with her features thus hidden did not excite more
attention than that of mere curiosity. Vane had noticed her turning her
face towards him as she passed, but thought nothing of it.
Suddenly she stopped, stepped back a pace and whispered softly:--
"Mr. Vane, is it not?"
"That is my name, madam."
"Ah, I hoped I was not mistaken. You don't remember me?"
"I beg your forgiveness if I say I do not."
"Nor a certain night not long ago when you were flying from a ruffianly
mob and you sought the shelter of my house? But may be you've a short
memory. Mine isn't so fleeting. Men's kisses are lightly bestowed. Women
are different. I shall never forget the tender touch of your lips."
She sighed, lifted her mask for a moment and replaced it. To Vane's
infinite confusion he recognised Sally Salisbury.
"Madam," he faltered, "I--I venture to suggest that you're under a
misapprehension. It was not I who kissed."
Sally drew herself up with a disdainful air. She had a fine figure and
she knew how to display it.
"What?" she cried. "Do you dare to deny your farewell embrace?"
"Madam--really I----"
He was more embarrassed than ever. It was untrue to say that he had
kissed her. The kisses were hers and hers alone, but it would be
ungallant to tell her so. He cursed the evil star which had chanced to
throw her against him at such a crisis. Lavinia might make her
appearance at any moment and what would she think?
But the stars had nothing to do with the matter, nor chance either. It
was a ruse, a worked out design between Sally and Rofflash to secure
Vane and spite Lavinia whom she hated more than enough.
Meanwhile Lavinia was drawing near. Mistress Salisbury had shifted her
position and had manoeuvred so as she could glance down the path to St.
James's Palace and perforce Vane had his back towards it. Sally's sharp
eyes caught sight of a figure which she shrewdly guessed was Lavinia's.
Preparing herself for a crowning piece of craft, Sally suddenly relaxed
her rigidity and inclined langorously towards Vane who had no
alternative save catching her. No sooner did she feel his arms than she
sank gracefully into them, her handkerchief to her eyes.
"Madam," stammered the troubled young man, "pray recollect yourself. I
protest----"
"Protest! Oh, how cruel--how hard hearted! I love you. Can you hear me
make such a confession and be unmoved? I throw myself at your feet."
"For God's sake, madam, don't do anything so foolish."
He could feel her slipping gradually to the ground and he could not but
hold her tighter, and so did exactly what she was angling for.
"It's Heaven to feel your embrace," she murmured. "Dear--dearest
Lancelot. Oh, if you only knew how I've longed and prayed we might meet!
I never thought to see you again, and here, without a moment's warning,
I'm face to face with you. Can you wonder I'm unable to control myself?
I know it's folly--weakness--anything you like to call it. I don't care.
I love you and that's all I know. Kiss me, Lancelot!"
The unhappy Vane was at his wits' end. The more he tried to release
himself the closer she clung to him. Who seeing them could doubt that
they were ardent lovers? Sally's last words were uttered in a tone of
reckless passion, partly stimulated, partly real. She had raised her
voice purposely. She knew its penetrating accents would reach the ears
for which the loving words were really intended. She saw Lavinia who was
hastening towards them stop suddenly, then her figure swayed slightly,
her head bent forward, and in a few moments there was hesitation.
Finally she wheeled round and fled.
Sally Salisbury had secured a complete victory so far as her rival was
concerned, but she had not won Lancelot Vane. She did not delude herself
into the belief that she had, but her triumph would come.
Vane succeeded in wrenching himself free, but not for some minutes. On
one excuse or another she detained him and it was only on his promising
to meet her the following night at Spring Gardens that he managed to
make his escape. It was too late. In vain he waited for Lavinia, but she
came not. He was plunged in the depths of disappointment.
"She never meant to keep her word," he muttered savagely and strode
along the path towards St. James's Palace, hoping against hope that he
might chance to meet her.
Lancelot Vane was not the only man in the park at that moment who was
angered at Lavinia's non-appearance. When Vane was trying to repel
Sally's embarrassing caresses a coach stopped on the western side of the
Park at the point nearest to Rosamond's Pond. The coach could have been
driven into the Park itself, but this could not be done without the
King's permission. Two men got out and walked rapidly to the pond.
"A quarter past seven," said one drawing his watch from his fob. "The
time of meeting, Rofflash, you say was seven."
"Aye, and they'll be punctual to the minute, I'll swear."
