Daryton, that was her name. And with a daughter to provide for, he remembered with sudden caution. 'Do not, I beg, concern yourself on my account, Mrs Daryton,' said Renzi coolly, 'I have reasons enough to visit this charming town, but when these are concluded I must return.'
There was a brief hesitation, but then she continued brightly, 'Yet even the man of business must seek diversion, or the spirit must wither.' Her eyes remained watchfully on his.
He allowed a brief smile to show, then bowed and made to leave.
'Oh, Mr Renzi,' she called, 'it has just this moment crossed my mind - silly me, it seems I may have omitted to let you know — that we are holding an assembly next Tuesday. Mr Budsoe will perform on the flute and Miss Eccles has promised her new poem for me on that very night. Can you find it in your heart to forgive my lapse and accept my invitation? I know Letitia is beside herself to meet you.'
No doubt, thought Renzi wryly. He opened his mouth to refuse, then found himself saying, 'Indeed. May I inquire who will be attending?'
'Why, His Worship, of course,' she began.
The mayor must have been a coup for her, Renzi mused.
'And Major Summers of the militia, Mr Beddle - the one that owns the mill, not the other one — and . . .'
'Quite so,' said Renzi smoothly, 'and of course Mr and Mrs Kydd,' he added, without change of tone.
Mrs Daryton stopped, shocked. 'A tradesman! Mr Renzi, you . . .'
'. . . who now owns the new town school, a man of business, a professional
gentleman
,' he continued. 'But he was . . .'
'And who is considering extending his holdings to a Godalming establishment of the same nature in the future, I understand,' Renzi continued, inspecting his cuffs disdainfully.
'My
reputation . . .'
'. . . who some would consider it folly to disregard.'
Mrs Daryton stared at Renzi with barely concealed frustration, then began with finality, 'Mr Renzi, I cannot—'
Renzi drew himself upright. 'Mrs Daryton, I thank you for your kind invitation — I will consult my engagements, and hope they will allow me to accept.' He fixed her eye with an uncompromising determination.
'Very well, Mr Renzi,' she stuttered.
Renzi relaxed his expression. 'I do recall, however, that in the event, Tuesday will be available to me, Mrs Daryton.' She returned his gaze with puzzlement — even a small country town had its delicate social snobberies of which pedagogy came perilously low on the social scale, and just where did Renzi fit in the scheme of things with his effortiess sophistication?
It would, of course, be expected that a daughter of marriageable age attend, and therefore it would be impossible to refuse the son - Renzi felt a twinge of amusement at the thought of Kydd in a social situation, but this was his future, and it was the least he could do to set him up in this way. The Darytons were some sort of merchants, he couldn't quite recall, and therefore the occasion would not be high, but it would serve to set the Kydds one step up on the social scale.
'They have a son and daughter, I believe,' Renzi said.
'But of
course,' said Mrs Daryton faintl
y. 'But was he not at one time a common sailor?' she added more strongly.
'He was most untimely taken up by the press, if that is your understanding,' Renzi admonished, 'and now he has been able to establish his credentials and return to the bosom of his family.'
'How dreadful,' she replied, eyes wide.
'Until Tuesday eve,' Renzi prompted unctuously.
'Tuesday, then, Mr Renzi.'
The hired carriage ground on briskly towards Merrow Downs, the four passengers in a companionable crush inside. Mr Kydd had a sli
ghtly
bemused air, Cecilia was serene, and Mrs Kydd fidgeted with the fan in her lap. 'Do remember, Cecilia, that it is not seemly to be seen to accept a dance with a gennelman too quick. When he says, "Do you want a dance?" you make him wait,' said Mrs Kydd.
Cecilia flashed a guarded look of amusement at Renzi, sitting opposite, and murmured, 'I will remember, Mama.'
Renzi returned a faint smile, knowing the impossibility of conveying the Byzantine subtleties of social interplay to someone without the breeding to have absorbed it from birth. He felt sure, however, that Cecilia could be relied upon to give a spirited account of herself. 'I rather fancy that the formalities in this instance will not necessarily be observed to the full,' Renzi said. That would certainly be the case — discreet enquiries had revealed that the Darytons had done well only rec
ently
in the coach trade to Brighton, and had since set up in a fine house out of town.
