The Ashiel mystery: A Detective Story

by Mrs. Charles Bryce

  CHAPTER VI

  "Here they come again."

  Lord Ashiel spoke in a voice scarcely above a whisper, and Julietcrouched low against the peaty wall of the butt. There was an instant'ssilence, and then crack, crack, shots sounded from the other end of theline. Another minute and Lord Ashiel's gun went up; she heard the whirrof approaching wings before she covered both ears with her hands todeaden the noise of the explosions she knew were coming.

  Then several guns seemed to go off at once. Bang! bang! bang! Bang!bang! bang!

  Juliet did not really enjoy grouse-driving, but she tried to appear as ifshe did, since every one else seemed to, and at all events there wereintervals between drives when she could be happy in the glory of thehills and the wild free air of the moors.

  Meanwhile she knelt in her corner of the butt beside her host's bigretriever, and waited. There was a little bunch of heather growinglevel with her nose, and she bent forward silently and sniffed at it.But the honey-sweet scent was drowned for the moment by the smell ofgunpowder and dog.

  Bang! bang! bang!

  Presently Lord Ashiel turned and looked down at her, with a smile.

  "The drivers are close up," he said. "The drive is over."

  They went out of the butt, and she stood watching the dog picking up thebirds Lord Ashiel had shot. He found nineteen, and the loader picked upthree more. Juliet was glad her host shot so well. She thought him awonderful man. And how kind he was to her. But she could not help lookingover from time to time to the next butt, round which three other peoplewere wandering: Sir David Southern, and his loader, and Miss MaisieTarver, to whom he was engaged to be married.

  One of Sir David's birds had fallen near his uncle's butt, and presentlyhe strolled across to look for it, his eyes on the heather as hezigzagged about, leading his dog by the chain which his uncle insisted onhis using.

  "There is something here," called Juliet. "Yes, it is a dead grouse. Isthis your bird?"

  Sir David came up and took it.

  "That's it," he said. "Thanks very much. How do you like this sortof thing?"

  He leant against the butt and looked down at her.

  "Oh, it's so lovely here," began Juliet.

  "But you don't like the shooting, eh?"

  "I don't know," Juliet stammered. "I think it's rather cruel."

  "You must remember there wouldn't be any grouse at all if they weren'tshot," he said seriously, "and besides, wild birds don't die comfortablyin their beds if they're not killed by man. A charge of shot is moremerciful than a death from cold and starvation, or even from the attackof a hawk or any of a bird's other natural enemies. Just think. Wouldn'tyou rather have the violent end yourself than the slow, lingering one?"

  "Yes," admitted Juliet, "I would. I believe you're right. But I don'treally much like seeing it happen, all the same."

  "I think you'd get used to it; it's a matter of habit. I believeeverything is a matter of habit, or almost everything. I suppose one getsused to any kind of horror in time."

  He spoke reflectively; more, or so it seemed to Juliet, as if trying toconvince himself than her; and as he finished speaking, she was consciousthat his eyes, which had never left her face while they were talking, haddone so now, and were fixed on some object or person behind her. Sheturned instinctively and saw Miss Maisie Tarver approaching, a brace ofgrouse swinging in each hand.

  "I've got them all, right here, David," she informed him, as she came up.She was a tall dark girl, with the look of breeding which often proves soconfusing to Europeans when they first come in contact with certain ofher countrywomen. "This bird," she added, holding up one which stillfluttered despairingly, "was a runner, but now he won't do any morerunning than the colour of my new pink shirt-waist; and that's guaranteeda fast tint, I guess."

  Juliet looked away, trying not to show her dismay at the struggles of thewounded bird.

  "Here, give me that bird, Maisie," said David rather abruptly. "I'llknock it on the head."

  "Oh, I can do that, if it makes Miss Byrne feel badly," Maisie laughed.

  Raising her small foot on to a stone, she began to make ineffectualattempts to beat the bird's head against her toe. David snatched it fromher unceremoniously, and turned his back while he put an end to the poorcreature's sufferings. His face was very red. When he had killed the birdhe tossed it to Lord Ashiel's loader, and strode away across the heather.

  Maisie looked at Juliet with a laugh.

