The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer (famous ebook reader .TXT) 📖

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hand. “You would have done the same for me!”

,Andrew pressed forward.

“Well, I can see no use in raking up old scores! After all, what does it matter? It’s

buried and finished. Here’s my hand on it, Dick! Lord! I couldn’t turn my back on the man I’ve lived on for years!” He laughed irrepressibly, and wrung Richard’s hand.

My lord’s eyes were on O’Hara, pleading. Reluctantly the Irishman came forward.

“‘Tis only fair to tell you, Richard, that I can’t see eye to eye with Andrew, here. However, I’m not denying that I think a good deal better of ye now than I did—seven years ago.”

Richard looked up eagerly.

“You never believed him guilty?”

O’Hara laughed.

“Hardly!”

“You knew ‘twas I?”

“I had me suspicions, of course.”

“I wish—oh, how I wish you had voiced them!”

O’Hara raised his eyebrows, and there fell a little silence. His Grace of Andover broke it, coming forward in his inimitable way. He looked round the room at each member of the company.

“One, two, three—four, five—” he counted. “Andrew, tell them to lay covers for five in the dining-room.”

“Aren’t you staying?” asked his brother, surprised.

“I have supped,” replied Tracy coolly.

For a moment O’Hara’s mouth twitched, and then he burst out laughing. Everyone looked at him inquiringly.

“Ecod!” he gasped. “Oh, sink me an I ever came across a more amusing villain! ‘Lay covers for five!’ Oh, damme!”

“Or should I have said six?” continued his Grace imperturbably. “Am I not to have the honour of Mr. Beauleigh’s company?”

O’Hara checked his mirth.

“No, ye are not! He was content to let me manage the business, and went back to Littledean.”

“I am sorry,” bowed his Grace, and turned to my lord, who, with his arm about Diana’s waist, was watching him arrogantly.

“I see how the land lies,” he remarked. “I congratulate you, John. I cannot help wishing that I had finished you that day in the road. Permit me to say that you fence rather creditably.”

My lord bowed stiffly.

“Of course,” continued his Grace smoothly, “you also wish you had disposed of me. I sympathise. But, however much you may inwardly despise and loathe me, you cannot show it—unless you choose to make yourself and me the talk of town—not forgetting Mistress Diana. Also I abhor bad tragedy. So I trust you will remain here to-night as my guest—er, Andrew, pray do not omit to order bedchambers to be prepared— Afterwards you need never come near me again—in fact, I hope that you will not.”

My lord could not entirely repress a smile.

“I thank your Grace for your hospitality, which I fear,” he glanced down at Diana’s tired face, “I shall be compelled to accept. As to the rest—I agree. Like you, I dislike bad tragedy.”

Diana gave a tiny laugh.

“You are all so stiff!” she said “I shall go to bed!”

“I will take you to the stairs then,” said Jack promptly, and led her forward.

She stopped as they were about to pass his Grace, and faced him.

Tracy bowed very low.

“Goodnight, madam. Carstares will know which room I had assigned to you. You will find a servant there.”

“Thank you,” she said steadily. “I shall try to forget the happenings of this day, your Grace. I see the truth in what you say—we cannot afford to let the world see that we are at enmity, lest it should talk. And, I confess it freely, I find it less hard to forgive you the insults of—of to-day, since they brought—Jack—to me. An I had not been in such dire straits, I might never have seen him again.”

“In fact,” bowed his Grace, “everything has been for the best!”

“I would not say that, sir,” she replied, and went out.

For a moment there was silence in the room. No one quite knew what to say. As usual, it was Tracy who came to the rescue, breaking an uncomfortable pause.

“I suggest that we adjourn to the dining-room,” he said. “I gather we may have to wait some time before his lordship reappears. O’Hara, after you!”

“One moment,” replied Miles. “Jack’s mare is in a shed somewhere. I said I would see to her.”

“Andrew!” called his Grace. “When you have finished superintending the laying of the supper, give orders concerning Carstares’ mare!”

A casual assent came from outside, and immediately afterwards Lord Andrew’s voice was heard shouting instructions to someone, evidently some way off.

On the whole, the supper-party passed off quite smoothly. His Grace was smilingly urbane, Andrew boisterous and amusing, and O’Hara bent on keeping the conversation up. Richard sat rather silent, but my lord, already deliriously happy, soon let fall his armour and joined in the talk, anxious to hear all the news of town for the last six years.

O’Hara was several times hard put to it to keep from laughing out loud at his thoughts. The humour of the situation struck him forcibly. After fighting as grimly as these men fought, and after all that had transpired, that they should both sit down to supper as they were doing, appealed to him strongly. He had quite thought that my lord would incline to tragedy and refuse to stay an instant longer in the Duke’s house.

It was not until midnight, when everyone else had gone to bed, that the brothers came face to face, alone. The dining-room was very quiet now, and the table bore a dissipated look with the remains of supper left on it. My lord stood absently playing with the long-handled punch spoon, idly stirring the golden dregs at the bottom of the bowl. The candles shed their light full on his face, and Richard, standing opposite in the shadow, had ample opportunity of studying it.

