Leaning closer to Devenish, Isabella said a provocative “I can but pray he approves of me.”
Devenish gave her a warm smile and said he would like to meet the man who would not approve of so delightful a lady. But he glanced at Fontaine and thought, ‘By God, but I must get William Little out of my house!’
The opportunity arose much sooner than he had anticipated, and in a way he was to regret.
The air had become colder by the time they reached Devencourt, and, trapped by the dictates of common civility, Devenish offered his callers some hot coffee before they went up to see their kinsman. They repaired to the drawing room, where they found Guy Sanguinet and Mrs. Bliss, the dark head very close to the red curls as they leaned over the harpsichord on which was laid one of the tapestries.
Mrs. Bliss was saying triumphantly, “… and it is a fox, just as I said—see, here is his tail!”
“Bested again, hélas!” mourned Guy in exaggerated anguish. “There is not the way out—I must do away with this Frenchman!”
They both laughed, and Mrs. Bliss cried, “Oh, no. Pray do not!” resting one hand on his arm as she spoke, her green eyes full of merriment.
Fontaine’s breath hissed through his teeth, and he stood very still.
“Good heavens!” said his sister. “It is that dreadful Sanguinet creature!”
Devenish, who had paused for a moment to talk to Wolfe, came up just in time to hear the latter remark. Mrs. Bliss and Sanguinet glanced around guiltily. Guy groped for his crutch and Mrs. Bliss straightened, her face a little flushed and resentment replacing the laughter in her eyes.
“My dear Guy,” said Devenish deliberately, “I fancy you are acquainted with Lady Scott-Matthias and Lord Fontaine.”
My lord gave Sanguinet the briefest of nods and bowed elaborately to his distant cousin. Isabella allowed her dark eyes to flicker disdainfully over Guy before advancing to hold out her hand to Mrs. Bliss.
“My poor Faith—how loyal to deny yourself the pleasure of a ride, only so as to stay close to William. It must have been dreadfully dull for you.”
Guy moved back a little.
Her colour heightening, Faith replied, “To the contrary. I have passed a most pleasant morning, I thank you. But I—”
Fontaine intervened, “But now I think we should go at once to see William.” He turned to Devenish, his eyes chill. “You will excuse us do we not wait for coffee.” His gaze slanting pointedly to Guy, he said, “Come, Faith—Isabella.”
Mrs. Bliss became as pale as she had been flushed. Her eyes fairly darting rage, she turned on her cousin. The look she met appalled her. It was very obvious that if she objected, they would be treated to a fine scene. Fuming, she walked swiftly from the room, her relations following. Not a word was spoken as they ascended the stairs, for servants were all about, but once the door was closed in her brother’s bedchamber, Faith whirled to Lord Elliot and said in a voice that shook with wrath, “How dare you put me in such a position?”
“Eh?” grunted Sir James, startled from a nap. “Oh, hello, Elliot, Bella.”
Ignoring him, Fontaine said acidly, “I extricated you from the untenable position in which you had placed yourself. And I think you forget, ma’am, that I am the head of your house.”
“I think you forget, Elliot, that your papa is not yet deceased!”
His eyes narrowed. He said in a soft, deadly voice, “My papa would have heartily endorsed what I was just obliged to do.”
“What’s all this?” demanded Sir William, blinking.
“You cut him dead,” raged Mrs. Bliss. “And he has done nothing except to behave as a perfect gentleman!”
“Is that why you were hanging on his arm?” said Isabella mockingly. “La, but you pay little heed to the proprieties, my dear coz.”
“Hanging on whose arm?” rasped Sir William testily.
“I am no longer a little girl,” snapped Faith.
Fontaine said contemptuously, “Which being the case, one would suppose you to know better than to be in the same room with the fellow. Much less—alone! He’s a veritable pariah! Why they let him roost here is past understanding. Everyone knows he and his brother plotted to destroy England.”
“Destroy England?” Sir William shouted. “The devil you say!”
“Then everyone is wrong,” flashed Mrs. Bliss. “Guy Sanguinet is—”
“Sanguinet?” Sir William’s bellow rattled the windows. “Sanguinet d’ye say? Where’s the dirty bounder?”
