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Authors: Georgette Heyer

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Historical

The Unknown Ajax (17 page)

BOOK: The Unknown Ajax
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“I will have you know, Mr. Crimplesham,” said Polyphant, trembling violently, “that it was a spot of soup!”

“Well, Mr. Polyphant, you should know best, and whatever it was no one feels for your mortification more than I do, for, as I said to Mr. Chollacombe, when the matter was being talked of in the Room, if I had been so careless as to let Mr. Vincent Darracott go down to dinner wearing a neckcloth that wasn’t perfectly fresh I could never have held up my head again.”

“When Mr. Claud Darracott left my hands, Mr. Crimplesham, that neckcloth was spotless!” declared Polyphant, pale with fury. “If Mr. Chollacombe says other, which I do not credit, being as only a perjured snake would utter those lying words—”

“What the devil are you doing in my quarters?” demanded the Major, bringing the altercation to an abrupt end.

This deep-voiced interruption was productive of a sudden transformation. The disputants turned quickly towards the door, guilt and dismay in their countenances, but only for an instant was the Major permitted a glimpse of these, or any other, emotions. Before he had advanced one step into the room, all trace of human passion had vanished, and he was confronted by two very correct gentlemen’s gentlemen, who received him with calm and dignity, and, after bowing in a manner that paid deference to his quality without diminishing their own consequence, deftly relieved him of his hat, his whip, and his gloves. “If you will permit me, sir!” said Crimplesham, nipping the hat from the Major’s hand. “Having been informed that you have not brought your man with you, I ventured, sir, to give your boots a touch, young Wellow, though a painstaking lad, being but a rustic, and quite ignorant of the requirements of military gentlemen.”

“If you will permit me, sir!” said Polyphant, possessing himself of the whip and the gloves. “You will pardon the intrusion, sir, I trust, being as my master, Mr. Claud Darracott, desired me to offer my services to you.”

“I’m much obliged to you both, but I don’t need either of you,” said the Major, pleasantly, but in a tone that was unmistakeably dismissive.

There was nothing for his would-be attendants to do but to bow in acceptance of his decree, and leave the room. Crimplesham held the door, and made a polite gesture to his rival to precede him. Before he had time to consider what devilish stratagem might lie beneath the courtesy from one whose position in the hierarchy of the servants’ hall was superior to his own, Polyphant had tripped out of the room, bestowing on Crimplesham, as he passed him, a gracious bow, and a smile of such condescension as was calculated to arouse the bitterest passions in his breast.

But herein he showed himself to be of lesser calibre than Crimplesham, who returned his smile with one of quiet triumph, and gently closed the door on his heels. “Shall I pull off your boots before I go, sir?” he asked, coming back into the centre of the room, and drawing forward a chair for the Major to sit in. “Wellow, I fancy, is laying out Mr. Richmond’s evening-dress, and you would hardly wish to make use of the jack.” The Major, having, indeed, no desire to use the jack, submitted, wondering, as he watched Crimplesham take a pair of gloves from his pocket and put them on, what was at the back of this very superior valet’s determination to wait on him.

Two circumstances had in fact combined to overcome Crimplesham’s regard for his own dignity: he had a score to pay off, and a nephew to establish suitably. Of these, the first operated the more powerfully upon him, but it was only the second which he disclosed to the Major. Whatever might be the differences between himself and his master, no living soul would ever learn from his lips that the smallest disharmony marred their relationship. To complain, as less lofty valets might, that his employer was exacting, impatient, often impossible to please, and always inconsiderate, would serve only to lower his own consequence. The truth was that he was frequently at silent loggerheads with Vincent, who neither tried nor wished to endear himself to his servants. When a suitable opportunity offered, Crimplesham had every intention of changing masters; but this was not a step to be taken lightly. Vacancies in the ranks of those who ministered to the leaders of high fashion occurred infrequently, and nothing could more fatally damage a valet’s reputation than to leave the service of a noted Corinthian for that of a kinder but less worthy master. Vincent was as thankless as he was exacting, but he did Crimplesham great credit, and through him Crimplesham was steadily acquiring the renown he craved. He had not yet attained the ultimate peak, when (he allowed himself to hope) aspirants to fashion would employ every sort of wile to lure him away from his master; but he was already well-known for his unequalled skill with a boot. The fantasies Vincent performed on his neckcloths sprang from his own genius, but the high gloss on his Hessians that excited the envy of his acquaintance he owed to Crimplesham, and not willingly would he part with him. Crimplesham was perfectly well aware of that, so when any serious affront was offered him he was able to punish Vincent without fear of dismissal. He was not in Vincent’s confidence, but he had no doubt at all that it would very much annoy him to learn that his cousin’s footwear had received treatment at the hands of his own expert.

