April Lady

by Georgette Heyer

  ‘Never mind that!’ said the Viscount. ‘Here’s this curst fellow, Hethersett, got in with us! Help me to throw him out, will you?’

  ‘No, no, can’t do that!’ said Mr Fancot, who was filled with a large tolerance. ‘Very good sort of a man! Didn’t know I’d invited him, but very glad he came.’

  ‘You didn’t invite him! Nobody invited him!’ said the Viscount.

  ‘Must have,’ said Mr Fancot. ‘Wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t. Polite to a point! Happy to take a glass of wine with him.’

  ‘Well, if ever I saw old Corny so castaway!’ exclaimed Dysart. ‘Dashed if he ain’t as drunk as a wheelbarrow!’

  ‘Yes, but at least he is perfectly amiable!’ said Nell. ‘He doesn’t say outrageous things, or try to throw people into the street!’

  This unfortunate remark reminded the Viscount that his purpose was still unaccomplished, but just at that moment Mr Fancot began to warble an entirely unintelligible ditty. Since he was apparently afflicted with tone-deafness this musical interlude was a severe trial to the rest of the company, and caused the Viscount to forget Mr Hethersett again. ‘Stop it, Corny!’ he said indignantly.

  ‘Chip-chip, cherry-chip, fol-di-diddle-di-dee!’ sang Mr Fancot.

  ‘That’s not right!’ said Dysart scornfully. ‘It don’t even make sense!’ He then upraised his powerful baritone, and favoured the company with the correct version, which, as far as his sister could discover, differed hardly at all from his friend’s. But Mr Hethersett, unmoved by Mr Fancot’s outburst, was powerfully affected by the Viscount’s. No sooner did the refrain of Chip-chow, cherry-chow, fol-lol-di-riddle-low break upon his ears than Nell felt him stiffen, and heard him utter an exclamation under his breath.

  The Viscount beguiled the rest of the way with song, and was still singing when Cardross’s astonished butler admitted the party into the house.

  But it did not appear to be Lord Dysart’s condition that surprised Farley. It was the sight of his mistress that made his eyes widen. He exclaimed involuntarily: ‘My lady!’

  ‘Yes, did you not know that I had been obliged to go out?’ said Nell, with an attempt to carry the situation off unconcernedly. ‘Pray show Lord Dysart and Mr Fancot into the library! They – they have come to take supper with me!’

  ‘My birthday,’ said Mr Fancot affably. ‘Celebrating it! Blackbeetle, too.’

  ‘I see, sir,’ responded Farley, gently removing the hat from his grasp.

  ‘Blackbeetle be damned!’ said the Viscount. ‘Cockroach! Where’s his lordship?’

  ‘His lordship is not at home, but he will be in directly, my lord,’ replied Farley, consigning the visitors into the care of the footman who had followed him into the hall.

  Mr Fancot was easily shepherded into the library, but the Viscount was recalcitrant. ‘It ain’t a bit of use trying to fob me off,’ he told his sister sternly. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight, Nell, so don’t think it! Not with that fellow in the house!’

  ‘Dysart, for heaven’s sake – !’

  ‘You’d better go with him, cousin,’ advised Mr Hethersett. ‘No sense in starting him off again on his high ropes! Much better leave this to me.’

  Since Dysart had acquired a firm grip on her arm, there really seemed to be nothing else she could do, so, with a low-voiced entreaty to Mr Hethersett to lose no time in setting forth in search of Cardross, she retired to the library.

  Here she was made welcome by Mr Fancot, happy in the belief that he was entertaining friends under his own roof. He shook her warmly by the hand, and offered her a glass of wine. She declined this, which distressed him; but Dysart, who had discovered glasses and a decanter set out on a side-table, said: ‘No use pressing her: only two glasses!’

  Mr Fancot was shocked. ‘Only two glasses?’ he repeated. ‘That’s absurd, Dy! No other word for it: absurd! Stupid fellow of mine misunderstood. Ring for more glasses!’

  ‘We don’t need any more glasses,’ replied Dysart, lavishly pouring wine into the two that stood on the table.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ insisted Mr Fancot. ‘Can’t give a party with two glasses: stands to reason!’

  ‘Well, it ain’t a party. It ain’t your house either.’

  ‘It ain’t?’ Mr Fancot said incredulously. He subjected his surroundings to a keen, if somewhat owlish scrutiny. ‘By Jove, Dy, so it ain’t! Dashed if I know whose house it is! You know what, dear boy? Come to the wrong house! Better go.’

  ‘No, we haven’t. Came here to see Cardross,’ said Dysart with a darkling look.