"Then we ought to find the turtle doves billing and cooing. A thousand
pities we couldn't get the coach nearer. Damn His Majesty King George,
say I."
"Talk under your breath, Mr. Dorrimore, if you must air your traitorous
speeches," whispered Rofflash. "You don't seem to know that what you've
been saying is little short of 'God save King James,' which is treason
in any case and doubly dyed treason when uttered in the Royal Park."
"Treason or not, I vow that if my coach were more handy it would help us
vastly. Carrying the girl a few yards were an easy matter and a squeal
or two of no consequence, but five hundred yards--pest take it."
"S'blood, sir, she's no great weight and with so precious a burden in
your arms 't'would be but a whet to appetite. Still, if you're unequal
to the task, pray command me. I'd take her and willing."
"That I'll swear you would. Wait till I call on you. What of that pair
by the pond? Curse it, but I believe they're our quarries. She has two
arms round his neck. The wanton baggage! And she once protested she
loved me! On to 'em, Rofflash. Engage the fellow while I handle the
wench. Eh?--Why--look ye there, captain. He's thrown her off. He's
going. A tiff I'll swear. What a piece of luck! She's by herself. Now's
our time. Bustle, damn you."
Rofflash made a show of bustling, but it was nothing but show. The
mature damsel from whom Vane had hurried was half a head taller than
Lavinia. He knew who she was perfectly well, for had he not plotted with
Sally Salisbury to meet Lancelot Vane, to the discomfiture of Lavinia
Fenton?
The crafty Rofflash had contrived to have two strings to his bow.
Dorrimore would pay him to help abduct Lavinia, and Sally would do the
same for his good offices concerning Vane. He had certainly succeeded in
the latter case, but as to Lavinia, the certainty was not so evident.
She was nowhere to be seen. Dorrimore, however, for the moment was under
the impression that the woman who was standing gazing at Vane's
retreating figure was Lavinia and it was not Rofflash's game to
undeceive him.
Dorrimore soon discovered his mistake.
"Sally Salisbury! The devil!"
Of course he recognised her. What fashionable profligate young or old
would not?
"Why Archie," rejoined the lady laughingly and making him a mocking
curtsey, "were you looking for me? Faith, I'm glad of it. A bottle of
Mountain port would be exactly to my taste."
"Was that your gallant who left you just now?"
"One of them," said Sally coolly.
Dorrimore turned angrily to Rofflash.
"What the devil does this mean? Have you tricked me?"
"I'll swear I haven't. If anybody's been playing tricks it's that crazy
cat Sally," returned Rofflash in a low voice. "Your bird can't have
flown very far. Her man was here, you see. Let's follow him. We're bound
to light upon them together."
The suggestion was as good as any other. Dorrimore refreshed himself
with a string of the latest oaths in fashion and set off with the
scheming captain, leaving Sally somewhat provoked. She had had many a
guinea from Dorrimore, and was in the mood to get more now that her
spite against Lavinia was gratified.
The two men raced off at the double, Dorrimore's rage increasing the
further he went. It looked as if his plan to kidnap Lavinia had broken
down. The idea had been to waylay her before she joined Vane. As the
thing was turning out, she promised, when found, to be at so great a
distance from the coach that to convey her there would be difficult.
Before long they hove in sight of Lancelot Vane. He too was hurrying
and looking right and left as he went. And he was alone.
"The girl's fooled him," muttered Dorrimore between his set teeth. "That
wouldn't matter a tinker's curse, but she's fooled us as well. Rofflash,
I've a mind to pick a quarrel with the fellow and pink him."
"And get yourself landed in Newgate. Don't you know, sir, it's against
the law to draw a sword in the Park? If you're going to be so mad, I'll
say good evening. I'll have nought to do with such folly. We'll find
some other way to lay the spark by the heels and have the girl as well.
My advice is not to show yourself or you'll put him on his guard."
Dorrimore, whose head was not particularly strong, had had a couple of
bottles with his dinner to give him spirit for the enterprise, and he
allowed himself to be persuaded. He and Rofflash betook themselves to
the coach which landed them at a tavern in St. James's Street, where
Dorrimore drank and drank until he fell under the table and was carried
out by a couple of waiters, put in a hackney coach and conveyed to his
chambers in the Temple.
Rofflash left his patron at the tavern long before this period arrived.
He was on the search for Mistress Salisbury and knowing her haunts
pretty well, he ran her to earth at a house of questionable repute in