The Convenient Marriage (20 page)

‘Very humorous, my lord!’ cried Mr Drelincourt. ‘My errand, however, concerns you more nearly than that! Last night – I should rather say this morning, for it was long past two by my watch – I had occasion to visit my Lord Lethbridge.’

‘That is, of course, interesting,’ said the Earl. ‘It seems an odd hour for visiting, but I have sometimes thought, Crosby, that you are an odd creature.’

Mr Drelincourt’s bosom swelled. ‘There is nothing very odd, I think, in sheltering from the rain!’ he said. ‘I was upon my way to my lodging from South Audley Street, and chanced to turn down Half-Moon Street. I was caught in a shower of rain, but observing the door of my Lord Lethbridge’s house to stand – inadvertently, I am persuaded – ajar, I stepped in. I found his lordship in a dishevelled condition in the front saloon, where a vastly elegant supper was spread, covers, my lord, being laid for two.’

‘You shock me infinitely,’ said the Earl, and leaning a little forward, picked up the decanter and refilled his glass.

Mr Drelincourt uttered a shrill laugh. ‘You may well say so! His lordship seemed put out at seeing me, remarkably put out!’

‘That,’ said the Earl, ‘I can easily understand. But pray continue, Crosby.’

‘Cousin,’ said Mr Drelincourt earnestly, ‘I desire you to believe that it is with the most profound reluctance that I do so. While I was with Lord Lethbridge, my attention was attracted by something that lay upon the floor, partly concealed by a rug. Something, Rule, that sparkled. Something –’

‘Crosby,’ said his lordship wearily, ‘your eloquence is no doubt very fine, but I must ask you to bear in mind that I have been in the saddle most of the day, and spare me any more of it. I am not really very curious to know, but you seem anxious to tell me: what was it that attracted your attention?’

Mr Drelincourt swallowed his annoyance. ‘A brooch, my lord! A lady’s corsage brooch!’

‘No wonder that Lord Lethbridge was not pleased to see you,’ remarked Rule.

‘No wonder, indeed!’ said Mr Drelincourt. ‘Somewhere in the house a lady was concealed at that very moment. Unseen, cousin, I picked up the brooch and slipped it into my pocket.’

The Earl raised his brows. ‘I think I said that you were an odd creature, Crosby.’

‘It may appear so, but I had a good reason for my action. Had it not been for the fact that Lord Lethbridge pursued me on my journey here, and by force wrested the brooch from me, I should lay it before you now. For that brooch is very well known both to you and me. A ring-brooch, cousin, composed of pearls and diamonds in two circles!’

The Earl never took his eyes from Mr Drelincourt’s; it may have been a trick of the shadows thrown by the candles on the tables, but his face looked unusually grim. He swung his leg down from the arm of the chair leisurely, but still leaned back at his ease. ‘Yes, Crosby, a ring-brooch of pearls and diamonds?’

‘Precisely, cousin! A brooch I recognized at once. A brooch that belongs to the fifteenth-century set which you gave to your –’

He got no further. In one swift movement the Earl was up, and had seized Mr Drelincourt by the throat, dragging him out of his chair, and half across the corner of the table that separated them. Mr Drelincourt’s terrified eyes goggled up into blazing grey ones. He clawed ineffectively at my lord’s hands. Speech was choked out of him. He was shaken to and fro till the teeth rattled in his head. There was a roaring in his ears, but he heard my lord’s voice quite distinctly. ‘You lying, mischief-making little cur!’ it said. ‘I have been too easy with you. You dare to bring me your foul lies about my wife, and you think that I may believe them! By God, I am of a mind to kill you now!’

A moment more the crushing grip held, then my lord flung his cousin away from him, and brushed his hands together in a gesture infinitely contemptuous.

Mr Drelincourt reeled back, grasping and clutching at the air, and fell with a crash on to the floor, and stayed there, cowering away like a whipped mongrel.

The Earl looked down at him for a moment, a smile quite unlike any Mr Drelincourt had ever seen curling his fine mouth. Then he leaned back against the table, half sitting on it, supported by his hands, and said: ‘Get up, my friend. You are not yet dead.’

