Annabelle was instantly on her feet. The Earl took one look at her, and an expression of utter confusion swept his face.
"What are
you
doing here?
"
he asked, swaying alarmingly.
"I
live
here,
"
she retorted.
Several of the gentlemen went to remonstrate with the Earl. Lord Temple
'
s voice carried above the others.
"
Really,
Dalmar, this is the outside of enough!
"
he said. "You should be ashamed to expose the ladies to behavior unbecoming in a gentleman.
"
Dalmar frowned. "What ladies? Oh,
these
ladies.
"
His glazed eyes tried to focus on the squirming, giggling girls in his arms. "What are you doing here?
"
he asked them in some perplexity. "I thought I left you at Mother Finch
'
s.
"
"Oh la, sir,
"
said one, "aren
'
t you the funny one? You paid us a golden guinea to come to your hou
se where we could show you…"
"Wrong house!
"
roared Dalmar, a sudden sense of the awful reality piercing his drunken stupor.
He bowed with as much dignity as he could manage. "M
'
apologies, Mrs. Jocelyn,
"
he mumbled. "Ladies, gentlemen,
"
and he retreated with more celerity than one would have expected to see in a man in his sodden condition.
Annabelle directed a look of utter appeal at Murray, her friend and fellow publisher. He came to her at once.
"Someone should see that he gets home safely,
"
she said in an anguished undertone.
"Leave it to me,
"
he said, and went after the Earl.
From the raised voices and ensuing mayhem which erupted in the foyer, it was evident that Dalmar had taken the notion that Murray mean to deprive him of his spoils. Annabelle did not wait to hear the outcome.
Gesturing to a maid to close the doors to her literary salon, she said, "Do go on, Cameron. You were coming to the interesting part, I believe, where our hero contemplates the efficacy of suicide.
"
Annabelle was known to possess a certain sangfroid which some said was the equal of Wellington
'
s. But this display, as one wag was heard to say in an aside, should have the Duke looking to his laurels.
Staring into the middle distance,
the poet began, "Forsooth…
"
A loud bang followed by a shrill scream issued from the other side of the closed doors.
"What fair or foul…
"
supplied Annabelle helpfully. Not even the ghost of a frown wrinkled her smooth brow.
"Eh? Oh, of course,
"
said the poet, looking at Annabelle doubtfully. She nodded her encouragement. Poetlike, he gazed steadfastly at the ceiling, as if willing it to inspire him. In slow,
measured tones, he droned out the canto which was, so he humbly confessed, the quintessence of his philosophy.
"
Forsooth, what fair or foul wind finds
…
"
The sudden crack of a pistol shot split the air. Everyone froze. Annabelle rose gracefully to her feet.
"
Supper is just about to be served,
"
she said. "Will you excuse me? I think I heard the signal which tells me
I'm
wanted in the dining room. Do go on, Cameron.
"
"
Forsooth, what fair or foul wind finds The deities themselves shall ne
'
er forf end.
"
"Quite candidly, it
'
s your best yet.
"
"And that
'
s honesty with a vengeance, if ever I heard it,
"
said Thomas Longman, the younger, to his neighbor from behind his hand.
Thus encouraged by his mentor, the poet, preening a little, began over. But as soon as their hostess had quitted the room, her guests were on their feet like a shot, and the excited hum of their conversation quite drowned out the drone of the unfortunate poet
'
s voice.
In the foyer, Annabelle found Dalmar rolling on the floor with Murray and three footmen kneeling over him. The front door stood open. Of the two buxom red-haired wenches there was nary a sign.
"Oh my God, is he dead?
"
she cried out, and rushed to the Earl
'
s side.
He grabbed her hand and held it to his cheek. "Annabelle,
"
he repeated over and over, "Annabelle.
"
"He damn near killed me,
"
said Murray. "How could he even
think
I would wish to take one of those doxies off his hands? I am more discriminating than he, begging your pardon, Annabelle.
"
"Where is the wound?
"
asked Annabelle.
"In the ceiling,
"
replied Murray testily. "His lordship is merely suffering the effects of an overindulgence of every vice known to mankind.
"
"Known to
gentlemen!
"
corrected Annabelle, not bothering to hide her rancor. "I
'
ll send for a hackney.
"
"Don
'
t trouble. There
'
s one at the door.
"
With the help of two footmen, Murray assisted Dalmar from
the house. On the front steps the Earl seemed to catch his second wind. At the top of his lungs, he bawled out the lusty words of some half forgotten refrain, improvising handily when memory failed. Appalled, Annabelle shut the front door firmly behind him.
