CHAPTER II CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER III CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER IV CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER V CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER VI CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER VII CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER VIII CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER IX CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER X CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XII CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XIV EPILOGUE
CHAPTER XV
PROLOGUE
Clad in his customary black and silver, with raven hair unpowdered and
elaborately dressed, diamonds on his fingers and in his cravat, Hugh
Tracy Clare Belmanoir, Duke of Andover, sat at the escritoire in the
library of his town house, writing.
He wore no rouge on his face, the almost unnatural pallor of which
seemed designedly enhanced by a patch set beneath his right eye. Brows
and lashes were black, the former slanting slightly up at the corners,
but his narrow, heavy-lidded eyes were green and strangely piercing. The
thin lips curled a little, sneering, as one dead-white hand travelled to
and fro across the paper.
... but it seems that the Fair Lady has a Brother, who, finding Me
Enamoured, threw down the Gauntlet. I soundly whipt the presumptuous
Child, and so the Affair ends. Now, as you, My dear Frank, also took
some Interest in the Lady, I write for the Express Purpose of informing
You that at my Hands she has received no Hurt, nor is not like to. This
I in part tell You that You shall not imagine Yr self in Honor bound
again to call Me out, which Purpose, an I mistake not, I yesterday read
in Yr Eyes. I should be Exceeding loth to meet You in a Second Time,
when I should consider it my Duty to teach You an even severer Lesson
than Before. This I am not Wishful of doing for the Liking I bear You.
"So in all Friendship believe me, Frank,
"Your most Obedient, Humble
"DEVIL."
His Grace of Andover paused, pen held in mid-air. A mocking smile dawned
in his eyes, and he wrote again.
"In the event of any Desire on Yr Part to hazard Yr Luck with my late
Paramour, Permit Me to warn You 'gainst the Bantam Brother, who is in
Very Truth a Fire-Eater, and would wish to make of You, as of Me, one
Mouthfull. I shall hope to see You at the Queensberry Rout on Thursday,
when You may Once More strive to direct mine Erring Footsteps on to the
Thorny Path of Virtue."
His Grace read the postscript through with another satisfied, sardonic
smile. Then he folded the letter, and affixing a wafer, peremptorily
struck the hand-bell at his side.
And the Honourable Frank Fortescue, reading the postscript half-an-hour
later, smiled too, but differently. Also he sighed and put the letter
into the fire.
"And so ends another _affaire_. ... I wonder if you'll go insolently to
the very end?" he said softly, watching the paper shrivel and flare up.
"I would to God you might fall honestly in love--and that the lady might
save you from yourself--my poor Devil!"
CHAPTER I
AT THE CHEQUERS INN, FALLOWFIELD
Chadber was the name of the host, florid of countenance, portly of
person, and of manner pompous and urbane. Solely within the walls of the
Chequers lay his world, that inn having been acquired by his
great-grandfather as far back as the year 1667, when the jovial Stuart
King sat on the English throne, and the Hanoverian Electors were not yet
dreamed of.
A Tory was Mr. Chadber to the backbone. None so bitter 'gainst the
little German as he, and surely none had looked forward more eagerly to
the advent of the gallant Charles Edward. If he confined his patriotism
to drinking success to Prince Charlie's campaign, who shall blame him?
And if, when sundry Whig gentlemen halted at the Chequers on their way
to the coast, and, calling for a bottle of Rhenish, bade him toss down a
glass himself with a health to his Majesty, again who shall blame Mr.
Chadber for obeying? What was a health one way or another when you had
rendered active service to two of his Stuart Highness's adherents?
It was Mr. Chadber's boast, uttered only to his admiring Tory
neighbours, that he had, at the risk of his own life, given shelter to
two fugitives of the disastrous 'Forty-five, who had come so far out of
their way as quiet Fallowfield. That no one had set eyes on either of
the men was no reason for doubting an honest landlord's word. But no one
would have thought of doubting any statement that Mr. Chadber might
make. Mine host of the Chequers was a great personage in the town, being
able both to read and to write, and having once, when young, travelled
as far north as London town, staying there for ten days and setting
eyes on no less a person than the great Duke of Marlborough himself when
that gentleman was riding along the Strand on his way to St. James's.
