The Black Moth (17 page)

"And the other—"

"That was Diana Beauleigh, my niece–the pet. You will see her when you are better."

"But–but–where am I, madam?"

"Now don't get excited, dear boy!"

"I'm thirty!" protested Jack with a wicked twinkle.

"I should not have thought it, but thirty's a boy to me, in any case!" retorted Miss Betty, making him laugh. "You are in Mr. Beauleigh's house–Di's father, and my brother. And here you will stay until you are quite recovered!"

Jack raised himself on his elbow, grimacing at the pain the movement caused him.

"Egad, madam! have I been here long?" he demanded.

Very firmly was he pushed back on to his pillows.

"Will you be still? A nice thing 'twould be if you were to aggravate that wound of yours! You will have been here a week to-morrow. Bless my heart, what ails the boy?" For Jack's face took on an expression of incredulous horror.

"A WEEK, madam? Never say so!"

"'Tis as true as I stand here. And a nice fright you have given us, what with nearly dying, and raving about your Dicks and your Jims!"

My lord glanced up sharply.

"Oh! So I–talked?"

"Talk? Well, yes, if you can call all that mixture of foreign jargon talking. Now you must be still and wait till the doctor comes again."

For a while Carstares lay in silence. He thought of Jim and smiled a little. "I could not have thought of a better punishment had I tried," he told himself, and then frowned. "Poor fellow! He'll be off his head with fright over me. Miss–er–Betty?"

"Well, and are you not asleep yet?"

"Asleep, Madam? Certainly not!" he said with dignity. "I must write a letter."

"'Deed, an' you shall not!"

"But I must! 'Tis monstrous important, madam."

She shook her head resolutely.

"Not until Mr. Jameson gives permission," she said firmly.

Jack struggled up, biting his lip.

"Then I shall get up!" he threatened.

In an instant she was by his side.

"No, no! Now lie down and be good!"

"I will not lie down and be good!"

"Then I shan't let you touch a pen for weeks!"

Jack became very masterful and frowned direfully upon her.

"Madam, I insist on being allowed to write that letter!"

"Sir, I insist on your lying down!"

He controlled a twitching lip.

"Woe betide you unless you bring me pen and paper, Miss Betty!"

"But, dear boy, reflect! You could not use your arm."

"I will use it!" replied Jack indomitably, but he sank back on to the pillows with his eyes closed and a tiny furrow of pain between his straight brows.

"I told you so!" scolded Miss Betty, not without a note of triumph in her voice, and proceeded to rearrange the disorderly coverlet.

The blue eyes opened wide, pleadingly.

"Madam, indeed 'tis very important."

She could not withstand that look.

"Well," she compromised, "I'll not let you write yourself, that's certain–but could you not dictate to me?"

Jack brightened, and caught her hand to his lips.

"Miss Betty, you are an angel!" he told her.

"Ah now, get along with you!" She hurried away to fetch paper and ink.

When she returned she found him plucking impatiently at the sheet, and frowning.

"I am ready," she said.

"Thank you, madam. 'Tis very kind in you—"

"Nonsense!"

He laughed weakly.

"I want you to write to my servant, to bid him bring my baggage to the nearest inn—"

"That will I not! I shall tell him to bring it here."

"But, Miss Betty, I cannot possibly trespass upon—"

"Will you have done? Trespass indeed!"

"I perceive I shall be much put upon," sighed Jack, and watched her lightning smile.

"You BOY! Will you dictate?"

"Very well, ma'am. No, I have changed my mind. I'll have it writ to a friend, please: 'Dear Miles, . . . True to my promise . . . I write to you . . . In case . . . you should be worried . . . over my disappearance . . . be it known . . . that I am at'–pray, madam, where am I?"

"Horton Manor, Littledean," she replied, writing it down.

"Thank you. 'I had the misfortune to injure my shoulder in a—"

"'And arm,'" put in the scribe, inexorably.

"'And arm, in a fight . . . and a certain very . . . kind lady—'"

"I refuse to write that rubbish! 'One of the ladies whom I rescued—'"

"Good heavens, madam, you've not put that?" cried Jack horrified.

She smiled reassuringly.

"I have not. I have put: 'My nurse is writing this for me.'"

"Madam, you are of a teasing disposition," reproved my lord. "M–yes–'When you take Jenny—over to Trencham . . . will you please tell Jim to bring my baggage . . . here at once?' Have you that, Miss Betty?"

"Yes."

"'Remember me to Lady . . . Molly, I beg . . . and accept my apologies . . . and thanks.'" He paused. "Will you sign it J.C., please, and address it to Sir Miles O'Hara, Thurze House, Maltby?"

"Sir Miles O'Hara! Is he your friend, Mr.—Mr.—I do not know your name."

"Car–" began Jack, and stopped, biting his lip. "Carr," he continued imperturbably, "John Carr. Do you know O'Hara, Miss Betty?"

"Me? No! Will he come to see you, do you think?"

"If you let him in, madam!"

"Gracious! Well, well! I'll tell Thomas to ride over with this at once."

"Miss Betty? you are marvellously good. I vow I can never thank—"

"Bless the boy! And what about yourself, pray? I shudder to think of what might have happened to Di if you had not come up! 'Tis we can never thank you enough."

Jack reddened boyishly and uncomfortably.

"Indeed, you exaggerate—"

"Tut, tut! Well, go to sleep, and never worry about anything till I return. And you won't try and get up?"

He shook with laughter.

"I swear I will not! Even an you never return, I will lie here, wasting away—" But he spoke to space, for with a delighted laugh she had left the room.

It was not until late that afternoon that O'Hara arrived, and he was conducted, after a brief conversation with Diana and her father, to my lord's room, where Miss Betty received him with her cheery smile and jerky curtsey.