When Henrietta and Bertie arrived home from a very gay card party at Lady Diana
'
s (literary soirees were not their cup of tea), they found Annabelle at the top of a stepladder examining a large hole in the plaster ceiling.
"Was it a memorable party?
"
asked Henrietta, eyeing the ceiling with some misgiving.
Her careless words opened the sluice gates. At first, there was a trickle. And then came the deluge.
More anxious than they cared to admit, the ladies helped the weeping girl from her perch and hurried her to the small upstairs sitting room where they were sure of finding the secret supply of "medicinal
"
brandy. After much hunting for glasses, they made do with three demitasse cups.
When Annabelle had finally choked out the course of events of "one of the worst nights of my life,
"
the ladies sipped their demitasse brandies in companionable silence.
"Men!
"
observed Henrietta finally.
That one word expressed exactly the sum total of all the exasperation they were feeling on a subject which was by and large an enigma to them.
"When do you go to Paris?
"
asked Bertie.
"Not for another week or so, when Albert returns.
"
"Look, why not pop off sooner, say tomorrow or the next day?
"
"No,
"
responded Annabelle. "It
'
s impossible. I have a mountain of correspondence to catch up. There must be twenty manuscripts on my desk, some from regular contributors, which I simply must read. If Albert were here, it could be done. But we
'
re at a critical stage right now. Albert must remain at his post until the goods
are delivered and distributed."
Henrietta and Bertie exchanged glances over Annabelle
'
s bowed head.
"She
'
s got to get away from here,
"
mouthed Henrietta silently.
Bertie nodded. "Look,
"
she said, "haven
'
t I lent you a hand before? Couldn
'
t I
take over for a week or so till Albert arrives? It wouldn
'
t be the first time I
'
d read manuscripts for you. Or perhaps you found my work unsatisfactory, and don
'
t like to
—"
"
'
Tisn
'
t that,
"
protested Annabelle. "You know I trust your judgment im
plicitly. But I had thought…
dash it all, Bertie
…
you are my companion. I had hoped that we could go to Paris together.
"
"Paris,
"
murmured Henrietta. "I wanted to spend my honeymoon there, you know, but it was impossible, because of the war. Charles always said that we should go there one day. I don
'
t suppose he even remembers his promise. Well, men never do. Do they?
"
One desultory comment led to another, and by the time the ladies had tucked a very grateful Annabelle into her bed for the night, the decision had been taken. Bertie would hold the fort on the home front, and Henrietta would accompany Annabelle to Paris.
Outside her door, and before returning to their own chambers, Bertie laid a detaining hand on Henrietta
'
s sleeve. "D
'
you think we did the right thing in keeping that story about Lewes from her? I don
'
t think she knows.
"
Bertie was referring to that morning
'
s paper, where there had been a small column on Lewes. Two bodies, as yet unidentified, had been pulled from the River Ouse. One was of a young man with a broken arm. The other was that of a woman. In both cases, foul play was suspected. At Lady Diana
'
s party, the talk had been of little else, since many of her guests had been members of the house party at Rosedale.
"I don
'
t think she
'
s fit to take any more shocks for the present,
"
replied Henrietta, her voice barely above a whisper. "I remember how she was before, you see, when Edgar sent Richard home to her. She
'
s at breaking point now. Surely you
'
ve noticed? First she becomes all stiff and proper, then she withdraws completely. Though I didn
'
t think so at the time, I
'
ll say it now: Bailey
'
s was just the right thing for her.
"
"A distraction, you mean?
"
"Yes. Though it was more than just a break from the usual
run of things. A trip to Paris may not fit the same bill, but it can
'
t do any harm that I can see. At the very least, it will shield her from Dalmar
'
s goings-on.
"
"Men have a lot to answer for,
"
said Bertie.
"My dear, don
'
t we all?
"
chided Henrietta gently, and moved off down the hall.
Bertie stood staring after her for some few minutes. When she turned in, she was lost in thought.
"
W
omen have a lot to answer for,
"
observed Colonel Ransome. "D
'
you realize that this is the tenth consecutive night we
'
ve stripped him and tucked him into bed?
"
"I should! I
'
ve got the bruises to show for it,
"
answered Falconer with feeling. "If only he would stop fighting us.
"
The object of their conversation came to himself with a start. He reached for his brother and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Tell me it was a dream,
"
he implored.
"It was a dream,
"
soothed Falconer.
Dalmar shook him violently. "Liar! Liar!
"
Ransome pried the Earl
'
s powerful grip from the younger man
'
s shoulders. Dalmar covered his eyes with the back of one outflung arm.
"It was the wrong house. It was the wrong house,
"
he said brokenly.