by Sheila Walsh
And then he began to quiz her about her grandfather, and she realised with a little stab of mortification the purpose of this manoeuvring. Her tone was consequently a little sharp.
‘Believe me, it would avail you little to see him, Monsieur le Comte. My Cousin Benedict did broach the matter to him after his first meeting with you, and my grandfather was quite adamant that he knew nothing of the whereabouts of your necklace.’
‘But then,’ he continued persuasively, ‘when people reach a certain age and state of health, they do not always behave rationally and can even grow a little … forgetful? Do you not find this to be so?’
Theo gave him a very straight look. ‘If by that you mean that my grandfather is in the habit of telling lies, monsieur … then I can only deplore your want of judgment!’
‘Doucement, mademoiselle,’ he murmured soothingly. ‘I make no accusations, and certainly I intended no disrespect. It is simply that my case is desperate! I clutch at straws! You must understand that life has not treated me well … the years of exile and privation …’
‘At least you were spared the fate of many,’ she said, reluctant to succumb again to his persuasive charm.
‘True,’ he agreed wryly. ‘My father got me away to Vienna before the worst happened. He even managed to provide for me at that time.’ The Comte shrugged. ‘But that was more than twenty-five years ago, mademoiselle … such funds as he was able to salvage have been used up. And now, with the Bourbons once more back on the throne in France, I am able to return to Paris, but to what? I find myself the only surviving member of the de Varron family, with scarcely a sou to my name ‒ my own home gone, and my uncle and aunt’s beautiful mansion, to which I am heir, in a state of total neglect, long since stripped of all its valuables.’
In spite of herself, Theo found herself feeling for him. And though both Benedict and her grandfather doubted his credentials, his story sounded genuine enough.
‘I am sorry for you, Monsieur le Comte,’ she said slowly, ‘but surely it was only to be expected? The mob …?’
‘Yes, yes!’ He sounded suddenly impatient, a little of his cool charm deserting him. ‘However, there was an old family retainer still living like a rat in the kitchens of the hotel … he swears that my aunt, as she was dragged away, screamed to the English milord, who came often and had been married to her sister, to “save the Cascade”.’
A very strong element of uncertainty, the possibility that her grandfather was concealing something, made her say coolly: ‘And you prefer the word of a servant to that of my grandfather?’
‘Not so, mademoiselle!’ He was very much the aristocrat as he stared down his patrician nose at her. ‘I simply seek the truth.’
She flushed, feeling rebuked ‒ undeservedly so. ‘Then is the truth not most likely to be that the Cascade went the way of your aunt’s other jewellery … seized and probably broken up by the mob to be sold or hoarded against hard times?’
He was silent a moment, and then he shrugged. ‘That is the voice of reason. I am loath to accept it, but perhaps before long I must do so ‒ apply myself to some genteel occupation ‒ or starve!’ The corner of his mouth tilted suddenly, and his eyes grew softly quizzical. ‘You argue most eloquently, ma chère cousine … we are that, are we not? Your grandpère is fortunate to have you for his advocate. He loves you very much, no doubt?’
Theo thought of all that had happened between them, and involuntarily she smiled. ‘I rather think that he does ‒ now.’ There was a silence between them for a few moments, then she said diffidently: ‘Have things really come to such a pass for you?’
His mouth quirked up even more, but there was a terrible irony about his smile. ‘As you remarked earlier ‒ I escaped Madame la Guillotine. Who knows what life may yet have in store for me!’
The little cavalcade ahead of them had finally halted and was waiting for them to catch up.
Lord Alverton looked reproachfully at Theo and made a great point of saying that the Duchess had charged him most strictly with the task of delivering Miss Radlett into her hands by six o’clock, as they were promised to Lady Sefton for dinner.
The Comte, taking the hint, made his adieux, and the others did likewise. Clarissa, who had blossomed in the company of the kindly Mr Fontley, blushed as she bade him farewell ‒ and Selina smiled brilliantly, but with such daggers in her eyes that Theo was glad she would not be called upon to bear her company.