"You'll not excite Mr. Carr?" she said, but was interrupted by my lord's voice from within, weak but very gay.

"Come in, Miles, and never listen to Miss Betty! She is a tyrant and denies me my wig!"

O'Hara laughed in answer to Miss Betty's quizzical smile, and strode over to the bed. He gripped my lord's thin hand and frowned down at him with an assumption of anger.

"Young good-for-nought! Could ye find nought better to do than to smash yourself up and well-nigh drive your man crazy with fright?"

"Oh, pshaw! Did you find Jim?"

O'Hara looked round and saw that Miss Betty had discreetly vanished. He sat gingerly down on the edge of the bed.

"Ay. I took the mare over as soon as I had your letter–and a fine scare you gave me, Jack, I can tell you! She recognised him, and I accosted him."

"I'll swear you did not get much satisfaction from Jim!" said my lord. "Did he look very foolish?"

"To tell ye the truth, I thought the man was half daft, and wondered whether I'd been after making a mistake. But in the end I got him to believe what I was trying to tell him, and he has taken the mare, and will bring your baggage along this evening. By the way, John, I told him of our little meeting, and of your pistols being unloaded. He said 'twas his fault, and ye never saw aught to touch his face! Put out was not the word for it."

"I suppose so. Look here, Miles, this is a damned funny affair!"

"What happened to you exactly?"

"'Tis what I am about to tell you. After I had left you, I rode on quite quietly for about an hour, and then came upon Miss Beauleigh's coach stopped by three blackguards who were trying to drag her to another coach belonging to the gentleman who conducted the affair. So, of course, I dismounted, and went to see what was to be done."

"You
would
be after poking your nose into what didn't concern ye. Four men, and ye had the audacity to tackle them all? 'Tis mad ye are entirely!"

"Of course, if you had been in my place you would have ridden off in another direction–or aided the scoundrels?" was the scathing reply.

O'Hara chuckled.

"Well, go on, Jack. I'm not saying I don't wish I had been with ye."

"'Twould have been superb. I suppose Miss Beauleigh has told you most of the tale, but there is one thing that she could not have told you, for she did not know it: the man I fought with was Belmanoir."

"Thunder and turf! Not the Duke?"

"Yes. Tracy."

"Zounds! Did he know ye?"

"I cannot be certain. I was masked, of course, but he said he thought he did. 'Twas at that moment he fired his pistol at me."

"The dirty scoundrel!"

"M'm–yes. 'Tis that which makes me think he did not know me. Damn it all, Miles, even Tracy would not do a thing like that!"

"Would he not? If ye ask me, I say that Tracy is game enough for any kind of devilry."

"But, my dear fellow, that is too black! He could not try to kill in cold blood a man he had hunted with, and fenced with–and–and–no man could!"

O'Hara looked extremely sceptical.

"Because ye could not yourself, is not to say that a miserable spalpeen like Belmanoir could not."

"I don't believe it of him. We were always quite friendly–if it had been Robert now— But I am not going to believe it. And don't say anything to these people, O'Hara, because they do not know Devil. I gather from what Miss Betty says, that he calls himself Everard. He met the girl–Diana–at Bath; you know his way. She'd none of him: hence the abduction."

"Heavens, but 'tis a foul mind the man's got!"

"Where women are concerned, yes. Otherwise–'tis not such a bad fellow, Miles."

"I've no use for that kind of dirt myself, Jack."

"Oh, I don't know. I daresay we are none of us exactly saints." He changed the subject abruptly. "How is Jenny?"

"Rather off her feed; missing you, I expect. I left her with your man. He should be arriving soon, I should think. I don't fancy he'll waste much time."

"Neither do I. Poor fellow, he must have worried terribly over his worthless master."

"Sure, his face was as white as your own when I told him ye were wounded!"

Carstares turned his head quickly.

"What's this about my face? Just be so kind as to hand me that mirror, Miles."

O'Hara laughed and obeyed, watching my lord's close scrutiny of his countenance with some surprise.

"Interesting pallor, my dear friend, interesting pallor. Nevertheless, I am glad that Jim is on his way." He met O'Hara's eyes as he looked up, and his lips quivered irrepressibly.

"You think me very vain, Miles?"

"Is it a pose of yours, John? Is it Sir Anthony Ferndale, Bart.?"

"No. I believe it is myself. You see, when one has but one's self to live for and think for–one makes the most of one's self! Hence my vanity. Take the mirror away, please–the sight of my countenance offends me!"

"Sure, ye are free with your orders, me lord!" said O'Hara, putting the glass down on the table. "And, while I think of it–what might your name be now?"

"John Carr–a slip of the tongue on my part, stopped in time. I hear my mentor returning–and–Miles!"

"Well?"

"Come again!"

"Come again! My dear boy, ye'll be sick of the sight of me soon! I shall be here every day."

"Thanks! It will take a good deal to sicken me, I think." He bit his lip, turning his head away as Miss Betty came into the room.

"I'm afraid that you ought to leave my patient now, Sir Miles," she said. "He has had enough excitement for one day, and should sleep." She glanced at the averted head inquiringly. "I doubt he is tired?"

Jack turned and smiled at her.

"No, Miss Betty, I'm not. But I know you will refuse to believe me."

"My dear boy, do you know you have black lines beneath your eyes?"

"More remarks about my face!" he sighed, and glanced at O'Hara, who had risen.

"You are quite right, Miss Beauleigh, I must go. May I come again to-morrow?"

"Surely," she beamed. "We shall be delighted to welcome you."

O'Hara bent over the bed.

"Then
au revoir
, Jack. My lady sent her love to her 'Cousin Harry'–the saucy puss!"

"Did she? How prodigious kind of her, Miles! And you'll give her mine, and kiss her—"