These Old Shades (19 page)

“And your parents made the—the Duke your guardian?”

“N-no. They have been dead for many years, you see. Monseigneur did it all himself.” Léonie glanced down at the babe. “Is this also your son, madame?”

“Yes, child, this is Geoffrey Molyneux Merivale. Is he not beautiful?”

“Very,” said Léonie politely. “I do not know babies very well.” She rose, and picked up her plumed hat. “I must go back, madame. Madame Field will have become agitated.” She smiled mischievously. “She is very like a hen, you know.”

Jennifer laughed.

“But you’ll come again? Come to the house one day, and I will present my husband.”

“Yes, if you please, madame. I should like to come.
Au revoir, Jean; au revoir, bébé!”

The baby gurgled, and waved an aimless hand. Léonie hoisted herself into the saddle.

“One does not know what to say to a baby,” she remarked. “He is very nice, of course,” she added. She bowed, hat in hand, and, turning, made her way back along the path down which she had come, to the road.

Jennifer picked up the baby, and, calling to John to follow, went through the wood and across the gardens to the house. She relinquished the children to their nurse, and went in search of her husband.

She found him in the library, turning over his accounts, a big, loose-limbed man, with humorous grey eyes, and a firm-lipped mouth. He held out his hand.

“Faith, Jenny, you grow more lovely each time I look upon you,” he said.

She laughed, and went to sit on the arm of his chair.

“Fanny thinks us unfashionable, Anthony.”

“Oh, Fanny——! She’s fond enough of Marling at heart.”

“Very fond of him, Anthony, but she is modish withal, and likes other men to whisper pretty things in her ear. I fear that I shall never have the taste for town ways.”

“My love, if I find ‘other men’ whispering in your ear——”

“My lord!”

“My lady?”

“You are monstrous ungallant, sir! As if they—as if I would!”

His hold about her tightened.

“You might be the rage of town, Jenny, an you would.”

“Oh, is that your will, my lord?” she teased. “Now I know that you are disappointed in your wife. I thank you, sir!” She slipped from him, and swept him a mock curtsy.

My lord jumped up and caught her.

“Rogue, I am the happiest man on earth.”

“My felicitations, sir. Anthony, you have had no word from Edward, have you?”

“From Edward? Nay, why should I?”

“I met a girl to-day in the woods who has stayed with the Marlings. I wondered whether he had written to tell you.”

“A girl? Here? Who was she?”

“You’ll be surprised, my lord. She is a very babe, and— and she says she is the Duke’s ward.”

“Alastair?” Merivale’s brow wrinkled. “What new whim can that be?”

“I could not ask, of course. But is it not strange that— that man—should adopt her?”

“Perchance he is a reformed character, my love.”

She shivered.

“He could never be that. I feel so sorry for this child —in his power. I asked her to come and see me one day. Was it right of me?”

He frowned.

“I’ll have no dealings with Alastair, Jenny. I am not like to forget that his Grace saw fit to abduct my wife.”

“I wasn’t your wife then,” she protested. “And—and this child—this Léonie—is not like that at all. I should be so pleased if you would let her come.”

He made her a magnificent leg.

“My lady, you are mistress in your own house,” he said.

So it was that when next Léonie rode over to Merivale she was received gladly both by Jennifer and her lord. She was rather shy at first, but her nervousness fled before Merivale’s smile. Over a dish of Bohea she made gay conversation, and presently turned to her host.

“I wanted to meet you, milor’,” she said cheerfully. “I have heard much—oh, much—about you!”

Merivale sat bolt upright.

“Who in the world——?” he began uneasily.

“Lady Fanny, and Monseigneur, a little. Tell me, m’sieur, did you really stop Lord Harding’s coach——?”

“For a wager, child, for a wager!”

She laughed.

“Aha, I knew! And he was very angry, was he not? And it had to be kept secret, because in—in dip-lo-mat-ic circles it——”

“For heaven’s sake, child!”

“And now you are called The Highwayman!”

“No, no, only to my intimates!”

