The Notorious Mr Hurst

‘And matters will be laxer on the Continent, I have no doubt,’ Ashe added, his eyes resting on the door as though he could still see Eden.

‘Oh, look,’ said Maude with bright desperation, ‘Here come the string players.’ Across from her, Lord Pangbourne appeared sunk in thought.

‘What did you think, Papa?’ Maude ventured as the carriage clattered over the wet cobbles on its way back to Mount Street.

‘Excellent production. In my opinion, adding the songs helped it. It was a lot livelier than I remembered.’

‘Not the play, Papa, although I am pleased you enjoyed it. Mr Hurst.’

‘Surprising chap. Not what I expected.’ Lord Pangbourne fell silent.

‘And?’

‘And I need to sleep on it.’ He sighed gustily. ‘Confound it, Maude, I know I promised you more freedom, but I don’t know what your mother would say if she were here.’

‘Yes, probably,’ Maude ventured. ‘She was very unconventional, was she not, Papa?’

‘Very fast, you mean,’ he said, but she could hear he was smiling. ‘Your mama, my dear, was a handful. And so are you. I don’t like refusing you anything, Maude; I promised your mother I would never make you feel as she did as a girl—caged. But I don’t want to see you hurt too.’

‘Hurt?’ She swallowed hard. He realised her feelings were involved?

‘By any kind of scandal. You can ride out a lot in your position, but that’s an uncommon man you’d be dealing with.’ He certainly is… ‘I’ll sleep on it,’ he pronounced. And with that she knew she would have to be satisfied.

It was not until she was sitting up in bed an hour later that what he had said about her mother sank in. I don’twant to see you hurt too. Mama had been hurt? But by what? Or whom?

Breakfast was not a good time to ask questions about the past, Maude decided, pouring coffee and schooling herself to patience. It would take three cups and the first scan of The Times before she could expect anything from her father.

‘Well,’ he said, pushing back his chair at length and fixing her with a disconcertingly direct look. ‘I was impressed by that Hurst fellow, despite myself. You may invest in that theatre, to the limit that Benson advises, and not a penny more. You will not go backstage after four in the afternoon and you will always, always, go there with a chaperon. He might be a good imitation of a gentleman, but he’s young, he’s ruthless and he’s unconventional. A chaperon at all times—is that clear, Maude? I see no reason to be telling all and sundry about this involvement of yours either.’

‘Yes, Papa.’ Oh, yes, Papa! ‘Thank you. I do believe this will be a worthwhile investment.’

‘It will be if it makes you happy, my dear. Just be prudent, that is all I ask.’

Prudent. That was what Eden declared himself to be, with money at least. Men seemed to set great store by prudence. Maude’s lips curved. Now she had to teach him to be imprudent with his heart. This morning she would write and tell him she had her father’s approval, make an appointment to call with Mr Benson.

Chapter Six

Papa had not been speaking lightly when he had insisted upon a chaperon, Maude thought, torn between amusement and annoyance. Anna, her Sunday best hat squarely on top of her curly mop of hair, was seated in one corner of Eden Hurst’s office, an expression of painful intensity on her face.

As they had alighted from the closed carriage—the one without the crest on the door, Maude had noticed—the maid had assured her, ‘I’ll stick like glue, never you fear, my lady.’