“Which,” Vincent told Anthea on the following day, “leads me to hope, for your sake, my poor girl, that this intrusive relation of ours is married already.”
“Yes, but what an uproar there would be! Has Grandpapa informed everyone of this splendid match he has made for me? It is too abominable! However, I imagine you can none of you suppose me to be so meek and dutiful as to acquiesce in such a scheme!”
“If I thought that, my love, I should feel constrained to marry you myself.”
“Is that a declaration?” she demanded.
“Certainly not! I don’t think it.”
“I wish it had been!” she said longingly. “How unhandsome of you! When you know how few pleasures come in my way, you might have granted me the indulgence of refusing you!”
He laughed, but said, a certain gleam in his eyes: “I wonder if you would?”
She met his look without a trace of embarrassment, a good deal of amusement in her face. “Dear Vincent, with enthusiasm! You must never marry. Don’t, I do earnestly beg of you, allow yourself to be taken in by any lure thrown out to you! You cannot hope to find a lady who will like you better than you like yourself.”
He was nettled, but made a quick recover. “Not like, sweetest cousin: appreciate!”
She only smiled; and, as a few drops of rain had begun to fall, turned towards the house. As they entered it, they were met by Matthew, who was looking peevish. He exclaimed: “It’s to be hoped this fellow don’t dawdle on the road! Your grandfather may say he doesn’t want to clap eyes on him, but here he is, fretting and fuming already! and it’s barely past noon! I don’t expect him to show a minute before three o’clock!”
By three o’clock, however, there was still no sign of Major Darracott, and my lord was fast working himself into a passion. He strode into one of the saloons, with his watch in his hand, and demanded explosively what the devil could be keeping the fellow. Since no one knew, no one answered, whereupon he asked if they were a set of dumb mutes.
“Mute, but not of malice,” murmured Vincent. “Claud, where is your cousin?”
“Which cousin?” enquired Claud.
This instantly brought him under fire. He was apostrophized as an impudent young idiot, and warned not to try his grandfather’s patience too far. He looked very much startled, and protested earnestly that nothing was more remote from his intention. “Not such an idiot as that, sir!” he said, with a placating but nervous smile.
My lord, regarding him with loathing, said awfully: “It’s my belief you’re queer in your attic!” His gaze swept to Lady Aurelia, tatting, by the window, and he added with relish; “He must take after your family, my dear. We Darracotts never bred a mooncalf yet!”
“Very likely,” responded Lady Aurelia.
My lord, balked, stood fulminating, and Claud, who had been turning the question put to him over in his mind, suddenly said: “Oh, that cousin! Well, I’ll tell you!” He discovered that everyone but his mother was staring at him in surprise, and blushed, saying modestly: “I may not be a clever cove, but I can answer that. Well, what I mean is, nothing has happened to him. I don’t precisely know where he is, mind, though I’ve a notion about that, too.” He looked round the circle with mild pride, and enunciated triumphantly: “Tonbridge! Won’t be here for another three hours. More, if the postboys lose the way, which I daresay they will. Dashed difficult place to find, this. Lost the way myself once.”
After this burst of loquacity he subsided. His grandfather, a most alarming expression on his face, was still struggling for words with which to annihilate him when Lady Aurelia intervened, saying calmly: “No doubt you are right. Indeed, I see no reason to expect the young man before dinnertime.”
“Oh, you don’t, ma’am?” said his lordship, abandoning Claud for a worthier prey. “Then let me tell you that my orders to Lissett were that the fellow should be sent off post not an instant later than eight o’clock! He will have to learn that when I give an order I expect it to be obeyed to the letter!”
“It seems reasonable to prophesy that he will,” remarked Vincent, as the door shut with a decided slam behind his lordship.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Mrs. Darracott. “Since your grandfather seems to want him, I do wish he hadn’t chosen to be late! I can’t help feeling that we shall have a very uncomfortable evening.”