  "Your English young men are perfectly lovely," she remarked, "and Davidis just elegant, I think, or I'd not have gone and engaged myself to beled to the altar by him; but I can't kind of get used to the British wayof looking at things. It's quite remarkable the manner you people haveof admiring a girl one moment, because she's a good sport, and throwingfits of disapprobation the next, because she tries to act like she isone. Why, David looked at me just now as if he'd have taken less than twocents to put knock-out drops in my next cocktail."

  "Oh," protested Juliet. "I'm sure he didn't mean to. I think hisexpression is naturally rather stern."

  "Stern nothing," said Miss Tarver. "When I came up he was looking at youas if he reckoned he could eat you, shooting-stick and all. Oh, therearen't any flies on me! I know just what myself and dollars are worth toSir David Southern, and I'm beginning to do some calculating on my ownaccount as to what Sir David Southern is worth to me."

  "Oh, surely you are wrong," cried Juliet. "I am certain Sir David hasnever thought about your money. Oh, I feel sure you misjudge him; and youmustn't talk like that, even in fun!"

  "I don't know," said Miss Tarver doubtfully. "His cousin says David'sreally vurry attached to me, but it's the sort of thing one ought to beable to see for oneself, and I don't seem to feel a really strongconviction on the subject. As for his thinking of my dollars, I fail tosee how he can help that when he's over head and ears in debt, the way heis. He told me so himself when he proposed. He put it as a businessproposition. Said his ancient name was up for auction, and did I reckonit worth my while to make a bid, or words to that effect. There's aromantic love-story for you. He was the only titled man I'd ever struckup till a month ago, and I always did think it would be stunning to marryinto an aristocratic British family, so I was pleased to death at theidea of putting his on its legs again with my dollars. What else could Ido with them anyway? But I believe if I'd met your friend, Lord Ashiel,before I'd taken the fatal step, I'd have waited to see if he didn'tfancy an Amurrican wife. But of course _he_ doesn't care a hill of beanswhether I'm rich or not. He's got plenty himself, I'm told, and I guesshe'd never have looked at me while you were around, any old way. All thesame I call him a real striking-looking man."

  "Oh, don't talk so loud," implored Juliet. "He'll hear you. He'squite close."

  "Not he," said Miss Tarver. "He's back of the butt still. And I will sayhe is a real high-toned gentleman, and it's my opinion the girl who getshim will be able to give points to the man who took a piece of waste landfor a bad debt, and struck the richest vein of gold in Colorado on it."

  She looked at Juliet with an insinuating eye.

  "Come along," said Lord Ashiel, as he strolled up to them with a birdhe had been looking for, "we're going on now to the next drive," andthey started off down the hillside, wading deep through the heather tothe track.

  Juliet had been nearly a week at Inverashiel. A week of wet weather whichhad sadly interfered with the shooting, but which had thrown the houseparty on its own resources and given her plenty of chances to get wellacquainted with the other guests at the castle. They were most of themrelated to Lord Ashiel and already well known to each other. TheAmerican, David Southern's fiancee, the half Russian girl, JuliaRomaninov, who had arrived on the same day as Juliet, and Juliet herself,were the only strangers. Mrs. Haviland, Lord Ashiel's sister, had beenthere when she arrived, but had left a day or two later as her husband,who was in the south, had fallen ill and needed her presence. Her placeas hostess had been taken by Lady Ruth Worsfold, a distant cousin of
theMcConachans, who lived in a little house a mile down the loch, which wasgiven her rent free by Lord Ashiel. Another cousin of his, Mrs. Clutsam,a young widow, he had also provided this year with a small house on theestate which was sometimes let to fishing tenants, and she, too, was atpresent staying at Inverashiel.

  The guns consisted of Col. Spicer and Sir George Hatch, both well-knownsoldiers of between forty and fifty years of age, and Lord Ashiel's twonephews, David Southern, the son of a widowed sister, and MarkMcConachan, whose father, now dead, had been Lord Ashiel's only brother.Both were tall, good-looking young men, though there was not even afamily resemblance between the grey-eyed and fairhaired David, with hissmooth-shaven face and slender well-proportioned figure, and hisloose-limbed, rather ungainly cousin, whose appearance of great strengthmade up for his lack of grace, and whose large melting brown eyes madeone forget the faults which the hypercritical might have found in therest of his face: the rather large nose, and the mouth which was apt toooften to be open except when it closed on the cigarette he was alwayssmoking. He had been, so Juliet had heard some one say, one of the mostpopular men in the cavalry regiment he had lately left on account of itsbeing ordered to India.

