Chapter 26 My Lord Rides to Frustrate His Grace
TWENTY-SIX
My Lord Rides to Frustrate His Grace
My lord yawned most prodigiously and let fall the Spectator. His eyes roved towards the clock, and noted with disgust that the hands pointed to half after five. He sighed and picked up the Rambler.
His host and hostess were visiting some miles distant, and were not likely to be back until late, so my lord had a long dull evening in front of him, which he relished not at all.
Lady O’Hara had tried to induce him to accompany them, promising that he would meet no one he knew, but he had for once been prudent and refused steadfastly.
So my lady, after pouting crossly at him and assuring him that he was by far the most obstinate and disagreeable man that she had ever come across, not excepting her husband, who, to be sure, had been quite prodigiously annoying all day, relented, told him she understood perfectly, and even offered to kiss him to make up for her monstrous ill-humour.
Jack accepted the offer promptly, waved farewell to her from the porch, and returned to the empty drawing-room to while away the time with two numbers of the Spectator and his own thoughts till dinner, which was to be later than usual today, on account of an attack of vapours which had seized the cook.
His thoughts were too unpleasant to be dwelt on; everything in his world seemed to have gone awry.
So he occupied himself with what seemed to him a particularly uninteresting number of the Spectator.
The sun had almost disappeared, and very soon it became too dark to read; no candles having been brought as yet, my lord, very unromantically, went to sleep in his chair.
Whether he would have eventually snored is not known, for not more than a quarter of an hour afterwards the butler roused him with the magic words:
‘Dinner is served, sir.’
Carstares turned his head lazily.
‘What’s that you say, James?’
‘Dinner is served, sir,’ repeated the man, and held the door wide for him to pass out.
‘Faith! I’m glad to hear it!’
My lord rose leisurely and pulled his cravat more precisely into position. Although he was to be alone, he gave his costume a touch here and there, and flicked a speck of dust from one great cuff with his elegant lace handkerchief.
He strolled across the old panelled hall to the dining-room, and sat down at the table.
The curtains were drawn across the windows, and clusters of candles in graceful silver holders were arranged on the table, shedding a warm light on to the white damask and the shining covers.
The footmen presented a fish, and my lord permitted a little to be put on his plate.
The butler desired to know if Mr Carr would drink claret or burgundy, or ale?
Mr Carr would drink claret. A sirloin of beef next made its appearance, and went away considerably smaller.
Then before my lord was spread an array of dishes.
Partridges flanked one end, a pastry stood next, a cream, two chickens, a duck, and a ham of noble proportions.
My lord went gently through.
The butler desired to know if Mr Carr would drink a glass of burgundy? He exhibited a dusty bottle. My lord considered it through his eyeglass and decided in favour. He sipped reflectively and waved the ham away.
Sweetmeats appeared before him and a soup, while plump pigeons were uncovered at his elbow.
One was whipped deftly on to his plate, and as he took up his knife and fork to carve it, a great scuffling sounded without, angry voices being raised in expostulation, and, above all, a breathless, insistent appeal for Mr Carr or Sir Miles.
My lord laid down the knife and fork and came to his feet.
‘It appears I am demanded,’ he said, and went to the door.
It was opened for him at once, and he stepped out into the hall to find Mr Beauleigh trying to dodge the younger footman, who was refusing to let him pass.
At the sight of Carstares he stepped back respectfully.
Mr Beauleigh, hot, distraught, breathless, fell upon my lord.
‘Thank God you are here, sir!’ he cried.
Carstares observed him with some surprise. Mr Beauleigh had been so very frigid when last they had met.
‘I am glad to be at your service, sir,’ he bowed. ‘You have commands for me?’
‘We are in terrible trouble,’ almost moaned the other. ‘Betty bade me come to find you, or failing you, Sir Miles, for none other can help us!’
Carstares’ glance grew sharper.
‘Trouble? Not – But I forget my manners – we shall talk more at ease in here.’ He led Mr Beauleigh into the morning room. Beauleigh thrust a paper into his hands.
‘Diana went riding this afternoon, and only her horse returned – with this attached to the pommel! Read it, sir! Read it!’
‘Diana!’ Carstares strode over to the light, and devoured the contents of the single sheet, with eager eyes.
They were not long, and they were much to the point:
Mr Beauleigh may haply recall to mind a certain ‘Mr Everard’, of Bath, whose Addresses to Miss Beauleigh were cruelly repulsed.
