The Reluctant Widow

by Джорджетт Хейер

  “Prosy old fool!” said Nicky. “Did you brush through it pretty well, Cousin? What did he say? I thought he was staying here forever and wondered whether I should not set Bouncer on to drive him away! But then I thought very likely you would not like it if I did, so I kept the old fellow with me. But I dare say he would like to take a bite out of fat old Bedlington, wouldn’t you, Bouncer?”

  Bouncer jumped up at him ecstatically, apparently under the impression that this treat was indeed in store for him.

  Chapter XI

  There was nothing amongst Eustace Cheviot’s papers to occupy the two executors’ minds for long, and it was soon agreed between them that the first step toward winding up his estate must be to ascertain the exact number of his obligations. This task the lawyer took in hand, sighing and pulling down the corners of his mouth and saying that he feared the half of them were not yet known. He perused Cheviot’s will in a disapproving way, but although he audibly tut-tutted and shook his head sadly, he allowed that it was sufficiently well drawn up to serve. “But, my lord,” he added severely, “I must not be understood to say that this document is drawn up in quite such terms as I should have used, had I been called upon to serve my late client in this matter. However, it appears to be valid, and I shall apply for probate directly.”

  He then tied such papers as he proposed taking away with him with a piece of tape, excused himself from remaining at the Hall that night as he was civilly invited to do, on the score of having already hired a room at the inn at Wisborough Green, assured Carlyon that he would not fail to be present at the inquest on the following morning, and bowed himself out.

  He had hardly been gone ten minutes when the door into Carlyon’s study was again opened and his brother John walked into the room, rubbing his hands together and exclaiming against the inclemency of the weather.

  “My dear John!” Carlyon said. “I did not expect to see you until tomorrow!”

  “No, well, I thought I might arrive too late if I put off the journey, and so applied to Sidmouth for leave to absent myself immediately. I found him in a good humor, and so here I am,” John replied, walking over to the fire and bending over it to warm his hands.

  “I am extremely glad to see you. Did you come post?”

  “No, I drove myself, and damned cold it was! How has all gone since I saw you? Where is Nicky?”

  “Nicky is at Highnoons with a hole in his shoulder,” replied Carlyon, going over to a table on which the butler had set out a decanter and some glasses. “Sherry, John?”

  “Nicky is what?”demanded John, straightening himself with a jerk.

  “It’s not serious,” Carlyon said, pouring sherry into two of the glasses.

  “Good God, Ned, cannot Nicky keep out of trouble for as much as two days?”

  “Apparently not, but he cannot be blamed for this adventure. Sit down, and I’ll tell you the whole. I fancy it should interest you.”

  John cast himself into a deep chair by the fire, saying caustically, “You need not tell me you do not blame him! Well, what mischief is he in now?”

  But when he had heard Carlyon’s matter-of-fact account of the happenings at Highnoons he abandoned his skeptical attitude and stared at his brother with his brows knit. “Good God!’’ he said slowly. “But—” He stopped and appeared to sink into deep abstraction. “Good God!” he said again, and rose and went to pour himself out another glass of sherry. He stood holding this in his hand for a minute or two before returning to his chair by the fire. “Eustace Cheviot?” he said, on a note of incredulity. “Who would be fool enough to employ a drunken sot on such work? I cannot credit it!”

  “No, it does seem unlikely,” Carlyon agreed, polishing his quizzing glass and holding it up to observe the result. “But I must admit that he had always a marked propensity for intrigue. However, I dare say this suspicion had not crossed my mind but for what you were saying to me the other night about leakages of information. I shall be happy to learn that my reflections upon this subject are farfetched and nonsensical.” He looked inquiringly at John as he spoke, but found him still heavily frowning. “What, if anything, do you know of Louis de Castres?”

  “Nothing. He is not suspected, to the best of my knowledge. But it would be useless to deny that there have been instances where men as well-born as he—It must be investigated, Ned!”

