The Bars of Iron by Ethel May Dell (top rated books of all time .txt) 📖

horsewhipped me for something or other, do you remember? It hurts to be horsewhipped at nineteen."
Sir Beverley growled at him inarticulately.
"Yes, I know," said Piers, "But it doesn't affect me so much now. I'm past the sensitive age." He ate his walnut, drained his glass, and rose.
"You--puppy!" said Sir Beverley, looking up at him.
Piers came to his side. He suddenly knelt down and pulled the old man's arm round his shoulders. "I say, I'm going to enjoy that trip," he said boyishly. "Let's get away before the New Year!"
Sir Beverley suffered the action with no further protest than a frown. "You weren't so mighty anxious when I first suggested it," he grumbled.
Piers laughed. "Can't a man change his mind? I'm keen enough now."
"What do you want to go for?" Sir Beverley looked at him suspiciously.
But Piers' frank return of his look told him nothing. "I love the South as you know," he said.
"Damn it, yes!" said Sir Beverley irritably. He could never endure any mention of the Southern blood in Piers.
"And--" Piers' brown fingers grew suddenly tight upon the bony hand he had drawn over his shoulder--"I like going away with you."
"Oh, stow it, Piers!" growled Sir Beverley.
"The truth, sir!" protested Piers, with eyes that suddenly danced. "It does me good to be with you. It keeps me young."
"Young!" ejaculated Sir Beverley. "You--infant!"
Piers broke into a laugh. He looked a mere boy when he gave himself up to merriment. "And it'll do you good too," he said, "to get away from that beastly doctor who is always hanging around. I long to give him the boot whenever I see him."
"You don't like each other, eh?" Sir Beverley's smile was sardonic.
"We loathe and detest each other," said Piers. All the boyishness went out of his face with the words; he looked suddenly grim, and in that moment the likeness between them was very marked. "I presume this change of air scheme was his suggestion," he said abruptly.
"And if it was?" said Sir Beverley.
Piers threw back his head and laughed again through clenched teeth. "For which piece of consideration he has my sincere gratitude," he said. He pressed his grandfather's hand again and rose. "So it's to be Monte Carlo, is it? Well, the sooner the better for me. I'll tell Victor to look up the trains. We can't get away to-morrow or the next day. But we ought to be able to manage the day after."
He strolled across to the fire, and stood there with his back to the room, whistling below his breath.
Sir Beverley regarded him frowningly. There was no denying the fact, he did not understand Piers. He had expected a strenuous opposition to his scheme. He had been prepared to do battle with the boy. But Piers had refused the conflict. What was the fellow's game, he asked himself? Why this prompt compliance with his wishes? He was not to be deceived into the belief that he wanted to go. The attraction was too great for that. Unless indeed--he looked across at the bent black head in sudden doubt--was it possible that the boy had met with a check in the least likely direction of all? Could it be that the woman's plans did not include him after all?
No! No! That was out of the question. He knew women. A hard laugh rose to his lips. If she had put a check upon Piers' advances it was not with the ultimate purpose of stopping him. She knew what she was about too well for that, confound her!
He stared at Piers who had wheeled suddenly from the fire at the sound of the laugh. "Well?" he said irritably. "Well? What's the matter now?"
The eyes that countered his were hard, with just a hint of defiance. "You laughed, sir," said Piers curtly.
"Well, what of it?" threw back Sir Beverley. "You're deuced suspicious. I wasn't laughing at you."
"I know that," said Piers. He spoke deliberately, as one choosing his words. His face was stern. "I don't want to know the joke if it's private. But I should like to know how long you want to be away."
"How long? How the devil can I tell?" growled Sir Beverley. "Till I've had enough of it, I suppose."
"Does it depend on that only?" said Piers.
Sir Beverley pushed back his chair with fierce impatience. "Oh, leave me alone, boy, do! I'll let you know when it's time to come home again."
Piers came towards him. He halted with the light from the lamp full on his resolute face. "If you are going to wait on Tudor's convenience," he said, "you'll wait--longer than I shall."
"What the devil do you mean?" thundered Sir Beverley.
But again Piers turned aside from open conflict. He put a quiet hand through his grandfather's arm.
"Come along, sir! We'll smoke in the hall," he said. "I think you understand me. If you don't--" he paused and smiled his sudden, winning smile into the old man's wrathful eyes--"I'll explain more fully when the time comes."
"Confound you, Piers!" was Sir Beverley's only answer.
Yet he left the room with the boy's arm linked in his. And the woman's face on the wall smiled behind them--the smile of a witch, mysterious, derisive, aloof, yet touched with that same magic with which Piers had learned even in his infancy to charm away the evil spirit that lurked in his grandfather's soul.


