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“Caroline says that her husband is quite infatuated with this Henrietta. Short of actually dragging the corpses of the hashishin into his Presence, it is difficult for me to see how we can get him to comprehend-”
“Pardon me for interrupting, Mother, but Caroline also says that Henrietta is unlikely to be the spy. So perhaps it is Harold Braithwaite we ought to be speaking of.”
Eliza did pardon the interruption, if only because she had to stop talking anyway to catch her breath.
“They are married to each other, the Braithwaites are,” Eliza reminded her son, “joined together in God’s sight.” They had plunged out into the northern half of the garden, nearer the palace. This meant they’d emerged from a realm of higher trees, and deeper shadows, onto an open flat plain of clear light. A row of four rectangular pools stretched across their way. The water was perfectly smooth, and reflected the fiery colors of the heavens, creating an illusion that these were but Hell’s sky-lights, lit from below.
Joha
“In a minor provincial court, who would mind such an arrangement? But when George Augustus is King of England, it will not be acceptable for his mistress’s husband to be permanently absent.”
“Very well, Mother, I agree with you! It is most awkward.” Joha
“I beg your pardon, sirs, but have you any notions as to where I-we, rather-might find Mr. Braithwaite?”
“Yes, mein Herr, we spied him not a quarter of an hour ago, showing some French guests round the garden. They went to see the Maze,” said Smith.
“The Maze, now that is an excellent place for such an a-mazing fellow.”
“No,” said Jones, “I do believe that that is Mr. Braithwaite and his party, just yonder, bound for the other side of the garden.” He pointed to several men in black struggling across in front of the palace.
“Finished with the Maze so soon!” exclaimed Smith.
“I’m sure it is but a miserable imitation of the French labyrinths, and quite disappointing to his companions,” Joha
“They are going to the theatre, I’ll wager,” said Jones. “Oh, there is no play to-night. But they might be going to have a look round.”
“And who better to escort them than Mr. Braithwaite, who is an actor of note,” reflected Joha
Eliza suddenly looked young, because uncertain. She glanced after Braithwaite.
“I shall be in with you momentarily, after I have spoken to Mr. Braithwaite concerning his travel plans.”
“Is Mr. Braithwaite to go on a journey?” asked Smith.
“A lengthy one, ’tis rumored,” Joha
“If these two gentlemen would be so good as to accompany you-” Eliza suggested.
Smith and Jones exchanged a look. “Braithwaite is a merry sort of chap, he shan’t be offended if we cross paths with him-?” said Smith.
“I see no reason to suppose otherwise,” said Jones.
“Very well. I will see you in a quarter of an hour,” said Eliza, in adamant maternal style.
“Oh, Mama, it shall not even be that long.”
Eliza departed. Joha
“Er, why do you need light, my lord?” Smith inquired, after he had caught up, which took some exertion. Jones was already miles behind.
“Why, so that Mr. Braithwaite can see the going-away present that I will give him!”
THE GARDEN-THEATRE WAS A SLOPING rectangle of ground, walled in by hedges, and guarded by a picket line of white marble cherubs. These were charming in daylight but now took on the spectral, glabrous appearance of stillborns. A raised stage was at one end. Several of the French guests had climbed atop it and were amusing themselves with the trap-door. Braithwaite stood below the stage, in the orchestra, conversing with a man who like everyone else was dressed in black. But his clothing did not consist of the usual breeches, waistcoat, amp;c. but rather a ground-seeping cassock with a hundred silver buttons. As Joha
Joha
By this time Braithwaite, and all of the Frenchmen save one, had got their own swords half drawn-a cultivated reflex. De Gex had slipped his right hand into a slit-pocket in the breast of his cassock.
“Father de Gex,” Joha
De Gex’s hand dropped to his side. Joha
Joha
“Braithwaite! It is my prerogative as a gentleman to make you defend yourself with that weapon you are forever carrying around; will you please act like a gentleman, and draw it?”
“I propose tomorrow at dawn-”
“By which time you shall be where? Prague?”
“A proper duel is never conducted in haste-”
“This looks like dawn to me,” Joha
Braithwaite had finally extracted his small-sword, and, with some assistance from de Gex, got himself disentangled from the scabbard and its strap-work. He got into a stance resembling Joha