“A beautiful pair, sir,” he said, tenderly setting them down. “Hoby, of course, as anyone that knows a boot can see at a glance. It quite goes to one’s heart to see them mishandled. Not that Wellow doesn’t do his best, according to his lights, but I fear he will never rise above Bayly’s Blacking.”

“What do you use?” enquired Hugo. “Champagne? Above my touch!”

“I have a recipe of my own, sir,” replied Crimplesham, putting him in his place. “The care of a gentleman’s boots is quite an Art, as I don’t doubt you are aware.” He picked up one of the stretchers and inserted it carefully into the boot. “You are, if I may be permitted to say it, sir, particular as to your boots. It occurs to me—but possibly you have made your arrangements already!”

For a surprised moment Hugo wondered whether Crimplesham was about to offer him his services, but in this he showed his ignorance of the world of ton: had he been the heir to a dukedom Crimplesham would not for an instant have contemplated an engagement so prejudicial to his career. Nothing that even the great Robinson, who had been Mr. Brummell’s valet, could do would avail to turn a man of the Major’s size and powerful build into a Tulip of Fashion.

“If you haven’t yet engaged a valet, sir, I venture to think that I might be able to put my hand on just such a one as might suit you,” Crimplesham said. “A nephew of my own, sir, whose name occurs to me because he has previously been employed by a military gentleman like yourself. A conscientious young man, sir, and one for whom I can vouch. Should you desire to interview him I should be happy to arrange it—without, of course, wishing to put myself forward unbecomingly.”

“I’ll think about it,” promised Hugo, adding, as a discreet knock sounded on the door: “Yes, come in!”

The door opened to admit Polyphant, profuse in apologies for intruding upon the Major, but imperfectly concealing the jubilation that filled his soul. Mr. Vincent had rung his bell three times, he explained, with spurious concern, and was now demanding to have Crimplesham sent instantly to his room. “So I ventured to inform him of it, sir, feeling sure you would pardon me. Very put out, Mr. Vincent is, though, of course, I explained to him that Crimplesham was assisting you with your toilet, sir!”

“Well, you’d better make haste and go to him,” Hugo advised Crimplesham. “You can tell him I kept you.”

“It will not be necessary sir,” replied Crimplesham calmly. He rose unhurriedly from his knees, and carried the top-boots over to the wall, setting them down very precisely. “You need not wait, Polyphant,” he said, to that gentleman’s speechless fury. “Since you have been so kind as to bring me Mr. Vincent’s message, perhaps you will inform him that I shall be with him directly.” He met Polyphant’s goggling stare with a faint, bland smile before nodding dismissal to him, and turning away.

It was almost more than flesh and blood could bear. A severe struggle took place in Polyphant’s breast before his more primitive self yielded to the dictates of propriety, and he withdrew again from the room.

Crimplesham then satisfied himself that the Major’s evening attire was correctly laid out for him, begged him to give his shoes a final rub with a handkerchief, to remove any possible fingermarks, and bowed himself out in good order.

This episode had seen more than one repercussion, for not only did it make Vincent late for dinner, which all concerned in it had foreseen, but it very much vexed Claud, and decided Hugo to lose no more time in engaging a valet of his own.

Claud, learning from Polyphant that Crimplesham’s services had been preferred, was deeply mortified, and took a pet, for which, as he was all too ready to explain, there was every justification. He had taken on himself the onerous task of giving his cousin a new touch; he had devoted the whole of one afternoon to the problem of how best to achieve a respectable result when confronted by a subject who refused to purchase a new coat; and when, having reached the decision that a more modish style in neckcloths would make a vast improvement to Hugo’s appearance, he had gone his length, giving up several of his own neckcloths for Hugo’s use, and changing his dress for dinner hours too early, so that Polyphant might be free to instruct Hugo in the art of arranging these, his only reward had been to have his self-sacrificing flung in his face.

