by Mira Stables
“What an odious wretch you are,” said his mother placidly. “You know perfectly well that Helena’s olive skin and black hair are the greatest trial to her mama, with the rest of the family so golden fair. I can only regard the measles as a merciful dispensation of Providence.”
“Aunt Arabella is a very stupid woman,” said her son dispassionately. “She should know better than to try to bully me into painting portraits, which is not my métier. As for Helena, she will be a handsome creature when she matures a little and will shine down the insipid blondes. Her eyes are particularly fine. What’s more she is a nice child. She would have enjoyed being a gipsy.”
“Jan has beautiful eyes, too,” his mother said.
He nodded indifferently. “Yes. And doubtless knows well enough how to use them to lure some poor fool into the honey trap.” And then, relenting a little, “Not that she has shown us that side of her nature.”
“If she has such a side,” said his mother rather indignantly. “To me there is too much sadness in her face, though a great deal of sweetness, too. Oliver has taken a marked liking to her, though he was very dubious at first, knowing her reputation. Poor child! She is much to be pitied. Had her mother lived she would never have been permitted to run wild as she did.”
“But then she would not have been Chantal,” said Dominic unexpectedly. And his mama was so interested by the new note in his voice that she forebore to correct him. “Surely her honesty and her straight thinking are the result of her father’s training, as is her courage,” he went on reflectively. And with considerable self restraint the marchioness refrained from telling him that it was perfectly possible for a mother, too, to be honest and brave and clear minded. Instead she asked at what hour he proposed to set out for Town, as she had not yet finished her letter to her husband.
“And you have Jan’s letter safe?” she added. “It was well thought of that you should take it to her attorney’s in person. One would not care to have some officious underling reading of her difficulties.”
He agreed absently, told her that he would be leaving in about an hour’s time if that would be convenient for her, though there was no particular haste now that daylight lasted so long, and strolled off to the library to enquire if Oliver had any commissions for him to execute in Town.
He found his brother playing chess with Jan – as he must remember to call her – and, for a brief moment felt almost an intruder, so intent where the two on their game. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Jan was intent. Oliver was leaning back in his chair, an indulgent grin on his face, while Jan, chin on fist, the summer sun that streamed through the oriel window lighting her hair to a fleeting chestnut glory, was creasing slender dark brows over an impossible situation. She was not even aware of Dominic’s approach as she said, “Oh! Very well, then. Black resigns. It is useless, you know. Papa always said that chess was a man’s game. It requires masculine logic and a military appreciation of tactics.”
Oliver smiled. “If that is true you play far too good a game for a woman. There is no chivalry left in me. I am put to all shifts to defeat you. Now I’ll tell you what we shall do. While Dominic is in Town I’ll teach you one or two tricks that may deceive him. He prides himself on his game – can rarely be persuaded to play his poor invalid brother – and it would do him a great deal of good to suffer defeat at your hands. What do you say?”
“That your remarks are nothing short of slanderous,” interrupted Dominic promptly. “How many times have you declined my suggestion of a game, proclaiming that it was a dead bore? But now that you have a pretty opponent whom you can defeat without undue exertion, you are all alacrity. Short sport, brother, short sport! When I come back from Town, it is not Jan who will receive my challenge, but my poor invalid brother!”
Chantal usually found the exchanges between the brothers of absorbing interest. Herself an only child, the lazy banter that passed between them, the occasional hot argument, which generally ended with neither conceding a single point but both perfectly good humoured about it, and the unobtrusive consideration that each showed for the other’s welfare, were a completely new experience and an attractive one. But on this occasion she was so startled to hear herself described as pretty by an avowed mysogynist that she missed the end of the argument.
An even greater shock was in store. During the week that had passed since her arrival at Claverton she had ridden out once or twice, either with Dominic or escorted by one of the grooms. She and her hostess were of much the same build. Riding demurely side-saddle in a sober borrowed habit, her new guardians hoped that no one would recognise the dashing Lady Chantal Delaney. She must have some fresh air and exercise and should be safe enough so long as she kept to unfrequented byways. No comment had been made on her excellent horsemanship though the truth of the matter was that she rode just as well side-saddle as astride, and only foolish caprice had led her to adopt the masculine mode. So she was completely taken by surprise when Dominic, having noted down one or two items that Oliver wanted, turned to her and said politely, “I would be much obliged to you, ma’am, if you could spare the time to exercise Pegeen for me while I am away. I may be gone ten days or so, and the foolish creature frets for me. She seems to have taken a fancy to you, and I can trust you not to spoil her mouth.”
She managed to stammer a few rather disjointed phrases expressive of pleasure at the suggestion, and to bid him farewell in a slightly more collected manner, but the face that she turned to Oliver as the door closed behind his brother was so full of amazement that he laughed outright.
“It was indeed a great compliment,” he told her, “but no need to look quite so shocked. Nick is no fool. He may have little use for women, but he dotes on Pegeen. Only the best is good enough for her. He told me after your first ride together that you had the best seat and the lightest hands of anyone he knew. He wouldn’t permit his foolish prejudice to influence his judgement in such a matter.”
