“Presently,” said the Earl. “I see someone here I want a word with first.”
“Here, my lord?” said Cribb, looking round at the company with a wrinkled brow.
“Yes, here,” said the Earl, and went past him with a swing of his caped driving-coat straight up to the table at which Mr. Farnaby was sitting.
Mr. Farnaby, who was idly watching a couple of men throwing dice at a neighbouring table, did not see the Earl until he stood right over him. He looked up then, and came to his feet in a hurry.
“Good evening,” said the Earl politely.
Farnaby made him a bow. “Good evening, sir,” he returned, looking sideways at the Earl.
Worth laid his cane on the table and began to draw off his gloves. “You were expecting me, no doubt,” he said.
“Oh no, hardly!” replied Farnaby, with a sneer. “I know your lordship is in the habit of frequenting Cribb’s Parlour, but I had no expectation of being recognized by you.”
The Earl drew out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down. From under the shade of his curly-brimmed hat, which he wore tilted rather over his face, his eyes mocked unpleasantly. “You think I might be chary of being seen in your company? Very true, but I believe my credit with the world to be fairly good. My reputation may yet survive. You may sit down.”
“I have every intention of so doing,” retorted Farnaby, suiting the action to the word and tossing off what remained of his second glass of daffy. “I am sure I am highly honoured to have your lordship’s company!”
“Make the most of it then,” advised the Earl, “for it is not an honour that is likely to befall you again.”
Farnaby’s hand fidgeted with his empty glass; he was watching the Earl covertly. “Indeed! And what may your lordship mean?”
“Merely that I shall have no further need of your company after to-night, Farnaby. Circumstance has caused our paths to cross, but they diverge again now, quite widely, I assure you.”
“If I had the pleasure of understanding your lordship—!”
“I should not have thought that you would derive much pleasure from that,” said the Earl. “But if you do, enjoy it to the full, for I think you understand me tolerably well.”
“I assure you I do not, sir. I am at a loss to discover why you should take this tone with me, and I may add, my lord, that I resent it!”
The Earl took out his snuff-box and opened it. He inhaled a pinch with deliberation. “You are not in a position to resent any tone I may choose to take, Farnaby,” he said. He laid his box down open on the table and leaned back in his chair, his driving coat falling open to show a glimpse of a light waistcoat and a blue coat, and the irreproachable folds of his cravat, “Let us be frank,” he said. “You have made a stupid bungle of a very simple affair, Farnaby.”
Farnaby shot a quick look round. “Sir!”
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Worth. “No one is listening. You were hired to put Sir Peregrine Taverner out of the way, and you have failed to earn your hire.”
Farnaby’s hands clenched; he leaned forward. “Damn you, shut your mouth!” he whispered. “You daren’t say I was hired!”
Worth raised his brows. “What makes you think that?” he inquired.
“You can’t say it!”
“On the contrary, I can say it with the greatest ease, my good Farnaby, and if you give me any trouble I shall say it. And, my credit being good with the world, as I have already pointed out to you, I think my word will be believed before yours. We will put it to the test, if you like.”
Farnaby was rather white; he looked at the Earl with a good deal of fear in his eyes, and said breathlessly: “Everyone knows what happened! Taverner’s cock was squeezed, and I said so, and I’ll have you know, my lord, there are dozens who will bear me out that it was so! Taverner struck me, I sent him a cartel, and that is the whole story!”
“Not quite the whole story,” said Worth. “You forgot to add that through your bungling folly the duel was stopped.”
“If we were informed against that was not my fault,” said Farnaby sulkily.
“There I take leave to differ from you,” said Worth coolly. “To force a duel on Sir Peregrine Taverner was one thing, but to do it in such a public spot as the Cock-Pit Royal was quite another. Those were not your instructions, I think. I find it hard to believe that even you could do such a stupid thing, Farnaby. Did it not occur to you that at the Cock-Pit there must be any number of persons who might consider it their duty to carry the tidings to the proper quarter? Yet that is precisely what happened. You have blundered, Farnaby, and that ends your part in the affair.”