Also, it was a not-to-be-ignored fact that Mr. Chadber's home-brewed ale
was far superior to that sold by the landlord of the rival inn at the
other end of the village.
Altogether he was a most important character, and no one was more aware
of his importance than his worthy self.
To "gentlemen born," whom, he protested, he could distinguish at a
glance, he was almost obsequiously polite, but on clerks and underlings,
and men who bore no signs of affluence about their persons, he wasted
none of his deference.
Thus it was that, when a little green-clad lawyer alighted one day from
the mail coach and entered the coffee-room at the Chequers, he was
received with pomposity and scarce-veiled condescension.
He was nervous, it seemed, and more than a little worried. He offended
Mr. Chadber at the outset, when he insinuated that he was come to meet a
gentleman who might perhaps be rather shabbily clothed, rather short of
purse, and even of rather unsavoury repute. Very severely did Mr.
Chadber give him to understand that guests of that description were
entirely unknown at the Chequers.
There was an air of mystery about the lawyer, and it appeared almost as
though he were striving to probe mine host. Mr. Chadber bridled, a
little, and became aloof and haughty.
When the lawyer dared openly to ask if he had had any dealings with
highwaymen of late, he was properly and thoroughly affronted.
The lawyer became suddenly more at ease. He eyed Mr. Chadber
speculatively, holding a pinch of snuff to one thin nostril.
"Perhaps you have staying here a certain--ah--Sir--Anthony--Ferndale?"
he hazarded.
The gentle air of injury fell from Mr. Chadber. Certainly he had, and
come only yesterday a-purpose to meet his solicitor.
The lawyer nodded.
"I am he. Be so good as to apprise Sir Anthony of my arrival."
Mr. Chadber bowed exceeding low, and implored the lawyer not to remain
in the draughty coffee-room. Sir Anthony would never forgive him an he
allowed his solicitor to await him there. Would he not come to Sir
Anthony's private parlour?
The very faintest of smiles creased the lawyer's thin face as he walked
along the passage in Mr. Chadber's wake.
He was ushered into a low-ceilinged, pleasant chamber looking out on to
the quiet street, and left alone what time Mr. Chadber went in search of
Sir Anthony.
The room was panelled and ceilinged in oak, with blue curtains to the
windows and blue cushions on the high-backed settle by the fire. A table
stood in the centre of the floor, with a white table-cloth thereon and
places laid for two. Another smaller table stood by the fireplace,
together with a chair and a stool.
The lawyer took silent stock of his surroundings, and reflected grimly
on the landlord's sudden change of front. It would appear that Sir
Anthony was a gentleman of some standing at the Chequers.
Yet the little man was plainly unhappy, and fell to pacing to and fro,
his chin sunk low on his breast, and his hands clasped behind his back.
He was come to seek the disgraced son of an Earl, and he was afraid of
what he might find.
Six years ago Lord John Carstares, eldest son of the Earl of Wyncham,
had gone with his brother, the Hon. Richard, to a card party, and had
returned a dishonoured man.
That Jack Carstares should cheat was incredible, ridiculous, and at
first no one had believed the tale that so quickly spread. But he had
confirmed that tale himself, defiantly and without shame, before riding
off, bound, men said, for France and the foreign parts. Brother Richard
was left, so said the countryside, to marry the lady they were both in
love with. Nothing further had been heard of Lord John, and the outraged
Earl forbade his name to be mentioned at Wyncham, swearing to disinherit
the prodigal. Richard espoused the fair Lady Lavinia and brought her to
live at the great house, strangely forlorn now without Lord John's
magnetic presence; but, far from being an elated bridegroom, he seemed
to have brought gloom with him from the honeymoon, so silent and so
unhappy was he.
Six years drifted slowly by without bringing any news of Lord John, and
then, two months ago, journeying from London to Wyncham, Richard's coach
had been waylaid, and by a highwayman who proved to be none other than
the scapegrace peer.
Richard's feelings may be imagined. Lord John had been singularly
unimpressed by anything beyond the humour of the situation. That,
however, had struck him most forcibly, and he had burst out into a fit
of laughter that had brought a lump into Richard's throat, and a fresh
ache into his heart.
