The Unknown Ajax

by Джорджетт Хейер

  Richmond laughed. “Of course!”

  “And that Ottershaw was watching the house himself?”

  “No, is he?”

  “Come, lad, you knew that!”

  “How should I know it?” Richmond countered.

  “Probably because Spurstow told you, and if it wasn’t he I’ve a notion you’ve other sources of information. Between the pair of you, you’ve scared Ottershaw’s men, but when you set out to scare him you made a back-cast, Richmond: he wasn’t scared, and he wasn’t deceived. If I hadn’t stopped him he might well have caught you.”

  “Not he! Much good would it have done him if he had, too!”

  “So I told him,” said Hugo. “It would have done him no good, but it would have done you no good either.”

  “Why, is there a law against bamboozling Excisemen?” asked Richmond, opening his eyes wider.

  Hugo looked rather gravely down at him. “For what purpose?”

  “Oh, just kicking up a lark!”

  “Is that why you did it?”

  “Yes, of course: why else should I do it?” Richmond said impatiently.

  “That’s what I don’t know, lad, but I think you’re too old to be kicking up that sort of a lark.”

  The impish gleam had faded from Richmond’s dark eyes; the look he shot at Hugo was one of smouldering resentment. “Maybe! What the devil else have I to do? In any event, what concern is it of yours? I wish you will go away!”

  “Happen I will, when you stop trying to stall me off, and give me a plain answer,” Hugo replied, a little sternly. “I’ve a notion you’re in dangerous mischief. If I’m right, you’re likely to find yourself floored at all points, for Ottershaw’s not the clodhead you think him. Don’t play off your cajolery on me, but tell me the truth! Have you embroiled yourself in the smuggling trade?”

  Richmond sat up with a jerk. “Well, upon my word—! What next will you ask me? Just because I cut a lark with that stiff-rumped Exciseman you seem to think I’m as good as rope-ripe! Why should I take to free-trading, pray?”

  “For sport,” replied Hugo, smiling faintly. “Because it’s a dead bore to have nothing to do but mind your book—which I’ve yet to see you do!—and dance attendance on your grandfather. I own, the life you’re made to lead would be out of cry to me, as it is to you. If you’re helping to run contraband goods, it’s because you like the adventure, not for gain.” His smile broadened as he saw Richmond glance strangely at him. “Well, has that hit the needle?”

  Richmond lay down again, this time on his side, pillowing his cheek on his hand. “Lord, no! I played ghost for sport. Famous sport it was, too! You should have seen those cowhearted dragoons huddling together! I made ’em take to their heels once. However, if Ottershaw’s rumbled me there’s no sense in continuing. I won’t do it again: are you satisfied?”

  Hugo shook his head. “Not quite. What makes you lock your door every night?”

  “How do you know that I do?” Richmond countered quickly, up in arms.

  “Eh, there’s no secret about it! Everyone in the house knows it. You take precious good care no one should come near you once you’ve gone to bed, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and you’ve been told why!”

  “I’ve been told that if you’re roused you don’t drop off to sleep again, and I think—not to take packthread, you young gull-catcher!—that that’s humdudgeon!”

  Richmond gave a little chuckle. “Oh, no! Not wholly! But there are nights when I don’t sleep much. If you must know, when that happens I can’t lie counting the minutes: I get up, and go out, if there’s moonlight. And sometimes I go out with Jem Hordle, fishing. Well, that’s why I take care no one shall come tapping at my door! If my mother knew, or Grandpapa—Lord, what a clutter there would be! They want to keep me wrapped in lambswool: you know that! As for taking the Seamew out at night—particularly since my uncle and Oliver were drowned—if either of them so much as suspected I did that—oh, I’d be so watched and guarded I should run mad!”

  Hugo said nothing for a moment or two, but sat looking down at Richmond with a slight frown in his eyes. The explanation was reasonable, but he thought the boy was on the defensive, watching him from under his lashes, a guarded look on his face, a hint of tauntness about him.

  It was Richmond who broke the silence, saying sweetly: “May I try now if I can go to sleep, cousin?”