It seemed to him that he could not look long enough. Unconsciously his eyes devoured every detail of the loved countenance and watched each movement of the slender hand. He found John subtly changed, but quite how he could not define. He had not aged much, and he was still the same laughter-loving Jack of the old days, with just that intangible difference. O’Hara had felt it, too: a slight impenetrability, a reserve.

It was my lord who broke the uncomfortable silence As if he felt the other’s eyes upon him, he looked up with his appealing, whimsical smile.

“Devil take it, Dick, we’re as shy as two schoolboys!”

Richard did not smile, and his brother came round the table to his side.

“There’s nought to be said betwixt us two, Dick. ‘Twould be so damned unnecessary. After all—we always shared in one another’s scrapes!”

He stood a moment with his hand on Richard’s shoulder; then Richard turned to him “What you must think of me!” he burst out. “My God, when I realise—”

“I know. Believe me, Dick, I know just what you must have felt. But pray forget it! It’s over now, and buried.”

There was another long silence. Lord John withdrew his hand at last, and perched on the edge of the table, smiling across at Richard.

“I’d well-nigh forgot that you were a middle-aged papa! A son?”

“Ay—John—after you.”

“I protest I am flattered. Lord, to think of you with a boy of your own!” He laughed, twirling his eyeglass.

At last Richard smiled.

“To think of you an uncle!” he retorted, and suddenly all vestige of stiffness had fled.

Next morning Richard went on to Wyncham, and Diana, Jack and O’Hara travelled back to Sussex. Jack would not go home yet. He protested that he was going to be married first, and would then bring home his Countess. But he had several instructions to give his brother concerning the preparation of his house. The last thing he requested Richard to do was to seek out a certain city merchant, Fudby by name, and to rescue a clerk, Chilter, from him, bearing him off to Wyncham. All this he called from the coach window, just before they set off.

Richard led Jenny, whom he was to ride home, up to the door of the vehicle, and expostulated.

“But what in thunder am I to do with the man?”

“Give him to Warburton,” advised Jack flippantly. “I know he needs a clerk—he always did!”

“But perhaps he will not desire to come—”

“You do as I tell you!” laughed his brother. “I shall expect to find him at Wyncham when I arrive! Au revoir!” He drew his head in, and the coach rumbled off.

CHAPTER XXIX LADY O’HARA IS TRIUMPHANT

AFTER spending a restless night, starting at every sound, and hearing the hours strike slowly away, Lady O’Hara arose not a whit refreshed and considerably more ill at ease than she had been before.

During the night she had imagined all sorts of impossible horrors to have befallen her husband, and if, when the reassuring daylight had come, the horrors had somewhat dispersed, enough remained to cause her an anxious morning as she alternated between the hall window and the gate.

No less worried was Jim Salter. He had returned from Fittering last night to find his master and Sir Miles gone, Lady O’Hara in a state of frightened bewilderment, and the house in a whirl. No one, least of all poor Molly, seemed to know exactly where the two men had gone. All she knew was that they had come back upon a scene of turmoil, with Mr. Beauleigh in the midst of a small crowd of excited servants. Her husband had elbowed his way through, and into his ears had Mr. Beauleigh poured his story. Then O’Hara seemed to catch the excitement, and she had been hurried into the house with the hasty explanation that Jack was off after Devil, who had caught Diana, and he must to the rescue. Ten minutes after, she had an alarming vision of him galloping off down the drive, his sword at his side and pistols in the saddle-holsters. The poor little lady had sent an imploring cry after him, checked almost before it had left her lips. Afterwards she wished it had never been uttered, and rather hoped that it had escaped O’Hara’s ears.

Salter arrived not half-an-hour later, and his feelings when told that his beloved master had ridden off in search of a fight, may be more easily imagined than described. He was all for setting out in his wake, but her ladyship strongly vetoed the plan, declaring that Sir Miles would be rescue enough, and she was not going to be left entirely without protectors. Jim was far too respectful to point out that there were five able-bodied men, not counting himself, in the house, but as his master had left no instructions for him, he capitulated.

He proved nought but a Job’s comforter next day, for when my lady pessimistically premised that both Carstares and her husband were undoubtedly hurt, he did not, as she expected he would, strive to reassure her, but gave a gloomy assent. Whereupon she cast an indignant glance in his direction, and turned her back.

At four in the afternoon they were both in the hall, anxiously watching the drive.

“To be sure, ‘tis monstrous late!” remarked Molly, with wide, apprehensive eyes.

“Yes, my lady.”

“If—if nought were amiss, they should have been back by now, surely?”

“Yes indeed, my lady.”

Lady O’Hara stamped her foot.

“Don’t say yes!” she cried.

Jim was startled.

“I beg pardon, m’lady?”

“You are not to say yes! After all, they may have gone a long way—they—er—they may be tired! Jenny may have gone lame—anything—anything may have happened!”

“Yes, m’— I mean certainly, your ladyship!” hastily amended Jim.

“In fact, I should not be surprised an they were not at all hurt!”

He shook his head despondently, but