Chapter 45
By the time Gervaise returned to their rooms to dress, Caroline was nowhere to be found. On finding the cats shut in the sitting room and two empty wineglasses on the table, he guessed either Effie or Violet had helped her to dress and then accompanied her down to the grand opening.
He took his time washing and selected his cream waistcoat and black tailed coat with customary care.
By the time he had pinned on his watch chain and pocketed his cigarette case, it was already half past six.
They were throwing open their doors at seven, though the gambling club itself would not open until ten o’clock.
Gervaise proceeded downstairs. It was already noisy in the bar area, what with Barty Ewell’s crowd, Ralph’s cronies, and the swelling ranks of their own staff.
“Ah, there you are, Gervaise,” Ralph cried. “And just in time, for I was just about to propose a toast to our venture before the masses arrive!” He topped up the last of the glasses with champagne and passed them around liberally.
“To our success!” he cried to a chorus of hurrahs, but instead of raising his glass, Gervaise rapidly lowered it. He caught his breath, catching sight of a vision in scarlet adopting a bold pose before the Maenad painting, hand on hip.
Caroline. She looked magnificent, as glittery eyed and flushed as she did in the portrait.
“See, I told you it was ’er!” a woman’s voice rose triumphantly. “That’s two bob you owe me, Clarence Brent!”
Gervaise set down his glass and headed in their direction, a steely glint in his eye.
“Yes,” Caroline assured an ogling Clarence. “It is me. Those are my cats too, pulling the chariot.”
“Blimey!” Clarence said. “I wouldn’t want one cat that size, let alone two! Reckon they would eat me!”
Caroline laughed, then started to explain. “Well, actually—” At this point she noticed Gervaise glowering down at her. “Oh, there you are, Gervaise.”
“Yes, here I am,” he said grimly. “If you will excuse us,” he said to Clarence and his friends and whisked her away before they could object.
A few disappointed groans still followed them.
“I thought we discussed the inevitable repercussions of you wearing that dress unaccompanied?” he said tightly.
“Did we?”
“Me having to defend your honor,” he reminded her.
“Oh, that.” She glanced down at the scarlet silk encasing her flaunting bosom. “Well, you did say it was for the grand opening.”
He could make no reply to this, for he had said that. “Give me that bracelet,” he said holding out a hand.
“Why?”
“Because it was a mistake on my behalf.”
She lifted her chin. “How so?”
“You look like a goddess in that dress,” he said tersely. “The bracelet is cheap and tawdry and I hate to see it on you.”
“Vi really likes it.”
“Then Vi may have it. You can give it to her tomorrow.” She unfastened it and handed it over, and he slipped it into his pocket with a muttered “Thank you.” He took a deep breath. Now the discordant note was gone, he should be able to relax, yet still he felt poised on a cliff’s edge.
They stood side by side surveying The Citadel lit up for its public debut, its polished fixtures glittering under the extravagant gas lamps.
Gervaise’s breath was coming quick and fast. He was heading for a fall, he could feel it.
Disaster was looming and about to break over him in a devastating wave.
Perhaps he ought not to drink tonight to keep his wits about him. But he had a fatalistic feeling that any preventative measures he took would be in vain. The die had already been cast.
“Does it not look wonderful?” Caroline asked quietly.
“I don’t know, does it?”
She turned to him in surprise. “You don’t know?”
“I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything but you in that dress,” he admitted before he could stop himself.
She hesitated. “Yet you have scarcely looked at me.”
“It almost hurts to look at you,” he said flatly. In his head he added, It hurts because you are not mine. He felt almost sick with the realization. He wasn’t heading for a fall. He had fallen already.
She opened her mouth on some reply, but at this point Ralph clambered onto a chair and declared in ringing tones that the establishment was now officially open. Gervaise pulled out his cigarette case as Caroline politely clapped. Jeb made his way over to the entrance and drew back the bolt.
Outside the bowed windows, there was a queue forming, even this early in the evening. “Throw open the doors!” Barty Ewell shouted and the barmaids scurried into position. It was going to be a busy night.
*
Caroline fanned herself with her hand. She felt hot despite the icy bursts of cold that kept drifting through the open double doors. The Citadel was packed to the rafters with paying customers.
It must be getting on for eleven o’clock by now.
Gervaise had disappeared upstairs with Ralph and Mr. Ewell about half an hour ago, taking a select few patrons up to their gambling room.
Reg had been dogging Caroline’s every step since that point like a faithful hound.
She suspected Gervaise had set him on her.
For a while she had sat with some friends of Barty Ewell’s, the prominent actress Dora Dabney and her handsome husband, and a flamboyant couple named Jones.
Mr. Jones proclaimed the gambling room was “too rich for his blood” and that he would sooner play billiards.
Miss Dabney eagerly exclaimed she had always wanted to learn, and all four of them made off in that direction to play a mixed couples match.
Caroline turned to Reg. “Well, I think it’s high time I retired…
” she began when her eye was drawn to the spectacle of two newcomers stood swathed in great coats and mufflers and sticking out like two sore thumbs amid all the gaiety.
The taller of the two reached up to drag down his knitted scarf and reveal his face.
“Edgar!” Caroline blurted in shock, realizing it was none other than her brother. “What in heavens has brought you here?”
“Caro?” her brother said in a choked voice. “Is that…really you?”
She was distracted from replying by the sight of the other man stepping forward. You could not mistake that handsome face beneath the burnished gold of his hair. “Lord Faris!” she blurted in surprise. What was he doing here?
“Miss Halperston,” he responded after a moment’s hesitation. He eyed her ringless hand for one awful moment and a certain rigidity entered his bearing. He glanced around before asking carefully, “Am I correct in assuming Gervaise is somewhere in the vicinity?”
“Er…yes,” Caroline agreed, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise up in warning.
This was not good. She lifted her chin and attempted to brazen it out.
“He is currently employed in a new business venture and I’m afraid you cannot see him.
” She felt her color rise under Lord Faris’s continued scrutiny.
“Where is he?” he asked quietly.
Caroline swallowed. “Upstairs.” He nodded and turned curtly on his heel, stalking off.
She had no doubt that he would swiftly gain admittance to the private gambling rooms. Oh dear.
He wasn’t going to challenge Gervaise to a duel, was he?
No, she was being foolish. Lord Faris was not responsible for her well-being.
That dubious honor fell to… She turned to her brother, who was still regarding her open-mouthed.
“Edgar,” she said unhappily. “What could have possessed you to come here?”
“Well,” he spluttered, “is it so surprising that your family should pursue you London?” His voice was hoarsely indignant, but he kept it low enough that none should overhear him. “I must say, I thought this all a mare’s nest of Faris’s. I scarcely credited it, but now I find…”
His disbelieving gaze swept over her ill-gotten finery. He swallowed, his gaze sweeping wider to take in the full spectacle of their surroundings. Caroline tried to imagine how it must appear through Edgar’s eyes, perhaps a little gaudy, garish even. “My God,” he whispered. “Is that you?”
Caroline turned her head and realized he was staring at the large painting of the maenad lolling in her chariot with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is. Rather good, isn’t it?”
“Good?” Edgar repeated blankly. “Caro…” He shook his head in disbelief.
She tutted. “You look almost blue with cold, Edgar. Did you come to town on the stagecoach? Were you forced to sit in a draught the whole way?”
When Edgar continued to regard her speechlessly, Reg cleared his throat, letting his presence be known. “Miss Caroline? Anything I can do for you?”
“Thank you, Reg, my brother requires a snifter of brandy. Would you be an angel and fetch him one from the bar? It would be a great kindness. I fear he will catch a chill if he does not warm up soon.”
Reg drew himself up and Caroline realized he was about to refuse to leave her side. At that moment, Caroline heard a door slam shut and turned her head to see Gervaise stride into the bar, Lord Faris in tow. Inexplicably, she felt herself relax as he walked toward her.
“Needham,” he said shortly, nodding at her brother, but otherwise ignoring Edgar, who had turned an unbecoming shade of red. Gervaise laid a propriety hand on Caroline’s bare shoulder. “Do not stir a step from this bar until I say so,” he said softly. “Am I understood?”
“Oh, perfectly,” she responded, laying her own hand on top of his. She thought his expression turned a little less grim.
“Good. I am going to sit over there and talk a moment with Jeremy, but I want you to remain in my sight at all times.”
She nodded, and he and Lord Faris moved to a quiet corner near the bar. Caroline turned back to Reg, who also looked greatly relieved by this turn of events. “Reg?”
“Yes, miss,” he relented. “I’ll go and fetch you that brandy.” He shot a suspicious look in Edgar’s direction. “I’ll only be one minute,” he added heavily. Edgar’s eyes widened with alarm.