Farnaby was staring at the Earl as though fascinated. “You’re a devil!” he said chokingly. “You can’t say I was hired! I’ve not touched a penny for it!”
“Not only have you not touched a penny of it, but you are not going to touch a penny,” said Worth, taking another pinch of snuff, and dusting his fingers with a fine handkerchief. “You were not hired to put Sir Peregrine on his guard. Had you succeeded—but you did not succeed, Farnaby, so why should we waste time in idle conjecture? What I am endeavouring to point out to you is that though the reward has still to be earned, you are not the man to earn it.”
Farnaby swallowed something in his throat. “What do you mean?” he asked weakly.
“I mean, Farnaby, that the task of disposing of Sir Peregrine must be left to some less clumsy hireling,” said the Earl pleasantly. “I am persuaded you will perceive that any further attempt made by you on his life would bear an extremely suspicious appearance.”
“Do you suggest—do you dare to suggest that I would—I’m not a common cut-throat, my lord!”
“You will have to forgive me for misjudging you,” said Worth scathingly. “The scruples of persons of your kidney are, alas, hidden from me. Do not touch my snuff-box, if you please, or I shall be obliged to throw the rest of its contents into the fire!”
Farnaby, who had stretched his hand out absently towards the box, drew back with a start and flushed to the roots of his hair at the note of cold contempt in the Earl’s voice. “You are insulting, my lord! You come here to threaten me, but you won’t put this on me, let me tell you!”
“No?” said the Earl, raising his eyes. “No?”
Farnaby tried to give back that long, cool look, but his own eyes shifted under the Earl’s and fell. “No,” he said uncertainly. “No, by God, you won’t! If you dare to accuse me—if you try to put it on me, do you think I shall have nothing to say? I shan’t suffer alone, I—” He broke off and moistened his lips.
Worth was sitting very still in his chair; his glance never wavered from Farnaby’s face. “Go on, Mr. Farnaby,” he said. “I am waiting to hear what it is you will say.”
“Nothing!” Farnaby said quickly.
“Not even the name of the man who hired you?” said the Earl softly.
“Nothing, I tell you! No one hired me!”
The Earl shut his snuff-box. “No doubt you are wise,” he said. “He might—who knows?—take steps to put you out of the way, might he not? And I am afraid that even if you had the courage to divulge his name it would not be of very much use. It would be your word against his, Farnaby, and to be honest with you I hardly think yours would be heeded. You see, I have considered all that.”
“No need!” Farnaby said, glaring at him. “I’ve told you I shall divulge nothing!”
“I am glad to find that you have such a wholesome regard for your skin,” murmured Worth. “I hope that it may prompt you to keep away from Sir Peregrine in the future. I should go into the country for a while, if I were you. I have an odd notion that if anything were to happen to him while you were in town you might suffer for it.”
Farnaby forced out a laugh. “Very interesting, my lord, but I’m no believer in premonitions!”
“Ah!” said the Earl. “But that was more in the nature of a promise, Farnaby. One blunder may be forgiven; a second would prove fatal.” H
e rose and picked up his gloves and cane. “That is all I wanted to say to you.”
Farnaby jumped up. “Wait, my lord!” he said, gripping the edge of the table and seeming to search for words.
“Well?” said the Earl.
Farnaby licked his lips. “I could be of use to you!” he said desperately.
“You are mistaken,” said the Earl in a tone that struck a chill into Farnaby’s veins. “No man who has bungled once is of the least use to me.”
Farnaby sank down into his chair again, looking after the Earl’s tall figure with an expression of mingled venom and despair in his eyes. Worth strolled away towards the parlour door.
He had not reached it when his gaze alighted on the figure of a gentleman who had entered the tavern a few minutes earlier, and was standing at the other end of the tap-room, fixedly regarding him.
The Earl checked, gently put aside a slightly inebriated sailor who was in his way, and walked across the room to the newcomer. “Your servant, Mr. Taverner,” he said.
