The Black Moth (24 page)

Miss Betty stuck a pin into her hair and smoothed out her dress.

"And me in this old taffeta!" she grumbled.

Diana swirled round, her own peach-coloured silk rustling fashionably.

"Never mind, dear–you look very sweet. But
do
be quick!"

Miss Betty suffered herself to be led to the door.

"'Tis all very fine for you, my love, with a new gown fresh on to-day! Will you just take a look at my petticoat, though?"

"Nonsense, you are beautiful! Come!"

Together they descended the stairs, and went into the drawing-room.

A dainty, very diminutive little lady arose from a chair at their entry, and came forward with outstretched hands, and such a fascinating smile that Miss Betty's ill-humour vanished, and she responded to her visitor's deep curtsy with one of her best jerky dips.

"I am vastly delighted to welcome you, madam," she said primly. "'Tis good in you to come this long way to see us."

She drew a chair forward for my lady, and presented her niece. Lady O'Hara gave the girl a swift, scrutinising glance, and curtsied again.

"'Tis a great pleasure to me to meet you at last, Miss Beauleigh," she smiled. "My husband has told me so much of you, I declare I was all agog to meet you!"

Diana warmed instantly to the little lady's charm.

"Indeed, madam, we, too, have heard much of you from Sir Miles.
We
have wanted to meet
you!
"

Lady O'Hara seated herself and nodded briskly.

"I expect he told you some dreadful tales of me," she said happily. "I must ask your pardon for not having visited you before, but, as I daresay you know, I have been away, and, gracious me, when I returned everything seemed topsy-turvy!" She laughed across at Miss Betty. "I promise you I have had my hands full putting things to rights, Miss Beauleigh!"

Miss Betty drew her chair closer, and in a minute they were deep in truly feminine conversation: the prodigious extravagance of the servants; the helplessness of men-folk when left to themselves, and then London, its shops, its parks, the newest play.

Lady O'Hara was begged to take a dish of Miss Betty's precious Bohea–a very high honour indeed–and when Mr. Beauleigh came into the room he found his sister and daughter seated on either side of a pretty, animated little lady whom he had never before seen, talking hard, and partaking of tay and angel cakes. Whereupon he retired hastily and shut himself up in his library.

LADY O'HARA looked across at her sleeping husband with no little severity in her glance. He was stretched in a chair beneath a giant oak, and she was busied with some needlework a few paces from him. O'Hara's eyes were shut and his mouth open. My lady frowned and coughed. She rasped her throat quite considerably, but it was not without effect; her spouse shut his mouth and opened one lazy eyelid. Immediately my lady assumed an air of gentle mournfulness, and the eye regarding her twinkled a little, threatening to close. Molly looked reproachful, and began to speak in an aggrieved tone:

"Indeed, and I do not think it at all kind in you to go to sleep when I want to talk, sir."

O'Hara hastily opened the other eye.

"Why, my love, I was not asleep! I was–er–thinking!"

"Do you say so, sir? And do you usually think with your mouth open–
snoring?
"

O'Hara started up.

"I'll swear I did not snore!" he cried. "Molly, 'tis a wicked tease ye are!"

"Miles, 'tis a big baby you are!" she mimicked. "There is a caterpillar on your wig, and 'tis on crooked."

"The caterpillar?" asked O'Hara, bewildered.

"No, stupid, the wig. I had best straighten it for you, I suppose." She rose and stooped over him, settling the wig and removing the caterpillar by means of two leaves, judiciously wielded. Then she dropped a kiss on her husband's brow and sat down at his feet.

"First, you have never asked me where I was gone to all yesterday afternoon."

O'Hara had been carefully broken in, and he now knew what was expected of him, and put on an expression of great interest.

"Where
did
ye go, my lady?"

"I went to call on Miss Beauleigh and her niece, sir!"

She looked up at him triumphantly and a little challengingly.

"The devil ye did!"

"Certainly, sir. I knew that there was something in the air, and I remembered your letter to me saying that Jack was in love with Diana. So I thought I would go and see her for myself."

Miles looked down at her half indulgently, half vexedly.

"Did you, puss?"

"I did. And I found that she was in love with him as well as he with her–of course."

"Of course?"

"Who could help falling in love with him? He's so monstrous captivating, I would like to marry him myself."

She bent her head to hide the roguish smile that had sprung to her lips.

"I beg your pardon?" asked O'Hara, startled.

My lady traced patterns on his knee.

"Provided, of course, that I had not already married you, Miles."

But O'Hara had seen the smile. He heaved a great sigh, and said in lugubrious tones:

"There is always the river, madam."

My lady's finger wavered and stopped, and her hand tucked itself away into his.

"That is not a nice joke, Miles."

He laughed, and tweaked one of her curls.

"Sure, and did ye not ask for it, asthore?"

"Of course I did not. But about Jack, dear—"

"I thought it
was
about Jack?"

"Miles, will you be quiet and attend?"

"Yes, m'dear."

"Very well, then. As I have told you, I drove over to Littledean yesterday afternoon, and made the acquaintance of the Miss Beauleighs."

"And what did ye think of them?"

"I thought Diana was wonderfully beautiful–such eyes, Miles!–and such hair! Miss Beauleigh is very amiable, and so droll! I drank a dish of tay with them, and I spoke of Jack—"

"Madcap, never tell me ye called him Carstares?"

"No, you great gaby! Of course I did not. As it chanced, Miss Beauleigh mentioned him first, and she called him Mr. Carr. So I did, too. And I noticed that Diana said scarce a word about him, and when she did 'twas of the coolest. That, of course, made me all the more certain that she loved him."