Chantal shook her head in puzzled fashion. “I shall never understand him,” she said. And then, tentatively, “Had it been you who took females in such dislike, it would have been reasonable enough.”
Oliver said gently, “If you give it a little more thought, I think you may see it from Dominic’s point of view. When you are much attached to someone, it is hard to see them suffer. Harder, I think, than to suffer yourself. If only you could share the suffering – take some part of the burden. And of course it can’t be done. Dominic does all he can – and far more than he should – to make my life full and pleasant, but that is not quite the same thing. And he was at a very impressionable age when I was struck down. At first he seemed actually to resent his own strength and vigour, seeing me so helpless, and would not indulge in any of the active pursuits that we had shared. In fact that did me more good than all the doctors’ treatments, for I had to make an effort for his sake. Gradually I persuaded him to go riding and climbing and sailing again, on the plea that he could bring back sketches and stories of what he had done so that we could share them. When he discovered that I could still swim and sail and fish with him I think his delight equalled my own. At Dorne you will see him at his best, for when we go on these expeditions he tends and guards me as fiercely as any lion his cubs. At first, you see, I could not endure to have anyone stare at my useless limbs. If you are to make one of our party, be very careful not to betray either shock or pity. I am glad to have had this opportunity of speaking with you so frankly. If you can bring yourself to treat me exactly as though I was a normal man, you could do much to rid him of his prejudice. It was the thought that any woman should reject his much-loved big brother that began it.”
“Yes. That I can understand. And the bit about watching a dear one suffer and being helpless. Thank you for explaining. As for exhibiting shock or pity, my first thought on meeting you was that you didn’t look in the least invalidish. Besides, pity will do no good, will it? To clasp my hands and weep for your sad case could only depress both of us. Far better
if I can make you laugh and keep you entertained.”
He looked amused. “Which you do to admiration,” he told her with a little bow. “In fact I am fast coming round to the belief that your unusual up-bringing – for which, no doubt, the world either pities or condemns you, according to its degree of Christian charity – has much to commend it.”
This conversation carried them several paces along the road to an easy relationship. Since the marchioness, too, had been pleasantly impressed by Chantal’s transparent honesty and by the touch of diffidence so unexpected in one who bore the reputation of being a ‘fast little piece’ the three of them settled down very comfortably together. It was not long before the Merridens reached the conclusion that the girl’s reputation was largely undeserved. Where matters of principle or delicacy of feeling were concerned, she was “as sound as a roast,” Oliver informed his mother.
She nodded. “Yes. I fancy she grew up trying to be the son that her father had wanted. Her faults are those of a headstrong stripling, eager to prove that he can deal as capably as his elders. It’s scarcely surprising. Her earliest years were spent with her grandmother, a formidable old termagant who petrified most adults. Goodness knows how she appeared in the eyes of a child, but certainly she took such pride in her high breeding that she held herself to be above the rulings of convention, a belief which doubtless she would instil into her grand-daughter. When her papa succeeded to the title and sold out, he took Chantal to live with him. But since he admired her courage and her high spirits he never tried to check her wilful ways and showed his affection by showering her with every luxury. She has never been disciplined and she has never known tenderness. Well – life itself has taken a hand in the matter of discipline. It is for us to show her the kindness, the consideration for her comfort, that will help her through this trying time. And it isn’t difficult. For my part I find her very loveable.”
So it was that when Dominic came back he found his protégée very much at home – so much a member of the family that it almost seemed as though she had been born into it. His days in Town had been crammed with business and social engagements consequent upon the change in his summer plans. There had been no time for speculating as to how his family were adjusting to the presence of the waif he had foisted on to them. It was only as he resigned the reins to his groom and strolled up to the house in search of refreshment that he spared a thought for the sort of welcome that might await him. It proved to be not at all what he had expected.
In the library he drew blank. Moreover the familiar room had an oddly bare, unused look. Further search discovered his mother stretched on a day-bed in her boudoir absorbed in a novel, and upon enquiry he learned that Chantal and his brother were out in the garden.
“It seems that Jan knows nothing about fishing,” explained his mother placidly, “so Oliver has undertaken to instruct her in the gentle art of casting a fly.”
“Oliver has!” exclaimed Dominic.
“Why, yes. These last three days, since it has been so fine. And vows she is making good progress. She is a delightful girl, Dominic, and the change she has wrought in Oliver is almost unbelievable. I begin to feel that it really was Providence that cast her in your way. Do you know that he actually permits her to push his chair about the grounds? And twice he has driven out with her in the gig. Only about the lanes, of course, but since she could not venture into the city she begged the pleasure of his company so that he might tell her about the farms and villages and places of local interest. He looks so much gayer and younger. But you will see for yourself. Tell me. Have you made any progress towards settling Jan’s affairs?”
