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Authors: Georgette Heyer

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Romance

False Colours (28 page)

BOOK: False Colours
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‘Driven over from where?’ demanded Kit.

Evelyn had tilted his glass, and was watching the glint of the candlelight on the brandy. ‘A place called Woodland House. You wouldn’t know it: it’s a few miles south of Crowborough. Belongs to a Mr and Mrs Askham.’


Crowborough
?’
Kit ejaculated. ‘Do you mean to tell me you’ve been within ten miles of Ravenhurst all this time?’

Evelyn nodded, shooting him a sidelong look which held as much mischief as guilt. ‘Yes, but I told you—I had concussion!’

‘I heard you!’ said Kit grimly. ‘You came round this morning, jumped out of bed, and posted home, as bobbish as ever! Since when have you run sly with
me
,
Eve?’

‘No, no, I’m not running sly! It’s just that it’s a long story, and—and I was wondering where to begin!’

‘Well, begin by telling me what took you to Crowborough of all unlikely places!’

‘Oh, I didn’t go to Crowborough! I went to Networth. You know, Kester!—a village not far from Nutley, where John-Coachman went to live with his married daughter, when my father pensioned him. Goodleigh told me, when I was here, that he’s grown pretty feeble, and keeps asking after us both. So I drove over to see the poor old chap. Lord, Kester, do you remember how he was used to have one of the carriages pulled out into the yard, and sit us up on the box-seat, and teach us how to handle the whip?’

‘Of course I do! But you didn’t get rid of Challow because you were going to see old John!’

‘Oh, no! That was by the way—or not so very much out of it! I was bound for Tunbridge Wells, and thought I might just as easily take the pike-road from Uckfield as—’

‘Clara!’ uttered Kit.

‘Yes, that’s right, but how in thunder did you know? If that meddling busybody, Challow, has been nosing out what’s no concern of his, I’ll be
damned
if I’ll keep him any longer! The way he and Fimber cluck after me, like a couple of hens with one chick, is enough to drive me out of my mind!’

‘Yes, I know, but I didn’t learn about Clara from him. He knew you’d got a ladybird in Tunbridge Wells, but not who she was, or where she lived. Just as well! He’d have been in a rare taking, if he’d known she was in bed with a broken heart, all on your account!’

Evelyn gave a shout of laughter. ‘Clara? I wish I might see it! She wouldn’t shed a tear for me, or anyone else!’

‘On the contrary! She hasn’t ceased to shed tears since the news of your perfidy burst upon her. She fell into hysterics first—fit after fit of ’em!’


Will
you stop pitching your gammon? I don’t want to be made to laugh: it hurts! Clara’s the merriest little game pullet alive—full of fun and gig, and don’t give a rap for anyone! As for breaking her heart over me, I’ll lay you any odds you like my place in it has been filled by now. I fancy I know who’s got it, too. Where did you pick up this bag of moonshine?’

‘From her loving parent—thank you very much, brother!’


What
?’
Evelyn sat up with an unwise jerk which made him wince. ‘Do you mean that rusty old elbow-crooker came here to find me? Kester, you didn’t let yourself be bit, did you?’

‘Only to the tune of paying the postboy.’

‘Well, thank God for that! Lord, Clara would rend her to flinders if she got wind of it! I only met her once, and that was enough for me!’

‘It was enough for me too,’ said Kit.

‘Poor twin!’ Evelyn said remorsefully. ‘You must have had the devil of a time with her!’ His eyes began to dance. ‘I’d give a monkey to have seen you, though! Did she gab for ever about the days of her glory?’

‘I should rather think she did! Who was the Marquis who kept her in style?’

‘I don’t know: might have been almost any Marquis, by what I’ve heard. You wouldn’t think she’d been a regular high-flier, would you? She was: old Flixton told me she was a dasher of the first water when she was young. Devil of a temper, but as full of fun as Clara is. The bottle was her undoing: that’s why it’s low tide with her now, for, according to Clara, she was pretty well-inlaid when she retired! Clara don’t live with her, but she looks after her. Which reminds me that I never did get to Tunbridge Wells, and I must. I owe Clara something for the good times we’ve had together. That’s all over now, and I expect she knows it, but I’ll tell her myself.’ He chuckled. ‘As corky a squirrel as you could wish for! Wrote to beg me to send her an express if I was dead, so that she could get her blacks together!’ He drank the rest of his brandy, and set the glass down beside his chair. ‘Where the deuce was I, when you led me off on to Clara?’