Mr Drelincourt picked himself up and tried mechanically to straighten his wig. His throat felt mangled, and his legs were shaking so that he could hardly stand. He staggered to a chair and sank into it.

‘You said, I think, that Lord Lethbridge took this famous brooch from you? Where?’

Mr Drelincourt managed to say, though hoarsely: ‘Maidenhead.’

‘I trust he will return it to its rightful owner. You realize, do you, Crosby, that your genius for recognizing my property is sometimes at fault?’

Mr Drelincourt muttered: ‘I thought it was – I – I may have been mistaken.’

‘You were mistaken,’ said his lordship.

‘Yes, I – yes, I was mistaken. I beg pardon, I am sure. I am very sorry, cousin.’

‘You will be still more sorry, Crosby, if one word of this passes your lips again. Do I make myself plain?’

‘Yes, yes, indeed, I – I thought it my duty, no more, to – to tell you.’

‘Since the day I married Horatia Winwood,’ said his lordship levelly, ‘you have tried to make mischief between us. Failing, you were fool enough to trump up this extremely stupid story. You bring me no proof – ah, I am forgetting! Lord Lethbridge took your proof forcibly from you, did he not? That was most convenient of him.’

‘But I – but he did!’ said Mr Drelincourt desperately.

‘I am sorry to hurt your feelings,’ said the Earl, ‘but I do not believe you. It may console you to know that had you been able to lay that brooch before me I still should not have believed ill of my wife. I am no Othello, Crosby. I think you should have known that.’ He stretched out his hand for the bell, and rang it. Upon the entrance of a footman, he said briefly: ‘Mr Drelincourt’s chaise.’

Mr Drelincourt heard this order with dismay. He said miserably: ‘But, my lord, I have not dined, and the horses are spent. I – I did not dream you would serve me so!’

‘No?’ said the Earl. ‘The Red Lion at Twyford will no doubt supply you with supper and a change of horses. Be thankful that you are leaving my house with a whole skin.’

Mr Drelincourt shrank, and said no more. In a short time the footman came back to say that the chaise was at the door. Mr Drelincourt stole a furtive glance at the Earl’s unrelenting face, and got up. ‘I’ll – I’ll bid you good night, Rule,’ he said, trying to collect the fragments of his dignity.

The Earl nodded, and in silence watched him go out in the wake of the footman. He heard the chaise drive past the curtained windows presently, and once more rang the bell. When the footman came back he said, absently studying his finger-nails: ‘I want my racing curricle, please.’

‘Yes, my lord!’ said the footman, startled. ‘Er – now, my lord?’

‘At once,’ replied the Earl with the greatest placidity. He got up from the table and walked unhurriedly out of the room.

Ten minutes later the curricle was at the door, and Mr Gisborne, descending the stairs, was astonished to see his lordship on the point of leaving the house, his hat on his head, and his small sword at his side. ‘You’re going out, sir?’ he asked.

‘As you see, Arnold,’ replied the Earl.

‘I hope, sir – nothing amiss?’

‘Nothing at all, dear boy,’ said his lordship.

Outside a groom was clinging to the heads of two magnificent greys, and endeavouring to control their capricious movements.

The Earl’s eye ran over them. ‘Fresh, eh?’

‘Begging your lordship’s pardon, I’d say they were a couple of devils.’

The Earl laughed, and climbed into the curricle, and gathered up the reins in one gloved hand. ‘Let them go.’

The groom sprang to one side, and the greys plunged forward.

The groom watched the curricle flash round a bend in the avenue and sighed. ‘If I could handle them like that –’ he said, and wandered back to the stables, sadly shaking his head.

The Sun at Maidenhead was a very popular posting inn, its appointments and kitchens being alike excellent.

Lord Lethbridge sat down to dinner in one of the private rooms, a pleasant apartment, panelled with old oak, and was served with a duck, a quarter of mutton with pickled mushrooms, a crayfish, and a quince jelly. The landlord, who knew him, found him to be in an unusually mellow mood, and wondered what devilry he had been engaged on. The reflective smile that hovered over his lordship’s thin lips meant devilry of some sort, of that he was quite certain. For once in his life the noble guest found no fault with the food set before him, and was even moved to bestow a word of praise on the burgundy.

