The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century
O'Hara checked his mirth.
"No, ye are not! He was content to let me manage the business, and went
back to Littledean."
"I am sorry," bowed his Grace, and turned to my lord, who, with his arm
about Diana's waist, was watching him arrogantly.
"I see how the land lies," he remarked. "I congratulate you, John. I
cannot help wishing that I had finished you that day in the road. Permit
me to say that you fence rather creditably."
My lord bowed stiffly.
"Of course," continued his Grace smoothly, "you also wish you had
disposed of me. I sympathise. But, however much you may inwardly despise
and loathe me, you cannot show it--unless you choose to make yourself
and me the talk of town--not forgetting Mistress Diana. Also I abhor bad
tragedy. So I trust you will remain here to-night as my guest--er,
Andrew, pray do not omit to order bed-chambers to be
prepared--Afterwards you need never come near me again--in fact, I hope
that you will not."
My lord could not entirely repress a smile.
"I thank your Grace for your hospitality, which I fear," he glanced down
at Diana's tired face, "I shall be compelled to accept. As to the
rest--I agree. Like you, I dislike bad tragedy."
Diana gave a tiny laugh.
"You are all so stiff!" she said _I_ shall go to bed!"
"I will take you to the stairs then," said Jack promptly, and led her
forward.
She stopped as they were about to pass his Grace, and faced him.
Tracy bowed very low.
"Good-night, madam. Carstares will know which room I had assigned to
you. You will find a servant there."
"Thank you," she said steadily. "I shall try to forget the happenings of
this day, your Grace. I see the truth in what you say--we cannot afford
to let the world see that we are at enmity, lest it should talk. And, I
confess it freely, I find it less hard to forgive you the insults of--of
to-day, since they brought--Jack--to me. An I had not been in such dire
straits, I might never have seen him again."
"In fact," bowed his Grace, "everything has been for the best!"
"I would not say that, sir," she replied, and went out.
For a moment there was silence in the room. No one quite knew what to
say. As usual, it was Tracy who came to the rescue, breaking an
uncomfortable pause.
"I suggest that we adjourn to the dining-room," he said. "I gather we
may have to wait some time before his lordship reappears. O'Hara, after
you!"
"One moment," replied Miles. "Jack's mare is in a shed somewhere. I said
I would see to her."
"Andrew!" called his Grace. "When you have finished superintending the
laying of the supper, give orders concerning Carstares' mare!"
A casual assent came from outside, and immediately afterwards Lord
Andrew's voice was heard shouting instructions to someone, evidently
some way off.
On the whole, the supper-party passed off quite smoothly. His Grace was
smilingly urbane, Andrew boisterous and amusing, and O'Hara bent on
keeping the conversation up. Richard sat rather silent, but my lord,
already deliriously happy, soon let fall his armour and joined in the
talk, anxious to hear all the news of town for the last six years.
O'Hara was several times hard put to it to keep from laughing out loud
at his thoughts. The humour of the situation struck him forcibly. After
fighting as grimly as these men fought, and after all that had
transpired, that they should both sit down to supper as they were doing,
appealed to him strongly. He had quite thought that my lord would
incline to tragedy and refuse to stay an instant longer in the Duke's
house.
It was not until midnight, when everyone else had gone to bed, that the
brothers came face to face, alone. The dining-room was very quiet now,
and the table bore a dissipated look with the remains of supper left on
it. My lord stood absently playing with the long-handled punch spoon,
idly stirring the golden dregs at the bottom of the bowl. The candles
shed their light full on his face, and Richard, standing opposite in the
shadow, had ample opportunity of studying it.
It seemed to him that he could not look long enough. Unconsciously his
eyes devoured every detail of the loved countenance and watched each
movement of the slender hand. He found John subtly changed, but quite
how he could not define. He had not aged much, and he was still the same
laughter-loving Jack of the old days, with just that intangible
difference. O'Hara had felt it, too: a slight impenetrability, a
reserve.
It was my lord who broke the uncomfortable silence. As if he felt the
other's eyes upon him, he looked up with his appealing, whimsical smile.
"Devil take it, Dick, we're as shy as two schoolboys!"
Richard did not smile, and his brother came round the table to his side.
"There's nought to be said betwixt us two, Dick. 'Twould be so damned
unnecessary. After all--we always shared in one another's scrapes!"
He stood a moment with his hand on Richard's shoulder; then Richard
turned to him "What you must _think_ of me!" he burst out. "My God, when
I realise--"
"I know. Believe me, Dick, I know just what you must have felt. But pray
forget it! It's over now, and buried."
There was another long silence. Lord John withdrew his hand at last, and
perched on the edge of the table, smiling across at Richard.
"I'd well-nigh forgot that you were a middle-aged papa! A son?"
"Ay--John--after you."
"I protest I am flattered. Lord, to think of you with a boy of your
own!" He laughed, twirling his eyeglass.
At last Richard smiled.
"To think of you an uncle!" he retorted, and suddenly all vestige of
stiffness had fled.
* * * * *
Next morning Richard went on to Wyncham, and Diana, Jack and O'Hara
travelled back to Sussex. Jack would not go home yet. He protested that
he was going to be married first, and would then bring home his
Countess. But he had several instructions to give his brother concerning
the preparation of his house. The last thing he requested Richard to do
was to seek out a certain city merchant, Fudby by name, and to rescue a
clerk, Chilter, from him, bearing him off to Wyncham. All this he called
from the coach window, just before they set off.