A short distance away, a stanhope was drawn up at the side of the carriageway. Its single occupant, a dandy of the first stare, sat watching the group, his long white fingers curled convulsively around the ribbons. An acquaintance riding towards him slowed his mount in order to exchange civilities, and surprised upon Beau Radlett’s face a look that could only be described as venomous.
Chapter Nine
A letter had come from Shallowford. Theo took it eagerly from the salver held out to her by Bracegirdle and carried it up to her room, where she might read it undisturbed.
There were in fact two letters ‒ a short one from her grandfather, couched very much in his usual abrupt style, and a much longer one from Great-aunt Minta enclosed within it. This rambled on in very much the haphazard way she conversed, and was punctuated with exclamation marks and blots … how quiet the house was with everyone gone away, except that Edmund was cross as a crab and roaring at everyone fit to bring on an apoplexy … and partaking of curried mutton, which, as she had warned him at the time, was guaranteed to overset his digestion! And it did!
Theo, reading between the lines and smiling to herself as she visualised the two of them squabbling like children, was suddenly brought up short by the next sentence. Her eyes sped across the page and then returned to read more slowly: Gorton, the old lady ran on, has almost recovered from the painful bump he sustained to his head last week … it was all most unfortunate and Purley says he hasn’t the least idea how the intruder could have got in, Edmund having as you know a great aversion to fresh air so that not a window in the house can be opened without a sustained effort by several people from within ‒ and none of the doors forced! However, the man was disturbed before he was able to lay hands on anything of value, and Edmund’s day room was soon put to rights, though at first sight you would suppose it to have been struck by a tempest! My brother’s wrath upon finding that the villain had been allowed to escape left the servants feeling in very similar case!
From here the letter reverted to commonplaces, but Theo scanned it urgently hoping for some further reference or explanation, was thwarted, and finally threw it down upon the bed.
Her first instinct was to rush down there immediately to find out what really had happened, but the initial panic quickly subsided and a measure of common sense reasserted itself. There had been nothing untoward in her grandfather’s letter ‒ and Great-aunt Minta was given to odd quirks at times. Perhaps she had become confused by some tiny incident ‒ Gorton could have had a mishap, anything! But if it had been serious, Benedict would have known about it, and would have told her. He had been at Shallowford only last week.
And then she remembered his curious curtness when putting the Comte off ‒ more than was called for, she had thought at the time. This set in train a whole new lot of suppositions. What if the intruder should be somehow connected with the Comte’s missing necklace? What if the Comte were not the Comte at all, but merely an opportunist out to lay his hands on a valuable heirloom? The idea of him as a burglar was ludicrous, but he could have employed someone … and Selina would have been able to direct him to Lord Radlett’s apartments. What if Benedict had suspected?
Oh, heavens! Theo caught her spinning thoughts and steadied them. She was worse than Great-aunt Minta, making a fanciful plot out of something and nothing. She might as well suspect Beau! The sooner she saw Benedict and sought his reassurance, the better.
It was at this very point in her deliberations that Bracegirdle came to inform her that Mr Benedict Radlett was below in her grace’s drawing room
and craved a few moments of her time. Mindful of her surroundings, she forced her feet to take decorous steps while her spirit wanted to soar ahead.
Benedict turned from his contemplation of the view beyond the window as she entered.
‘You must be a reader of minds!’ she began without preamble, hurrying forward eagerly. ‘How else could you have known that I wanted so much to talk with you?’
But there was no answering smile, no feeling of rapport. His face was set in its harshest lines as he watched her cross the room towards him in all the youthful freshness of her jonquil muslin dress, her hair swept back in a simple knot and her cheeks becomingly flushed as though with some inner excitement.
‘I didn’t. But I wanted words with you,’ he said. His voice was clipped, and he saw her falter, look puzzled, and then come on, but more slowly, with the light dying out of her eyes.
‘Is something wrong?’ Her mind flew instinctively to Shallowford, so that she didn’t immediately register his next words.
‘You were, I believe, to be observed walking alone and conversing intimately with the so-called Comte de Varron in Hyde Park yesterday afternoon?’