Fontaine glanced at him. “Here. It seems he and Devenish are regular bosom bows.”
“What? By God, if that don’t do it!” His face crimson, Sir William rang for his valet and read his sister a searing lecture that left her shaken and close to tears. Fontaine was dispatched to send a groom for his cousin’s coach, and Devenish was summoned, to be informed in no uncertain terms just what Sir William thought of him, his damnable house, his demented servants, sundry assorted pigs, and filthy Frogs. My lord Fontaine, realizing too late that his abhorrence of Sanguinet had destroyed his excuse for frequent visits here, looked with real dismay at his equally dismayed sister. Not in the least dismayed, Devenish bowed and assured Sir William that every effort would be made to ensure his rapid departure.
Within a hour, they were gone.
* * *
Josie was seldom able to hold angry feelings, and when Devenish found at dinner time that he was still being treated with polite indifference, he realized he had sunk into deep disgrace. Josie chattered brightly with Guy, but since Mrs. Grenfell’s conversation consisted almost entirely of unanswerable positive statements, Devenish felt marooned, and was glad when the meal came to an end. The ladies adjourned to the drawing room, and the two men relaxed over their port, Guy lighting up a cheroot, and Devenish hauling out his favourite pipe.
“Well,” said Guy with a furtive smile, “you are rid of one of your—encumbrances, Alain. Yet—am I under the misapprehension dwelling, or are you less than aux anges?”
Devenish sighed and turned the pipe over in his hands without lighting it. “’Fraid I’ve displeased Josie. I’d fancied she would have forgiven me by now. She don’t usually despise me for such a long interval.”
“It is not my wish to pry, but—is she angry because you do not like Fontaine? Or because his sister have beaucoup admiration for you?”
“Both, I think. But—” Devenish’s gaze flickered and fell away. He said slowly, “But—that’s not the main reason. It was—because of you.”
“Mon Dieu! I am remiss in my tapestry duties?” But Guy sobered as his friend lifted an unusually grave countenance. “Ah—so this it is the matter sérieux. Expliquez, s’il vous plaît, mon ami.”
Devenish, uncomfortable, said slowly. “We’d no right to discuss it, save that we all are friends, you know. Josie seems to think—It’s none of my affair—Oh, the devil! She fancies that you and—and Faith…”
“I see.” Guy watched the spiral of smoke from his cheroot. “And you have tell her this it is not likely—eh?”
“Yes.” Devenish began to ram tobacco into his hapless pipe. “I told her that—under the circumstances, you would not—er…”
“These ‘circumstances’ being my—infirmity.”
The curly fair head jerked up. His eyes remorseful, Devenish admitted, “Dammitall, Guy, I’m sorrier than hell. But—yes, that’s what I said.”
“But of course.” Guy nodded. “And there is not the need for you to scourge of yourself for this truth. Save that you—how is it said?—you have evade the real truth.”
Devenish sat very still, his eyes quite blank. “I do not take your meaning.”
“Mais oui, mon cher Alain. Whatever you have say to our little sunbeam, and I think it must have been clumsily said to make her so angry, you say it to mean yourself. Not me. And our Josie, she know this.”
Paling, but with two spots of colour high on his cheekbones, Devenish said haughtily, “What the devil are you jabbering at? I’ve
not the remotest interest in Mrs. Bliss—save that she’s a most pleasant lady.”
With a faintly chiding smile, Guy waved the cheroot at him. “And once again, you evade and dissemble. No, no! Do not send me the sparks from your eyes, for you cannot call me out. You have spoken your thrust, you must allow me my riposte—no?”
A stranger stared at him. A stranger with a bleak, closed face, his head proudly up-tilted, his voice glacial as he replied, “As you wish.”