‘On the way to Networth, to visit John-Coachman.’

‘Oh, yes! Well, I did that all right and tight, and then I took the lane that joins the pike-road at Poundgate. That’s where I overturned—just short of Poundgate, and not fifty yards from Woodland House. Mrs Askham happened to be coming out of the gate, and saw it, and the long and the short of it was that she had me carried up to the house, and—and there I’ve been ever since.’ He looked at Kit, warmth in his eyes, ‘They couldn’t have done more for me if I’d been one of their sons, Kester. I can’t tell you how—how
good
they are, or how kind! I didn’t know anything about it, of course, but Mr Askham rode off himself to fetch their doctor, and even had the grays led into the stable, and saw to it that they were looked after as well as they would have been here. No broken legs, thank God! And no bad scars—thanks to Mr Askham!’

‘Well, that’s good, but why didn’t he send them a message here? He surely must have known how anxious everyone must be!’

‘Yes, yes, but he didn’t know who I was!
I
couldn’t tell them! Mrs Askham was in a regular stew over it, thinking what would be
her
feelings, if it had happened to Jeffrey, or Philip! They are her two elder sons. I haven’t met Jeffrey: he’s a parson; but Philip was there—a very good fellow! he’s up at Cambridge. Then there’s Ned. He’s still at Rugby, but he’s army-mad. And, in the nursery—’

‘Yes, I dare say!’ said Kit, ruthlessly interrupting this enthusiastic catalogue. ‘But what I want to know is why these excellent people didn’t think to take a look inside your card-case! If you were going to see Silverdale—yes, I know about that!—you
can’t
have forgotten to take it with you!’

‘No, no, I
did
remember to do that!’ Evelyn assured him. He cast another of his guilty looks upon his twin, but his eyes were brimful of laughter. ‘The thing was that there weren’t any cards in it! Now, Kester,
don’t
comb my, hair! I was in a hurry, but I
did
remember to assure myself that the case was in my pocket, and—dash it, I won’t let you rake me down! I am your elder brother,
and
the head of the family, so just you keep your tongue between your teeth!’

‘God help the family!’ retorted Kit, the laughter reflected in his own eyes. ‘Of all the paperskulls—! Was there
nothing
to tell the Askhams who you are?’

‘No, what should there be? I’d only my nightbag with me, and you don’t suppose I flaunt about the country with my crest blazoned on my sporting carriages, do you?’

‘No, but when you came round? They must have asked you what your name was!’

‘Yes, they did—at least,
Mrs
Askham did, when I came round the first time. I don’t remember it, and they say I slipped off again, but it seems that Mrs Askham asked me what my name was, and though I didn’t answer until she’d asked me several times, in the end I said “Evelyn”. Very likely I thought I was at Harrow, and saying my catechism! I don’t know! But when I really did come to my senses I found they were calling me Mr Evelyn. At first, I didn’t care what they called me. Then, when I got to be more myself, and knew how many days had passed, and that I must have lurched myself with the Stavelys, it didn’t seem to signify. Well, Kester, I was all to pieces, and they didn’t encourage me to talk, because Dr Elstead had warned them not to do so! And later—I didn’t want to tell them.’ He paused, studying his right hand, lying in the sling, the flicker of a reminiscent smile playing about the corners of his mouth. After a moment, as Kit waited, in some bewilderment, he looked up, and for the first time in his life met his twin’s eyes with a little shyness in his own. ‘Kester, when I woke up the second time, and looked round, wondering where the devil I was—I saw an angel!’

‘You saw
what
?’

‘Sitting in a chair, and watching me,’ said Evelyn, in a rapt voice. ‘With eyes of such a clear blue—oh, like the sky! and
shining—
I can’t describe them to you! And the sweetest, tenderest mouth—and pale gold hair, like a halo! I almost thought myself dead, and in heaven! And then she rose up out of the chair, and said, in her soft, pretty voice: “Oh, you are better!” With such a smile as only an angel
could
have!’

‘Oh, did she?’ said Kit, no longer bewildered. ‘As though we weren’t in a bad enough tangle already! And what else did she say?’

‘Nothing,’ replied Evelyn simply. ‘She vanished!’

This was rather too much for even the most devoted twin to accept with complaisance. ‘Stubble it!’ commanded Kit wrathfully. ‘If you don’t stop talking as if you’d rats in your upper storey, Eve, I’ll go back to Vienna tomorrow, and leave you to get yourself out of this hobble as best you may!’


Kester!

exclaimed Evelyn, in accents of deep reproach.