CHAPTER XVI
THE WARNING

"Going away to-morrow, are you?" said Ina Rose, in her cool young voice. "I hope you'll enjoy it."
"Thanks!" said Piers. "No doubt I shall."
He spoke with his eyes on the dainty lace fan he had taken from her.
Ina frankly studied his face. She had always found Piers Evesham interesting.
"I should be wild if I were in your place," she remarked, after a moment.
He shrugged his shoulders, and his brown face slightly smiled. "Because of the hunting?" he said, and turned his eyes upon her fresh, girlish face. "But there's always next year, what?"
"Good gracious!" said Ina. "You talk as if you were older than your grandfather. It wouldn't comfort me in the least to think of next season's hunting. And I don't believe it does you either. You are only putting it on."
"All right!" said Piers. His eyes dwelt upon her with a species of mocking homage that yet in a fashion subtly flattered. He always knew how to please Ina Rose, though not always did he take the trouble. "Let us say--for the sake of argument--that I am quite inconsolable. It doesn't matter to anyone, does it?"
"I don't know why you should say that," said Ina. "It ought to matter--anyhow to your grandfather. Why don't you make him go by himself?"
Piers laughed a careless laugh, still boldly watching her. "That wouldn't be very dutiful of me, would it?" he said.
"I suppose you're not afraid of him?" said Ina, who knew not the meaning of the word.
"Why should you suppose that?" said Piers.
She met his look in momentary surprise. "To judge by the way you behaved the other day, I should say you were not."
Piers frowned. "Which day?"
Ina explained without embarrassment. "The day that girl held up the whole Hunt in Holland's meadow. My word, Piers, how furious the old man was! Does he often behave like that?"
Piers still frowned. His fingers were working restlessly at the ivory sticks of her fan. "If you mean, does he often thrash me with a horsewhip, no, he doesn't," he said shortly. "And he wouldn't have done it then if I'd had a hand to spare. I'm glad you enjoyed the spectacle. Hope you were all edified."
"You needn't be waxy," said Ina calmly. "I assure you, you never showed to greater advantage. I hope your lady friend was duly grateful to her deliverer. I rather liked her pluck, Piers. Who is she?"
There was a sudden crack between Piers' fingers. He looked down hastily, and in a moment displayed three broken ivory fan-sticks to the girl beside him. "I'm horribly sorry, Ina," he said.
Ina looked at the damage, and from it to his face of contrition. "You did it on purpose," she said.
"I did not," said Piers.
"You're very rude," she rejoined.
"No, I'm not," he protested. "I'm sorry. I hope you didn't value it for any particular reason. I'll send you another from Paris."
She spurned the broken thing with a careless gesture. "Not you! You'd be afraid to."
Piers' brows went up. "Afraid?"
"Of your grandfather," she said, with a derisive smile. "If he caught you sending anything to me--or to the lady of the meadow--" she paused eloquently.
Piers looked grim. "Of course I shall send you a fan if you'll accept it."
"How nice of you!" said Ina. "Wouldn't you like to send something for her in the same parcel? I'll deliver it for you--if you'll tell me the lady's address."
Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she made the suggestion. Piers frowned yet a moment longer, then laughed back with abrupt friendliness.
"Thanks awfully! But I won't trouble you. It's decent of you not to be angry over this. I'll get you a ripping one to make up."
Ina nodded. "That'll be quite amusing. Everyone will think that you're really in earnest at last. Poor Dick will be furious when he knows."
"You'll probably console him pretty soon," returned Piers.
"Think so?" Ina's eyes narrowed a little; she looked at Piers speculatively. "That's what you want to believe, is it?"
"I? Of course not!" Piers laughed again. "I never wished any girl engaged yet."
"Save one," suggested Ina, and an odd little gleam hovered behind her lashes with the words. "Why won't you tell me her name? You might as well."
"Why?" said Piers.
"I shall find it out in any case," she assured him. "I know already that she dwells under the Vicar's virtuous roof, and that the worthy Dr. Tudor finds it necessary to drop in every day. I suppose she is the nurse-cook-housekeeper of that establishment."
"I say, how clever of you!" said Piers.
The girl laughed carelessly. "Isn't it? I've studied her in church--and you too, my cavalier. I don't believe you have ever attended so regularly before, have you? Did she ever tell you her age?"
"Never," said Piers.
"I wonder," said Ina coolly. And then rather suddenly she rose. "Piers, if I'm a prying cat, you're a hard-mouthed mule! There! Why can't you admit that you're in love with her?"
Piers faced her with no sign of surprise. "Why don't you tell me that you're in love with Guyes?" he said.
"Because it wouldn't be true!" She flung back her answer with a laugh that sounded unaccountably bitter. "I have yet to meet the man who is worth the trouble."
"Oh, really!" said Piers. "Don't flatter us more than you need! I'm sorry for Guyes myself. If he weren't so keen on you, it's my belief you'd like him better."
"Oh no, I shouldn't!" Ina spoke with a touch of scorn. "I shouldn't like him either less or more, whatever he did. I couldn't. But of course he's extremely eligible, isn't he?"
"Does that count with you?" said Piers curiously.
She looked at him. "It doesn't with you of course?" she said.
"Not in the least," he returned with emphasis.
She laughed again, and pushed the remnants of her fan with her foot. "It wouldn't. You're so charmingly young and romantic. Well, mind the doctor doesn't cut you out in your absence! He would be a much more suitable _parti_ for her, you know, both as to age and station. Shall we go back to the ball-room now? I am engaged to Dick for the next dance. I mustn't cut him in