  They were all very nice to Juliet, and she thought them all charming.Especially, she told herself with unnecessary emphasis, did she thinkMiss Maisie Tarver a delightful person; rather strange, possibly, toEuropean ways and customs and manner of conversation, a very differenttype, certainly, from the new Lady Byrne--to whom Juliet was beginning tofeel she had perhaps not hitherto sufficiently done justice--but open asthe day, and with a heart of gold. She even went so far as to defend herto old Lady Ruth Worsfold, who had lamented one morning when David andhis fiancee had gone out shooting together--for Miss Tarver, though not agood shot, was fond of ferreting rabbits--that the lad should be throwinghimself away on this young lady from a provincial American town.

  "I forget which, my dear, but it's something to do with chickens, Ibelieve." They were sitting in the hall, and Lady Ruth looked up from herembroidery as she spoke, with art interrogative glance towards Mrs.Clutsam and Julia.

  "Chicago," said Mrs. Clutsam, turning round from the table where she waswriting. "That's where she comes from."

  "Yes, that's it," said Lady Ruth; "the name had slipped my memory. It'sthe place where they all kill pigs, isn't it? I've read about it inKipling. Her having been brought up to do that accounts for her passionfor wounding rabbits, no doubt. I daresay one has to keep one's hand in.That reminds me, I will tell the cook not to send up sausages forbreakfast. The poor girl is probably tired of the sight of them, though Isuppose they mean money to her, which is always pleasant. When I had apoultry farm I used to feel my heart warm at the thought of poor dearDuncan's bald head. You know, my dear," she went on, turning to Juliet,"my husband had the misfortune to lose all his hair some years before hedied, though really I don't believe there was a patent hair-wash hedidn't try, till the house fairly reeked of them: but they never did anygood, and he got to look more and more like one of my nice new-laid eggs;though not so brown of course, for I always kept Wyandots which lay themost beautiful dark brown ones, like _cafe au lait_"

  "Well, the money will be very useful to poor David," said Mrs. Clutsam,without turning her head. She was rather annoyed because she had foundthat she had written "I am so glad you can kill pigs," instead of "I amso glad you can come" to some one she had invited to stay with her.

  "There's plenty of money on this side of the duck pond, or whatever theycall it," said Lady Ruth severely.

  And it was then that Juliet had burst in.

  "I am sure Sir David has never given a thought to Miss Tarver'smoney," she said.

  "Why not, my dear?" said Lady Ruth, turning upon her mild, surprisedeyes. "He is terribly badly off; it is his duty to marry money; but heneedn't have gone so far for it."

  "I don't believe he would marry for money. He would be above doing such athing!" Juliet declared.

  Julia, who had said nothing, stared at her, and laughed softly. She had avery low, musical laugh.

  "I don't think you understand the position," said Mrs. Clutsam, turninground at last and laying down her pen with an air of resignation. "DavidSouthern has inherited a lot of debts from his father, who only died lastyear, and he had piled up a good many on his own account before then,never suspecting that he would not be very well off. But he found theplace mortgaged up to the hilt. There is really nothing between hismother and starvation, except her brother-in-law Ashiel's charity, andthat is not pleasant for her because she has never been on good termswith him. It is very important that David should obtain money somehow,for her sake more than for his own, and I'm sure he feels that deeply. Heis devoted to her."

  "But there are other ways of getting money than by marrying,"Juliet objected.

  "Yes, there are; but they are slow and uncertain, and David can't bear tosee his mother poor. I am sure it was for her sake that he proposed toMiss Tarver."

  "I think he would have tried some other way first, unless he had been inlove with her," Juliet repeated, flushed and obstinate.

  "Mr. McConachan says Sir David is very fond of Miss Tarver, really,"said Julia, speaking for the first time. She spoke English fluently, butwith a slight foreign accent. "He says his cousin is so reserved thathe conceals his feelings as much as possible, but that, _au fond_, headores her."

  There was a short silence; Mrs. Clutsam seemed about to speak, but hereyes met those of Lady Ruth fixed on her with an expressionless gaze, andshe turned round without a word and took up her discarded pen.