“Only that I had no difficulty in convincing Parker – he is, or should I say was the junior partner in Dickensen’s firm – of the truth of my tale. But as he pointed out, the conspiracy is difficult to prove. No one, at this stage, can precisely recall who first started the rumours about Chantal’s sanity. If the authorities should apprehend the thugs who murdered Dickensen, something might be done, especially if it proved possible to link them with her unpleasant cousin. One thing is sure. Parker will make every effort to see that they are brought to justice. He seems to have been devoted to the old man, and is hot for vengeance. Meanwhile he approves our plans for Chantal. He suggested that he should furnish her with funds so that she need not feel herself a charge on us, and I accepted, knowing that she felt her financial dependence irksome. He assures me that her relatives will not dare to demand an accounting, since they cannot produce her person. I daresay he is right. He seemed an uncommonly sensible fellow.”
His mother was less complaisant. “I daresay he is right in that particular,” she agreed doubtfully, “and certainly Jan will be much happier with money in her purse. But we cannot hide her forever and until the business is cleared up she must be dreadfully uneasy, not knowing how her enemies are moving against her. Can nothing more be done?”
Her son eyed her thoughtfully. “Not legally, Mama,” he said gently. “Chantal would never, I am convinced, choose to bring an action against them. It is only her word against theirs – and think of the scandal! Parker says that sooner or later they must make some move to trace her whereabouts. If they succeed in doing so, we shall be ready for them.”
She was in no wise reassured, but judged it better to let matters rest there. “And the other business? Was your father able to discover anything about the manner of the Earl’s death?”
“Yes. And mightily indignant that anyone should put such lies about. Not a syllable of truth in those grisly details that so distressed the poor brat. He was clean killed – shot through the heart. Nor was there any mutilation, though I daresay there might have been had not the main party come up quickly. It seems such practices are fashionable in those parts, so there was a basis of truth for the lie. You will be pleased that you can set her mind at rest.”
His mother sighed thankfully and suggested that when he had rid himself of the grime of travel he should go in search of the missing pair and remind them that tea would be served on the terrace in about half an hour. “For I put dinner back an hour, not expecting you to make such good speed.”
He found them by the bank of the tiny stream that fed the water gardens, and between the song of the water and their own laughter they did not hear his approach.
“It’s better. But you’re still using your wrist too much. Try to remember to use the whole of your forearm. And that one landed downstream.” Thus Oliver.
Chantal’s rod came back for another cast. Dominic recognised it as the one that his brother had used as a schoolboy, well suited in length and weight to his present pupil. The cast was better this time, the line falling lightly on the water and the fly floating down towards the angler in the desired fashion.
“Excellent,” approved Oliver.
She turned a glowing face towards him. The tip of the rod described a neat arc, the line entangled itself in a willow tree that grew beside the stream, and pleasure turned to dismay as Chantal perceived Dominic’s tall figure behind his brother’s. She blushed furiously. Why must his lordship always appear just when she had made a fool of herself? But she smiled gaily enough, even as she said penitently to Oliver, “There, milord. That’s a female for you. No concentration – and after the times you have warned me! This is even worse than chess.”
Oliver laughed. “But it was a beautiful cast. So long as you don’t forget to reel in when you strike into a fish, I may yet be proud of my pupil.” He worked his chair over to the tree and helped her to free the line.
Dominic said, “Mama sent me to call you to tea.” And then, quizzically, “Have you had good sport, ma’am?”
There was a flash in the grey eyes that were bent on the tangled line. “First-rate, I thank you, milord. I have given the minnows a dreadful fright. One of them was quite two inches long – the poor thing turned quite pale when it saw my determined efforts. Fortunately the enjoyment of sport depends on the company one keeps, rather than on the size of the catch,”
she ended tartly, and began to take down her rod.
Dominic grinned. He had asked for that, since he knew very well that there were no fish in the tiny stream, and was rather amused that the chit should put him in his place so promptly. By way of amends he came forward to help her. Oliver commented favourably on the speed he must have made from Town and asked how he had left their father, and the brief brangle was over.
Privately Chantal regretted her impulsive riposte. He had only been joking her. From Oliver she accepted such teasing in good part. Indeed she recognised it as a compliment of no mean order. Why should she resent it from his brother? Gratitude alone should enable her to endure indignities worse than a little teasing without complaint, yet it seemed as though they could never meet without sparks flying. And that final pointed remark about keeping good company had been rude. She had meant it so at the time, but now she was sorry. Over the tea table she was unwontedly subdued, wondering if she should apologise or whether that would be making too much of a trivial incident.
To complete her discomfiture, the marchioness took the first opportunity of acquainting her with the tidings that Dominic had brought from Town. The true account of her father’s death brought her a peace of mind that she had not known for a year. She shed a few foolish tears and was patted and soothed to calmness in a motherly way that was very comfortable. The information that she could now draw upon her own funds for necessary expenses was also received with relief. Her hostess brushed lightly over Mr. Parker’s other remarks, saying only that he fully approved the notion of going to Dorne, and then said amusedly, “Dominic has been very busy in your behalf. You should be flattered. I daresay he has not so bestirred himself for a woman in the whole of his life.”