The Black Moth (41 page)

"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 luckily for him the lady failed to notice it, and continued with airy cheerfulness:

"For my husband has
often
told me what an excellent swordsman Mr. Carstares is, and—"

"Your ladyship forgets his wound."

What she might have been constrained to reply to this is not known, for at that moment came the sound of coach-wheels on the gravel. With one accord she and Salter flew to the door, and between them, wrenched it open, just as a gentleman's travelling coach, postillioned by men in gold and black, and emblazoned with the Wyncham arms, drew up at the door.

My lady was down the steps in the twinkling of an eye, almost before one of the grooms had opened the door to offer an arm to my lord. Carstares sprang lightly out, followed by O'Hara, seemingly none the worse for wear.

Molly ran straight into her husband's arms, regardless of the servants, hugging him.

Jim Salter hurried up to my lord.

"Ye are not hurt, sir?" he cried.

Carstares handed him his hat and cloak.

"Nought to speak of, Jim. But 'Everard' well-nigh finished me for all that!" He laughed at Jim's face of horror, and turned to Molly, who, having satisfied herself that her husband was quite uninjured and had never once been in danger of his life, had come towards him, full of solicitude for his shoulder

"Oh, my dear Jack! Miles tells me you have hurt your poor shoulder again! And pray what has been done for it? I dare swear not one of you great men had the wit to summon a doctor, as indeed you should have, for—"

"Whist now, asthore!" adjured her husband. "'Tis but a clean scratch after all. Take him into the house and give him something to drink! I'll swear 'tis what he needs most!"

Molly pouted, laughed and complied.

Over the ale Jack related the whole escapade up to the moment when he had parted from Diana at Littledean. Then O'Hara took up the tale with a delightful chuckle.

"Sure, Molly, ye never saw anything to equal poor old Beauleigh when his daughter had told him Jack's name! Faith, he didn't know what to do at all, he was so excited! And Miss Betty I thought would have the vapours from the way she flew from Di to Jack and back again, in such a state of mind as ye can't imagine!"

Molly, who had listened with round eyes, drew a deep ecstatic breath. Then she bounced up, clapping her hands, and proclaimed that she was right after all!

"What will ye be meaning, alanna?" inquired O'Hara.

"Pray, sir, did I not say
over and over
again that if I could only induce Jack to stay with us everything would come right? Now, Miles, you know I did!"

"I remember ye said something like it once," admitted her spouse.

"Once, indeed! I was always sure of it. And I did coax you to stay, did I not, Jack?" she appealed.

"You did," he agreed. "You assured me that if I was churlish enough to leave, Miles would slowly sicken and pine away!"

She ignored her husband's ribald appreciation of this.

"Then you see that 'tis all owing to me that—" She broke off to shake O'Hara, and the meeting ended in riotous hilarity.

When he went to change his clothes, Carstares found Jim already in his room awaiting him. He hailed him gaily, and sat down before his dressing-table.

"I require a very festive costume to-night, Jim. Rose velvet and cream brocade, I think."

"Very good, your lordship," was the prim reply.

Jack slewed round.

"What's that?"

"I understand your lordship is an Earl," said poor Jim.

"Now who was the tactless idiot who told you that? I had intended to break the news myself. I suppose now, you know my–story?"

"Yes, si–my lord. I–I suppose ye won't be requiring my services any longer?"

"In heaven's name, why not? Do you wish to leave me?"

"Wish to—! No, sir–my lord— I–I thought ye'd maybe want a smarter valet–and–not me."

My lord turned back to the mirror and withdrew the pin from his cravat.

"Don't be a fool."

This cryptic remark seemed greatly to reassure Jim.

"Ye mean it, sir?"

"Of course I do. I should be lost without you after all this time. Marry that nice girl at Fittering, and she shall maid my lady. For I'm to be married as soon as may be!"

"Ay, s–my lord! I'm sure I'm very glad, s–your lordship. Rose, sir? With the silver lacing?"

"I think so, Jim. And a cream–very pale cream waistcoat, broidered in with rose. There is one, I know."

"Yes, sir–your lordship."

My lord eyed him despondently.

"Er–Jim!"

"Yes–your lordship?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot endure it."