Theo’s eyes opened wide, taken aback not so much by the unexpectedness of the question, but rather by its nature and implications.
‘Have you then reason to suppose that he is not what he purports to be?’
Benedict frowned. ‘I have no idea at present, nor is it relevant. Come ‒ you are being evasive. Were you or were you not?’
Theo’s temper flared then, but she kept it in check ‒ just.
‘I find your question impertinent, and I don’t believe I am obliged to answer it, cousin! You have no jurisdiction over my behaviour, and I deeply resent your implication that it is in any way wanting!’
His mouth was a thin sardonic line. ‘Fine words, Theo, but wasted. I daresay any one of a hundred onlookers will have marked the truth.’
‘In which case we can hardly be said to have been alone!’ she retorted with a tight triumphant smile.
‘Thank you. I think I am answered.’
‘How satisfying for you!’ She began to pace the room in an attempt to assuage her annoyance. ‘I suppose I have Selina to thank for this piece of interference?’
‘You may not care for Selina, but she is older and has been about the world a good deal more. She knows well that a man with de Varron’s reputation …’
‘Humgudgeon!’ Theo declared, standing before him in a belligerent pose. ‘She was furious because the Comte preferred my company to hers! And to say that we were alone is a piece of arrant nonsense. There were six of us, including Lord Alverton and his sister, and the Comte and I fell behind a little only because he wished to talk privately …’ She stopped, looking a trifle ill at ease. ‘About his past and present circumstances, and about his need to find the Diamond Waterfall,’ she finished defiantly.
‘Turning you up sweet, in fact,’ he said dryly.
‘Certainly not!’ And then she bit her lip and said with incurable honesty, ‘Oh, well ‒ perhaps. But he didn’t succeed!’
Benedict continued to regard her with an uncomfortable degree of penetration for a few moments, then a faint ironic smile crept into his eyes. ‘So be it,’ he said. ‘I was clearly misinformed. I am sorry.’
She glared at him a moment more and then grinned ruefully. ‘You do have a quite maddening way of disarming one, cousin!’
He laughed.
‘Perhaps I can make amends. My curricle is at the door. Would you care to take a drive?’
Theo looked demure. ‘You don’t think that people might look askance?’
‘Sheathe your claws, young lady! I am resolved to be pleasant to you, no matter what the provocation.’
Theo walked to the door. ‘Then I shall fetch my bonnet, and tell the Duchess where I am going.’
Later, driving down Piccadilly towards Green Park, Benedict asked what it was that she had wished to talk to him about. Theo had already been reminded by the sight of the letter lying on her bed when she was getting ready, and had but awaited an opportunity to speak. He listened without interruption and then said in his most off-hand way, ‘Well, you know how the old lady is prone to exaggerate.’
But this was not good enough. ‘Exaggerate, perhaps ‒ but not fabricate, Benedict.’ She studied his unhelpful profile and thought inconsequentially how like her grandfather’s it was ‒ arrogantly uncompromising. ‘It did happen, didn’t it? And you knew about it. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It was nothing ‒ a trifling incident … and no lasting harm done.’
‘But …’
‘I knew you would worry …’ He glanced briefly aslant at her. ‘And I was right. Now, just forget it.’
His tone warned her not to pursue the argument, and Theo knew better than to try at that precise moment, but she resolved to get to the bottom of it one way or another. However, for the present, the day was agreeably sunny, with a faint drifting scent of blossom on the air, and as they turned in at the park gates a scene of peace and tranquillity lay before them, temporarily lulling her fears.
On the grass beneath the trees children played under the eye of a watchful nursemaid, their voices mingling happily with the soft crunch of carriage-wheels on the path. As the curricle rounded a clump of shrubbery, a white stuccoed building came into view, which Benedict explained belonged to the park ranger ‒ and near by, to her delight, a small herd of cows grazed contentedly in the charge of a cowman, with milkmaids in attendance appropriately dressed.
‘Perhaps you would care to take a glass of milk, coz ‒ straight from the cow?’
