The Reluctant Widow (17 page)

“My love!” said Miss Beccles. “My dear Mrs. Cheviot!”

“Oh, Becky, pray do not call me so!” Elinor begged. She turned to Carlyon, her cheeks in a glow. “I had no notion you meant to bring her to me so speedily, sir! I am so very much obliged to you! Oh, dear, it makes me wish more than ever that I had not served you such a trick—! I do not know what you will say when you hear of it, but indeed I never dreamed when I let him stay—But do pray come into the bookroom!”

He had been allowing Bouncer to tug at his gloves, but he looked up at that, his brows lifting. “My dear Mrs. Cheviot, how can you possibly have served me a trick? Is anything amiss?” “Everything!” she declared.

He maintained his usual calm, merely looking a little surprised, and saying, “That is certainly comprehensive. I see you have Nicky here. Yes, that will do, Bouncer! Be quiet!” Nicky at this moment appeared in the doorway of the bookroom, his left arm reposing interestingly in its sling. “I say, Ned, I’m devilish glad to see you!” he remarked. “We have had such a lark here!”

Carlyon regarded him without betraying either dismay or astonishment. “Now what have you been about?” he asked in a resigned tone.

“Well, I’ll tell you, but take off your coat and come in!”

“Very well, but make your bow to Miss Beccles. My youngest brother, ma’am.” Miss Beccles dropped a curtsy, saying in her soft voice, “I am very happy to make your acquaintance, sir, but should you be standing there in the draft, do you think? Forgive me, but you do not look to me to be quite well!”

“No, of course he should not be standing there!” said Elinor, recalled to a sense of her responsibilities. “He should be in bed! I wish you will go back to the sofa, Nicky! What a tiresome boy you are!”

Carlyon looked a little amused. “Do as you are bid, Nicky! I think Miss Beccles would be glad of a bowl of soup, Mrs. Cheviot. It was cold during the drive.”

“Oh, no!” murmured the little lady, looking up at him gratefully. “I was so well wrapped up! Such a luxurious chaise, and every kind attention to my comfort!”

“Indeed you must have some soup and a glass of wine as well!” Elinor said, drawing her toward the bookroom. “Barrow, pray tell Mrs. Barrow! There is the chicken broth that was made for Mr. Nick. Come in, Becky dear!”

“By Jove, yes, she may have all my chicken broth and that white wine whey too!” said Nicky generously.

Miss Beccles walked over to the sofa and plumped up the cushions, smiling invitingly at him. He thanked her and lay down again on it. “I will make you a panada presently,” she said.

“You will like that, sir.”

“Shall I?” he asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” she said with gentle certainty. She looked at Elinor and said, “My love, if you should desire to be private with his lordship I will go upstairs and set about unpacking my trunks.” “No, no, Becky, do not go! I do not mean to remain another night in this dreadful house, but since you are come to it, it is only right that you should know what manner of things happen to one here!”

“You alarm me, Mrs. Cheviot,” interposed Carlyon. “Are you going to tell me that you have indeed encountered a headless specter?”

“Yes,” she said bitterly. “I might have known you would make light of it, sir!” “I may do so, perhaps, but I will engage not to until I know what it is that has so much distressed you. How are you hurt, Nicky?”

“I was shot at!” replied Nicky impressively. “You were shot at!”

“Yes, but the ball only lodged in my shoulder and Greenlaw soon dug it out.” “But who shot at you, and why?”

“That’s just it, Ned! We haven’t a notion who it was! It is the most famous affair, and only think! If I had not been sent down it would not have happened and we might never have known anything about it!”

“I think,” said Carlyon, “that you had better tell me this story from the start if I am to understand it.”

“Well, the start of it was Cousin Elinor’s part of the adventure. I was not here. Tell him how it all began, Cousin!”

“Yes, pray do!” said Carlyon, walking over to the fire and standing with his back to it. “I am happy, at all events, to discover that you are so far reconciled to your lot, ma’am, as to accept the—er—relationship that exists between us.”

She was obliged to smile. “Well, I had rather be called by almost any other name than Cheviot!” she said.

“I will bear it in mind. Now, what has been the matter here?”