'I just know I should have worn the mauve crepe,' fretted Mrs Kydd. 'Cambric will not answer, but it is the fashion — what will Mrs Daryton think?'
'Now, Mama, please don't fuss. Think of the hours we spent at the needle and goffering iron. We are now in the first rank of the fancy. Set your cares at rest and enjoy yourself tonight, dear Mama/
The carriage swayed at a corner. 'Tell the driver to have a care, Walter,' Mrs Kydd instr
ucted, shrilly. Mr Kydd obedientl
y banged at the roof. An upside-down face suddenly appeared at the window, grinning devilishly; the ladies screamed.
'T-take care, if you please, driver,' Mr Kydd said to the apparition.
'Aye aye, sir!' said the boatswain, and winked at Cecilia but remained inverted, grinning inanely.
'Mr Perrott, you are in drink,' said Mrs Kydd frostily.
'All the haaaaands
to dance and skylark!' the boatswain roared happily.
'You are quite betwaddled, Mr Perrott and - my God, who's driving the carriage?' she suddenly screamed in terror.
The boatswain winked again. 'Why, Mr Thomas — 'e's 'ad the ribbons this last mile 'n' a half.' He seemed to recollect something and disappeared abru
ptly
.
Shaken, Mrs Kydd turned to her husband. 'I knew we shouldn't have let Thomas ride outside,' she muttered. The carriage turned abru
ptly
, and swung in through a wrought-iron gate, rolling grittily up the driveway. 'We're here, Walter,' she exclaimed, in consternation.
They drew up at twin sconces that flamed each side of an impressive doorway. Even before the carriage had com
e to a stop, Kydd dropped lightl
y to the ground and was at the door, lowering the step. Muffled sounds of gaiety and music from within raised the pitch of excitement to an exquisite expectation.
'Milady.' He grinned at Cecilia, who accepted his hand daintily in much the same way as she had boarded the frigate at his side in Portsmouth. A special, soft look was Kydd's token that she had not forgotten either.
The party stood outside, uncertain. The carriage stood also.
Mrs Kydd dug her elbow discreetl
y into Mr Kydd's side until he blinked and spoke up to the figure at the reins. 'Er, please to await our pleasure, er, you may proceed, Mr Perrott.'
The boatswain leant down puzzled, then looked mystified at Kydd. 'Oh — he means, lay off to loo'ard but stay within hail,' Kydd explained. The boatswain grinned and jerked the carriage forward.
At the door, a harassed footman appeared. Renzi guessed that the household did not run to over-many servants but approached with good grace. He was in his plain black, his only concession to the evening a borrowed silver-grey waistcoat. The footman, expecting something by way of a cloak, stood confused.
'Mr and Mrs Kydd, Miss Cecilia Kydd, Mr Thomas Kydd - and Mr Renzi,' Renzi said quietly.
Kydd's own raiment was of an altogether more flamboyant nature. Growling that he wanted nothing of coats and breeches he had finally succumbed, and at the last minute wore a brave show of
bottle
-green coat, blue breeches and tasselled yellow waistcoat. Renzi had shuddered at the sight, but loudly approved Kydd's snowy white lace cravat.
The footman led them into the house to what would serve as the assembly room for the night. It was ablaze with candlelight, mirrors at each end placed cunningly to make the room seem even larger, and filled with people chattering delightedly. Beyond were large French windows open to the warm darkness of the garden beyond. Packed into the corner a string trio sawed away and a shy maid bore around a tray of sweetmeats.
'Oh, Mr Renzi,' said Mrs Daryton warmly, advancing on Renzi. 'I am so glad you were able to come.' Her gown gave ample prominence to her bosom, and her exuberant display of jewellery glittered in the candlelight. 'You must meet Letitia, she has been talking about you — and Mr Bedsoe says as how he is sure you are in the diplomatic line,' she added.
