Artemis(31)

'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.

'The gentlemen may now find their partners for the quadrille/ she announced.

A happy burst of chatter erupted and Kydd was shouldered unceremoniously aside by excited couples. He flattened himself against the wall and saw Renzi stride through the crowd to Cecilia. 'Shall you dance with me, Miss Kydd?' he said, raising her hand to his lips.

Cecilia dropped her eyes and said modestly, 'My mama tells me never to accept a man's invitation too precipitately.' Then the eyes flicked up and filled with laughter. 'Of course, dear Nicholas.'

Renzi led her out to the centre of the room, and they assumed one side of the square of four couples. He smiled — he had prudently enquired about Daryton evenings and had found that Mrs Daryton favoured the formality of a quadrille to open the entertainments. Cecilia had proved an apt pupil, and he would now claim his reward.

The string trio handled the rondo with aplomb, neither too quick nor too tiresome, and Cecilia clearly revelled in the gay rush and stately retreat, a balote followed by the pas de basque, a fetching blush rising to her cheeks. Renzi warmed to her vivacity, the sparkling eyes unaffected by pose or affect, and he felt oddly moved by his remembrance of her visit to the frigate to claim her brother.