Mr. Taverner bowed formally. “Good evening, Lord Worth.”
The fingers of the Earl’s right hand began to play with the riband of his quizzing-glass. “Well, Mr. Taverner, what is it?” he asked.
Bernard Taverner raised his brows. “What is it?” he repeated. “What is what, my lord?”
“You seemed to me to be much interested in my movements,” said Worth. “Or am I at fault?”
“Interested ...” said Mr. Taverner. “I was not so much interested, sir, as surprised, since you ask me.”
“To find me here? I am often to be seen in Cribb’s Parlour,” replied the Earl.
“I am aware of it. What I was not aware of, and which, I must confess, occasioned some surprise in me, was that you are also to be seen in such company as Farnaby’s.”
This was said plainly enough, and with a straight look that met Worth’s cynical gaze squarely. It did not, however, appear to embarrass the Earl. “Ah, but I frequently find myself in strange company at Cribb’s, Mr. Taverner,” he said.
Taverner’s lips tightened. After a moment’s silence he said in a measured way: “You will admit, Lord Worth, that to see you in conversation with a person who only this morning set out to fight a duel with your ward must present a very odd appearance. Or are you perhaps in ignorance of to-day’s releager?”
The Earl’s fingers slid down the riband to the shaft of his quizzing-glass. He raised it. “No, Mr. Taverner, I was not in ignorance of it.”
There was another silence, during which Bernard Taverner seemed to be trying to read what thoughts might lie behind the Earl’s suave manner. “You were not in ignorance, and yet—”
“Curiously enough,” said Worth, “it was on that very subject that I have been talking to Mr. Farnaby.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes,” said the Earl. “But why should we fence, Mr. Taverner? You suspect me, I think, of taking a large interest in the affaire Farnaby, and you are quite right. I have informed him—and I believe he understood me tolerably well—that his part is played. So you must not worry about him, my dear sir.”
Taverner frowned. “I don’t entirely understand you, sir. I did not come here to insult you with accusations which must be absurd, but I think it will not be inopportune to assure you that I have the interests of my cousins very much at heart, and should not hesitate to serve either of them to the utmost of my power.”
“I am profoundly moved by your assurance, Mr. Taverner,” said the Earl, with an unpleasant smile, “but I cannot help feeling that you would be wiser to refrain from meddling in your cousins’ affairs.”
Taverner stiffened. “If I read you correctly, my lord, you mean rather that I should be wiser to refrain from meddling in your affairs.”
“Well, that is to put the matter very crudely,” said the Earl, still smiling. “Nevertheless, you do read me quite correctly. Those who meddle in my affairs do not prosper.”
“Please do not address threats to me, Lord Worth!” said Taverner quietly. “I am not to be frightened out of a proper regard for my cousins’ well-being.”
The Earl spoke so softly that no one but Taverner could catch his words. “Let me remind you, Mr. Taverner, that the well-being of your cousins does not lie in your hands, but in mine. You have been very assiduous in your attentions, but if you are cherishing dreams of a bridal, banish them. You will never marry Judith Taverner.”
Mr. Taverner’s hands clenched involuntarily. “I am grateful to you for showing me your hand so plainly, sir,” he said. “In my turn I would remind you that your jurisdiction over Miss Taverner expires within the year. It did not need this conversation to convince me that you are nursing designs which are as unscrupulous as they are shameless. Understand, if you please, that I am not to be cowed into standing out of your way.”
“As to that, Mr. Taverner, you will do as seems best to you,” said the Earl. “But you will bear in mind, I trust, that when I find an obstacle in my way I am apt to remove it.” This was said without heat, even blandly, and the Earl, not waiting to see how it was received, bowed slightly and walked away towards the parlour door.
Chapter XII
Not very long after the episode of his frustrated duel Peregrine went off to stay in Hertfordshire with the Fairfords, who removed from London early in December with the intention of spending some weeks in the country. The invitation was cordially extended to Miss Taverner as well, but she was obliged to decline it, having received just previously a very gratifying invitation to spend a week at Belvoir Castle with the Duke and Duchess of Rutland.