  Mr Fancot thought this over profoundly. ‘No,’ he pronounced at last. ‘Not sure why we came here, but we don’t want to see Cardross. Nothing against him, mind! Not particularly acquainted with him, but capital fellow! Bang up to the mark. Honoured to meet him, but the thing is, not what we set out to do. Tell me this, Dy! Have we dined?’

  ‘To hell with dinner! I’m going to see Cardross!’ said Dysart obstinately.

  ‘Oh, Dysart, I wish you will go away!’ Nell exclaimed. ‘You don’t want to meet Cardross! you know you don’t!’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ nodded Mr Fancot, gratified. ‘Not what we set out to do. Besides, he ain’t here. Go to Watier’s!’

  ‘Not till I’ve seen Cardross. Got something to say to him. No business to let that fellow dangle after my sister! I’m going to tell him so.’

  ‘Which fellow?’ enquired Mr Fancot.

  ‘Hethersett,’ replied the Viscount, tossing off the wine in his glass. ‘You know what he is, Corny? A damned Man of the Town! And there’s Cardross, letting him make up to my sister, while he goes off like a regular Care-for-Nobody! What I say is, he’s got no business to neglect her, and so I shall tell him!’

  ‘He doesn’t neglect me!’ said Nell hotly. ‘And if you were not so odiously foxed, Dy, you wouldn’t say such detestable things!’

  ‘Yes, I should,’ he retorted. ‘In fact, the more I think of it the more I can see he’s too high in the instep by half! Took a pet because I held you up. Very well! if he didn’t want me to hold you up, why didn’t he do it himself? Tell me that! Who brought the dibs in tune for you? I did! Who stopped you getting into Jew King’s clutches? –’

  ‘Felix Hethersett did!’ she intervened crossly, taking off her bonnet, and running her fingers through her flattened curls.

  ‘Yes, by Jove, so he did!’ exclaimed the Viscount, his eyes kindling. ‘Like his damned impudence!’

  Fortunately, since his mood was becoming increasingly belligerent, he was diverted by Mr Fancot, who suddenly offered to set him a main. He turned to find that his amiable friend, losing interest in the conversation, had seated himself by the table in the middle of the room, produced a dice-box from his pocket, and was engaged in throwing right hand against left. Drunk or sober, the Viscount was not the man to refuse a challenge of this nature. He instantly sat down on the other side of the table, and, to Nell’s relief, became absorbed in his ruling passion. From this he was momentarily disturbed by the entrance of the footman, who came in bearing two tankards, which he silently set down at either gentleman’s elbow. Dysart, staring at them, demanded to know what the devil he thought he was doing, and told him to bring in a bottle of brandy. The footman bowed, and withdrew, saying: ‘Very good, my lord,’ but he did not remove the homely tankards. Nor did he return to the library, but as the Viscount immediately struck a run of amazing and most unaccustomed good fortune his failure to bring in the brandy went unnoticed, both gamesters refreshing themselves with draughts of porter, and Dysart, having rapidly relieved Mr Fancot of his ready money, beginning to amass a number of notes of hand which that well-breeched young gentleman scrawled somewhat illegibly but with the greatest goodwill on leaves torn from his pocket-book.

  Meanwhile, Mr Hethersett, to whose thoughtful offices they owed a beverage well-kn
own for its sobering quality, had suffered a check. Farley was unable to tell him where his master had gone when he had left the house earlier in the evening.

  Mr Hethersett eyed him. ‘Dashed discreet, ain’t you? Did he go off with Sir John Somerby?’

  ‘No, sir, although I had understood that such was his intention. A meeting at the Daffy Club, sir, I fancy. But his lordship cried off.’

  ‘Well, there’s no need to make a mystery of it!’ said Mr Hethersett, irritated. ‘Where did he go?’

  ‘That, sir, I cannot say, his lordship not having informed me. He had his whisky brought round, but he didn’t take his groom with him, nor yet his Tiger, and when I ventured to ask him if he would wish supper to be prepared for him he said that he didn’t know when he should be returning. His lordship appeared, sir, to be in quite a fret, if I may say so. Not at all like himself.’

  The mystery was now plain to Mr Hethersett. In his experience it was a foolish waste of time to attempt to hoodwink one’s servants. He had not for a moment imagined that the supposed secret of Letty’s flight was not known to every member of the household, so he had no hesitation in saying bluntly: ‘Set off after Lady Letitia, did he? Oh, well, if that’s so, no need for me to find him!’

