Джорджетт Хейер - The Quiet Gentleman

“You fool! You blundering jackass!” Martin said, such molten wrath vibrant in his voice that Miss Morville let her train fall, and tiptoed to the balustrade, and gripped it, peeping over to look down into the hall.

“You knew I had gone to Grantham! You might have guessed that damned groom of his would follow me! You knew Lord Ulverston, even, was out of the way! And you let him escape you! God, how you have bungled it!”

Miss Morville, looking over the balustrade, saw him turn on his heel, and stride towards the vestibule. Her voice tore itself from her. “Martin, no! Stop!” she called.

Either he did not hear her, or he did not choose to hear her. He had disappeared already from her sight, and only Mr. Leek remained, gazing up the stairway in considerable discomfiture. Miss Morville disregarded him. Bent only upon detaining Martin, she darted to the head of the stairs, and began to hurry down them. Her foot caught in her short train, she lost her balance, clutched unavailingly at the massive, mahogany hand-rail, and pitched forward, tumbling and rolling down the stairs, to land in an inanimate heap at the feet of the dismayed Mr. Leek.

Martin, unaware even of her presence on the scene, was already outside the Castle. He did indeed hear Mr. Leek call to him, in agitated accents, but he paid no attention, making his way swiftly, yet with a certain caution, towards the stables.

The peace of the afternoon seemed to reign over them. There was no sign of Chard in the main yard, nor of any of the stable hands. Martin, after a quick look round, crossed the yard to the wing which housed his own cattle. At the door, he paused again, but he heard his groom’s voice say: “Get over now!” and he at once entered the stable.

He found Hickling engaged in rubbing down his hack, already haltered in his stall. He said, in an imperative undervoice: “Where’s Chard?”

“Gone off to his quarters, I think, sir. Mr. Martin, his lordship ain’t in his bed! He went off in his curricle, and my uncle with him, and — ”

“I know that!” Martin interrupted. “Any clodpole would have served me better than your damned uncle! Get my saddle on to the bay! Quick!”

“But, Mr. Martin — !”

A footstep sounded outside, and a not very melodious voice, humming one of the ditties popular at one time with the Army in Spain.

“Chard!” Martin whispered. “Leave the saddle — I’ll do it myself! Get that fellow out of earshot!”

“Mr. Martin, I don’t like it!” Hickling whispered in return. “If you’re meaning to go yourself, it’s too dangerous, sir! Only let me — ”

“No! Do as I bid you!” Martin said, and thrust him towards the door.

He waited, standing very still, until he heard Hickling speak to Chard.

“P’raps, Mr. Chard, if you happen to be at liberty, you’d like to take a look at his lordship’s Cloud, which you seen fit to turn into the meadow this morning,” said Hickling, with awful politeness. “Of course, it ain’t any business of mine, and I’m sure if you’re satisfied there’s nothing amiss, after all the experience you’ve had, I wouldn’t wish to raise my voice. I should have thought you’d have noticed it, when you brought him out, but there! you was in such a hurry to get off to Grantham I daresay you wasn’t looking at him very particular.”

“Now then, my lad, what are you talking about?” demanded Chard. “Anything there was to notice you can take it I noticed all right and tight!”

“Then I’m sure I must be mistook in thinking he’s got a spavin forming.”

“Spavin? What d’ye mean?”

A smile twitched the corners of Martin’s mouth. He picked up his saddle, still warm from use, and went softly forward to where Hickling had hung up his bridle while he rubbed down the tired hack. He heard Hickling say that he would be happy to show his colleague just what he meant; listened to the sound of footsteps retreating; and quickly entered the loose-box which housed a good-looking bay.

It would have saddened Mr. Leek had he known that the only other gate lying in the path of the Earl’s curricle was opened for him by an obliging urchin, who darted out of a nearby cottage in the hope of earning a penny. Half a mile beyond this gate, the Earl was able to turn off the track on to a passable road, which led him eventually to the manor of Evesleigh.

The manor had been bought by the Earl’s father some years previously, upon his nephew’s advice. It contained two good farms, as well as some smaller holdings; and the manor-house, which, though not large, was respectable, had for some time provided one of his lordship’s indigent relations with an asylum. A couple of elderly servants, retired from service at Stanyon, waited on the old lady, and, after her death, which occurred within three months of the Earl’s own demise, remained there as caretakers. For the greater part of the year most of the rooms were shut up, their chairs swathed in holland covers, but not the least of the manor’s attractions were its excellent coverts, and, during November and December, the house was always in a state of readiness for the entertainment of shooting-parties from Stanyon. At other times, only Theo ever stayed at Evesleigh, although the Dowager had several times asserted, during the lifetime of its late tenant, that she wondered to hear Cousin Amelia complain that the house was damp, since it was in every way so agreeable a residence that she had frequently thought that she would like to live there herself.

The Earl’s arrival brought not only his two retainers on to the scene, but Theo’s groom as well, who came running from the stables, and went at once to the grays’ heads, looking very much surprised to see his lordship, and asking whether he should set out to find his master, and apprise him of this unexpected visit.

“Is Mr. Theo out?” the Earl enquired, casting off the rug from about his legs, and alighting on to the carriage-sweep.

“Yes, my lord. He rode out with the bailiff, a couple of hours ago. I don’t rightly know whether it was Dumbleton Farm he meant to visit, or Doebridge, or whether —

But I could saddle the cob, my lord, and find him, I dessay!”

