The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century
again--what! not finished yet? Ah, no! it was but Garrick leading Mrs.
Clive forward. Would they never have done?
Mrs. Fleming was standing; she supposed they were going, and got up.
Someone put her cloak about her shoulders; Richard--for the last time.
Mr. Holt escorted her to her coach, and put her and her cousin into it.
He and Mr. Fleming had their chairs; so only Richard and Tracy went with
the ladies. The Flemings were staying with friends in Brook Street, just
off Grosvenor Square, so that when they had put Harriet down, only a few
more yards remained to be covered.
Lavinia wondered dully why Tracy had elected to come with them. What did
he want? Was he going to warn Dick of her intended flight? He little
knew the true state of affairs!
At the foot of the staircase at Wyncham House she turned to say
good-night.
She merely nodded to Tracy, but to Dick she extended her hand. He took
it in his, kissing it, and she noticed how cold were his fingers, how
burning hot his lips. Then he released her, and she went slowly up the
stairs to her room.
His Grace watched her through his eyeglass. When she was out of sight he
turned and surveyed Richard critically.
"If that is the way you kiss a woman, Lavinia has my sympathies," he
remarked.
Richard's lips tightened. He picked up a stand of lighted candles and
ushered his Grace into the drawing-room.
"I presume you did not come to tell me that?" he asked.
"Your presumption is correct, Richard. I have come to open your eyes."
"You are too kind."
His Grace laid his hat on the table, and sat down on the arm of a chair.
"I think perhaps I am. It may interest you to hear that Lavinia intends
to elope with our gallant friend the Captain." Richard bowed.
"You knew it?"
"Certainly."
Andover looked him over.
"May I ask what steps you are taking to prevent her?"
"None."
His Grace's expression was quite indescribable. For a moment he was
speechless, and then he reverted to heavy sarcasm.
"Pray remember to be at hand--to conduct her to her chair!" he drawled.
"Upon my soul, you sicken me!
"I am grieved. There is a remedy," replied Carstares significantly.
Tracy ignored the suggestion.
"I suppose it is nothing to you that you lose her? No; It is nothing to
you that she disgraces her name? Oh, no!"
"_My_ name, I think."
"Our name! Is it possible for her to disgrace yours?"
Richard went white and his hand flew instinctively to his sword hilt.
Tracy looked at him.
"Do you think I would soil my blade with you?" he asked, very softly.
Richard's hand fell from the hilt: his eyes searched the other's face.
"You know?" he asked at last, quite calmly.
"You fool," answered his Grace gently. "You fool, do you think I have
not always known?"
Richard leaned against the mantel-shelf.
"You never thought I was innocent? You knew that night? You guessed?"
The Duke sneered.
"Knowing both, could I suspect other than you?" he asked insultingly.
"Oh, my God!" cried Carstares suddenly. "Why could you not have said so
before?"
The Duke's eyes opened wide.
"It has chafed you--eh? I knew it would. I've watched you." He chuckled
beneath his breath. "And those fools never looked beneath the surface.
One and all, they believed that John would cheat. John! They swallowed
it tamely and never even guessed at the truth."
"You, at least, did not believe?"
"I? Hardly. Knowing you for a weak fool and him for a quixotic fool, I
rather jumped to conclusions."
"Instead, you tried to throw the blame on him. I would to God you had
exposed me!"
"So you have remarked. I confess I do not understand this heroic
attitude. Why should I interfere in what was none of my business? What
proof had I?"
"Why did you raise no demur? What motive had you?"
"I should have thought it fairly obvious."
Richard stared at him, puzzled.
"Gad, Richard! but you are singularly obtuse. Have I not pointed out
that John was a quixotic fool? When did I say he was a weak one?"
"You mean--you mean you wanted Lavinia to marry me--because you thought
to squeeze me as you willed?" asked Carstares slowly.
His Grace's thin nostrils wrinkled up.
"You are so crude," he complained.
"It suited you that Jack should be disgraced? You thought I should seize
his money. You--you--"
"Rogue? But you will admit that I at least am an honest rogue. You
are--er--a dishonest saint. I would sooner be what I am."
"I know there is nothing on God's earth more vile than I am!" replied
Carstares, violently.
His Grace sneered openly.
"Very pretty, Richard, but a little tardy, methinks." He paused, and
something seemed to occur to him. "'Tis why you purpose to let Lavinia
go, I suppose? You confess the truth on Friday--eh?"
Richard bowed his head.
"I have not the right to stop her. She--chooses her own road."
"She knows?" sharply.
"She has always known."
"The jade! And I never guessed it!" He paused. "Yes, I understand your
heroic attitude. I am sorry I cannot pander to it. In spite of all this,
I cannot permit my sister to ruin herself."
"She were as effectually ruined an she stayed with me."
"Pshaw! After seven years, who is like to care one way or the other
which of you cheated? Play the man for once and stop her!"
"She _loves_ Lovelace, I tell you!"
"What of it? She will recover from that."
"No--I cannot ask her to stay with me--'twould be damnably selfish."
His Grace appeared exasperated.
"'Fore Gad, you are a fool! Ask her! _Ask_ her! Force her! Kick Lovelace
from your house and abandon the heroic pose, I beg of you!"
"Do you suppose I want to lose her?" cried Carstares. "'Tis because I
love her so much that I will not stand in the way of her happiness!"
The Duke flung round and picked up his hat.