Jennifer shook her head at him.

“Oh, my lord! Go on, Léonie. Tell me some more. The wretch has grossly deceived me, I’ll have you know.”

“Mademoiselle,” said Merivale, wiping his heated brow, “have pity!”

“But tell me,” she insisted. “Was it not very exciting to be a highwayman for one night?”

“Very,” he said gravely. “But not at all respectable.”

“No,” she agreed. “One does not always want to be respectable, I think. Me, I am a great trial to everybody, because I am not respectable at all. It seems that a lady may do many bad things and still be respectable, but if one speaks of such things as breeches then one is unladylike. I find it very hard.”

His eyes danced. He tried to suppress a laugh, and failed.

“Faith, you must come often to see us, mademoiselle! ‘Tis not often we meet such a charming little lady.”

“You must come to see me next,” she answered. “That is right, is it not?”

“I am afraid——” began Jennifer uncomfortably.

“His Grace and I do not visit,” ended Merivale.

Léonie flung up her hands.

“Oh,
parbleu
! Every one I meet is the same! It does not surprise me that sometimes Monseigneur is wicked when everybody is so unkind to him.”

“His Grace has a way of making it difficult for one to be —er—kind to him,” said Merivale grimly.

“M’sieur,” answered Léonie with great dignity, “it is not wise to speak thus of Monseigneur to me. He is the only person in the whole world who cares what happens to me. So you see I will not listen to people who try to warn me against him. It makes something inside me get all hot and angry.”

“Mademoiselle,” said Merivale, “I crave your pardon.”

“I thank you, m’sieur,” she said gravely.

She came often to Merivale after that, and once dined there with Madam Field, who had no knowledge of the rift between Avon and Merivale.

A fortnight passed, bringing no word from Justin, but at the end of it a travelling coach, loaded with baggage, arrived at Merivale, and a tall young exquisite leaped out. He was admitted into the house and met by Jennifer, who laughed when she saw him, and held out both her hands.

“Why, Rupert! Have you come to stay?”

He kissed her hands, and then her cheek.

“Devil take it, Jenny, you’re too lovely, ‘pon my soul you are! Lord, here’s Anthony! I wonder if he saw?”

Merivale gripped his hand.

“One of these days, Rupert, I’ll teach you a lesson,” he threatened. “What’s to do? You’ve brought enough baggage for three men.”

“Baggage? Nonsense, man! Why, there’s only a few things there, I give you my word! One must dress, y’know, one must dress. Anthony, what’s this fandangle about Justin? Fanny’s devilish mysterious, but the tale’s all over town that he’s adopted a girl! Stap me, but that’s——” He broke off, remembering Jennifer’s presence. “I’ve come down to see for myself. God knows where Justin is! I don’t.” He looked sharply at Merivale, consternation in his face. “He’s not at Avon, is he?”

“Calm yourself,” soothed Merivale. “He is not here.”

“Praise the Lord for that. Who is the girl?”

“A pretty child,” Merivale answered guardedly.

“Ay, I’d have guessed that. Justin had ever a nice taste in——” Again he stopped. “Thunder an’ turf, I beg your pardon, Jenny! I’d forgot! Demmed careless of me!” He looked ruefully at Merivale. “I must always be saying the wrong thing, Tony. It’s this rattle-pate of mine, and what with the bottle—well, well!”

Merivale led him into the library, where a lackey came to them presently, bringing wine. Rupert settled his long length in a chair and drank deeply.

“Truth to tell, Tony,” he said confidently, “I’m more at ease when the ladies are not present. My tongue runs away with me, burn it! Not but what Jenny’s a devilish fine woman,” he added hastily. “The wonder is that you admit me into your house. When one thinks ‘twas my brother ran off with Jenny——” He shook his head comically.

“You’re always welcome,” smiled Merivale. “I’ve no fear that you’ll seek to abduct Jenny.”