“Nay, I never did that!” protested Hugo.

“Flung in my face!” repeated Claud. “I dashed well exhausted myself trying to think how to do the trick. Yes, and I was ready to go through stitch with it, even when I realized I should have to lend you some of my own neckcloths, because yours are all too paltry! I made Polyphant take three of my new muslin ones, so that he could turn you out in a Mathematical tie, for it can’t be done with a cloth less than two foot wide, and I know dashed well you’ve nothing except what serves for that miserable Osbaldeston which you keep on wearing! And even so,” he added, somewhat inconsequently, but with immense bitterness, “it couldn’t have been anything but a shabby affair, because your shirt-points ain’t high enough.” “Happen it’s all for the best!” suggested Hugo.

“I’ll be damned if it is! And don’t say happen when you mean perhaps! Best, indeed! When you’ve put Polyphant into the hips, sending him off and letting that impudent fellow of Vincent’s wait on you!”

That made the Major laugh. ”Nay, that’s doing it much too brown! You’re not going to tell me that that niminy-piminy fribble was pining to waste his talents on me!” “I should rather think not!” retorted Claud. “Why, it took me the better part of an hour to coax him into it! And the chances are I shouldn’t have done it then if I hadn’t hit on the idea of telling him it didn’t signify, because not even he could make you look elegant! Naturally that put him on his mettle. Well, he saw what a triumph it would be! I’m not surprised he’s got a fit of the blue-devils, but I’ll tell you this, coz!—I resent it! You may think it a chuck-farthing matter, but that’s just what it ain’t! When Polyphant gets moped there’s no saying what he may do. Why, the last time he fell into a fit of dejection he handed me a Joliffe Shallow to wear in the Park! I’ve a dashed good mind to wash my hands of you!” “Perhaps you should,” agreed Hugo sympathetically. “It’s plain I’m a hopeless case. You know, I warned you you couldn’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” But a gleam had come into Claud’s lack-lustre eye. His frown lifted; he ejaculated: “By Jupiter, I will, though! Well, what I mean is, it can be done! Just proved it!” “Who has?” asked Hugo, all at sea.

“You have! You said perhaps! Said it to the manner born, what’s more! In the very nick of time, because I don’t mind telling you I’d lost heart. Well, if it don’t all go to show!” “Ee, I was always a great gowk!” said Hugo, suffering another bad relapse. When Vincent entered the saloon it was ten minutes past six, and he was greeted, inevitably, by a demand from his grandfather to know what the devil had been keeping him. There was a deep cleft between his brows, but he replied languidly: “Accept my apologies, sir! I regret infinitely that I have been obliged to keep you waiting, but I cannot—I really cannot!—be expected to scramble into my clothes, under any circumstances whatsoever. Certainly not to suit my cousin’s convenience, which, I must own, is not an object with me.” “I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about!” said his lordship irritably. “I’ll thank you to—”

“Nay, but I do,” intervened Hugo guiltily. “I’m reet sorry, lad!” “Not reet, and not lad!” begged Claud.

“You have your uses, brother,” observed Vincent.

“Now, that will do!” said Matthew sharply. “Let us have one evening free from bickering between you two!”

“You are mistaken, sir: I am profoundly grateful to Claud.” “Profoundly ill-tempered!” said Matthew.

“It’s my blame,” said Hugo remorsefully. “You can’t wonder at his being kickish, for he’s been ringing and ringing for his man, and all the time the silly fellow was letting me keep him by me to pull off my boots.”

“What, the great Crimplesham?” cried Richmond incredulously. “No! What the deuce can have possessed him?”

“Overweening conceit, I imagine: a desire to impress me with his skill in creating something out of nothing.” Vincent’s hard, insolent eyes flickered over Hugo’s person. “Vaulting ambition ...!”

“You are offensive, Vincent,” said Anthea, in a low voice, and with a look of contempt. “If you had as much elegance of mind as of person—!”

“Impossible, dearest cousin!” he retorted.

“It is a severe mortification to reflect how often I am put to the blush by your want of conduct, Vincent,” said Lady Aurelia, in a tone of dispassionate censure.

BOOK: The Unknown Ajax
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