"I am sorry I cannot join with you in your heroics. I must take the
matter into my own hands, as usual, it seems. Lord, but you should have
learnt to make her obey you, my good Dick! She has led you by the nose
ever since she married you, and she was a woman who wanted mastering!"
He went over to the door and opened it. "I will call upon you to-morrow,
when I shall hope to find you more sane. They do not purpose to leave
until late, I know, for Lovelace is promised to Mallaby at three
o'clock. There is time in which to act."
"I shall not interfere," repeated Richard.
His Grace sneered.
"So you have remarked. It remains for me to do. Good-night."
CHAPTER XXIV
RICHARD PLAYS THE MAN
Lady Lavinia's frame of mind when she awoke next morning was hardly
befitting one who contemplated an elopement. A weight seemed to rest on
her chest, hopeless misery was gathered about her head. She could not
bring herself to drink her chocolate, and, feeling that inaction was the
worst of all, she very soon crawled out of bed and allowed her maid to
dress her. Then she went with dragging steps to her boudoir, wondering
all the time where Richard was and what he was doing. She seated herself
at her window and looked out on to the square, biting the edge of her
handkerchief in the effort to keep back her tears.
Richard was in a no more cheerful mood. He, too, left his chocolate
untouched, and went presently down to the breakfast table and looked at
the red sirloin with a feeling of acute nausea. He managed to drink a
cup of coffee, and immediately afterwards left the room and made his way
to his wife's boudoir. He told himself he was acting weakly, and had far
better avoid her, but in the end he gave way to his longing to see her,
and knocked on one white panel.
Lavinia's heart leapt. How well she knew that knock!
"Come in!" she called, and tried to compose her features.
Richard entered and shut the door behind him.
"Oh--oh--good-morning!" she smiled. "You--wanted to speak with
me--Dick?"
"I--yes--that is--er--have you the Carlyles' invitation?"
It was, perhaps, an unlucky excuse. Lavinia turned away and fought
against her tears.
"I--I believe--'tis in my--escritoire," she managed to say. "I--I will
look for it."
She rose and unlocked the bureau, standing with her back to him.
"'Tis no matter," stammered Carstares. "I--only--'twas but that I could
not find it. Pray do not disturb yourself!"
"Oh--not--at all," she answered, scattering a handful of letters before
her. "Yes--here 'tis." She came up to him with the note in her hand,
extending it.
Carstares looked down at the golden head, and at the little face with
its eyes cast down, and red mouth set so wistfully. Heavens, how could
he bear to live without her! Mechanically he took the letter.
Lavinia turned away, and as she stepped from him something snapped in
Richard's brain. The luckless invitation was flung down.
"No, by God you shall not!" he cried suddenly.
Lavinia stopped, trembling.
"Oh--oh, what do you mean?" she fluttered.
The mists were gone from his mind now, everything was clear. Lavinia
should not elope with Lovelace. In two strides he was at her side, had
caught her by the shoulders and swung her to face him.
"You shall not leave me! Do you understand? I cannot live without you!"
Lavinia gave a little cry full of relief, joy and wonderment, and shrank
against him.
"Oh, please, please forgive me and keep me with you!" she cried, and
clung to the lapels of his coat.
Carstares swept her right off the ground in the violence of his embrace,
but she did not mind, although the crushing was ruinous to her silks.
Silks were no longer uppermost in her brain. She returned his kisses
eagerly, sobbing a little.
When Carstares was able to say anything beyond how he loved her, he
demanded if she did not love him?
"Of course I do!" she cooed. "I always, always did, only I was so
selfish and so careless!"
He carried her to the sofa and sat down with her on his knee, trying to
look into her face. But she had somehow contrived to hide it on his
shoulder, and he did not succeed.
"Then you never loved that puppy?" he asked, amazed.
One hand crept up to his other shoulder.
"Oh, Dicky, no! And--and you--you don't love that horrid Mrs. Fanshawe,
do you?"
He was still more amazed.
"Mrs. Fanshawe? Great heavens, no! You never thought that, surely?"
"I did--I did! Since you were always at her house, and so cold to
me--how could I help it?"
"Cold to _you_? My dearest, surely not?"
"You were--you truly were--and I was so miserable--I--I thought I had
been so unreasonable and so horrid that you had ceased to I-love me--and
I did not know what to do. And--and then you told me that you were going
to--to confess--and I lost my temper and said I would n-not stay with
you--But I never, never meant it--and when you seemed to expect me to
go--I--I did not know what to do again!"
He patted her shoulder comfortingly.
"Sweetheart, don't cry! I had no idea of all this--why, I was sure that
you loved Lovelace--I never doubted it--why in the world did you not
tell me the truth?"
She sat up at that, and looked at him.
"Why, how could I?" she demanded. "I was quite certain that you loved
Isabella Fanshawe. I felt I had to go away, and I could not do it
alone--so--so--so, of course I had to elope. And I told Harold last
night that I would go with him--and I'm afraid he didn't quite want me
when he heard that I loved you. Oh, Dicky darling, you'll tell him that
I won't go with him, won't you?"
He could not help laughing.
"Ay, I'll tell him. 'Pon rep., sweetheart, I can find it in me to be
sorry for him!"
"Oh, he will not mind for long," she said philosophically. "He loves so
_easily_, you see! But you, Dick--why did you go so often--so _very_
often to see Mrs. Fanshawe?"
His face grew solemn.
"She knew--Jack--in Vienna--I--I wanted to hear all she could tell me of
him--I could think of nothing else."