By twenty minutes to six, the Major still not having arrived, my lord was in a mood of cold rage, as surly (as Claud confided to Richmond) as a butcher’s dog. The ladies of the party had not yet come down from their-respective bedchambers, but the gentlemen had prudently changed their dress in good time, and dutifully assembled in the Green Saloon, My lord tugged the bell-rope, his brow black, and upon the butler’s coming into the room, told him that dinner was to be served punctually at six o’clock.
“Very good, my lord,” Chollacombe said, “but—”
“You heard me!”
It was apparent from Chollacombe’s raised head, and straining expression, that he had also heard something else. He said: “Yes, my lord. But I fancy that the Major has arrived.”
“Bring him in here immediately!” commanded his lordship.
Chollacombe bowed, and left the room, carefully shutting the door. An indistinguishable murmur of voices penetrated to the saloon, as though an argument had sprang
“Wants to change his dress first,” said Claud, explaining the pause, and nodding wisely. “Very understandable. I would myself.”
“Whippersnapper!” said my lord.
The door was opened again. “Major Darracott!” announced Chollacombe.
Chapter 4
The Major trod resolutely over the threshold, and there stopped, pulled up short by the battery that confronted him. Five pairs of eyes scanned him with varying degrees of astonishment, hostility, and criticism. He looked round, his own, very blue orbs holding a comical expression of dismay, and a deep flush creeping up under his tan. Three of the gentlemen had levelled their quizzing-glasses at him; and one, whom he judged to be his grandfather, was scowling at him from under a beetling brow.
For a nerve-racking minute no one spoke, or moved. Surprise was, in fact, responsible for this frozen immobility, but only Richmond’s widening gaze and Claud’s dropped jaw betrayed this.
The Darracotts were a tall race, but the man who stood on the threshold dwarfed them all. He stood six foot four in his stockinged feet, and he was built on noble lines, with great shoulders, a deep barrel of a chest, and powerful thighs. He was much fairer than his cousins, with tightly curling brown hair, cut rather shorter than was fashionable, and a ruddy complexion. His nose had no aquiline trend: it was rather indeterminate; and this, with his curly locks and his well-opened and childishly blue eyes, gave him an air of innocence at variance with his firm-lipped mouth and decided chin. He looked to be amiable; he was certainly bashful, but for this there was every excuse. He had been ushered into a room occupied by five gentlemen attired in raiment commonly worn only at Court, or at Almack’s Assembly Rooms, and he was himself wearing leathers and top-boots, and a serviceable riding-coat, all of which were splashed with mud.
“Good God!” muttered Matthew, breaking the silence.
“So you’ve shown at last, have you?” said Lord Darracott. “You’re devilish late, sir!”
“I am a trifle late,” acknowledged the culprit. “I’m sorry for it, but I missed the way, and that delayed me.”
“Thought as much!” said Claud.
“Well, don’t stand there like a stock!” said Darracott. “This is your uncle Matthew, and the others are your cousins: Vincent—Claud—Richmond!”
Considerably unnerved by his reception, the Major took an unwary step forward, and very nearly fell over an unnoticed stool in his path. Vincent said, in Richmond’s ear, not quite under his breath: “The lubber Ajax!”
If the Major heard him, he gave no sign of having done so. Matthew caught the words, and uttered a short laugh, which he changed, not very convincingly,
into a cough. The Major, recovering his balance, advanced towards Lord Darracott, who waved him, slightly impatiently, to his uncle. He turned, half putting out his hand, but Matthew,—not moving from his stand before the empty fireplace, only nodded to him, and said: “How do you do?”
The Major made no attempt to shake hands with the rest of the company, but when he had exchanged formal bows with Vincent and Claud, Richmond, whose colour was also considerably heightened, stepped forward, with his hand held out, saying with a little stammer: “How—how do you do, Cousin Hugh?”
His hand was lost in the Major’s large clasp. “Now, which of my cousins are you?” asked the. Major, smiling kindly down at him.
“I’m Richmond, sir.”
“Nay!” protested the Major. “Don’t call me sir! I’d as lief you didn’t call me Cousin Hugh either. I was christened Hugh, but I’ve never answered to anything but Hugo all my life.”