“Lord, no! I’m not saying that I haven’t trifled somewhat with women now and then—one has to, y’know. Honour of the name, my boy—but I’ve no real taste for ’em, Tony, none at all.” He refilled his glass. “ ‘Tis a queer thing, when you come to think on’t. Here am I, an Alastair, with never an intrigue to my name. I feel it sometimes,” he sighed, “ ‘tis as though I were no true Alastair. Why, there’s never been one of us——”

“I’d not crave the vice, Rupert,” said Merivale dryly.

“Oh, I don’t know! There’s Justin, now, and wherever he is there is sure to be some wench. I’m not saying aught against him, mind you, but we don’t love one another overmuch. I’ll say one thing for him, though: he’s not mean. I daresay you’ll not believe me, Tony, but since he came into that fortune of his I’ve not been in a sponging house once.” He looked up with some pride. “Not once.”

“It’s marvellous,” Merivale agreed. “And have you really come down to see Léonie?”

“Is that her name? Ay, what else?”

The grey eyes began to twinkle.

“I thought mayhap ‘twas to see myself and Jennifer?”

“Oh, of course, of course!” Rupert assured him, sitting up hurriedly. He saw the twinkle, and sank back again. “Devil take you, Tony, you’re laughing at me! Ay, I’d a mind to see Justin’s latest. Is she alone at the Court?”

“No, with a cousin of yours. Madam Field.”

“What, not old cousin Harriet? Lud, what will Justin be at next? He’s got his eye fixed to the proprieties this time, eh?”

“I believe it’s true that she is no more than his ward.”

Rupert cocked one incredulous eyebrow.

“For which reason, my dear fellow, you’ll either treat her with becoming respect, or journey back to town.”

“But, Tony—Damn it, you know Justin!”

“I wonder if any of us do? I know this child.”

“I’ll see for myself,” said Rupert. He chuckled. “I’d give something to see Justin’s face when he finds I’ve been poaching on his land! Not that I want to anger him; he’s devilish unpleasant when he’s crossed.” He paused, frowning prodigiously. “You know, Tony, I often wonder what he feels about me. He’s fond of Fanny, I’ll swear. He was devilish strict with her in the old days—never think it, would you?—But me—He gives me a handsome allowance these days, yet it’s seldom he has a friendly word for me.”

“Do you want a friendly word from him?” inquired Merivale, smoothing a wrinkle from his satin sleeve.

“Oh well! He’s my brother, y’know! Queer part of it is he used to take precious good care what happened to me when I was a youngster. He was always a damned smooth-tongued icicle, of course. I don’t mind telling you, Tony, I’m still something nervous of him.”

“I don’t pretend to understand him, Rupert. I used to think there was good in him somewhere. The child—Léonie—worships him. Have a care to what you say in her presence!”

“My dear fellow, it’s not likely I’d say aught——”

“It’s more than likely,” retorted Merivale. “Addle-pated young scamp!”

“Now stap me, that’s not fair!” cried Rupert, heaving himself up. “Scamp, did you say? What about the High Toby, my boy, eh?”

Merivale flung up his hand.

“Touché!
For the love of heaven, Rupert, don’t spread that tale about town!”

Rupert smoothed his ruffled hair, and managed to assume an expression of vast superiority.

“Oh, I’m not such a fool as you think, Tony, I assure you!”

“Well, thank God for that!” answered Merivale.

CHAPTER XV

Lord Rupert Makes the Acquaintance of Léonie

Rupert rode over to the Court the very next day and heralded his arrival by a prolonged peal on the door bell, accompanied by several resounding knocks. Léonie was seated by the fire in the hall, and the commotion startled her a little. When the butler came to admit the visitor she rose, and peeped round the corner of the screen to see who it was. A gay, boisterous voice met her ears.

“Hey, Johnson! Not dead yet? Where’s my cousin?”

“Oh, it’s you, my lord?” said the old man. “ Tis no one else would make such a thundering on the door, to be sure. Madam’s within.”

Rupert strode past him into the hall. At sight of Léonie regarding him in some trepidity from the fireplace he swept off his hat and bowed.