Theo threw him a suspicious look. ‘You are roasting me?’
‘Certainly not. It is a particular feature of the park.’ He returned her look with blandness. ‘I take it the idea don’t appeal to you?’
She said not, and he laughed.
They drove back in a spirit of amity which Theo was loath to spoil. However, something had been on her mind since the previous day, and she very much wished to clarify it.
‘Benedict, have you seen anything of Aubrey since he came to town?’
‘Not a lot,’ he said drily. ‘But then we don’t really frequent the same clubs. Nevertheless, I believe I can hazard a pretty accurate guess as to how he is passing his time!’
‘Oh dear! Something Selina said did make me wonder.’
Benedict gave his attention to negotiating the turning out through the Bath Gate, and then continued, ‘His behaviour is no worse than that of many a young buck turned loose on the town for the first time, though I don’t care for his companions. Wild as the devil, some of them.’
Theo’s heart sank. ‘I had the impression from Selina that they were highly desirable.’
His mouth curled sardonically. ‘What Selina means is that they are ‒ some of them, at least ‒ from families moving in first circles!’
‘But Aubrey can’t afford that kind of connection, surely?’
‘True, but when did that ever stop anyone?’ Benedict glanced at her briefly. ‘Don’t get involved, Theo. The boy isn’t your responsibility.’
If he had been looking at her at that moment he would have observed the stubborn thrust of her chin, but she was very quiet for the remainder of the journey. Only when they drew up once more at Grosvenor Square did she blurt out the question that had been on the top of her tongue.
‘Benedict ‒ how much does it cost to purchase a cavalry commission?’
He secured the reins before turning upon her with frowning severity. ‘What did you say?’
‘It’s what Aubrey really wants to do, though Selina doesn’t know about it and I promised not to tell her,’ she said, rushing on before her courage failed her. ‘It could be the answer to Aubrey’s difficulties … and I thought, if it wouldn’t cost too much …’
‘No, Theo. You can’t afford it.’
‘I do have money,’ she said defensively. ‘Money of my own.’
‘Fine. But d
on’t throw it away on something that is rank foolishness!’ He saw that she was about to argue further. ‘The only way the army is likely to solve Aubrey’s problems is in the event of a war ‒ and that we don’t have at present. Putting Aubrey in a pretty uniform with time to kick his heels would be quite as dangerous for him as his present situation.’ His voice was cuttingly ironic. ‘What that boy needs is a spot of hard work to occupy his time, so that he can’t get into mischief!’
Theo’s bosom heaved with indignation. ‘You speak from experience, of course!’
For a moment she thought she had gone too far, then to her surprise he laughed, albeit a trifle wryly. ‘As you say ‒ I speak from experience, sweet coz.’ Quite deliberately he turned the conversation, nodding in the direction of a gleaming phaeton which was being walked in the charge of a groom.
‘You had best go in. If I am not mistaken, your ardent admirer will be kicking his heels in the Duchess’s drawing room.’
Benedict declined to accompany her, saying with maddening off-handedness that he had no desire to watch Alverton making calf’s eyes at her.
Theo was given little time to ponder on what Benedict had said. Lord Alverton was the bearer of an invitation from his mama, who was arranging a picnic for the following afternoon, in the woods near Merton, and begged that the Duchess and Miss Radlett would be of the party.
‘Do say that you will come, ma’am,’ he urged shyly, his pleasant face creased in earnest lines. ‘We are to be quite a large gathering ‒ mostly young people. It will be the most tremendous fun.’ He glanced at the Duchess, who sat watching the exchange between himself and her young protégée with a happy complacence. ‘Her grace is agreeable to the arrangement and awaits only your word on’t.’
Theo found herself wishing that he were a little less like a good-natured puppy, but she could not hurt his feelings, and could only hope that he would not read too much into her acceptance.
‘If he had a tail, I feel sure it would have been wagging,’ she observed impulsively as the door closed behind him. And then, remembering how close the Duchess and Lady Shadley were, wondered if she had been injudicious.