Upon pressure John had given his brother the address of the inn, "in
case of accidents," and told him to ask for "Sir Anthony Ferndale" if
ever he should need him. Then with one hearty handshake, he had galloped
off into the darkness....
The lawyer stopped his restless pacing to listen. Down the passage was
coming the tap-tap of high heels on the wooden floor, accompanied by a
slight rustle as of stiff silks.
The little man tugged suddenly at his cravat. Supposing--supposing
debonair Lord John was no longer debonair? Supposing--he dared not
suppose anything. Nervously he drew a roll of parchment from his pocket
and stood fingering it.
A firm hand was laid on the door-handle, turning it cleanly round. The
door opened to admit a veritable apparition, and was closed again with a
snap.
The lawyer found himself gazing at a slight, rather tall gentleman who
swept him a profound bow, gracefully flourishing his smart
three-cornered hat with one hand and delicately clasping cane and
perfumed handkerchief with the other. He was dressed in the height of
the Versailles fashion, with full-skirted coat of palest lilac laced
with silver, small-clothes and stockings of white, and waistcoat of
flowered satin. On his feet he wore shoes with high red heels and silver
buckles, while a wig of the latest mode, marvellously powdered and
curled and smacking greatly of Paris, adorned his shapely head. In the
foaming lace of his cravat reposed a diamond pin, and on the slim hand,
half covered by drooping laces, glowed and flashed a huge emerald.
The lawyer stared and stared again, and it was not until a pair of deep
blue, rather wistful eyes met his in a quizzical glance, that he found
his tongue. Then a look of astonishment came into his face, and he took
a half step forward.
"Master Jack!" he gasped. "Master--_Jack_!"
The elegant gentleman came forward and held up a reproving hand. The
patch at the corner of his mouth quivered, and the blue eyes danced.
"I perceive that you are not acquainted with me, Mr. Warburton," he
said, amusement in his pleasant, slightly drawling voice. "Allow me to
present myself: Sir Anthony Ferndale, _a vous servir_!"
A gleam of humour appeared in the lawyer's own eyes as he clasped the
outstretched hand.
"I think you are perhaps not acquainted with yourself, my lord," he
remarked drily.
Lord John laid his hat and cane on the small table, and looked faintly
intrigued.
"What's your meaning, Mr. Warburton?"
"I am come, my lord, to inform you that the Earl, your father, died a
month since."
The blue eyes widened, grew of a sudden hard, and narrowed again.
"Is that really so? Well, well! Apoplexy, I make no doubt?"
The lawyer's lips twitched uncontrollably.
"No, Master Jack; my lord died of heart failure."
"Say you so? Dear me! But will you not be seated, sir? In a moment my
servant will have induced the _chef_ to serve dinner. You will honour
me, I trust?"
The lawyer murmured his thanks and sat down on the settle, watching the
other with puzzled eyes.
The Earl drew up a chair for himself and stretched his foot to the fire.
"Six years, eh? I protest 'tis prodigious good to see your face again,
Mr. Warburton.... And I'm the Earl? Earl and High Toby, by Gad!" He
laughed softly.
"I have here the documents, my lord...."
Carstares eyed the roll through his quizzing glass.
"I perceive them. Pray return them to your pocket, Mr. Warburton."
"But there are certain legal formalities, my lord--"
"Exactly. Pray do not let us mention them!"
"But, sir!"
Then the Earl smiled, and his smile was singularly sweet and winning.
"At least, not until after dinner, Warburton! Instead, you shall tell me
how you found me?"
"Mr. Richard directed me where to come, sir."
"Ah, of course! I had forgot that I told him my--_pied-à-terre_ when I
waylaid him."
The lawyer nearly shuddered at this cheerful, barefaced mention of his
lordship's disreputable profession.
"Er--indeed, sir. Mr. Richard is eager for you to return."
The handsome young face clouded over. My lord shook his head.
"Impossible, my dear Warburton. I am convinced Dick never voiced so
foolish a suggestion. Come now, confess! 'tis your own fabrication?"
Warburton ignored the bantering tone and spoke very deliberately.
"At all events, my lord, I believe him anxious to make--amends."
Carstares shot an alert, suspicious glance at him.
"Ah!"
"Yes, sir. Amends."