  Carlyon nodded. John began to poke the fire rather vindictively. “The devil! I wish—But that’s nothing to the purpose, of course! If there should be any truth in this, Ned, it will raise the deuce of a scandal. I own I wish we were well out of it. You found nothing amongst Eustace’s papers?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Nicky did not know who it was who fired at him?”

  “No. But the very fact of his entering the house by the secret stair would seem to preclude his having been any common thief. Moreover, the bookroom would scarcely have attracted a common thief, and one must assume that the house was well known to the man. He appears to have had no hesitation upon entering it, but made his way straight to the bookroom.”

  John grunted and went on jabbing at the log in the hearth. “What do you mean to do?”

  “Wait upon events.”

  John glanced up at him under his brows. “You are thinking it may be that memorandum I spoke of, are you not?” he asked bluntly. “If it were so indeed, it must be found!”

  “Certainly, but I think it quite as important to discover the man who sold it to De Castres.”

  “By God, yes! But, Ned, I cannot quite agree with you in this! Boney’s people would give much to have a copy of it, but to steal the thing itself advertises to us that Wellington’s plans are known!”

  “The season is already some way advanced. Would it be possible, in your judgment, for Wellington to alter his plans?”

  John stared at him. “How can I say? No, I must suppose. The transports—” He broke off, recollecting himself. “Hang it, Ned, I will not believe it can be so! Even if it is now too late to alter whatever dispositions his lordship has made, to inform him that these are known must be the work of an idiot! Boney’s agents know their work a little too well for that!”

  “So I should imagine, and have already told myself. Yet I fancy there might be several answers to that argument. If any suspicion of Eustace’s intentions existed in the mind of De Castres, he might have demanded to see the memorandum itself. Consider for a moment what must be the disastrous result to the French if Eustace had given deliberately false information! To concentrate. troops without incontrovertible proof that it is precisely in that direction a powerful enemy will strike would be to take a risk I cannot think any general would hazard.”

  “You would think so indeed. You think De Castres had bargained for a sight of the memorandum, either to carry it off with him, or to make his own copy of it?”

  “Something of that kind, perhaps. You yourself said it would very likely be discovered in a wrong file. It may have been intended to have restored it in just such a way.”

  “I spoke in jest! It can never have been in a file, of course. I tell you the thing is most secret!”

  “There might still be ways of restoring it.”

  “Yes, I suppose there might—but not ways known to Eustace Cheviot, Ned! Now for heaven’s sake, my dear fellow, do but consider! You knew Eustace as well as anyone! This will not do!”

  Carlyon got up to replenish his own glass. “Very true, but I never imagined Eustace could be more than a go-between. If all these suspicions are correct, someone of far more importance than Eustace must stand behind him. Someone who is afraid to appear in the matter himself and so employs a tool.”

  “I will not allow it to be possible!” John said explosively. “I never knew such a fellow as you are, Ned, for doing or saying the most outrageous things and then making them seem the merest commonplace! It is a great deal too bad of you, and I know you rather too well to be drawn in!”

  “Now, what have I ever done or said to deserve this f
rom you?” asked Carlyon mildly.

  “I could recite to you a score of things!” John retorted. “But one will suffice! If it was not the most outrageous thing imaginable to force that unfortunate young female into marriage with Eustace, then I know nothing of the matter! And do not explain to me how it comes to be the most reasonable and ordinary thing to have done, because I shall end by believing you, and I know very well it was no such thing!”

  Carlyon laughed. “Very well, I will not, but I cannot believe your judgment to be so easily overpowered.”

  “If Eustace was indeed selling information to the French,” said John, “then I must set it all at Bedlington’s door! I dare say Eustace has very often visited him at the Horse Guards, and I will take my oath he would know how to make the most of his opportunities! He was never a fool. Indeed, he had the sort of cunning there is no keeping pace with. You should know that! I should not be at all surprised if Bedlington had dropped some hint, without in the least meaning to, but enough for Eustace! We cannot tell how it may have been, but to be trying to implicate someone of real consequence—Bathurst, no doubt!—is the outside of enough!”