Richard led Jenny, whom he was to ride home, up to the door of the
vehicle, and expostulated.
"But what in thunder am I to do with the man?"
"Give him to Warburton," advised Jack flippantly. "I know he needs a
clerk--he always did!"
"But perhaps he will not desire to come--"
"You do as I tell you!" laughed his brother. "I shall expect to find him
at Wyncham when I arrive! _Au revoir_!" He drew his head in, and the
coach rumbled off.
CHAPTER XXIX
LADY O'HARA IS TRIUMPHANT
After spending a restless night, starting at every sound, and hearing
the hours strike slowly away, Lady O'Hara arose not a whit refreshed and
considerably more ill at ease than she had been before.
During the night she had imagined all sorts of impossible horrors to
have befallen her husband, and if, when the reassuring daylight had
come, the horrors had somewhat dispersed, enough remained to cause her
an anxious morning as she alternated between the hall window and the
gate.
No less worried was Jim Salter. He had returned from Fittering last
night to find his master and Sir Miles gone, Lady O'Hara in a state of
frightened bewilderment, and the house in a whirl. No one, least of all
poor Molly, seemed to know exactly where the two men had gone. All she
knew was that they had come back upon a scene of turmoil, with Mr.
Beauleigh in the midst of a small crowd of excited servants. Her husband
had elbowed his way through, and into his ears had Mr. Beauleigh poured
his story. Then O'Hara seemed to catch the excitement, and she had been
hurried into the house with the hasty explanation that Jack was off
after Devil, who had caught Diana, and he must to the rescue. Ten
minutes after, she had an alarming vision of him galloping off down the
drive, his sword at his side and pistols in the saddle-holsters. The
poor little lady had sent an imploring cry after him, checked almost
before it had left her lips. Afterwards she wished it had never been
uttered, and rather hoped that it had escaped O'Hara's ears.
Salter arrived not half-an-hour later, and his feelings when told that
his beloved master had ridden off in search of a fight, may be more
easily imagined than described. He was all for setting out in his wake,
but her ladyship strongly vetoed the plan, declaring that Sir Miles
would be rescue enough, and she was not going to be left entirely
without protectors. Jim was far too respectful to point out that there
were five able-bodied men, not counting himself, in the house, but as
his master had left no instructions for him, he capitulated.
He proved nought but a Job's comforter next day, for when my lady
pessimistically premised that both Carstares _and_ her husband were
undoubtedly hurt, he did not, as she expected he would, strive to
reassure her, but gave a gloomy assent. Whereupon she cast an indignant
glance in his direction, and turned her back.
At four in the afternoon they were both in the hall, anxiously watching
the drive.
"To be sure, 'tis monstrous late!" remarked Molly, with wide,
apprehensive eyes.
"Yes, my lady."
"If--if nought were amiss, they should have been back by now, surely?"
"Yes indeed, my lady."
Lady O'Hara stamped her foot.
"Don't say jes!" she cried.
Jim was startled.
"I beg pardon, m'lady?"
"You are not to say yes! After all, they may have gone a long
way--they--er--they may be tired! Jenny may have gone
lame--anything--anything may have happened!"
"Yes, m'--I mean certainly, your ladyship!" hastily amended Jim.
"In fact, I should not be surprised an they were not at all hurt!"
He shook his head despondently, but luckily for him the lady failed to
notice it, and continued with airy cheerfulness:
"For my husband has _often_ told me what an excellent swordsman Mr.
Carstares is, and--"
"Your ladyship forgets his wound."
What she might have been constrained to reply to this is not known, for
at that moment came the sound of coach-wheels on the gravel. With one
accord she and Salter flew to the door, and between them, wrenched it
open, just as a gentleman's travelling coach, postillioned by men in
gold and black, and emblazoned with the Wyncham arms, drew up at the
door.
My lady was down the steps in the twinkling of an eye, almost before one
of the grooms had opened the door to offer an arm to my lord. Carstares
sprang lightly out, followed by O'Hara, seemingly none the worse for
wear.
Molly ran straight into her husband's arms, regardless of the servants,
hugging him.
Jim Salter hurried up to my lord.
"Ye are not hurt, sir?" he cried.
Carstares handed him his hat and cloak.
"Nought to speak of, Jim. But 'Everard' well-nigh finished me for all
that!" He laughed at Jim's face of horror, and turned to Molly, who,
having satisfied herself that her husband was quite uninjured and had
never once been in danger of his life, had come towards him, full of
solicitude for his shoulder.
"Oh, my dear Jack! Miles tells me you have hurt your poor shoulder
again! And pray what has been done for it? I dare swear not one of you
great men had the wit to summon a doctor, as indeed you should have,
for--"
"Whist now, asthore!" adjured her husband. "'Tis but a clean scratch
after all. Take him into the house and give him something to drink! I'll
swear 'tis what he needs most!"
Molly pouted, laughed and complied.
Over the ale Jack related the whole escapade up to the moment when he
had parted from Diana at Littledean. Then O'Hara took up the tale with a
delightful chuckle.
"Sure, Molly, ye never saw anything to equal poor old Beauleigh when his