  “I suppose so,” Hugo answered, getting up. He hesitated, and then said: “You’ve told me you’re not meddling in contraband, and I hope that was the truth, because if it wasn’t you won’t be the only one to fall all-a-bits. You’ve listened to a deal of loose talk about free-trading, lad, but if it were to come out that you’d had a hand in such dealings there’s no one who would be more over-powered than your grandfather.”

  “Oh, go to the devil!” snapped Richmond, with a spurt of temper. “You needn’t be afraid! Do you mean to tell him that you think I’m a free-trader? I wish I may be present! No, I don’t, though: I hate brangles! As for what I choose to do when I can’t sleep, you’ve no right to scold: you’re not my guardian, or—or even head of the family—yet!”

  “Nay, did I do that?” asked Hugo, mildly surprised.

  There was an angry flush on Richmond’s cheek, but it faded. He muttered: “No—I beg pardon! But I can’t endure—oh, well, it’s no matter!”

  Hugo picked up his candlestick saying, with his slow grin: “Can’t endure to be interfered with, eh? It’s high time you learned discipline, you meedless colt—military discipline! I’m not the head of the family, but happen I’ll help you to that pair of colours, if you don’t bring yourself to ruin before I’ve a chance to do it.”

  Richmond smiled wryly. “Thank you! You can’t do it, however. When I’m of age—oh, talking pays no toll! I shall be at Oxford then, I daresay.”

  “I doubt it! In the meantime, lad, tread the lineway, and never mind if it’s a bore. I mislike the cut of that Riding-officer. He’s mighty suspicious of you, and though I wouldn’t say he was down to every move on the board, he’s by no means the sapskull you think him.”

  A little, confident smile curled Richmond’s mouth. “He’s been outjockeyed again and again—by what I’ve heard.”

  “Ay, and he’s not the man to cry craven,” said Hugo significantly. “He don’t love you, Richmond, and if he thought he could bowl you out he’d do it.”

  “But he can’t.”

  “I hope he can’t, but chance it happens that you find yourself in a hobble, don’t throw your cap after it, but come to me! I’ve been in more than one tight squeeze in my time.”

  “Much obliged to you!” Richmond murmured. “It’s midsummer moon with you, you know, but I’m persuaded you mean it kindly! Do go to bed, Hugo! I’m so very sleepy!”

  Chapter 15

  Richmond did not look, on the following morning, as though he could have been as sleepy as he said he was when Hugo left him. He went riding as usual before breakfast, but when his mother and his grandfather saw him each perceived immediately that he was heavy-eyed, and a little pale. He was subjected to a cross-fire of anxious solicitude on the one hand and rigorous interrogation on the other, and bore it with such patience that Hugo marvelled at his restraint. His eyes met Hugo’s once, in a look ridiculously compound of defiance and entreaty. He won no response, but derived considerable reassurance from his large cousin’s expression, which was one of bovine stupidity. Since he did not think that Hugo was at all stupid, he interpreted this as a sign that he had no immediate intention of disclosing the previous night’s events to Lord Darracott, and did not again glance in his direction.

  That swift, challenging look had not, however, escaped his sister’s notice, and at the earliest opportunity she commanded Hugo to explain its meaning. Even less than Richmond was she beguiled by his air of childlike incomprehension. She said severely: “And pray don’t stare at me as though you were a moonling!”

  “Nay, love, that’s not kind!” protested the
Major, much hurt. “I know I’m not needle-witted, but I’m not a moonling!”

  “You’re the slyest thing in nature!” his love informed him with great frankness. “But I myself am pretty well up to snuff, so don’t think to tip me a rise, if you please! You’ll make wretched work of it.”

  Shocked by this forthright speech, he said: “Eh, you mustn’t talk like that, lass! You’ll be setting folks in a regular bustle! That’s a very ungenteel thing to say: even I know that!”

  “Forgive me, cousin!” she begged, primming up her mouth. “I meant, of course, that it is useless to think you can deceive me!”

  “That’s much more seemly,” he said approvingly.

  “Yes, but I now find myself at a loss to know how to advise you, in polite language, not to draw herrings across the track in the vain hope that you’ll persuade me to run counter!” she retorted.

  “Oh, I’d never be able to do that!”

  “Well, I’m happy to know you’re awake upon that suit, at all events!” She looked up into his face, smiling a little wistfully. “Don’t quiz me, Hugo! Why did Richmond look at you like that? As if he was afraid of you—afraid you were going to say something he didn’t wish you to! Tell me what it was—pray tell me, Hugo!”

  He possessed himself of her hands, and held them clasped together against his chest. Smiling reassuringly down at her, he said: “Now, what’s made you so hot in the spur, love? And just what sort of a queer nabs do you think I am?”

  “Oh, no, no, I don’t think that!” she said quickly.

  “Well, I’d be a very queer nabs if I’d a secret with Richmond, and blabbed it to you!” he replied. “Nay then! don’t look so fatched! All Richmond was afraid of was that I might say something, in my dumpish way, which he’d as lief wasn’t said before his mother and the old gentleman. And I can’t say I blame him,” he added reflectively. “To hear the pair of them talk you’d think he was eight years old instead of eighteen!”

  She nodded. “Yes, I know that. Do I seem a dreadful pea-goose? I daresay I am!”

  “You do and-all!” he told her lovingly.

  “What a truly detestable creature you are!” she remarked. “I collect Richmond was not tossing restless in his bed, but was not, in fact, in his bed at all, but I promise you I don’t mean to enquire where he was, because from anything I have ever heard one should never, if one wishes to retain the least respect for them, enquire what gentlemen do when they have contrived to escape from their female relatives.”

  Charmed by this large-mindedness, the Major said, with simple fervour: “I knew you’d make a champion wife, love!”

  “On the contrary! My husband will live under the cat’s foot.”

  “I’m very partial to cats,” offered the Major hopefully.

  She smiled, but drew her hands away, shaking her head at him. “My own belief is that you are a gazetted flirt!”

  “Oh, is it?” he retorted. “If that’s so I’ll be off and ask my Aunt Elvira’s leave to pay my addresses to you without any more ado!”

  “I shall warn her to hint you away—not that I have much hope that a mere hint will serve, because you are quite without conduct or delicacy, and altogether a most improper person!”

  Cordially agreeing with this reading of his character, the Major ventured to remind her that it was her duty, as seen by her grandfather, to reclaim him.

  “I am persuaded it would be a hopeless task,” she replied firmly, “What’s more, I know very well that all this nonsensical talk is what Richmond calls a fling, to lead me away from what I wish to say to you. Don’t joke me any more, but tell me—” She broke off, knitting her brows.

  “Tell you what, love?”

  “I don’t know. That is, it is so hard to put it into words! Lately—before you came here—I have felt uneasy about Richmond. I can’t precisely tell why, except that he was in such flat despair when Grandpapa ordered him to put the thought of a military career out of his head. He wasn’t sullen, or rebellious—he never is, you know!—but dawdling, and languid, not caring for anything very much, his spirits low, and depressed—Mama was afraid he would fall into a lethargy! And then, all at once, and for no reason that I could perceive, he became alive again. He has a great deal of reserve, but one can always tell by his eyes: they are so very speaking! Mama says that when they are bright it is a sign that he is in good health, but it’s not so—not wholly! When he was a little boy, and in dangerous mischief, they used to look alight, just as I’ve seen them again and again fn these past months. Once, when I went for a sail with him and Jem in the Seamew, a gale blew up, and we had the narrowest of escapes from foundering. I was never so frightened in my life—well, it was the horridest thing!—but Richmond enjoyed it! He had that look: his eyes positively blazing—smiling, too, in the most inhuman way! It was as though he liked fighting the waves, and being in the greatest peril, which Jem afterwards told me we were!”

  Hugo nodded, “Ay, he would: he’s that road. It’s excitement he likes, and it leads him into daredevilry, because he’s bored, and too full of energy for the loitering life he leads. I’ve met his like before. Don’t fret, lass! He’s only a colt yet—a resty, high-couraged colt that needs exercise, and breaking to bridle. He puts me in mind of a friend of mine: just such a wiry, craze care-for-nobody, but the best duty-officer I ever knew. By hedge or by stile we must bring his lordship round to the notion of a Hussar regiment for the lad.”

  “If one could!” she sighed. “He thinks Richmond will out-grow that ambition—has done so already, perhaps.”

  “He’ll learn his mistake,” the Major said dryly. “If he won’t yield now, with a good grace, he’ll suffer a bad back-cast the moment the lad comes of age, and joins as a volunteer. You may lay your life that’s what he’ll do, and his lordship wouldn’t be very well suited with that!”

  “No, indeed! Or any of us!” she exclaimed. “But he’s not nineteen yet, and sometimes I feel such an apprehension that he may do something reckless, or even outrageous, because he’s not used to being crossed, besides never counting the cost before he plunges into the most hare-brained scrapes! You may say I’m indulging crotchets, but when he looked at you, today it flashed across my mind that he is in a scrape, and that you know what it is. Do you, Hugo?”

  “Nay, I’m not in his confidence,” he replied.

  She scanned his face searchingly but to no avail. “When he shot that look at you I knew that he didn’t go to bed when he said goodnight to us, and it was plain that you knew that at least.”

  He laughed. “Don’t fidget yourself, love! He took it into his head to try if he could play a prank on me, young varmint!”

  She looked relieved, but not wholly convinced. After thinking it over for a moment, she said: “I think he does sometimes slip out of the house when we believe him to be in bed. I went to his room once, in the middle of the night, because Mama had the tooth-ache, and remembered that she had given her bottle of laudanum to him when he had a bad tic. I knocked and knocked on his door, and even called to him, but he didn’t answer me, and I thought then that he wasn’t there. But when I told him about it in the morning he said that he had taken a few drops of laudanum himself, which had made him sleep like the dead.”

  “Well, that’s very possible,” Hugo answered.

  “Yes, only—one can’t but own that the Darracotts all have a—a certain unsteadiness of character—if you know what I mean!”

  “I know just what you mean, and the Darracotts have not all that particular unsteadiness of character!”

  She smiled. “Well, I hope not! But after Claud’s escapade—”

  “So that’s what’s put you into the hips!” he interrupted. “You may be easy! I fancy we’ll receive no drunken invasion on our Richmond’s account. I’d a notion myself he might be in mischief, but he’s told me it’s not so. Think no more of it, love!”

  She said gratefully: “If Richmond knows your eye is on him I shouldn’t think he’d dare plunge into a scrap
e. I am very much obliged to you!”

  He had the satisfaction of seeing the worried look vanish from her face; but the reassurance he had conveyed to her was no reflection of his own state of mind. He found himself in a quandary; for while, on the one hand, the task of informing Lord Darracott of his discovery and his suspicion was naturally repugnant to him, and certainly fatal to his future relationship with Richmond, on the other, he was unable to persuade himself that Richmond’s word might be accepted without reservation. He had come away from his interview with the boy considerably disquieted, and at a loss to know what course to pursue. He was too much a stranger to be able to win Richmond’s confidence, and even doubted whether Richmond gave his confidence to anyone. He had thought from the outset that Richmond was oddly aloof. The reason had not been far to seek, but it had not been until he came to grips with him: that he realized how impenetrable was the barrier behind which Richmond dwelled. An impulse to encourage Anthea to question him herself had no sooner occurred to him than he had rejected it. Richmond, in his judgment, was neither young enough nor old enough to tolerate the interference of a sister. There seemed to be nothing for it (since his uneasy suspicion rested on no solid foundation) but to watch Richmond unobtrusively, and to hope that the knowledge that there was one member of the household at least who was on the alert would make him chary of pursuing any unlawful form of amusement.

  A third course swiftly presented itself. Vincent, encountering him on his way home from one of his tours of the estate with my lord’s bailiff, elected to ride back to the house with him, and said as soon as Glossop had parted company with the cousins: “I hear you’ve laid the Darracott ghost, coz. Poor Richmond! But I think he should have known better than to have entertained the least hope of shaking your stolidity.”

  “So he told you, did he?” Hugo said slowly.

  “But of course!” Vincent returned, his brows lifting in mockery. “He may have misjudged you, but he knows me well enough not to dream of withholding such an excellent story from me.”