The Duchess, who had lately been on a visit to town, had made the acquaintance of Miss Taverner at Almack’s, Miss Taverner having been presented to her by Mr. Brummell, a close friend of the Rutlands. The Duchess remembered Miss Taverner’s father, seemed to be pleased with the daughter, kept her talking for some time, and ended by sending her, a few weeks later, an invitation to join a house-party at Belvoir.
Miss Taverner journeyed north in a private chaise, and arrived to find herself one of a distinguished company. Chief amongst the guests was the Duke of York, who had arrived a day previously. His visit being quite unexpected, some slight disturbance had been caused, for the Duke of Dorset had been allotted the rooms that were invariably kept for York, and had had to be dispossessed in a hurry. However, as it was quite an understood thing that York and Brummell should both have their particular apartments both at Belvoir and at Cheveley, his grace of Dorset acquiesced in the alteration, and was only glad that so notable a whist-player should have joined the party.
Frederick, Duke of York, was the second son of the King, and had been living for the last few years in a sort of retirement consequent upon the Clarke scandal. He had lately been reinstated as Commander-in-Chief, and at this present date, when Miss Taverner had the honour to be presented to him, he seemed to be in excellent spirits, and not at all the sort of man who could be suspected of selling Army promotions through the machinations of his mistress. He was nearing fifty, a tall, stout man, with a florid complexion and a prominent nose. He had a ready laugh, a kindly, inquisitive blue eye, and was easily amused. He was married to a Prussian princess from whom he lived apart on very excellent terms. The Duchess resided at Oatlands, where she led an eccentric but blameless existence, surrounded by as many as forty pet dogs of every imaginable breed. The Duke was used to bring down parties of his friends to spend the week-ends at Oatlands. The Duchess had not the least objection, and without making any change in her own manner of life, entertained her guests in a charming and unceremonious way that endeared her to everyone who knew her. No one was ever known to refuse an invitation to Oatlands, though the first visit there must always astonish, and even dismay. The park was kept for the accommodation of a collection of macaws, monkeys, ostriches, kangaroos; the stables were full of horses which were none of them obtainable for the use of the guests; the house swarmed with servants, whose business never seemed to be to wait on anyone; the
hostess breakfasted at three in the morning, spent the night in wandering about the grounds, and was in the habit of retiring unexpectedly to a four-roomed grotto she had had made for herself in the park. Dinner was always at eight; the Duke never rose from the table till eleven, and when he did rise it was to play whist for five-pound points and twenty-five pounds on the rubber, until four in the morning.
The Duke, who never saw his wife except at Oatlands, had naturally not brought her with him to Belvoir. He was accompanied by Colonel Wyndham, a smart man-about-town, for whom the Duchess had an inordinate dislike.
The other guests, besides the Duke and Duchess of Dorset, consisted of what seemed at first sight to Miss Taverner an enormous number of ladies and gentlemen, most of whom were unknown to her. Lord and Lady Jersey, Mr. Brummell, and Lord Alvanley were her only acquaintances amongst them. She felt a little shy, and was not as displeased as she might otherwise have been when hardly an hour after her own arrival a chaise drove up and deposited Lord Worth on the doorstep.
She was bearing her part in a conversation with a very haughty young lady, who seemed to eye her with great superciliousness, when Worth entered the saloon with his hostess. She looked up, and seeing him was betrayed into a smile. He came at once towards her, his rather hard face softened, and having exchanged a word of greeting with her companion, sat down beside her sofa, and asked her how she did.
The haughty young lady, who was all flattering complaisance towards him, did what lay in her power to claim and keep his attention. Miss Taverner could not but be amused: the lady was so very anxious to please, the gentleman so politely unresponsive. But Mr. Pierrepoint came up presently, and took the lady away with him to inspect Mr. Brummell’s water-colour sketch of their hostess, and the Earl was left alone with his ward.
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