Mistress Nell Part 25

"The d.u.c.h.ess!" her lips breathed, almost aloud, in her excitement. "So you'd play hostess to his Majesty," she thought, "give a royal ball and leave poor Nelly home, would you?"

The d.u.c.h.ess was conscious only of a presence.

"_Garcon!_" she called, without looking up.

Nell jumped a foot.

"That shook me to the boots," she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, softly.

"_Garcon!_" again called the impatient d.u.c.h.ess.

"Madame," answered Nell, fearfully, the words seeming to stick in her fair throat, as she hastily removed her hat and bethought her that she must have a care or she would lose her head as well, by forgetting that she was an Irishman with a brogue.

"Who are you?" asked Portsmouth, haughtily, as, rising, with surprised eyes, she became aware of the presence of a stranger.

Indeed, it is not strange that she was surprised. The youth who stood before her was dressed from top to toe in gray--the silver-gray which lends a colour to the cheek and piquancy to the form. The dress was of the latest cut. The hat had the longest plume. The cloak hung gracefully save where the glistening sword broke its falling lines. The boots were neat, well rounded and well cut, encasing a jaunty leg. The dress was edged with silver.

Ah, the strange youth was a love, indeed, with his bright, sparkling eyes, his lips radiant with smiles, his curls falling to his shoulders.

"Well," stammered Nell, in awkward hesitation but in the richest brogue, as the d.u.c.h.ess repeated her inquiry, "I'm just I, madame."

The d.u.c.h.ess smiled despite herself.

"You're just you," she said. "That's very clear."

"Yes, that's very clear," reiterated Nell, still fearful of her ground.

"A modest masker, possibly," suggested Portsmouth, observing the youth's embarra.s.sment and wis.h.i.+ng to a.s.sist him.

"Yea, very modest," replied Nell, her speech still stumbling, "almost ashamed."

Portsmouth's eyes looked sharply at her.

"She suspects me," thought Nell, and her heart leaped into her throat.

"I am lost--boots and all."

"Your name?" demanded the d.u.c.h.ess again, impatiently.

For the life of her Nell could not think of it.

"You see," she replied evasively, "I'm in London for the first time in my present self, madame, and--"

"Your name and mission, sir?" The tone was imperative.

Nell's wits returned to her.

"Beau Adair is my name," she stammered, "and your service my mission."

It was out, though it had like to have choked her, and Nell was more herself again. The worst she had feared was that the d.u.c.h.ess might discover her ident.i.ty and so turn the tables and make her the laughing-stock at court. She grew, indeed, quite hopeful as she observed a kindly smile play upon the d.u.c.h.ess's lips and caught the observation: "Beau Adair! A pretty name, and quite a pretty fellow."

A smile of self-satisfaction and a low bow were Nell's reply.

"Vain c.o.xcomb!" cried Portsmouth, reprovingly, though she was highly amused and even pleased with the strange youth's conceit.

"Nay; if I admire not myself," wistfully suggested Nell, in reply, with pretence of much modesty, "who will praise poor me in this great palace?"

"You are new at court?" asked Portsmouth, doubtingly.

"Quite new," a.s.serted Nell, gaining confidence with each speech. "My London tailor made a man of me only to-day."

"A man of you only to-day!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess, in wonderment.

"He a.s.sured me, madame," Nell hastened to explain, "that the fas.h.i.+on makes the man. He did not like my former fas.h.i.+on. It hid too much that was good, he said. I am the bearer of this letter to the great d.u.c.h.ess of Portsmouth; that you are she, I know by your royalty."

She bowed with a jaunty, boyish bow, sweeping the floor with her plumed hat, as she offered the letter.

"Oh, you are the gentleman," said Portsmouth, recalling her request to Buckingham, which for the instant had quite escaped her. She took the letter and broke the seal eagerly.

"She does not suspect," thought Nell; and she crossed quickly to the curtained arch, leading to the music and the dancing, in the hope that she might see the King.

Portsmouth, who was absorbed in the letter, did not observe her.

"From Rochet! Dear Rochet!" mused the d.u.c.h.ess, as she read aloud the lines: "'The bearer of this letter is a young gallant, very modest and very little versed in the sins of court.'"

"Very little," muttered Nell, with a mischievous wink, still intent upon the whereabouts and doings of the King.

"'He is of excellent birth,'" continued the d.u.c.h.ess, reading, "'brave, young and to be trusted--_to be trusted_. I commend him to your kindness, protection and service, during his stay in town.'"

She reflected a moment intently upon the letter, then looked up quickly.

Nell returned, somewhat confused, to her side.

"This is a very strong letter, sir," said Portsmouth, with an inquiring look.

"Yes, very strong," promptly acquiesced Nell; and she chuckled as she recalled that she had written it herself, taking near a fortnight in the composition. Her fingers ached at the memory.

"Where did you leave Rochet?" inquired the d.u.c.h.ess, almost incredulously.

"Leave Rochet?" thought Nell, aghast. "I knew she would ask me something like that."

There was a moment's awkwardness--Nell was on difficult ground. She feared lest she might make a misstep which would reveal her ident.i.ty.

The d.u.c.h.ess grew impatient. Finally, Nell mustered courage and made a bold play for it, as ever true to her brogue.

"Where did I leave Rochet?" she said, as if she had but then realized the d.u.c.h.ess's meaning, then boldly answered: "In Cork."

"In Cork!" cried Portsmouth, in blank surprise. "I thought his mission took him to Dublin." She eyed the youth closely and wondered if he really knew the mission.

"Nay; Cork!" firmly repeated Nell; for she dared not retract, lest she awaken suspicion. "I am quite sure it was Cork I left him in."

"Quite sure?" exclaimed the d.u.c.h.ess, her astonishment increasing with each confused reply.