My Lord Lethbridge was feeling almost benign. To have outwitted Mr Drelincourt so neatly pleased him more than the recovery of the brooch. He smiled to think of Crosby travelling disconsolately back to London. The notion that Crosby could be fool enough to carry an empty tale to his cousin never occurred to him; he himself was not one to lose his head, and although he had a poor opinion of Mr Drelincourt’s intelligence, such heights of folly were quite beyond his comprehension.

There was plenty of company at the Sun that evening, but whoever else was kept waiting for his dinner, the landlord saw to it that Lethbridge was served instantly. When the covers were withdrawn, and only the wine left on the table, he came himself to ask whether my lord required anything else, and closed the shutters with his own hand. He set more candles on the table, assured his lordship the he would find his sheets well aired, and bowed himself out. He had just told one of the abigails to be sure not to forget to take a warming-pan up presently, when his wife called to him from the doorway: ‘Cattermole, here’s my lord driven up!’

‘My lord,’ in Maidenhead, could mean only one person, and Mr Cattermole sped forth at once to welcome this honoured guest. He opened his eyes rather at the sight the racing curricle, but shouted to an ostler to come to the horses’ heads, and himself hurried up all bows and smiles.

The Earl leaned over to speak to him. ‘Good evening, Cattermole. Can you tell me if Lord Lethbridge’s chaise changed horses here rather more than an hour ago?’

‘Lord Lethbridge, my lord? Why, his lordship is putting up here for the night!’ said Cattermole.

‘How very fortunate!’ said the Earl, and climbed down from the curricle, flexing the fingers of his left hand. ‘And where shall I find his lordship?’

‘In the oak parlour, my lord, just finished his dinner. I will escort your lordship.’

‘No, you need not do that,’ replied the Earl, walking in the inn. ‘I know my way.’ At the foot of the shallow stairs he paused, and said softly over his shoulder: ‘By the way Cattermole, my business with his lordship is private. I feel sure I can rely on you to see that we are not disturbed.’

Mr Cattermole shot him a quick, shrewd glance. There was going to be trouble, was there? Not good for the house, no, not good for the house, but still worse for it to offend my Lord Rule. He bowed, his face a plump, discreet mask. ‘Certainly, my lord,’ he said, and drew back.

Lord Lethbridge was still sitting over his wine, still meditating over the events of the day, when he heard the door open. He looked up, and stiffened. For a moment they faced one another, Lethbridge rigid in his chair, the Earl standing silent in the doorway, looking across at him. Lethbridge read that look in an instant. He got up. ‘So Crosby did visit you?’ he said. He put his hand in his pocket and drew out the brooch. ‘Is that what you came for, my lord?’

The Earl shut the door, and turned the key in the lock. ‘That is what I came for,’ he said. ‘That, and one other thing, Lethbridge.’

‘My blood, for instance?’ Lethbridge gave a little laugh. ‘You will have to fight for both.’

The Earl moved forward. ‘That should afford us both gratification. You have a charming taste in revenge, but you have failed, Lethbridge.’

‘Failed?’ said Lethbridge, and looked significantly at the brooch in his hand.

‘If your object was to drag my name in the mud, why, certainly!’ said Rule. ‘My wife remains my wife. Presently you shall tell me by what means you forced her to enter your house.’

Lethbridge raised his brows. ‘And what makes you so sure that I had any need to employ force, my lord?’

‘Merely my knowledge of her,’ replied the Earl. ‘You have a vast deal of explaining to do, you see.’

‘I don’t boast of my conquests, Rule,’ Lethbridge said softly, and saw the Earl’s hand clench involuntarily. ‘I shall explain nothing.’

‘That we shall see,’ said Rule. He pushed the table down to one end of the room, against the wall, and blew out the candles on it, leaving only the pendent chandelier in the centre of the room to light them.

Lethbridge thrust the chairs back, picking up his sword from one of them, and drawing it from the scabbard. ‘My God, how I have waited for this,’ he said suddenly. ‘I am glad Crosby went to you.’ He put the sword down again, and began to take off his coat.

The Earl made no reply, but set about his own preparations, pulling off his top-boots, unbuckling his sword-belt, rolling up his deeply ruffled shirt-sleeves.