  They were both thinking the same thing. If David concealed his feelingsin the presence of Miss Tarver he was not so successful when he was inJuliet's neighbourhood. Both women had noticed the change that came overhim when she was in the room. It was not that he did not try to appearindifferent; he did not talk to her, or seek her society. On the contraryhe seemed to avoid it, and relapsed into silence at her approach. Butboth Lady Ruth and Mrs. Clutsam had caught him looking at her when hethought himself unobserved, and their observations had not left either ofthem in any doubt as to how the land lay.

  Sir David Southern might be engaged to marry Miss Tarver, but he hadfallen in love with some one quite different, and some one who was,moreover, or so they imagined, destined for quite another person.

  For what was Miss Juliet Byrne doing at Inverashiel Castle?

  This was a question which much exercised the minds of Lord Ashiel'srelations and, when she was not present, formed the subject of manydiscussions.

  Where had this girl, this extremely pretty and attractive girl, suddenlyappeared from? Well, they all knew, of course, where she really had comefrom; but why? Why had Lord Ashiel suddenly sprung her on them likethis? He had not even told Mrs. Haviland that he had invited her untilthe day before she arrived. Why this mystery? Where had he met her? Howlong had he known her? To a casual question Juliet had replied guardedlythat she had not known him very long, but that he knew her family.Fervently did she hope that what she said was true.

  One thing, however, seemed certain. No matter how, where, or why, Ashielhad made friends with Juliet Byrne, he was bent on becoming even betteracquainted. He appeared to be on excellent terms with her already, andevery day saw them grow more familiar, and, on Ashiel's side, almostaffectionate. If he went shooting or fishing Juliet must go too; to herhe addressed his remarks; it was she whom he consulted when he made plansfor the following days. His health was bad, he was subject to terribleheadaches, and if she were not present he grew quickly nervous andirritable; when she was, he seldom took his eyes off her. He seemed towatch her, Mrs. Clutsam thought, with a certain expectancy; but also witha distinct and unmistakable pride. There was little doubt in the mind ofanyone in the house that there would soon be a second Lady Ashiel.

  As the party walked between the butts on that brilliant August day, MissTarver tacked herself on to her host and strode on ahead with him,keeping up a flow of interminable, drawling inanities, w
hich made himwonder for the fortieth time what David could see in her.

  The others tailed out after them, followed by dogs and loaders.

  Without knowing how it came about, Juliet found herself walking besideDavid; and, as she was not used to the rough going on the hillside, theyinsensibly dropped behind the rest of the long, straggling procession.The way was uphill; Juliet panted and stumbled; and her companion seemeddisinclined to talk.

  They came to a burn, and he gave her his hand to cross from stone tostone. The burn was high, and one stone was under water, leaving a spacetoo wide for Juliet to jump. David stepped on to the flooded rock, andturned to her.

  "I will lift you over here," he said shortly. "Oh, I can wade quitewell," said she. "My shoes are wet already."

  But without more words he put his arms round her, and lifted her over.When he put her down he found his tongue.

  "If Maisie stands with my uncle at the next drive," he said, "will youcome to my butt?"

  "I should like to," she said. For some reason his tone made her breathcome quickly.

  David stood looking down at her as though considering.

  "I can't go back on my word," he said at last inconsequently. "I shallhave to marry her, if she wants it, I suppose. But I can't bear you tothink that I care for her. I've got to think of other people."

  "You mustn't say that!" she cried. "Oh, you mustn't say that to me!"

  "Why not?" he said, looking at her strangely. "What have I said thatisn't right?"

  "Nothing, I suppose," Juliet faltered. "But--but--Oh," she cried, "ifyou don't care for her, you must tell her so, and she will break it off.Anything would be better than to go on with it!"

  "I think she knows," he answered gloomily. "She won't break it off,because she wants to be 'my Lady,' It's a business matter, really. AndI'd have to stick to it for my mother's sake, anyhow."

  Juliet could think of nothing to say. "You ought not to marry her," shestammered again.

  "If I didn't," he began hoarsely--"if she did let me go, I don't supposeyou'd ever care for me enough to marry me? Oh, I know I ought not to sayit," he broke off; "I'm a cad to speak like this. Forgive me, Juliet."

  Juliet's world revolved around her at an unusual pace for the space of asecond. She shut her eyes to steady herself; a mixture of misery andhappiness deprived her of speech or movement. Gradually the miserypredominated and she burst into tears.

  "Forgive me, forgive me," he was saying. He stood before her, looking aswretched as a man can look.

