Emmeline were late by the time they boarded the Hullocks’ enormous yacht which wasmoored in the Thames near to Vauxhall Gardens. The decks of the yacht were thickly carpeted in oriental rugs, and silk canopies fluttered over the heads of the guests. A magnificent red sunset was blazing through the forest of masts of the other ships.
Mr. Hullock was as proud and as pleased with his fashionable guests as if they were a friendly company of kindred spirits instead of a vacuous-faced jostling throng. As darkness crept over the water and young Rossini’s music serenaded the guzzling guests, Annabelle noticed Lord Varleigh climbing aboard. He was correct to an inch in formal evening dress instead of costume; chapeau bras and knee breeches, ruffled shirt and cravat, short jacket with swallow tails, diamonded pumps and dress sword. His gaze wandered towards Annabelle, he gave a brief smile, and then continued to search the crowd. He is looking for Lady Jane, thought Annabelle. Her costume which had seemed so dashing and alluring only a few minutes ago now seemed to poor Annabelle to have become downright frumpish. Her head sank slightly under her gold helmet, and she stared dismally at the dirty water moving beside the schooner.
When she raised her head again, it was to see that Lord Varleigh had given up his search for Lady Jane and was moving towards her. All of a sudden Annabelle did not want to be singled out as second best. She moved swiftly away towards the stern of the ship where the light of the many lanterns; did not reach.
The heartbreaking strains of a waltz echoed in the still air, and the smells of wine and French cooking mingled with the less attractive smells of the river.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Annabelle could make out the shapes of a couple approaching her. She shrank back into the blackness and stood very still, not wanting her confused thoughts to be interrupted.
It was then she realised that the couple were approaching in a very odd manner. With surprise, she made out the gold lace of Lady Emmeline’s evening gown, the Dowager Marchioness having decided not to go in costume.
But Lady Emmeline was walking
backwards
, and instead of accompanying her, the gentleman was behind her. A sudden burst of fireworks went up from Vauxhall Gardens and Annabelle noticed with horror that Lady Emmeline’s escort or pursuer was dressed as a pirate and was carrying a very lethal-looking cutlass which he was pointing straight at the terrified Dowager Marchioness.
“Back,” grated the “pirate” in a hoarse voice. His face was masked and his eyes glittered strangely through the slits in the black velvet. “Over the side with you,” he hissed, holding the point of the cutlass dangerously near the terrified Lady Emmeline’s throat.
“I c-can’t s-swim,” babbled Lady Emmeline. “I sh-shall drown.”
“Exactly,” mocked the pirate.
“Wait!” cried Annabelle, darting forward. She stood in front of her terrified godmother. “Now, my man,” she said, “you have two of us to deal with.”
“Get out of the way, you silly little
doxy
,” rasped the pirate. Annabelle felt the point of the cutlass at her throat, but she did not flinch. Annabelle would have been very surprised indeed had she been told she was being extremely brave. Her duty was to rescue her godmother at all costs.
Her mind worked very quickly. Her godmother’s attacker obviously wanted Lady Emmeline’s death to look like an accident. Then she must risk screaming for help.
She threw back her head and screamed as loudly as she could, and great shriek upon shriek echoed along the length of the vessel.
There came the sound of running footsteps as Lord Varleigh hurtled along the companionway, his drawn sword in his hand. The pirate looked from Annabelle to Lord Varleigh and jumped nimbly over the side of the schooner. There was a loud splash. Annabelle craned her head over the side. There came another burst of golden stars
Mr. Hullock was as proud and as pleased with his fashionable guests as if they were a friendly company of kindred spirits instead of a vacuous-faced jostling throng. As darkness crept over the water and young Rossini’s music serenaded the guzzling guests, Annabelle noticed Lord Varleigh climbing aboard. He was correct to an inch in formal evening dress instead of costume; chapeau bras and knee breeches, ruffled shirt and cravat, short jacket with swallow tails, diamonded pumps and dress sword. His gaze wandered towards Annabelle, he gave a brief smile, and then continued to search the crowd. He is looking for Lady Jane, thought Annabelle. Her costume which had seemed so dashing and alluring only a few minutes ago now seemed to poor Annabelle to have become downright frumpish. Her head sank slightly under her gold helmet, and she stared dismally at the dirty water moving beside the schooner.
When she raised her head again, it was to see that Lord Varleigh had given up his search for Lady Jane and was moving towards her. All of a sudden Annabelle did not want to be singled out as second best. She moved swiftly away towards the stern of the ship where the light of the many lanterns; did not reach.
The heartbreaking strains of a waltz echoed in the still air, and the smells of wine and French cooking mingled with the less attractive smells of the river.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Annabelle could make out the shapes of a couple approaching her. She shrank back into the blackness and stood very still, not wanting her confused thoughts to be interrupted.
It was then she realised that the couple were approaching in a very odd manner. With surprise, she made out the gold lace of Lady Emmeline’s evening gown, the Dowager Marchioness having decided not to go in costume.
But Lady Emmeline was walking
backwards
, and instead of accompanying her, the gentleman was behind her. A sudden burst of fireworks went up from Vauxhall Gardens and Annabelle noticed with horror that Lady Emmeline’s escort or pursuer was dressed as a pirate and was carrying a very lethal-looking cutlass which he was pointing straight at the terrified Dowager Marchioness.
“Back,” grated the “pirate” in a hoarse voice. His face was masked and his eyes glittered strangely through the slits in the black velvet. “Over the side with you,” he hissed, holding the point of the cutlass dangerously near the terrified Lady Emmeline’s throat.
“I c-can’t s-swim,” babbled Lady Emmeline. “I sh-shall drown.”
“Exactly,” mocked the pirate.
“Wait!” cried Annabelle, darting forward. She stood in front of her terrified godmother. “Now, my man,” she said, “you have two of us to deal with.”
“Get out of the way, you silly little
doxy
,” rasped the pirate. Annabelle felt the point of the cutlass at her throat, but she did not flinch. Annabelle would have been very surprised indeed had she been told she was being extremely brave. Her duty was to rescue her godmother at all costs.
Her mind worked very quickly. Her godmother’s attacker obviously wanted Lady Emmeline’s death to look like an accident. Then she must risk screaming for help.
She threw back her head and screamed as loudly as she could, and great shriek upon shriek echoed along the length of the vessel.
There came the sound of running footsteps as Lord Varleigh hurtled along the companionway, his drawn sword in his hand. The pirate looked from Annabelle to Lord Varleigh and jumped nimbly over the side of the schooner. There was a loud splash. Annabelle craned her head over the side. There came another burst of golden stars
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