My lord studied his emerald with half-closed eyelids.
"But why--amends, Warburton?" he asked.
"Is not that the word, sir?"
"I confess it strikes me as inapt. Doubtless I am dull of
comprehension."
"You were not wont to be, my lord."
"No? But six years changes a man, Warburton. Pray, is Mr. Carstares
well?"
"I believe so, sir," replied the lawyer, frowning at the deft change of
subject.
"And Lady Lavinia?"
"Ay." Mr. Warburton looked searchingly across at him, seeing which, my
lord's eyes danced afresh, brim full with mischief.
"I am delighted to hear it. Pray present my compliments to Mr. Carstares
and beg him to use Wyncham as he wills."
"Sir! Master Jack! I implore you!" burst from the lawyer, and he sprang
up, moving excitedly away, his hands twitching, his face haggard.
My lord stiffened in his chair. He watched the other's jerky movements
anxiously, but his voice when he spoke was even and cold.
"Well, sir?"
Mr. Warburton wheeled and came back to the fireplace, looking hungrily
down at my lord's impassive countenance. With an effort he seemed to
control himself.
"Master Jack, I had better tell you what you have already guessed. I
know."
Up went one haughty eyebrow.
"You know what, Mr. Warburton?"
"That you are innocent!"
"Of what, Mr. Warburton?"
"Of cheating at cards, sir!"
My lord relaxed, and flicked a speck of dust from his great cuff.
"I regret the necessity of having to disillusion you, Mr. Warburton."
"My lord, do not fence with me, I beg! You can trust me, surely?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Then do not keep up this pretence with me; no, nor look so hard
neither! I've watched you grow up right from the cradle, and Master Dick
too, and I know you both through and through. I _know_ you never cheated
at Colonel Dare's nor anywhere else! I could have sworn it at the
time--ay, when I saw Master Dick's face, I knew at once that he it was
who had played foul, and you had but taken the blame!"
"No!"
"I know better! Can you, Master Jack, look me in the face and truthfully
deny what I have said? Can you? Can you?" My lord sat silent.
With a sigh, Warburton sank on to the settle once more. He was flushed,
and his eyes shone, but he spoke calmly again.
"Of course you cannot. I have never known you lie. You need not fear I
shall betray you. I kept silence all these years for my lord's sake, and
I will not speak now until you give me leave."
"Which I never shall."
"Master Jack, think better of it, I beg of you! Now that my lord is
dead--"
"It makes no difference."
"No difference? 'Twas not for his sake? 'Twas not because you knew how
he loved Master Dick?"
"No."
"Then 'tis Lady Lavinia--"
"No."
"But--"
My lord smiled sadly.
"Ah, Warburton! And you averred you knew us through and through! For
whose sake should it be but his own?"
"I feared it!" The lawyer made a hopeless gesture with his hands. "You
will not come back?"
"No, Warburton, I will not; Dick may manage my estates. I remain on the
road."
Warburton made one last effort.
"My lord!" he cried despairingly, "Will you not at least think of the
disgrace to the name an you be caught?"
The shadows vanished from my lord's eyes.
"Mr. Warburton, I protest you are of a morbid turn of mind! Do you know,
I had not thought of so unpleasant a contingency? I swear I was not born
to be hanged!"
The lawyer would have said more, had not the entrance of a servant,
carrying a loaded tray, put an end to all private conversation. The man
placed dishes upon the table, lighted candles, and arranged two chairs.
"Dinner is served, sir," he said.
My lord nodded, and made a slight gesture toward the windows. Instantly
the man went over to them and drew the heavy curtains across.
My lord turned to Mr. Warburton.
"What say you, sir? Shall it be burgundy or claret, or do you prefer
sack?"
Warburton decided in favour of claret.
"Claret, Jim," ordered Carstares, and rose to his feet.
"I trust the drive has whetted your appetite, Warburton, for honest
Chadber will be monstrous hurt an you do not justice to his capons."
"I shall endeavour to spare his feelings," replied the lawyer with a
twinkle, and seated himself at the table.
Whatever might be Mr. Chadber's failings, he possessed an excellent
cook. Mr. Warburton dined very well, beginning on a fat duck, and
continuing through the many courses that constituted the meal.