Lord Darracott broke in on this. Having by this time had time to assimilate the fact that Hugo’s clothes were freely bespattered with mud, he demanded to know the reason. Hugo released Richmond’s hand, and turned his head towards his grandfather. “Well, you’ve had some rain down here, sir. I should not have come in till I’d got rid of my dirt, but I wasn’t given any choice in the matter,” he explained.
“Chaise overturn?” enquired Claud, not without sympathy.
Hugo laughed. “No, it wasn’t as bad as that. I didn’t come by chaise.”
“Then how did you come?” asked Matthew. “From the look of you one would say that you had ridden from town!”
“Ay, so I did,” nodded Hugo.
“Ridden?”gasped Claud. “Ridden all the way from London?”
“Why not?” said Hugo.
“But—Dash it, you can’t do things like that!” Claud said, in a shocked tone. “I mean to say—no, really, coz! Your luggage!”
“Oh, that!” replied Hugo. “John Joseph had all I need, loaded on my spare horse—my groom, I mean—my private groom!”
“How very original!” drawled Vincent. “I rarely travel by chaise myself, but I confess it had never before occurred to me to turn any of my cattle into pack-horses.”
“Nay, why should it?” returned the Major good-humouredly. “Maybe you’ve never been obliged to travel rough. I don’t think I’ve gone in a chaise above two or three times in my life.”
Lord Darracott stirred restlessly in his chair, gripping its arms momentarily. “No doubt! You are not obliged to travel rough, as you term it, now! My orders were that a chaise was to be hired for you, and I expect my orders to be obeyed!”
“Ay, I’m that road myself,” agreed Hugo cheerfully. “Your man of business was mighty set on arranging the journey for me. He said it was what you’d told him to do, so there’s no sense in blaming him. And not much sense in blaming me either,” he added, on a reflective note. He smiled down at his seething progenitor. “I’m much obliged to you, sir, but there’s no need for you to worry your head over me: I’ve looked after myself for a good few years now.”
“Worry my head—? Richmond! Ring the bell! You, sir! Did you bring your valet, or haven’t you one?”
“Well, no,” confessed the Major apologetically. “I used to have a batman, of course, but, what with one thing and another, I haven’t had time to think about hiring a personal servant since I came home.”
“No valet?”repeated Claud, gazing at him incredulously. “But how do you manage? I mean to say, packing—your boots—your neckcloths—!”
“Hold your tongue!” said his father, in an undervoice.
“If you had been listening,” interpolated Vincent severely, “you would have heard our cousin say that he has been in the habit of looking after himself. Except when he had a batman, that is.”
“Ay, but I’m a poor hand at packing,” said Hugo, shaking his head over this shortcoming.
“How much longer is dinner to be kept waiting?” demanded Lord Darracott. “Ring that damned bell again, Richmond! What the devil does Chollacombe mean by—Oh, you’re there, are you? Have Major Darracott taken up to his room, and tell someone to wait on him! We shall dine in twenty minutes from now!”
Claud was moved to protest, his sympathy roused by the plight of anyone who was expected to dress for dinner in twenty minutes. “Make it an hour, sir! Well, half an hour, though I must say it’s coming it a bit strong to ask the poor fellow to scramble into his clothes in that short time!”
“No, no, twenty minutes will be long enough for me!” said Hugo hastily, a wary eye on his lordship. “If I’m not down then, don’t wait for me!”
Chollacombe, ushering him out of the saloon, and softly closing the door behind him, said: “I will take you up myself, sir. I understand you haven’t brought your valet with you, so his lordship’s man has unpacked your valise!”
“Much obliged to him!” said Hugo, following him to the broad, uncarpeted oak staircase. “It seems as if Mr. Lissett ought to have warned me not to show my front here without a jack-a-dandy London valet at my heels.”
“Yes, sir. Being as his lordship is, as they say, rather a high stickler. Not but what Grooby—that’s his lordship’s man, sir—will be very happy to wait on you. We were very much attached to the Captain, if I may venture to say so.”
“My father? I never knew him: he was killed when I was just three years old. I’m afraid I don’t favour him much.”
“No, sir. Though you do remind me a little of him.”