“No, I’ll wait for him,” said the Earl. “If he has been gone for two hours, I imagine he will soon return.” He turned his attention to Mrs. Allenby, who beamed, and dropped her third curtsy to him. He was evidently no stranger to her, so he said, if not with truth, at least with the kindliness which endeared him to his dependants: “Surely I remember you? I am very glad to see you again!”

“Oh, my lord!” gasped Mrs. Allenby: “To think you should remember after all this time! And me only third chambermaid when you was sent off to school! Well, I declare!”

The Earl smiled, and glanced enquiringly at her husband.

“Yes, my lord, that’s Allenby, which was used to work in the garden, but you wouldn’t remember him!”said Mrs. Allenby, relegating her spouse to obscurity. “If only I’d known your lordship was coming to Evesleigh! Oh dear, Mr. Theo will be put about when he finds you here, and him not ready to receive you!”

Shaking her head over this, she ushered his lordship up the shallow steps to the front-door, and then into a parlour overlooking the carriage-sweep. She almost overwhelmed him with apologies for not having the drawing-room prepared for his reception, with promises of instant refreshment, and with solicitous enquiries after the state of his health. He got rid of her only by accepting her offer of home-brewed ale; and when he had drunk this she showed so marked a disposition to linger that he announced his intention of strolling out to look round the demesne.

It was fully an hour before Theo returned to the house. He came striding from the stables, and met his cousin on his leisurely way back from the shrubbery. At sight of that slim, elegant figure, still wearing a caped driving-coat, but with fair head uncovered, he called out: “Gervase! My dear fellow!” and hurried towards the Earl. “I had no notion you meant to come to Evesleigh!” he said. “If that fool of mine had had a grain of sense he would have fetched me an hour ago!”

“He would have done so, but I thought very likely he would miss you, and so told him not to go,” replied the Earl.

“Ay, that’s what he has just said to me. Has Mrs. Allenby looked after you? Why are you wandering about the garden? You should rather be resting in the parlour!”

“Oh, I am wandering in the garden because she looked after me only too well!”

Theo smiled. “I daresay! But come inside now! I will protect you from her, I promise you.”

The answering smile was perfunctory; Theo said, with a glance at the Earl’s face: “You are fagged to death, Gervase! And no wonder!”

“No, not as bad as that,” Gervase said, mounting the stone steps beside him. “I am really very much harder to kill than any of you can be brought to believe.”

“I know well you bear a charmed life, but to be taxing your strength in such a way as this — !” Theo flung open the door into the parlour. “Go in! Let me speak two words to Allenby, and I’ll be with you!”

When he returned to the parlour, some ten minutes later, he found the Earl seated in a chair on one side of the old draw-table, which was littered with papers and ledgers. He shut the door, saying: “Mrs. Allenby is so much vexed that she had no word of your coming that nothing I can say will console her. You mean to remain here for the night, I hope?”

“No, I am returning to Stanyon.” The Earl tossed back on to the table a paper he had been reading. “I never knew, until I came home, how much work you did, Theo. I have you to thank for it that I find my inheritance in such good order, haven’t I?”

“Why, yes!” Theo admitted. “But you did not drive ten miles to tell me that! My dear Gervase, what can have possessed you to behave with such imprudence? When I left Stanyon you had not quitted your room, and here you are, without even Chard to bear you company!”

“I wanted to see you, and alone.”

Theo looked at him with knit brows. “Something has happened since I left Stanyon? Is that it?”

“No, nothing has happened, except that I have regained my strength and my wits. My head still ached abominably when I saw you last, Theo. I found it difficult to think, and impossible to act. I was in doubt, too — or perhaps only trying to believe there was doubt. It is of very little consequence.”

“If you wanted me, why could you not have sent me word to come to you?” Theo said roughly. “To have driven all this way, and alone, was madness! I wish you may not have cause to regret such foolhardiness!”

“There are those who could tell you that my wounds heal quickly. Sit down, Theo!”

His cousin cast himself into the chair on the other side of the table, but said: “And what if you had met with another accident on your way here? Good God, you must know the risks you run!”

“I am not afraid of being ambushed today,” replied the Earl. “Martin went to Grantham, and Chard with him. Even if he has by now returned to Stanyon, Chard is still watching him. He won’t let him out of his sight until he sees me safe home again.” He paused, and for a moment or two there was silence, broken only by the sound of a horse’s hooves somewhere in the distance, and the measured ticking of the clock on the mantelshelf. “So, you see, Theo, I had nothing to fear in driving over to see you.”

The sound of hooves was growing momently more distinct; the Earl slightly turned his head, listening.

“Well! I am glad to know you took that precaution at least!” said Theo. “But who is watching Hickling? Did you think of that?”

“Why, no!” replied Gervase. “Hickling is certainly devoted to Martin, but I hardly think he would commit murder to oblige him!”

He rose from his chair as he spoke, and walked to the window. The hooves were pounding up the carriage-sweep. “What is it?” Theo asked. “Has Chard come to look for you?”

The Earl’s right hand had been hidden in the pocket of his driving-coat. He withdrew it, and his cousin saw that it held a silver-mounted pistol. “No,” he said, in an odd voice, “but I seem to have been out in my reckoning! I am no longer safe from the strange accidents that befall me.”

“Good God, Gervase, what do you mean? Who is it?” exclaimed Theo, starting up.

“It is Martin,” said the Earl, turning, so that he faced the room, his back against the wall.

“Martin! But, my dear Gervase, he would never — ”