Renzi stood his ground, and with a perfect bow stepped aside to reveal Cecilia, eyes wide and looking striking in the ivory dress, with her strong features and dark looks. 'May I present Miss Cecilia Kydd,' he said, signalling
discreetly
to the motionless Cecilia to step forward. Renzi caught faces turning appreciatively in her direction as the men took her measure.
'My dear, I hope you will enjoy this
little
evening, I'm sure,' Mrs Daryton murmured. Renzi hung back
discreetly
, and she moved on to Mrs Kydd, 'I don't think I've had the pleasure,' she said, in a silver-cool voice.
Mrs Kydd flushed, but Mr Kydd stepped up manfully. 'Mrs Daryton, may — er — might I present my wife, Fanny.' To Mrs Daryton's infinite satisfaction, Mrs Kydd bobbed her a quick curtsy. 'And my son Thomas.' Raising her eyebrows at Kydd's interesting appearance, she nevertheless took in thoughtfully his manly strength and direct gaze.
Renzi watched the proceedings and when honours had been duly done, assumed a polite smile and moved forward into the noisy throng.
'I say, you, Renzi!' A short man with a flushed face and sharp flinty eyes confronted him. 'D'ye think we don't know what y'r about?'
'I am afraid you have the advantage of me, sir,' said Renzi.
The man flashed glances around the room. 'Bedsoe, sir, and it's a guinea to a shillin' you're in gover'ment business, an' diplomacy at that. Right?'
Renzi gave a short bow. 'I am desolated to contradict you, Mr Bedsoe, but I am far from being a diplomat.' Another two men, one with an interested lady on his arm, joined the conversation.
'Ah, but still on government business, I'll be bound,' one said.
His lady looked at Renzi boldly. 'You will forgive us quizzing you, sir, but you do present as a man of some mystery,' she said, her eyes on his.
'I vow I am not on government business,' Renzi deflected urbanely.
'He is a man of business,' the other man said to the lady, 'I heard Mrs Daryton say.'
'Oh - then it must be, let me see, in banking, foreign money, secret arrangements.' The lady's eyes sparkled.
'No, no!' Renzi laughed.
'Then what, pray?'
'Er, all that I am permitted to say is that as of this moment I am on the King's Service,' Renzi said. 'Ah! The King! And—'
'I am not at liberty to say anything further, madam.'
The group fell into a silence, looking respectfully at Renzi. 'These are fearful times, my dear,' the first man told her, 'uncommon dreadful things happenin' everywhere in the world. I'm sure Mr Renzi is involved in these at some peril to himself, in our interest — is that not so, Renzi?'
* * *
Kydd felt more awkward than ever he had felt before. He hung back from the crowd, watching the backs of men as they chatted amiably with the women, some of whom threw him curious glances. He was left alone in his misery — he knew no one and could think of no easy conversational
entree.
'What have we here, Charles?' To his right, two men strolled towards him, their gold quizzing glasses and tight buckskin breeches proclaiming them dandies. A quizzing glass went up and the taller man swept Kydd up and down. 'Such a fopling, Charles - but I do believe it is our new word-grinder at this Navy school.'
The other dandy's eyebrows went up in astonishment. 'By Jessamy, an' I think you may be right, dear fellow.'
Kydd glowered, but could not think of what to do in the situation.
'I say, Mr Schoolman, do you realise you'll be learnin' young Brenton his gerunds from his gerundives?' The two dissolved into elegant fits of the giggles for some reason.
'If y'r Brenton needs his jerruns he'll learn his jerruns, right enough,' Kydd said stiffly.
The two broke into howls of laughter, and sauntered off. Kydd's face burned, and he yearned with all his heart to be back in the clear salt air of the sea, where men about him were honest and direct.
The hum of conversations rose and fell, and he watched Cecilia playing complex games of coquetry with her fan to a circle of admirers. Renzi was backed into a corner by a group of what seemed to be local businessmen, and his mother sat in animated conversation with other mothers of an age in the chairs along one wall.
A silvery tinkle sounded above the hubbub. It persisted, and the noise died. It was Mrs Daryton in the centre of the room, looking about her primly.