  "Yes, yes," she sobbed. "Let us forget all about it. You must forget me."

  "You know I can't," he said. "Juliet, Juliet, don't cry. If you cry Ishall be simply obliged to kiss you." And he took a step towards her.

  They were still standing at the edge of the burn, screened from thetrack ahead, partly by a little bush of alder which grew beside them,partly by the winding of the path round the slope of the hill. As Davidspoke a rabbit came scampering up to the other side of the bush, andthen, becoming aware of their proximity, turned at right angles anddarted down the bank. It was three or four yards away, and going hard,when there was a loud report, and the branches of the alder cracked andrattled. Several little boughs fell to the ground a foot or two awayfrom the spot on which Juliet stood. Surprise dried her tears andrestored David to his senses.

  "Hi!" he shouted, bounding on to the path, and waving his armsfrantically. "What are you shooting at? Look out, can't you?"

  Fifty yards up the track his Cousin Mark was standing, an open gun in hishand; a scared ghillie was running towards them down the path beyond.

  "Good heavens, David," Mark ejaculated, "do you mean to say you were inthe burn? I thought you were on ahead! Why in the world did you lagbehind like that? Do you know I might easily have shot you?"

  "Do I know it? You precious near did shoot me, and Miss Byrne, too, Itell you. If it hadn't been for that alder we should have been bound toget most of the charge between us. It's not like you to be so careless."

  "I'm frightfully sorry, old man," said Mark, coming up; "it was carelessof me, but I felt sure there was no one back there. I saw that rabbit andstalked it, meaning to overtake you all afterwards. They walk sofearfully slow, you know, what with all these ladies, and Uncle Douglasnot feeling very fit. And Miss Byrne here, too! By Jove, I _am_ sorry!Beastly stupid of me."

  He was plainly agitated, and could hardly blame himself severely enough.And David, for his part, was not disposed to make light of what hadhappened. Perhaps he was glad of a subject on which he could enlarge.

  "It was a rotten shot, too," he mumbled, as they all hurried on afterthe others. "You were about four yards behind that rabbit."

  "Absolutely rotten," agreed Mark. "I don't know what's happened to myshooting. I've hit every bird in the tail to-day, except when I've missed'em clean, and that's what I've done most of the time. There's somethingwrong with my eye altogether. If I don't get better, I shall knock offshooting--for a few days, anyhow."

  All his usual self-possession seemed to have been shaken out of him bythe thought of the catastrophe he might have caused. Young, good-lookingand popular, he was accustomed to take the pleasure shown in his societyand the admiring approval of his associates, which had always contributedso much to his comfortable feeling of satisfaction with himself, andwhich had invariably strengthened his reluctance to harbour unpleasantdoubts as to his own perfections, as a matter of course; and theheartiness with which he now cursed himself for a careless and dangerousfool testified to the fright he had had.

  Even when David, relenting a little, though still reluctant to showit, grunted surlily, "None of you cavalry soldiers are safe with agun." Mark did not, as he would generally have done, deny theaccusation resentfully, but displayed an astonishing meekness, whichproved how clearly he saw himself to be in the wrong. Juliet, who hadsometimes thought him rather selfish--a fault he shared with manyothers of his kind, and one perhaps almost unavoidable in attractiveonly sons--was touched by his unusual humility, and treated the matterlightly, doing all she could to cheer him up and restore to him hisgood opinion of himself.

  But Mark, while he smiled back gratefully in reply, would not allow herto persuade him that he was less to blame than he asserted, and he wasstill lamenting his carelessness when they came up with the rest of theparty, who were already stationed in the butts.

  Miss Tarver was beside Lord Ashiel, and Mark stopped a minute to relatehow nearly he had been the cause of an accident, although both David andJuliet, by mutual consent, guessed what he was going to do, and tried todissuade him.

  "No need to say anything about it," David mumbled in his ear.

  "No, no, don't, please," Juliet murmured in the other.

  Yet he would not be tempted, and they walked on together in silence,leaving him to tell the story.

  "I as near as makes no difference peppered David and Miss Byrne justnow," they heard him begin, and then Lord Ashiel's voice broke in in anangry tone as they passed out of earshot.

  David's loader reported afterwards that that young gentleman and MissByrne, when she waited with him in the butt, seemed to find verylittle to talk about. And it was a long wait before any birds came up,on that beat.