When the table was cleared, the servant gone, and the port before them,
he endeavoured to guide the conversation back into the previous
channels. But he reckoned without my lord, and presently found himself
discussing the Pretender's late rebellion. He sat up suddenly.
"There were rumours that you were with the Prince, sir."
Carstares set down his glass in genuine amazement.
"I?"
"Indeed, yes. I do not know whence the rumour came, but it reached
Wyncham. My lord said nought, but I think Mr. Richard hardly credited
it."
"I should hope not! Why should they think me turned rebel, pray?"
Mr. Warburton frowned.
"Rebel, sir?"
"Rebel, Mr. Warburton. I have served under his Majesty."
"The Carstares were ever Tories, Master Jack, true to their rightful
king."
"My dear Warburton, I owe nought to the Stuart princes. I was born in
King George the First's reign, and I protest I am a good Whig."
Warburton shook his head disapprovingly.
"There has never been a Whig in the Wyncham family, sir."
"And you hope there never will be again, eh? What of Dick? Is he
faithful to the Pretender?"
"I think Mr. Richard does not interest himself in politics, sir."
Carstares raised his eyebrows, and there fell a silence.
After a minute or two Mr. Warburton cleared his throat.
"I--I suppose, sir--you have no idea of--er--discontinuing
your--er--profession?"
My lord gave an irrepressible little laugh.
"Faith, Mr. Warburton, I've only just begun!"
"Only--But a year ago, Mr. Richard--"
"I held him up? Ay, but to tell the truth, sir, I've not done much since
then!"
"Then, sir, you are not--er--notorious?"
"Good gad, no! Notorious, forsooth! Confess, Warburton, you thought me
some heroic figure? 'Gentleman Harry', perhaps?"
Warburton blushed.
"Well, sir--I--er--wondered."
"I shall have to disappoint you, I perceive. I doubt Bow Street has
never heard of me--and--to tell the truth--'tis not an occupation which
appeals vastly to my senses."
"Then why, my lord, do you continue?"
"I must have some excuse for roaming the country," pleaded Jack. "I
could not be idle."
"You are not--compelled to--er--rob, my lord?"
Carstares wrinkled his brow inquiringly.
"Compelled? Ah--I take your meaning. No, Warburton, I have enough for my
wants--now; time was--but that is past. I rob for amusement's sake."
Warburton looked steadily across at him.
"I am surprised, my lord, that you, a Carstares, should find
it--amusing."
John was silent for a moment, and when he at length spoke it was
defiantly and with a bitterness most unusual in him.
"The world, Mr. Warburton, has not treated me so kindly that I should
feel any qualms of conscience. But, an it gives you any satisfaction to
know it, I will tell you that my robberies are few and far between. You
spoke a little while ago of my probable--ah--fate--on Tyburn Tree. I
think you need not fear to hear of that."
"I--It gives me great satisfaction, my lord, I confess," stammered the
lawyer, and found nothing more to say. After a long pause he again
produced the bulky roll of parchment and laid it down before the Earl
with the apologetic murmur of:
"Business, my lord!"
Carstares descended from the clouds and eyed the packet with evident
distaste. He proceeded to fill his and his companion's glass very
leisurely. That done, he heaved a lugubrious sigh, caught Mr.
Warburton's eye, laughed in answer to its quizzical gleam, and broke the
seal.
"Since you _will_ have it, sir--business!"
* * * * *
Mr. Warburton stayed the night at the Chequers and travelled back to
Wyncham next day by the two o'clock coach. He played piquet and ecarte
with my lord all the evening, and then retired to bed, not having found
an opportunity to argue his mission as he had hoped to do. Whenever he
had tried to turn the conversation that way he had been gently but
firmly led into safer channels, and somehow had found it impossible to
get back. My lord was the gayest and most charming of companions, but
talk "business" he would not. He regaled the lawyer with spicy anecdotes
and tales of abroad, but never once allowed Mr. Warburton to speak of
his home or of his brother.
The lawyer retired to rest in a measure reassured by the other's good
spirits, but at the same time dispirited by his failure to induce
Carstares to return to Wyncham.
Next morning, although he was not up until twelve, he was before my
lord, who only appeared in time for lunch, which was served as before in
the oak parlour.