Beginning to feel, quite irrationally, that she had been making a mountain out of a molehill, she described as briefly as she could her encounter with the young Frenchman. He heard her in attentive silence. Miss Beccles quietly removed her bonnet and pelisse and sat down in a chair with her hands placidly folded in her lap.

“You say he was young and dark and spoke with only a slight accent, ma’am?” She agreed to it, adding that the Frenchman was of medium height and slim build and wore neat side whiskers.

Carlyon opened his snuffbox and took a meditative pinch. “Then I fancy he must have been young De Castres,” he said.

Nicky sat up. “What, Louis de Castres?” he exclaimed. “But, Ned, he is quite the thing! Why, you may meet him everywhere!”

“Very true. Mrs. Cheviot seems even to have met him here.”

“No, dash it, Ned, he is not the kind of loose screw to be breaking into houses at dead of night! Because the story he told Cousin Elinor was a pack of lies! You do not know the whole yet!”

“Well, I may be mistaken,” Carlyon said. “I merely suppose it may have been he from the fact of my having once or twice seen him in Cheviot’s company.”

“Good God, I should not have thought he would have made a friend of a fellow like Eustace!” said Nicky, quite shocked. “I believe him to be tolerably well acquainted with Francis Cheviot, but there’s nothing in that, after all! I don’t care for Francis myself, but he is very good ton—all the crack, in fact!”

The door opened to admit Barrow who came in with a tray which he set down on the table at Miss Beccles’ elbow.

“Barrow,” said Carlyon, “do you know the name of any Frenchman whom Mr. Cheviot may

have been acquainted with?”

“I did hear what his name was, my lord,” admitted Barrow. “But I didn’t take no account of it, not holding with Frenchies.”

“Was it De Castres?”

“Ay, that’ll be it,” nodded the henchman. “I knew it was something outlandish, my lord.” “Well, by Jupiter!” ejaculated Nicky. “But—oh, wait till you hear the rest, Ned!” Carlyon nodded dismissal to Barrow who went away again. Miss Beccles, drawing up her chair to the table, said, “Dear me, how commonplace it seems, to be sure, to be eating and drinking—such an excellent broth, too!—with so much excitement on hand!” The placidity in her voice caused her late pupil to look at her reproachfully. “I do not desire any more such excitement, Becky!”

“No, my love, but I expect his lordship will know what is to be done. I am sure you may be quite easy in your mind.”

Elinor perceived that her old governess had fallen all too easily under the calming spell his lordship seemed to hold over his admirers, and gave a defiant sniff. “But, Ned, listen to what followed!” interrupted Nicky. “When I rode over yesterday, as you bade me, Cousin Elinor told me the whole, and of course I remembered at once how it is said that Charles II hid in this house, and I thought very likely there might be a secret way into it—”

“Did you find it?”

The widow’s color rose. She fixed a pair of accusing eyes on Carlyon’s face and demanded, “My lord, answer me this, if you please! Did you know of that secret stair when you brought me here?”

“Yes, certainly I knew of it, but I thought it had been closed these many years,” he replied. “Oh, this is too much!” Elinor cried. “And pray why did you not tell me of it?” “I was afraid it might add to your distaste of the house,” he explained.

She struggled to maintain her composure. “Oh, no, how came you to think such a tiling?” she said sarcastically. “I am sure it was the only thing needed to make me quite comfortable!” He smiled. “Indeed, you have cause to be vexed with me,”“ he acknowledged. “I beg your pardon! I collect that the stair is not, as I had supposed, closed?”

“Closed! Nothing of the sort! All kinds of desperate persons are at liberty to come up it any time they choose!”

“That is certainly quite undesirable,” he said imperturbably. “If you have not already attended to the matter, I think steps should be taken to secure that entrance.”

“You amaze me, my lord! I had not looked for so much consideration! Let me tell you that had I not allowed my judgment to be overborne by your brother’s pleading that door would have been sealed yesterday and he would not now be lying there with his arm in a sling! Nicky, do, pray, put it back! Dr. Greenlaw said you should keep it still, remember!” “Oh, it’s no matter, Cousin! Ned, I am persuaded you would not have had me shut up that stair! The more I thought about the occurrence the more I became convinced that fellow—De Castres, I mean, if it really can have been he—had come for some secret purpose. I told Cousin Elinor we should seek to discover what that might be and I said I would spend the night in that little spare bedchamber where the trap door is, just on the chance of the fellow’s coming back to have another touch at it.” Carlyon nodded. “To own the truth,” Nicky confessed, “I did not above half expect that he would.”