Devenish was closer to Sanguinet than any blood relation he had known, and he quailed to the dread that he might lose that friendship, but he said gently, “You are both very right, you see. When first I meet Mrs. Bliss, I think her the most beautiful lady. Next, I find she is kind and so very—comfortable to be with. With her, I am not made to know the embarrassment when I—lurch and stumble about. Soon, I am feeling a good deal more than these things. And she also, I think, have—perhaps, like me a little. But—” He shrugged and said sadly, “En effet, it is as you say—I cannot make the generous offer that she share the life of a man who can almost, but not quite, stand up without help.”
His warm heart touched, Devenish forgot his wrath. He leaned to grip Guy’s arm and say in his gentlest voice, “My poor fellow. I am so sorry.”
“Merci. I shall, I expect, survive. But you, mon cher Alain. You must not think yourself like me only because you limp the little piece.”
Devenish tensed and stared down at his still unlit pipe.
“Oh, my foolish one,” said Guy softly. “Can you think I have watch you all these seven years and see nothing?”
Devenish neither moved nor spoke, but the flush died from his cheeks to leave him very pale.
“She loves you,” said Guy. “Do not be the proud fool, Alain. Seize with both hands your happiness and thank le bon Dieu for it.”
His voice barely audible, Devenish muttered, “She’s grateful, is all.”
“This, there is, of course. But more. So very much more.”
“No,” said Devenish, still in the low, repressed voice. “She’s a child, Guy. She thinks she knows what she wants. How can she know, when she has seen so little of life and the world?”
“She has seen more than you think, mon ami. And she is widely admired, much courted. Me, I shall be surprised if she have not receive offers more than she may have tell you.”
“I am much too old for her. Near twice her—”
“Never! I would say—”
Recovering his poise, Devenish looked up and interposed with the faintest hint of boredom, “Yes, I am sure you would. But you mistake the matter in one sense, Guy. Josie has a special place in my heart. As my loved daughter. But when I marry, it will be a lady of sophistication and elegance, and—some awareness of the world.”
“Ah. Such as the lady who just have leave? The beautiful Isabella?”
Devenish’s chin lifted. “Why not?” He stood. “Shall we join the ladies?”
Sighing, Guy commenced the struggle to stand. “I have not mean to put my nose into your business,” he said rather diffidently.
“Let’s say you gave me back my own, rather,” said Devenish with his usual carefree grin, and waited until his friend hobbled around the table to come up with him.
At the door, Guy gripped his arm. “Alain—mon cher ami—you cannot over my eyes drag the wool!”
“Why should you think I would do such a thing?” said Devenish, amused.
“Because—ah, how can you not know it? You kiss each other—with your eyes—each time you meet. It is very clear to see.”
Stunned, Devenish opened the door, and said not a word.
* * *
The three-quarter moon was often hidden by racing clouds, and the wind was chill, but long after the great house was quiet, Devenish wandered slowly across the pleasure gardens, both hands thrust deep into the pockets of his driving coat, the many capes fluttering in the wind. Coming to the terrace, he sat against the low balustrade, shoulders hunched, staring blindly across the wide park to the distant darker loom of the hills. After a few minutes he fished out his pipe and filled it, then took out his tinder box and struck vainly at the flint.
A faint whiff of Essence de Printemps; slender white fingers that took the tinder box from his hand. Devenish glanced quickly at the half-seen little face and looked away again.
“Here,” said Josie, handing him the lighted flint.
“Thank you.” He lit his pipe and puffed at it. Blowing a cloud of smoke skyward, he risked another glance at her. “You may go to bed now you have performed your good deed, little one.”
She said nothing, continuing to lean against the wall beside him.
“It is too cold for you,” he observed.
“Then why are you outside?”
“For peace and quiet.”
“Which I disturb?”
“Very much.”
She laughed softly and leaned nearer. “Do I so disturb you, oldest of the old?”
He did not answer, and she shrugged and informed the moon, “When the gentleman says nothing, it is because he dare not speak his thoughts.”
“You would not like it if I did so, and I will not risk your anger twice in one day.”
“You do not, sir, for I have not yet abandoned my first anger.”
“Hmmmn.”