He entered the room in his usual leisurely yet decided fashion and made
Mr. Warburton a marvellous leg. Then he bore him off to inspect his
mare, Jenny, of whom he was inordinately proud. By the time they
returned to the parlour luncheon was served, and Mr. Warburton realised
that he had scarcely any time left in which to plead his cause.
My lord's servant hovered continually about the room, waiting on them,
until his master bade him go to attend to the lawyer's valise. When the
door had closed on his retreating form, Carstares leaned back in his
chair, and, with a rather dreary little smile, turned to his companion.
"You want to reason with me, I know, Mr. Warburton, and, indeed, I will
listen an I must. But I would so much rather that you left the subject
alone, believe me."
Warburton sensed the finality in his voice, and wisely threw away his
last chance.
"I understand 'tis painful, my lord, and I will say no more. Only
remember--and think on it, I beg!"
The concern in his face touched my lord.
"You are too good to me, Mr. Warburton, I vow. I can only say that I
appreciate your kindness--and your forbearance. And I trust that you
will forgive my seeming churlishness and believe that I am indeed
grateful to you."
"I wish I might do more for you, Master Jack!" stammered Warburton, made
miserable by the wistful note in his favourite's voice. There was no
time for more; the coach already awaited him, and his valise had been
hoisted up. As they stood together in the porch, he could only grip my
lord's hand tightly and say good-bye. Then he got hurriedly into the
coach, and the door was slammed behind him.
My lord made his leg, and watched the heavy vehicle move forward and
roll away down the street. Then with a stifled sigh he turned and walked
towards the stables. His servant saw him coming and went at once to meet
him.
"The mare, sir?"
"As you say, Jim--the mare. In an hour."
He turned and would have strolled back.
"Sir--your honour!"
He paused, looking over his shoulder.
"Well?"
"They're on the look-out, sir. Best be careful."
"They always are, Jim. But thanks."
"Ye--ye wouldn't take me with ye, sir?" pleadingly.
"Take you? Faith, no! I've no mind to lead you into danger. And you
serve me best by remaining to carry out my orders."
The man fell back.
"Ay, sir; but--but--"
"There are none, Jim."
"No, sir--but ye _will_ have a care?"
"I will be the most cautious of men." He walked away on the word, and
passed into the house.
In an hour he was a very different being. Gone was the emerald ring, the
foppish cane; the languid air, too, had disappeared, leaving him brisk
and businesslike. He was dressed for riding, with buff coat and buckskin
breeches, and shining top boots. A sober brown wig replaced the powdered
creation, and a black tricorne was set rakishly atop.
He stood in the deserted porch, watching Jim strap his baggage to the
saddle, occasionally giving a curt direction. Presently Mr. Chadber
appeared with the stirrup-cup, which he drained and handed back with a
word of thanks and a guinea at the bottom.
Someone called lustily from within, and the landlord, bowing very low,
murmured apologies and vanished.
Jim cast a last glance at the saddle-girths, and, leaving the mare
quietly standing in the road, came up to his master with gloves and
whip.
Carstares took them silently and fell to tapping his boot, his eyes
thoughtfully on the man's face.
"You will hire a coach, as usual," he said at length, "and take my
baggage to--" (He paused, frowning)--"Lewes. You will engage a room at
the White Hart and order dinner. I shall wear--apricot and--h'm!"
"Blue, sir?" ventured Jim, with an idea of being helpful.
His master's eyes crinkled at the corners.
"You are a humorist, Salter. Apricot and cream. Cream? Yes, 'tis a
pleasing thought--cream. That is all--Jenny!"
The mare turned her head, whinnying as he came towards her.
"Good lass!" He mounted lightly and patted her glossy neck. Then he
leaned sideways in the saddle to speak again to Salter, who stood beside
him, one hand on the bridle.
"The cloak?"
"Behind you, sir."
"My wig?"
"Yes, sir."
"Pistols?"
"Ready primed, sir."
"Good. I shall be in Lewes in time for dinner--with luck."
"Yes, sir. Ye--ye will have a care?" anxiously.
"Have I not told you?" He straightened in the saddle, touched the mare
with his heel, and bestowing a quick smile and a nod on his man, trotted
easily away.