He regrets having now to take the matter into his Own Hands, and trusts to further his Acquaintance with Mr Beauleigh at some Future Date, when Miss Beauleigh shall, He trusts, have become ‘Mrs Everard’.
Jack crumpled the paper furiously in his hand, grinding out a startling oath.
‘– insolent cur!’
‘Yes, yes, sir! But what will that avail my daughter? I have come straight to you, for my sister is convinced you know this Everard, and can tell me where to seek them!’
Carstares clapped a hand on his shoulder.
‘Never fear, Mr Beauleigh! I pledge you my word she shall be found this very night!’
‘You know where he has taken her? You do? You are sure?’
‘Back to his earth, I’ll lay my life; ’tis ever his custom.’ He strode to the door, flung it wide and shot clear, crisp directions at the footman. ‘See to it that my mare is saddled in ten minutes and Blue Devil harnessed to your master’s curricle! Don’t stand staring – go! And send Salter to me!’
The footman scuttled away, pausing only to inform my lord that Salter was not in.
Carstares remembered that he had given Jim leave to visit his Mary at Fittering, and crushed out another oath. He sprang up the stairs, Mr Beauleigh following breathlessly.
In his room, struggling with his boots, he put a few questions.
Mr Beauleigh related the whole tale, dwelling mournfully on the excellent references for Harper he had received from Sir Hugh Grandison.
Jack hauled at his second boot.
‘Tracy himself, of course!’ he fumed, adjusting his spurs.
‘Pray, Mr Carr, who is this scoundrel? It is true that you know him?’
‘Andover,’ answered Jack from the depths of the garde-robe. ‘Damn the fellow, where has he put my cloak?’ This to the absent Jim, and not the Duke.
‘Andover! Not – surely not the Duke!’ cried Mr Beauleigh.
‘I know of none other. At last!’
He emerged and tossed a heavy, many-caped coat on to the bed.
‘Now, sir, your attention for one moment.’
He was buckling on his sword as he spoke, and not looking at the other man.
‘Tracy will have borne Di – Miss Beauleigh off to Andover Court, seven miles beyond Wyncham, to the south-west. Your horse, I take it, is not fresh’ (he knew Mr Beauleigh’s horse). ‘I have ordered the curricle for you. I will ride on at once by short cuts, for there is not a moment to be lost –’
‘The Duke of Andover!’ interrupted Mr Beauleigh. ‘The Duke of Andover! Why, do you think he purposes to marry my daughter?’
Jack gave a short, furious laugh.
‘Ay! As he married all the others!’
Mr Beauleigh winced.
‘Sir! Pray why should you say so?’
‘I perceive you do not know his Grace. Perchance you have heard of Devil Balmanoir?’
Then the little man paled.
‘Good God, Mr Carr, ’tis not he?’
Carstares caught up his hat and whip.
‘Ay, Mr Beauleigh, ’tis indeed he. Now perhaps you appreciate the necessity for haste?’
Mr Beauleigh’s eyes were open at last.
‘For God’s sake, Mr Carr, after them!’
‘’Tis what I intend sir, You will follow as swiftly as possible?’
‘Yes, yes, but do not wait for anything! Can you reach Andover – in time?’
‘I reach Andover tonight,’ was the grim answer. ‘And you, sir? You know the road?’
‘I will find out. Only go, Mr Carr! Do not waste time, I implore you!’
Jack struggled into his riding coat, clapped his hat on to his head, and with his Grace of Andover’s sword tucked beneath his arm, went down the stairs three and four at a time, and hurried out on to the drive, where the groom stood waiting with Jenny’s bridle over his arm.
Carstares cast a hasty glance at the girths and sprang up.
The mare sidled and fidgeted, fretting to be gone, but was held in with a hand of iron while her master spoke to the groom.
‘You must drive Mr Beauleigh to Andover Court as fast as you can. It is a matter of life and death. You know the way?’
The amazed groom collected his wits with difficulty.
‘Roughly, sir.’
‘That will do – Mr Beauleigh will know. Drive your damnedest, man – Sir Miles won’t mind. You understand?’
Jack’s word was law in the O’Hara household.
‘Yes, sir,’ answered the man, and touched his hat.
On the word, he saw the beautiful straining mare leap forward, and the next moment both horse and rider were swallowed in the gloom.
‘Well I’m – darned,’ exploded the groom, and turned to fetch the curricle.