The butler paused, and then said with great delicacy, as they reached the upper hall: “I hope you won’t think it a liberty, sir, but if there should be anything you might wish to know—his lordship being a trifle twitty at times, and not one to make allowances—I beg you won’t hesitate to ask me! Quite between ourselves, sir, of course.”
“I won’t,” promised Hugo, a twinkle in his eye.
“It is sometimes hard to know the ways of a house when one is strange to it,” said Chollacombe. “Anybody might make a mistake! Indeed, I well remember that I was obliged to give my Lord Taplow a hint, when he stayed here on one occasion. He was a friend of Mr. Granville’s: quite in the first style of elegance, but he had a habit of unpunctuality which would have put his lordship out sadly. This way, if you please, sir. We have put you in the West Wing.”
“It’s to be hoped I don’t lose myself,” remarked Hugo, following him through an archway into a long gallery. “If ever I saw such a place!”
“It is rather large, sir, but I assure you there are many that are far larger.”
“Nay!” said Hugo astonished.
“Oh, yes, indeed, sir! This is your bedchamber. I should perhaps tell you that Mr. Richmond sleeps at the end of the gallery, and must not on any account be disturbed.”
“Why not?” enquired Hugo.
“Mr. Richmond suffers from insomnia, sir. The least sound brings him broad awake.”
“What, a lad of his age?” exclaimed Hugo.
“Mr. Richmond’s constitution is not strong,” explained Chollacombe, opening the door into a large, wainscoted room, hung with faded blue damask, and commanding a distant view of the sea beyond the Marsh. “This is Grooby, sir. His lordship dines in fifteen minutes, Grooby.”
The valet, an elderly man of somewhat lugubrious mien, bowed to the Major, and said in a voice of settled gloom: “I have everything ready for you, sir. Allow me to assist you to take off your coat!”
“If you want to assist me, pull off my boots!” said Hugo. “And never mind handling them with gloves! If I’m to be ready in fifteen minutes, I shall have to be pretty wick, as we say in Yorkshire.”
Grooby, kneeling before him, as he sat with his legs stretched out, had already drawn one muddied boot half off, but he paused, and looked up, saying earnestly: “Don’t, Master Hugh!”
“Don’t what?” asked Hugo, ripping off his neckcloth, and tossing it aside.
“Say what they do in Yorkshire, sir. Not if you can avoid it! I’m sure I ask your pardon
, but you don’t know his lordship like I do, and you want to be careful, sir—very careful!”
The blue eyes looked down at him for an inscrutable moment. “Ay,” Hugo drawled. “Happen you’re reet!”
The valet heaved a despairing sigh, and returned to his task. The boots off, he would have helped Hugo to remove his coat, but Hugo kindly but firmly put him out of the room, saying that he could dress himself more speedily if left alone. He shut the door on Grooby’s protest, let his breath go in a long Phew! and began, very speedily indeed, to strip off his coat and breeches.
When he presently emerged from his room, he found Grooby hovering in the gallery. Grooby said that he had waited to escort him back to the saloon, in case he should have forgotten his way; but it was evident, from the expert eye he ran over his protégé’s attire, that his real purpose was to assure himself that no sartorial solecism had been committed. It was a pity, but not a solecism, that the Major had not provided himself with knee-smalls, but his long-tailed coat was by Scott, and well-enough; his linen was decently starched; and his shoe-strings ironed. He favoured a more modest style than was fashionable, wearing no jewellery, sporting no inordinately high collar, and arranging his neckcloth neatly, but with none of the exquisite folds that, distinguished the tie of a dandy or a Corinthian. Grooby regretted the absence of a quizzing-glass and a fob, but on the whole he was inclined to think that so large a man was right to adopt a plain mode.
The Major entered the saloon one minute before the stipulated time, thereby winning a measure of approval from his grandfather. Lord Darracott’s brows shot up; he said: “Well, at all events you’re not a dawdler! I’ll say that for you. Make your bow to your aunts, and your cousin! Lady Aurelia, Mrs. Darracott, you’ll allow me to present Hugh to you; Anthea, you’ll look after your cousin: show him the way about!”
The Unknown Ajax Page 6
