“Good evening, Sir Thomas. You look very ill. Is your health as desperate as I heard it was two years ago?”
A titter went around at this, and Giles moved off, smiling. Sir Thomas was unpopular, there could be no doubt about that.
Presently Sir Thomas caught sight of Lady Arabella, and, as usual, he was instantly struck by her exquisite beauty. He succeeded in being presented to her, and I noted that she received him with affability.
About midnight the company broke up, and our party made a move to go, but Lady Arabella announced that she had been invited by her Grace of Auchester to stay the night, and she wished to do so. Neither Sir Peter nor Lady Hawkshaw perfectly approved; but Lady Arabella carried her point, with the assistance of the duchess. At the last moment, her Grace—a fine woman—approached me, and said confidentially,—
“Mr. Wynne,—Glyn, I mean,—will you not remain, and share a game with a choice collection of players?”
I was flattered at being asked; and besides, I wanted to see how these great London ladies acted at such play, so I accepted. But it was another thing to get away from Lady Hawkshaw. However, I managed to elude her, by giving a shilling to a footman, who shoved me into a little closet, and then went and told Lady Hawkshaw I had gone home in a coach with a gentleman who had been taken ill, and had left word for them to go without me. This pacified her, and she and Sir Peter and Daphne went away with the crowd. There were left about twenty persons, who, after a little supper, and general expressions of relief at the departure of the other guests, sat down to play, at one in the morning. There was a cabinet minister, also a political parson, two peers of the realm, several officers of the Guards, Giles Vernon, and your humble servant. The ladies were mostly old,—Lady Arabella was the youngest of them all,—but all very great in rank.
I had wanted to see London ladies play—and I saw them. Jack, with his greasy cards, in the forecastle, laying his month’s wages, was a child to them. And how they watched one another, and quarreled and fought!
No one among them played so eagerly as Lady Arabella; and very badly, as usual, so that she managed to lose all her money. She was ever a bad player, with all her passion for play. Her last guinea went; and then, determined not to be balked, she rose and said, laughing,—
“I have on a new white satin petticoat, with lace that cost three guineas the yard. It is very fit for waistcoats. No gentleman will be so ungallant as to refuse my petticoat as a stake.”
Of course, they all applauded; and Lady Arabella, retiring behind a screen, emerged with her satin petticoat—how it shone and shimmered!—in her hand. And in five minutes, she had lost it to Giles Vernon!