“And I did not expect it at all!” interpolated Elinor. “I do beg of you to believe, sir, that nothing would have induced me to have allowed Nicky to prevail upon me to let him stay in that room had I had the least notion of what was to happen! I am so distressed! If you are angry with me I cannot blame you!”

“My dear ma’am, how should I be angry with you?”

“Ned, I know it has all gone awry, but I did right to leave the stair open, didn’t I?” Nicky demanded.

“Yes, quite right. I collect that your visitor did indeed return?”

“Yes, and I crept after him down the stairs. There was never anything like it! To think of such an adventure’s happening, and all because I was rusticated! I never expected any very particular good to come from that, you know, but only fancy!”

“A very observable instance of the workings of Providence,” agreed Carlyon. “How came you to be shot?”

“Oh, that was the most cursed mischance! The fellow was making for this room, and I had reached the foot of the stairs, when all at once he stopped and looked about him. I stepped back quickly that he might not see me, and what must I do but fall over that stupid suit of armor Cousin Elinor must needs keep at the bottom of the stairs!” “I do not keep it there!” said Elinor indignantly. “I found it there!”

“Well, I do not know how that may be but I should have thought you would have moved it to a better place. However, it’s no matter, except that it ruined all. I had your pearl-mounted pistol in my hand, Ned, and I shouted out to the fellow to stand, for I had him covered, but he fired at me before I well knew what he would be about, and over I went again. I shot at once and smashed the lantern he was carrying, but I don’t think I can have hit him, for he escaped by the front door before anyone could come to my aid. And the devil of it is that I still don’t know what it is that he wants, and I have a great fear that now he knows the game is up he will not come again. I have made wretched work of it!”

“Yes, it is a pity he should have discovered your presence,” agreed Carlyon. “However, it is of no use to repine over what cannot be mended. This is certainly very interesting, Nicky.” “Yes, indeed! Was it not diverting?” struck in Elinor.

He looked at her thoughtfully, but said nothing. “What are you thinking, Ned?” asked Nicky eagerly.

“I was wishing John had not gone back to London,” Carlyon replied unexpectedly. “Never mind! He will be here again the day after tomorrow!”

“John!” exclaimed Nicky. “Why, what use would he be, I should like to know?” “He was telling me something which I cannot help feeling may have some bearing on this extraordinary event.”

Nicky’s face was alight. “Oh, Ned, do you think—Is it possible that—You know, I told Cousin Elinor this morning I thought very likely that fellow might be one of Boney’s agents, only then you said it was De Castres and J thought it had not been possible!”

“It is certainly unexpected. Yet I believe it would not be quite the first time a scion of one of these émigré families has thrown in his lot with Bonaparte.”

“How very shocking, to be sure!” said Miss Beccles, shaking her head. “It makes one feel so very particularly for their poor parents. But young persons are often very thoughtless, I fear.” “It cannot be so!” Elinor said. “Why, I have in the past known several such families, and they would be disgusted by the very thought of such a thing!”

“No doubt the elder members of such families would be, ma’am, but there is no doubt that Bonaparte’s career and the regime he has set up have kindled an enthusiasm for his cause in some of the younger men’s breasts. It is no wonder, after all! They have little to hope for in England, and, one supposes, can find little to inspire them with hope in the Bourbon king and the set of men he keeps about him. But these are only surmises! We are running ahead a great deal too fast.”

Nicky, who had been sitting with knit brows, said, “It is very well, Ned, but how should Eustace have had anything to say to French spies? I never thought that he had even common sense!”

“A very unreliable agent, one would have said,” concurred Carlyon. He frowned down at the lid of his snuffbox. “And yet,” he said, “I will own that I have sometimes wondered where Eustace found the money to pay for some of his more expensive pleasures. This might be the answer.”