They faced one another under the soft candlelight, two big men in whom rage, long concealed, burned with a steady strength too great to admit of vain flusterings. Neither seemed to be aware of the strangeness of the scene, here in the upper parlour of an inn, with below them, penetrating faintly to the quiet room, the hum of voices in the coffee-room. With deliberation they set the stage, with deliberation snuffed a candle that was guttering, and divested themselves of coats and boots. Yet in this quiet preparation was something deadly, too deadly to find relief in a noisy brawl.

The swords flashed in a brief salute, and engaged with a scrape of steel on steel. Each man was an experienced swordsman, but this was no affair of the fencing-master’s art, with its punctilious niceties, but a grim fight, dangerous in its hard swiftness. For each antagonist the world slid back. Nothing had reality but the other man’s blade, feinting, thrusting, parrying. Their eyes were on each other’s; the sound of their stockinged feet shifting on the boards was a soft thud; their breathing came quick and hard.

Lethbridge lunged forward on his right foot, delivering a lightning thrust in tierce, his arm high, the muscles standing out on it ribbed and hard. Rule caught forte on forte; the foible glanced along his arm, leaving a long red slash, and the blades disengaged.

Neither checked; this was no quarrel to be decided by a single hit. The blood dripped slowly from Rule’s forearm to the floor. Lethbridge leaped back on both feet and dropped his point. ‘Tie it!’ he said curtly. ‘I’ve no mind to slip in your blood.’

Rule pulled a handkerchief from his breeches pocket, and twisted it round the cut, and dragged the knot tight with his teeth.

‘On guard!’

The fight went on, relentless and untiring. Lethbridge attempted a flanconnade, opposing his left hand. His point barely grazed Rule’s side; the Earl countered in a flash. There was a scuffle of blades, and Lethbridge recovered his guard, panting a little.

It was he who was delivering the attack all the time, employing every wile known to his art to lure Rule into giving an opening. Time after time he tried to break through the guard; time after time his blade was caught in a swift parry, and turned aside. He was beginning to flag; the sweat was rolling in great drops off his forehead; he dared not use his left hand to dash it from his eyes lest in that second’s blindness Rule should thrust home. He thrust rather wildly in carte; the Earl parried it half-circle, and before Lethbridge could recover, sprang in, and seized the blade below the hilt. His own point touched the floor. ‘Wipe the sweat from your eyes!’

Lethbridge’s lips writhed in a queer, bitter smile. – ‘So – you are – quits?’

The Earl did not answer; he released the sword, and waited. Lethbridge passed his handkerchief across his brow and threw it aside.

‘On guard!’

A change came; the Earl was beginning at last to press the attack. Hard driven, Lethbridge parried his blade again and again, steadily losing strength. Knowing himself to be nearly done, he attempted a botte coupée, feinting in high carte and thrusting in low tierce. His blade met nothing but the opposition of Rule’s and the fight went on.

He heard the Earl speak, breathlessly, but very clearly. ‘Why did my wife enter your house?’

He had no struggle left to waste in attack; he could only parry mechanically, his arm aching from shoulder to wrist.

‘Why did my wife enter your house?’

He parried too late; the Earl’s point flashed under his guard, checked, and withdrew. He realized that he had been spared, would be spared again, and yet again, until Rule had his answer. He grinned savagely. His words came on his heaving breaths: ‘Kidnapped – her.’

The swords rang together, disengaged. ‘And then?’

He set his teeth; his guard wavered; he recovered miraculously; the hilt felt slippery in his wet grasp.

‘And then?’

‘I do not – boast – of my – conquests!’ he panted, and put forth the last remnant of his strength to beat back the attack he knew would end the bout.

His sword scraped on Rule’s; his heart felt as though it would burst; his throat was parched; the ache in his arm had become a dull agony; a mist was gathering before his eyes. The years rolled back suddenly; he gasped out: ‘Marcus – for God’s sake – end it!’

He saw the thrust coming, a straight lunge in high carte aimed for the heart; he made one last parry too late to stop the thrust, but in time to deflect it slightly. Rule’s point sliding over his blade, entered deep into his shoulder. His own dropped; he stood swaying for an instant, and fell, the blood staining his shirt bright scarlet.