“How much,” she said to the moon, “is meant by that grunt. I believe it must be one of those elusive ‘cryptic remarks’ one hears about. There is the ‘hum!’ when he is thoughtful, the ‘huh!’ when he is irked, the ‘hah!” when he is ready to fight, the ‘hmmmn’ when he is troubled or does not agree with what is said, and that becomes ‘hmmmnnnn’ when his admired future bride wiggles past.”
He laughed. “What a summation!” And, humbly, “Am I forgiven, then?”
“You were horrid,” she said in a stern voice.
“Yes. I told Guy.”
“Oh!” She sprang up, whirling on him in a flame. “You never did!”
“But, of course. Did you think I would say something like that behind his back and not tell him?”
“I suppose you think that honourable!” She threw an exasperated glance at the heavens, so that her hood fell back and all her curls bounced. “Do you not know how cruel it is to be truthful?”
“That’ll teach me. Now I’m in the suds again.” He sighed heavily.
Fuming, she sat down again and asked after a pause, “What did he say?”
“He said…”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She gave a superior little snort. “So much for truth!”
“But you just said it is cru—”
“Oh, never mind!” She was still for a moment, while he smoked in silence. Then she burst out, “I suppose now that you have broken poor Guy’s heart and made me utterly miserable, you are in a very ecstasy of joy!”
“I did nothing of the kind,” he protested, indignant. “Had you not done your level best to ensnare that—to ensnare my lord the Viscount, he’d not have gone slithering up to tell Little that Guy was our guest also.”
“Good heavens!” Aghast, she took his arm, looking up at him, all great eyes and anxiety. “Is that why they left in such a rage? You said Sir William was upset because Pan caught him cheating at cards.”
He pulled her cloak closer around her. “Did you expect me to say, ‘They have all run off, Guy old chap, because they refused to stay under the same roof with a pariah and anarchist such as yourself’?”
“Wretched man! They never said such things.”
“Oho, did they not? I wonder you did not hear Little, he was so explosive.” He drew her hood up over her curls, having first straightened a very frizzy one that had become left out when the others settled down. “You’re shivering. Come along, my girl. Into the house with you!”
“No.” She nestled closer against him. “I like it out here. Please, Dev.”
He gazed down indecisively at the bundled little shape.
“If you
could spare an arm, Gaffer,” she said demurely. “I need not be so chilled.”
He hesitated, then slipped an arm around her. “One might suppose us a case of—Spring moon,” he said gruffly.
“Instead of which, we are an old gentleman and a young lady who are very cross with each other.”
Devenish made no response, and in a moment she murmured. “Ah, that’s better. My brain is thinking again.”
He chuckled. “Had it stopped?”
“Yes. It does when I freeze. I remember when I was with the gypsies—”
At once, his hand was across her lips. “No,” he said flatly.
“Very well.” And, worrying, “Dev…”
“Yes, my Elf?”
“Do many patriots hate poor Guy, as Elliot Fontaine does?”
“Huh! Fontaine is no patriot, do not delude yourself!”
“Then why did he look at Guy in such a horrid way?”
“Heigh-ho! My head goes onto the block again! He hates Guy for the same reason, or perhaps one of the reasons, he hates me. Guy is a—flawed being. A cripple.”
She wrenched away, and stood to stamp her foot at him. “Beast! You limp slightly. You are not—Oh! Now see what you almost made me say!”
“Even so,” he argued, standing also, “many people feel that way, m’dear. Were I like Guy, not one of the ladies you claim have dropped their handkerchiefs would waste one second on me. Nor should I blame them.”
She said huskily, “I would love you just as much. More.”
For a moment he could not speak, then he said unevenly, “Because you are my—very loved daughter, and would be willing to sacrifice your youth and beauty to minister to my feeble uselessness.”
Josie caught her breath audibly, then stepped a few paces distant and stood with her back turned.
“Egad,” he said with rather forced lightness. “I only meant—”
“You only trample, poor old man. Very much the bull in the proverbial shop, carelessly destroying that which is pure and beautiful.”
Mute, Devenish gazed at the proud tilt of her head, at the gleam the moonlight awoke on that one rebellious curl that had again escaped her hood. And then she gave a sudden thin little scream.
Give All to Love Page 14