  “No, I was not thinking of Bathurst,” said Carlyon calmly.

  “This is something indeed!” said John, with awful irony. “Depend upon it, Ned, this is all a figment of the imagination, and whatever it was that De Castres wanted will be found to have nothing whatsoever to do with any state affair!”

  “I hope you may be right. I am really not anxious to plunge the whole family into such a scandal as you have already foreseen.”

  The butler came into the room, and bowed. “I beg your lordship’s pardon, but my Lord Bedlington has called and would wish to have speech with your lordship immediately. I have ushered his lordship into the Crimson Saloon.”

  John choked over his sherry and was taken with a fit of coughing. After an infinitesimal pause, Carlyon said, “Inform his lordship that I shall be with him directly, and carry sherry and madeira into the Crimson Saloon. You had better instruct Mrs. Rugby to prepare the Blue Suite, since no doubt his lordship will be spending the night here.”

  The butler bowed again, and withdrew. Carlyon glanced down at his brother. “Now what have you to say?” he inquired.

  “Damme, Ned!” said John, still coughing. “It was only his being announced so pat! You must have expected him to come here!”

  “I did,” replied Carlyon. “But not before he had received my letter notifying him of Eustace’s death.”

  “What?” John exclaimed. “You inserted a notice in the Gazette, of course! He has seen that!”

  “He can hardly have done so, since it does not appear until tomorrow,” Carlyon retorted.

  John heaved himself up out of his chair, staring. “Ned! You mean you believe Bedlington—You think that De Castres told Bedlington—It’s not possible!”

  “No, that was not what was in my mind,” Carlyon replied. “I was thinking of one whom I know to be a close friend of De Castres.”

  “Francis Cheviot! That frippery dandy!”

  “Well, the thought cannot but occur to one,” Carlyon said. “He is Bedlington’s son—and here we have Bedlington, twenty-four hours before he should be in Sussex.”

  “Yes, I know, but—a fellow who cares for nothing but the set of his cravat and the blend of his snuff!”

  “Ah!” said Carlyon pensively. “But I recall that upon at least three occasions in the past I have found Francis Cheviot by no means lacking in intelligence. In fact, my dear John, I would never underrate him as an opponent. I have known him to be—quite amazingly ruthless when he has set out to attain his own ends.”

  “I would not have credited it! Of course, you have been better acquainted with him than I ever was. I cannot stand the fellow!”

  “Nor I,” said Carlyon. “Were you not telling me that he had suffered severe losses over the gaming table?”

  “Yes, so I believe. He plays devilish high—but one must be just, even to Francis Cheviot, you know, and he did inherit his mother’s fortune! Not but what I should doubt whether it can have been handsome enough to stand—But this is to no purpose, Ned!”

  “Very true. Let us go and welcome our guest!”

  They found the butler arranging decanters on a table in the Crimson Saloon and Lord Bedlington fidgeting in front of the fire. He started forward as Carlyon came into the room, exclaiming, “Carlyon, what is this terrible business? I came at once—though I could ill be spared! I was never more shocked in my life! And I must tell you that I wonder at your not having advised me immediately of the event! Oh, how d’ye do, John!”

  “I called at your house in town, but was so unfortunate as to find you away from home,” said Carlyon, shaking hands. “So I wrote you a letter which I fancy will reach your house tomorrow. Tell me, from what source” did you learn of Eustace’s death?”

  The round blue eyes stared at him. There was a perceptible pause before Bedlington replied testily, “How can one tell how such news may get about?”

  “I cannot, certainly. Where did you learn it, sir?”

  “My poor nephew’s valet told my man. It will be all over town by now! But how did it happen? What accident befell Eustace? Some talk of a brawl in an inn! I came to you to hear the truth!”

  “You shall do so, but you may believe that the truth is as painful to me to relate as it will be to you to hear. Eustace met his death at my brother Nicky’s hands.”

  “Carlyon!” gasped Bedlington, falling back a pace and grasping at a chair back to steady himself. “My God, has it come to this?”