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Farley. ‘His lordship was not aware that her ladyship had not returned to the house. I was not myself aware of it, until Miss Sutton – my lady’s dresser, sir – informed me that Lady Letitia was gone to spend the night with Mrs Thorne. His lordship did not enquire for Lady Letitia. It was my Lady Cardross which his lordship was anxious to find.’ He coughed delicately. ‘No doubt some urgent matter which he wished to discuss with her ladyship,’ he said, gazing limpidly at Mr Hethersett. ‘Being as they were disturbed by Sir John Somerby, and her ladyship, in consequence, leaving the book-room rather hastily, sir.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Mr Hethersett, looking at him very hard.

  ‘Yes, sir. So, as soon as he was rid – as soon, I should say, as Sir John left the house, his lordship went upstairs to find her ladyship, which, not being able to do, vexed him a trifle. Quite put out, he was, which was not to be wondered at, because it seems her ladyship forgot to inform him she was obliged to go out quite suddenly. And, of course, his lordship couldn’t help but be in a fidget when he found that my lady’s carriage had not been sent for. Very understandable, I am sure, sir, that his lordship should have felt anxious, for it was going on towards dinner-time, and naturally he wouldn’t like to think of my lady’s going out in such a way. Particularly,’ he added, in a disinterested voice, ‘if she was going on a journey.’

  ‘Is that what he thought she was meaning to do?’ demanded Mr Hethersett.

  ‘Well, sir, that is not for me to say,’ replied Farley carefully. ‘But when his lordship questioned George, it came out that her ladyship had sent down to have her dressing-case taken up to her room. Just after she had parted from his lordship, that would have been.’ He looked Mr Hethersett firmly in the eye, and said: ‘What I thought, sir, was that very likely her ladyship had had word brought her that my Lord Pevensey was lying on his deathbed, perhaps – which would account for her going off like she did. Being quite distracted, which no one could wonder at.’

  ‘Yes, well, you can stop pitching your gammon!’ said Mr Hethersett indignantly. ‘Dashed well ought to know better! Must know I ain’t such an easy cove as to swallow all that humdudgeon! I know what you thought, and it was a bag of moonshine!’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Farley, bowing. ‘I am very glad of it. I apprehend that her ladyship went in search of Lady Letitia, but on that subject I shall not presume to open my lips.’

  ‘Well, see you don’t!’ recommended Mr Hethersett.

  He then repaired to the library, where the Viscount, intent upon throwing a difficult chance, did not at first notice him. Nell, seated on the sofa at the end of the room, was a good deal dismayed to see him come walking in, for she had supposed him to have gone in search of Cardross. It was evident, since he had shed his cloak, that he had no immediate intention of leaving the house, and she could not help looking reproachfully at him, as he came towards her.

  ‘No use,’ he said, in an undervoice. ‘Floored at all points. Farley don’t know where Cardross is. Seems to me he’s making a dashed cake of himself. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s gone off to Devonshire.’

  ‘Gone off to Devonshire?’ she echoed, in amazement. ‘Nonsense, why should he do such a thing?’

  ‘Chasing after you,’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t think he’d be such a gudgeon as to set off in a whisky, but he may have hired a chaise. Left the whisky at the posting-house.’

  Quite bewildered, she said: ‘But why should he think I had gone to Devonshire? Oh, Felix, are you foxed too?’

  ‘No, of course I ain’t! Been talking to Farley. No wish to pry into what don’t concern me, but collect you had a turn-up with Cardross.’ He added hastily, as the colour rushed into her cheeks: ‘Not my business! The thing is, Giles found you wasn’t in the house. Couldn’t discover where you was gone, and, by what I can make out, was thrown into a rare taking. Silly gape-seed of a porter told him some farradiddle about taking your dressing-case up to your room. Sounds to me as if he was pitching it pretty rum, but can’t be surprised it put Cardross in the devil of a pucker.’

  ‘Oh, good God!’ she exclaimed guiltily. ‘That was only to draw George out of the hall! How could he suppose – ?’ She stopped, and turned apprehensive eyes towards him. ‘Did – did the servants think I had run away?’

  ‘Lord, yes! Bound to!’ he replied. ‘However, it don’t signify. What I mean is, you hadn’t.’

  ‘No, indeed! But to have caused such a commotion – set them all gossiping – Oh, do you think he will be very angry with me?’

  ‘No, no! Might be in a miff, I daresay, but he’ll come about,’ he said soothingly. ‘Must see you meant it for the best. Not your fault you made a mull of it.’

  This well-meant consolation caused her to spring up, wringing her hands. ‘Letty!’ she uttered. ