Chapter Eleven
Lord Chester sat still as a statue. Annie was here. At the door. Rustin ran into the drawing room. “My lord, I told her she could not come inside, I told her she must go.”
“Oh he told me all right,” Annie said, coming in behind the butler. “I showed him the letter and everything. I was properly invited to meet the viscount and viscountess. He thinks he knows better. Tell him, Rufus.”
“Ah…”
At that moment, Annie seemed to notice that there were two sets of middle-aged people in the room rather than the expected one set. And a younger lady at the pianoforte. She homed in on Lady Beatrix. “Who are you?”
Lady Beatrix looked as if she’d seen a specter. “Lady Beatrix Bell,” she said in a whisper.
“Rufus?” Annie asked, turning on him.
He leapt to his feet. “Madam, allow me to walk you out. We can have a word outside.”
“What?” Annie said.
“Outside,” he said, looking meaningfully at her.
“What was this about, then?” Annie said, waving a sheet of paper. “Why did you write that I was to come? Why did you say, written right here, that your mother and father longed to meet me?”
“There has been some misunderstanding,” Lord Chester said, desperate to get her out of the house. The mother and father in question were white as new snow.
Had the dowager done this? Why? If she was so keen that he impress Lady Beatrix, why on earth had she chosen this moment to reveal Annie Wister?
He grabbed Annie by the arm and pushed her toward the door.
“You never make up your mind!” she wailed, throwing the paper in her hand on the drawing room floor.
He paused for just a moment, undecided if he should dive for the paper or get Annie out. He decided he’d better get Annie out. He did not know what was in that letter, but he had to get her out. He did not know what he would tell his mother and father, but right now he had to get Annie out.
He propelled her to the door as she screamed, “He loves me. Did he tell you that? He loves me!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Corbyn had gone to the Kelgoody’s rout, but he had not stayed.
It was too hot and too crowded, which was no surprise.
At times, a rout was just the thing, but knowing Lady Beatrix would not be there, and knowing she was just now a few doors down from his own house for a musical evening at Lord Chester’s house, had lured him back to Portland Place.
He thought he might read a book by his window and at least see her leaving.
Corbyn had just reined his horse in when he saw an extraordinary sight.
Outside of Lord Chester’s house, that gentleman was wrestling a lady toward a carriage.
That lady was screaming profanities and slapping him about the head.
That lady, if Corbyn was not mistaken, was Lord Chester’s actress.
He’d seen her coming and going before his family had arrived. It was definitely her.
Lord Chester’s butler stood in the doorframe, aghast.
“Who is she?” the woman screamed. “Who is that woman inside?”
“Annie, do hear sense,” Lord Chester said. “I do not know who sent that letter, it was not I. The lady in there is just a family friend.”
Good Lord, had Lady Beatrix been exposed to this scene? Corbyn dismounted and handed over the reins to one of his grooms.
“I won’t be strung along, Rufus! I’ll tear her hair out!”
Annie broke free of Lord Chester and he slipped and fell to the ground. She bolted back toward the door.
Corbyn raced down the pavement and caught her just as she reached the stunned butler.
She reeked of spirits and he was sure she was in her cups.
In a bear hug, he marched her toward her waiting carriage.
In her ear he said, “Madam, I can assure you that if you harmed one hair on Lady Beatrix’s head I would make your life not worth living. ”
That threat seemed to get her attention. She gave up shouting and took to sobbing instead.
Corbyn saw doors and curtains opening up and down the street. Portland Place was so quiet that any sort of uproar on the street would not be ignored. It was not like a square, where some drunken young lords might pass through, singing or shouting on their way home.
Whatever had gone on here, the immediate neighborhood had witnessed it.
Corbyn called to the hackney driver. “Open the door and take this lady home. I’ll pay you double to see that she gets home.”
Lord Chester scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off. “I’ll pay the man,” he said brusquely.
Lord Copperstone’s carriage trotted out of the mews. Corbyn did not know what had transpired inside the house, but a footman must have been sent to the stables to arrange the family’s immediate departure.
Corbyn jogged to the doorway and said to the butler, “Do not allow Lord Copperstone and his family to depart until that woman is well on her way. I do not want any sort of encounter.”
“Nor I, my lord.” The butler turned and set off to do his bidding.
Between the hackney driver and Lord Chester, Annie was finally got into the carriage.
As Portland Place did not lead anywhere at the end of the street, the driver had to turn the carriage around.
As he drove past, Annie hung out the window.
“Marry me or I will go to Lord Canavan. He’s begged me to leave you! ”
Corbyn pressed his lips together. He did not suppose Lord Canavan would thank her for advertising his interest. What a shambles, and Lady Beatrix stuck in the middle of it.
The word would be out all over Town by first light—Lord Chester had invited an actress to the house, Lady Beatrix and her mother and father had attended.
There had been some sort of fight on the street.
Finally, Annie’s carriage turned a corner. Lord Chester, who might have been thankful that Corbyn had assisted him in managing this shameful scene, or might have at least rushed into the house to check on Lady Beatrix, did neither. He marched away to Lord Foley’s gardens at the end of the street.
The butler poked his head out and looked up and down the avenue to assure himself that the actress was gone. Then he disappeared for a moment.
The earl and countess brought out Lady Beatrix, who looked exceedingly shaken. She seemed even more shaken to see him standing there.
“Lord Harrelston?” she said.
“I was just coming home and stopped to…assist.”
“Oh I see,” she whispered.
Corbyn tipped his hat. “I will not keep you.”
The earl led his daughter forward. They got into their carriage in all haste. Corbyn watched as the coachman turned the horses. He attempted to catch Lady Beatrix’s eye so he might wave but she was looking down at her hands.
He’d seen enough of what had occurred outside of the house. He could not fathom what had happened inside of it. As far as he could gather, Lord Chester’s light o’ love had decided to pay an unexpected visit to him.
Lady Beatrix must be terribly shaken.
As for himself, this was not the first drunk actress he’d laid eyes on.
Only last year, Meggy Stillwell attempted to get into White’s as Lord Jeffries had stopped paying her landlord.
However, that had taken place after two o’clock in the morning and the streets had been relatively empty.
All of Portland Place had witnessed this particular set-to.
The gossip would fly like sparks from a blaze, setting fire to all of London.
Lord Chester should be whipped to have allowed Lady Beatrix to be exposed to it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Beatrix had got a glimpse into something she should not have seen.
Lord Chester had consorted with a woman who…
well she did not know who she was, exactly.
She’d never thought a lady would have the temerity to arrive to a house uninvited, shout that she loved a gentleman and that he loved her, and then have to be dragged out to the street.
The lady, Miss Annie somebody, had been very well dressed.
But Beatrix was relatively sure she had also been very drunk.
There had been something in her tone and her eyes glittered as if over excited and she had stumbled.
As far as she could put it together, the lady had received a letter.
The letter had told her to come to be introduced to the viscount and viscountess.
After Lord Chester had pulled her out of the house, and between the shouting coming in from the street, Beatrix had heard the dowager say something about an actress. Why would Lord Chester have an actress turning up at his house, quite by surprise? Why would the actress claim they were in love?
Her father had sent a footman to call for their carriage.
The earl did not have the first idea of what went on, but he was gracious about it and told the viscount they would give them their privacy to deal with this personal matter.
Then they’d been ready to go and the butler had held them back until Miss Wister, he’d called her Miss Wister, had departed the street.
When the butler had stepped aside, they did not find Lord Chester outside, but rather Lord Harrelston.
It was very confusing. Had he heard the ruckus and come out of doors?
But then he had his hat, so perhaps he was just coming home.
She assumed Lord Chester must have left with the actress, as she could not imagine where else he could have gone.
Beatrix had got into the carriage feeling as if she might be in some sort of stunned condition. Everything had happened so fast and been so unexpected. She could hardly take it in.
They had blessedly got back to the house with very little said in the carriage. The countess had periodically sniffed into her handkerchief while the earl patted her hand.
Going inside, Beatrix could almost think Mr. Feldstaffer had witnessed the surprises of the night himself. He was very pale and his eyes seemed wide. As the countess hurriedly whispered to Miss Sprite, Mr. Feldstaffer had looked as if he might fall over.