  “Has what come to this?” demanded John, bristling.

  Thus challenged, his lordship sought refuge in his handkerchief, and uttered in broken accents that he would never have believed such a thing.

  “Believed such a thing as what?” pursued John, remorselessly adhering to his sledge-hammer tactics.

  “I do wish you would be quiet, John!” said Carlyon. “Pray sit down, sir! I need hardly tell you that the whole affair was an accident. If Eustace had had his way it would have been Nicky who had been killed, and that, I am constrained to tell you, would have been a clear case of murder.”

  “Ah, you were always unjust to the poor lad! I might depend upon you to shield your brother!”

  “Certainly you might, but happily this affair does not rest upon my testimony. To be brief with you, Bedlington, Eustace was, as usual, in his cups, and in this condition was unwise enough to provoke Nicky into knocking him down. Upon which, he seized a carving knife and tried to murder Nicky. In the scuffle, during which Nicky contrived to wrest the knife from him, he seems to have tripped and fallen on the knife. He died some hours later. I regret the occurrence as much as anyone, but I cannot hold Nicky to blame.”

  “No, nor anyone else!” John said roughly.

  Bedlington, who appeared to be quite overcome, only moaned behind his handkerchief. Carlyon poured out a glass of wine and took it to him. “Come, sir! I appreciate your concern, but to be blunt with you I cannot altogether deplore a taking off that I am much inclined to think may have come just in time to prevent Eustace from plunging all of us into a scandal we must be thankful to be spared.”

  Bedlington emerged from his handkerchief to demand ha trembling accents, “What can you mean? A few irregularities—the extravagances of youth—ay, and of a youth brought up under the rule of one—but I say no more! You best know how much you are to blame for the poor lad’s excesses!”

  “By God, that’s too much!” exploded John, his complexion darkening.

  “Then do not add to it, John. Had you no suspicion, sir, that these irregularities might have gone beyond the bounds of what even you could pardon?”

  Bedlington flushed. “This is base slander! You never liked Eustace! I shall not listen to you! I do not know what you would be at, but my brother’s son—! No, no, I will not listen to you!”

  Carlyon bowed slightly and waited in silence while he gulped down the wine in hi
s glass. This seemed a little to restore the balance of his lordship’s mind. He allowed John to refill the glass, asking abruptly: “How came he to marry that young woman I found installed at Highnoons? Yes, I have been there already, and I do not know when I have been more taken aback! Who is she, and how can such a thing have come about? I do not understand why Eustace should have excluded me from his confidence!”

  “She is the daughter of Rochdale of Feldenhall,” replied Carlyon.

  The blue eyes started at him. “What! He who shot himself, and left his widow and family destitute?”

  Carlyon bowed.

  “Well!” Bedlington said, puffing out his lips. “If that is so, of course I perceive why he should not have cared to tell me! I do not like the match. I must have done my possible to have prevented it. This is marvelous indeed! And it was you who contrived the wedding? I do not know what to say! She told me all was left to her!”

  Carlyon bowed again.

  “Wonderful!” Bedlington said, shaking his head. “You are a strange man, Carlyon! There is no getting to the bottom of you!”

  “You flatter me, sir. If you could but bring yourself to believe that I have never wanted to inherit Highnoons you would not find me at all unfathomable.”

  “Well, Carlyon, I must own that I have wronged you!” Bedlington said, sighing. “But this tragedy has so overset me I do not know what I say!”

  “It is very natural,” said Carlyon. “I dare say you will wish to be alone. Let me take you up to the rooms I have had prepared for you! Dinner will be served in an hour.”

  “You are very good. I own I shall be glad of a period of quiet reflection,” said Bedlington, rising with a groan and tottering in his host’s wake to the door.

  John remained in the saloon, waiting in some impatience for his brother’s return. It was some time before Carlyon rejoined him, and when he did it was to say, “Really, John, you are as foolish as Nicky! Must you take up the cudgels in my defence quite so violently?”