"I beg pardon, my lord?"

"I can't have you call me 'your lordship,' after every second word–I really cannot."

"Why, sir–may I still call you 'sir'?"

"I would much rather you did."

"Ay, sir–thank you." . . .

In the middle of tying the bow to his master's wig Jim paused, and in the mirror Jack saw his face fall.

"What's amiss now? And what have you done with my patches?"

"In that little box, sir–yes–that one. I was just thinking–here's the haresfoot, sir–that I shall never be able to see ye hold up a coach now!"

My lord, striving to affix the patch in just the right spot at the corner of his mouth, tried to control his features, failed, and went off into a peal of laughter that reached O'Hara in the room across the landing, and caused him to grin delightedly. He had not heard that laugh for many a long day.

HIS GRACE OF ANDOVER sat at the window of his lodgings at Venice, looking down at a letter in his hand. The writing was his sister's. After a moment he drew a deep breath and broke the seal, spreading the sheets out upon the broad sill.

"My very dear Tracy,

"So you have gone again with no Farewell to yr. poor Sister, sir! I am indeed very offended, but I understand yr. Reason. As soon as I sett mine eyes on Diana I knew the Truth and recognised yr. dark Beauty. I am monstrous grieved for you, dear. I quite love her myself, altho' she is very tiresomely lovely, but perhaps as she is dark and I am fair, we shall not clash.

"The Home-coming was prodigious exciting. Andrew was present, Dicky, of course, and me. Mrs. Fanshawe, too, was there, for she knew Jack Abroad, and a monstrous queer Old Man, who was vastly fidgetty and overcome to see Jack. Then Sir Miles and his wife came, who I thought quite agreeable nice People, and Diana's Father and Aunt, rather Bourgeois, but, on the whole, presentable.

"Everyone knows the Truth now, but most People have been prodigious kind and I scarce notice a difference in our Reception. Dearest Dicky is gayer than he was wont to be and more darling, and I almost enjoy being a Social Outcast.

"When Diana is properly gowned, as should suit her position (but I grieve to say that she prefers to dress plainly), she will make a prodigious Elegantt Countess. I have promised to connduct her to my own Mantua Maker, which is very sacrificing, as I am sure You will agree. I know London will go Crazy about her, and, indeed, those who have allready seen her, which is Avon and Falmouth, are positively Foolish. I make no doubtt 'twill be very mortifying, but I suppose it must be borne.

"She and Jack are prodigious happy together; it is most Unfashionable, but so am I happy with Dick, so there are a Pair of us, and we had best
sett
Fashion.

"Pray, return soon, my dear Tracy, you cannot conceive how I miss you. I was surprised you went away with Mr. Fortescue, I had no Notion you were so friendly.

With dearest Love,

Yr. Sister

LAVINIA.

"P S.–'Twill interest you to hear that Miss Gunning is to marry Coventry. 'Tis all over Town this last Week."

Slowly his Grace put the sheets together and handed them to Fortescue, who had just come into the room.

"These, from my sister, may possibly interest you, Frank."

Fortescue read the letter through, and at the end folded it and handed it back in silence. Tracy laid it down on the table at his elbow.

"I began–wrongly," he said.

"Yes," assented his friend. "She was not–that kind of girl."

"But having begun wrongly–I could not undo the wrong."

"So you made it worse," said Fortescue gently.

"I would have married her in all honour—"

"In your own arrogant fashion, Tracy."

"As you say–in my own arrogant fashion, Frank. If I could go back a year–but where's the use? I am not whining. Presently I shall return to England and make my bow to–the Countess of Wyncham. Possibly, I shall not feel one jealous qualm. One never knows. At all events–I'll make that bow."

"You will?" Frank looked sharply down at him. "Nothing more, Tracy! You do not purpose—"

"Nothing more. You see, Frank–I love her."

"I crave your pardon. Yes–she would not take you, but she has, I think, made you. As I once told you, when love came you would count yourself as nought, and her happiness as everything."

For a moment his Grace was silent, and then back came the old smile, still cynical, yet with less of the sneer in it.

"How very pleasant it must be, Frank, to have one's prophecies so happily verified!" he purred. "Allow me to felicitate you!"

THE END