The Lady of Lynn. Walter Besant

butler, a lady's maid, a housekeeper, and three or four maids with two chairmen. She did not live as a rich woman: she received, it is true, twice a week, on Sundays and Wednesdays, but not with any expense of supper and wine. Her friends came to play cards and she held the bank for them. On other evenings she went out and played at the houses of her friends.

      Except for fashions and her dress—what fine woman but makes that exception?—she had no other occupation; no other pursuit; no other subject of conversation, than the playing of cards. She played at all games and knew them all; she sat down with a willing mind to Ombre, Faro, Quadrille, Basset, Loo, Cribbage, All Fours, or Beggar my Neighbour, but mostly she preferred the game of Hazard, when she herself kept the bank. It is a game which more than any other allures and draws on the player so that a young man who has never before been known to set a guinea on any card, or to play at any game, will in a single night be filled with all the ardour and eagerness of a practised gamester; will know the extremes of joy and despair; and will regard the largest fortune as bestowed by Providence for no other purpose than to prolong the excitement and the agony of a gamester.

      While the Lady Anastasia was still admiring the china vase set upon the table, so that she might gaze upon it and so refresh her soul, and while the friseur was still completing her head, Lord Fylingdale was announced. The lady blushed violently: she sat up and looked anxiously in the glass.

      "Betty," she cried, "a touch of red—not much, you clumsy creature! Will you never learn to have a lighter hand? So! that is better. I am horribly pale. His lordship can wait in the morning room. You have nearly finished, monsieur? Quick then! The last touches. Betty, the flowered satin petticoat. My fan. The pearl necklace. So," she looked again at the glass, "am I looking tolerable, Betty?"

      "Your ladyship is ravishing," said Betty finishing the toilette. In truth, it was a very pretty creature if one knew how much was real and how much was due to art. The complexion was certainly laid on; the hair was powdered and built up over cushions and pillows; there were patches on the cheek: the neck was powdered; eyes naturally very fine were set off and made more lustrous with a touch of dark powder: the frock and petticoat and hoop were all alike removed from nature. However, the result was a beautiful woman of fashion who is far removed indeed from the beautiful woman as made by the Creator. For her age the Lady Anastasia might have been seven and twenty, or even thirty—an age when with some women, the maturity of their beauty is even more charming than the first sprightly loveliness of youth.

      She swam out of the room with a gliding movement, then the fashion, and entered the morning room where Lord Fylingdale awaited her.

      "Anastasia!" he said, softly, taking her hand. "It is very good of you to see me alone. I feared you would be surrounded with courtiers and fine ladies or with singers, musicians, hairdressers, and other baboons. Permit me," he raised her hand to his lips. "You look divine this morning. It is long since I have seen you look so perfectly charming."

      The lady murmured something. She was one of those women who like above all things to hear praises of what most they prize, their beauty, and to believe what they most desire to be the truth, the preservation and perfecting of that beauty.

      "But you came to see me alone. Was it to tell me that I look charming? Other men tell me as much in company."

      "Not altogether that, dear lady, though that is something. I come to tell you of a change of plans."

      "You have heard that the grand jury of Middlesex has presented me by name as a corruptor of innocence, and I know not what, because I hold my bank on Sunday nights."

      "I have heard something of the matter. It is almost time, I think, to give these presumptuous shopkeepers a lesson not to interfere with the pursuits of persons of rank. Let them confine themselves to the prentices who play at pitch and toss."

      "Oh! what matters their presentment? I shall continue to keep the bank on Sunday nights. Now, my dear lord, what about these plans? What is changed?"

      "We thought, you remember, about going to Tunbridge, in July."

      "Well? Shall we not go there?"

      "Perhaps. But there is something to be done first. Let me confide in you——"

      "My dear lord—you have never confided in anybody."

      "Except in you. I think you know all my secrets if I have any. In whom else can I confide? In the creatures who importune me for places? In friends of the green table? In friends of the race course? My dear Anastasia, you know, I assure you, as much about my personal affairs as I know myself."

      "If you would always speak so kindly"—her eyes became humid but not tearful. A lady of fashion must not spoil her cheek by tears.

      "Well, then, the case is this. You know of the condition of my affairs—no one better. An opportunity presents itself to effect a great improvement. I am invited by the highest personage to take a more active part in the affairs of state. No one is to know this. For reasons connected with this proposal I am to visit a certain town—a trading town—a town of rough sailors, there to conduct certain enquiries. There is to be a gathering at this town of the gentry and people of the county. Would you like to go, my dear friend? It will be next month."

      "To leave town—and in May, just before the end of the season?"

      "There will be opportunities, I am told, of holding a bank; and a good many sportsmen—'tis a sporting county—may be expected to lay their money. In a word, Anastasia, it will not be a bad exchange."

      "And how can I help you? Why should I go there?"

      "By letting the people—the county people, understand the many virtues and graces which distinguish my character. No one knows me better than yourself."

      The lady smiled—"No one," she murmured.

      "—Or can speak with greater authority on the subject. There will be certain of our friends there—the parson—Sir Harry—the colonel——"

      "Pah! a beggarly crew—and blown upon—they are dangerous."

      "Not at this quiet and secluded town. They will be strangers to you as well as to me. And they will be useful. After all, in such a place you need an opening. They will lead the way."

      The lady made no response.

      "I may call it settled, then?" He still held her hand. "If you would rather not go, Anastasia, I will find some one else—but I had hoped——"

      She drew away her hand. "You are right," she said, "no one knows you so well as myself. And all I know about you is that you are always contriving some devilry. What is it this time? But you will not tell me. You never tell me."

      "Anastasia, you do me an injustice. This is a purely political step."

      "As you will. Call it what you please. I am your servant—you know that—your handmaid—in all things—save one. Not for any other woman, Ludovick—not for any other—unfortunate—woman will I lift my little finger. Should you betray me in this respect——"

      He laughed. "A woman? And in that company? Rest easy, dear child. Be jealous as much as you please but not with such a cause."

      He touched her cheek with his finger: he stooped and kissed her hand and withdrew.

      The Lady Anastasia stood awhile where he left her. The joy had gone out of her heart: she trembled: she was seized with a foreboding of evil. She threw herself upon the sofa and buried her face in her hands, and forgetful of paste and patch and paint she suffered the murderous tears to destroy that work of art—her finished face.

CHAPTER III

       THE "SOCIETY" OF LYNN

       Table of Contents

      It was about seven o'clock in the evening of early April, at the going down of the sun that I was at last able to drop into the dingy and go ashore.