Kit’s lips quivered, but he said sternly: ‘Cut line!’

Evelyn laughed. ‘Well, she
seemed
to vanish! She went away to fetch Mrs Askham back into the room. She had been set to watch me, you see—they never left me alone until I came to myself, and Nurse had gone off to her dinner, and Mrs Askham had been called away, which was why Patience was there. After that, I only saw her when she brought up a glass of milk for me, or some such thing, and then only for a moment, and never alone, of course, for Mrs Askham guards her strictly, until that curst sawbones—no, I don’t mean that! He was a famous fellow!—until I was allowed to leave my bed. James—Mrs Ask-ham’s man-servant—was used to help me dress, and to support me downstairs, for I was as weak as a cat for days! Fit for nothing but to lie on a sofa, which they carried into the garden for me, and to watch the children at their play!’

‘Also to talk to the angel, I collect!’ said Kit dryly. ‘Is she a daughter of the Askhams?’

‘The eldest daughter. Yes,
then
I was able to talk to her, but always—always with Mrs Askham there, or Nurse, or the children! It didn’t signify—they were right to guard her! And though
I
knew, the instant I clapped eyes on her, that it was bellows to mend with me, she is so—so divinely innocent, Kester, I couldn’t suppose that she felt the same! They might have left us alone for hours: I—I wouldn’t have said a word to her that might have startled her! She’s such a shy little bird—no, not shy, precisely! So open, and confiding! So unaffected, so—’

‘Innocent,’ supplied Kit, as his besotted twin hesitated for a word.

‘Yes,’ agreed Evelyn. ‘Did you—did you ever meet a girl, Kester, who made you feel that—that the only thing you wanted to do in life was to protect her—shield her from so much as a draught?’

‘No,’ replied Kit. He added tactfully: ‘Not yet!’

‘I hope you may!’ Evelyn said, in all sincerity. The next instant, he frowned, and shook his head. ‘No, I don’t! Not in your style!’

‘It doesn’t sound to me as if she was quite in yours,’ Kit ventured to suggest.

A brilliant smile answered him. ‘I didn’t know, until I saw Patience, what
was
my style! How could I? I never met a girl that even faintly resembled her!’

There did not seem to be anything to be said in reply to this. Kit merely asked: ‘Are the Askhams still labouring under the impression that you are Mr Evelyn?’

‘No. Before I came away, I made a clean breast of it to Mr Askham. I told him about that damned Trust, and—and how I had meant to bring it to an end—Oh, not
why
,
of course!—and—well, all of it, except what concerned Mama! I dare say it may seem odd to you that I should do so, but you won’t think it when you’ve met him, Kester! He is a man of strong principle, and considerable pride, but he wants neither sense nor feeling, and one can talk to him, as if he were—I was about to say one’s father, but the lord knows we could never talk anything but commonplace to Papa, could we? He was very much surprised, of course, and he didn’t like it above half, but in the end I managed to get him to say that although he must forbid me to say anything to Patience, until I’d settled my affairs, and that neither he nor Mrs Askham had ever wished Patience to make an
unequal marriage—
such stuff!—he wouldn’t forbid me to come to the house again, if I was seriously attached to Patience, and if he believed her affections to be engaged also. I couldn’t hope for more, and I think Mrs Askham will stand my friend—though she gave me the devil of a scold! I would have left Woodland House then—thinking it was what I ought to do, besides knowing I must see you as soon as possible—but Mrs Askham wouldn’t hear of it, because the doctor came to see me that day, and told her to keep me quiet for another day or two.’

‘Oh, so you knew I was here, did you?’

‘Good God, Kester!’ exclaimed Evelyn. ‘You may be the clever twin, but you haven’t
all
the wits in the family! Of course I knew it, the instant I saw that thing in the
Morning Post!
If old Lady Stavely and Cressida had gone to stay with Lord Denville at Ravenhurst, it was as plain as anything could be that you’d come home, and had stepped into my shoes!’ His voice changed suddenly, with his mood. ‘I know why you did it. Only to get me out of a scrape! You couldn’t have done anything else—but O God, I wish you hadn’t! It was bad enough before, but I could have gone to Cressy—told her the truth—
then!
There was never any pretence between us, and she has a great deal of sense—not one of your simpering die-aways! But
now
,
when she’s been staying at Ravenhurst, and that curst newspaper has set everyone’s ears acock—! And even if that hadn’t happened, there is still Mama to be considered! Kester, what am I to
do
?’

BOOK: False Colours
6.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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