O'Hara was plainly puzzled.

"But why should you be certain if she did not speak of him, alanna?"

"'Tis what you'll never understand, my dear, because you are but a man. But no matter–I knew. I quite adored Diana, and determined to talk to her alone. So I admired the roses, and she offered to escort me round the garden, which was what I wanted. We went out together. I think Diana must have liked me, for—"

"Nonsense!"

"Be quiet, Miles!–for she dropped her ice and became quite friendly. And I talked a lot."

She was aware of a convulsive movement above her, and a suppressed cough. She raised inquiring eyebrows.

"Well, sir?"

"Nothing, asthore–nothing. Go on with the tale–you were saying—"

"That I talked a lot." She paused, and her eyes dared him; then she dimpled and dropped her lashes over them. "I shan't tell you all I said—"

A relieved sigh interrupted her.

"And if you continue to behave in this disagreeable fashion I shall not say another word about anything!"

Having satisfied herself that he was not going to venture a retort, she continued:

"We had a long chat, and I gathered, from all she said and left unsaid, that Jack, for some foolish reason, will not ask her to marry him."

"Foolish reason, asthore?" he interrupted.

"Oh, I know you consider it a remarkable fine reason, but I tell you, 'tis rank cruelty to that poor child. As if she cared about highwaymen!"

"'Twas not so much that, I take it, as—"

"Yes, but he could tell her he was innocent–oh, Miles, do not look so provoking! Of course he could! I vow if you had treated me so, I would never have let you go until you had truly repented! I am of a mind to speak to Jack."

"'Twould be an entertaining sight, but ye'll kindly have a care how you touch him, my lady."

"He does not understand. I
know
she would be proud to marry him—"

"And ye'd think it a fine thing in Jack to ask her, the way things are with him at present?"

"I–oh, I don't know!"

"No, me love. Jack is right: he must first clear his name."

"Then, gracious goodness me, why does he not?" cried Molly, exasperated.

This time it was O'Hara's turn to look superior.

"Well, alanna, that's a question ye cannot hope to understand–because ye are but a woman."

Lady O'Hara ignored the challenge.

"But what is to be done?"

"Nought. He will have to work it out himself. He bound me to secrecy some time ago, or I would be tempted to speak to Richard."

"I quite
hate
Richard!" she cried. "He must be a selfish, unkind person. And now Jack swears he must go away almost at once–and, oh! you should have seen Diana's face of despair when I mentioned that he was going abroad again. Miles, we must keep him here as long as ever we can! Oh, dear! 'tis all very worrying."

She broke off as O'Hara pressed her hand warningly. My lord was coming across the lawn towards them.

"I am in dire disgrace," he said. "I was left with your ferocious baby, Molly, and to quiet him, I gave him a string of beads that you had left on the table."

"My precious Indian wooden beads!"

"Yes–I believe so. Anyway, the paint came off, and when Jane returned, David looked as though he had some horrible disease. She was most annoyed about it." He sat down in Molly's lately vacated chair, and carefully wiped a daub of green from his forefinger.

Molly laughed.

"Poor Jane! She will have such a task to clean him. But you've arrived most opportunely. We were talking of you."

O'Hara groaned inwardly, and tried to frown her down.

"You were? I am flattered! May I ask what you were saying?"

"Why, that we do not want you to go back to France."

O'Hara breathed again.

"That is very kind of you, my lady. I regret the necessity myself."

"Are you sure it is necessary? You might just as well live in a nice place near here, with a dear old woman to keep house for you–and–and Jim–and–lots of pleasant things."

My lord shook his head.

"No, thank you!"

"Yes, yes! And later on you could choose a wife!" she continued audaciously.

"Not at all. There would be no choice; I should be made to marry the dear old woman. You would bully me into it."

She laughed.

"Seriously, Jack, could you not settle down near here?"

"Not with that old woman, Molly."

"Never mind her; won't you consider it? No one need know you–in fact, you need see no one–and–oh, Jack! don't look like that. Miles, is he not ridiculous?"

"Sure, alanna, 'tis a dreary life he'd be leading," chuckled O'Hara.

"I see what it is, Molly. You have planned to make me a recluse,
and
to marry me to my housekeeper. I protest, 'tis great ill-usage!"

Molly eyed him doubtfully.

"Would you
much
object to the life, John?"

"Madam," he replied solemnly, "you would find my corpse in the garden at the end of the first week."

"Of course I should not like that," she pondered. "But I do not see what else we can do for you. Oh, and that reminds me! I drove over to Littledean yesterday–Miles, my love, will you be so kind as to fetch me my hat? I protest, the sun—"

"We will move more into the shade," said her disobliging husband.

"Oh, well! 'tis of no account, though I did hear that Brown was wanting to speak to you about the new cob—"

"'Tis prodigious thoughtful of you, Molly, but I met Brown some time ago."

Lady O'Hara gave it up.

"Well, as I was saying, Jack, I went to call at Horton House. Dear me, what a beautiful girl Diana is, to be sure!"

Carstares tried to think of something to say, and failing, made a non-committal sound.

"Yes. They both sent their kind wishes, and hoped you were better. Goodness! 'tis very close here. I wonder if you will give me your arm round the garden? And would
you
fetch me my hat? I left it in the hall, I think. Thank you very much!"

She waited until he was out of earshot before she turned to her husband.

"Now, Miles, you must please to stay where you are. I am not going to do anything indiscreet."

"Molly, I can't have ye worry him—"

"No such thing! I am going to coax him to stay here instead of going abroad. I feel sure that if we can but persuade him to stay, something will happen."