Rule wiped the sweat from his face; his hand was shaking a little. He looked down at Lethbridge, lying in a crumpled heap at his feet, sobbing for breath, the blood on his shirt soaking through, and forming a pool on the oak boards. Suddenly he flung his sword aside and strode to the table, and swept the bottle and the glass off it. He caught up the cloth and tore it with his strong teeth, and ripped it from end to end. The next moment he was on his knees beside Lethbridge, feeling for the wound. The hazel eyes opened, considering him. ‘I believe – I shan’t die – this time – either!’ Lethbridge whispered mockingly.

The Earl had laid bare the wound, and was staunching the blood. ‘No, I don’t think you will,’ he said. ‘But it’s deep.’ He tore another strip from the cloth and made it into a pad, and bound it tightly round the shoulder. He got up and fetched Lethbridge’s coat from a chair, and rolling it up placed it under his head. ‘I’ll get a doctor,’ he said briefly, and went out, and from the head of the stairs shouted for the landlord.

Stout Cattermole appeared so promptly that it seemed as though he must have been waiting for that call. He stood with his hands on the banister, looking anxiously up at the Earl, his brow puckered, his lips close-folded.

‘Send one of your lads for a doctor,’ said Rule, ‘and bring up a bottle of cognac.’

The landlord nodded and turned away. ‘And Cattermole!’ said his lordship. ‘Bring it yourself.’

At that the landlord smiled rather sourly. ‘Be sure, my lord.’

Rule went back into the oak parlour. Lethbridge was lying where he had left him, with his eyes closed. He looked very white; one of his hands lay limply on the floor beside him, the fingers curling upwards. Rule stood looking down at him, frowning. Lethbridge did not move.

Cattermole came in with a bottle and glasses. He put these down on the table, casting a worried appraising glance at the still figure on the floor. He muttered: ‘Not dead, my lord?’

‘No.’ The Earl picked up the bottle, and poured some brandy into one of the glasses.

‘Thank God for it! You do me no good by this, my lord.’

‘I don’t think you’ll suffer,’ replied the Earl, calmly, and returned to Lethbridge and knelt again.

‘Lethbridge, drink this!’ he said, slightly raising him.

Lethbridge opened his eyes; they were blank with exhaustion, but grew keener as he swallowed the cognac. He raised them to Rule’s face a moment, made an odd little grimace, and looked beyond Rule at Cattermole, bending over him. ‘What the devil do you want?’ he said unpleasantly.

The landlord drew down the corners of his mouth. ‘No, he’s not dead,’ he remarked under his breath. ‘I’ll be within call, my lord.’

He went out and shut the door behind him.

The blood had soaked through the pad; the Earl tightened the bandage and stood up again. Picking up the sword he wiped it carefully, and put it back into the scabbard.

Lethbridge lay watching him with a look of cynical amusement on his face. ‘Why mar what you have made?’ he inquired. ‘I was under the impression that you wished to kill me.’

The Earl glanced down at him. ‘If I let you die, the consequences to myself might prove a trifle difficult to avoid,’ he replied.

Lethbridge grinned. ‘That is more in my manner than in yours,’ he said. He raised himself on his elbow and tried to sit up.

‘You had better lie still,’ said the Earl, slightly frowning.

‘Oh, no!’ gasped Lethbridge. ‘The position is – altogether – too lowly. Add to your humanity by assisting me to that chair.’

The Earl bent over him, and hoisted him up; he sank into the chair panting a little, and pressing his hand to his shoulder. A grey shade had crept into his face; he whispered: ‘Give me the brandy – quite a deal to say to you.’

The Earl had already poured it out, and now held the glass to Lethbridge’s lips. Lethbridge took it unsteadily in his own hands, saying with a snap: ‘Damn you, I’m not helpless!’ He drank it at a gulp, and lay back recovering his strength. The Earl began to unroll his sleeve. Presently Lethbridge spoke again.

‘Sent for a doctor, did you? How magnanimous! Well, he’ll be here any moment. I suppose. Let’s be done with this. Your wife took no harm of me.’ He saw the grey eyes lift quickly, and gave a faint laugh. ‘Oh, make no mistake! I am all the villain you think me. She saved herself.’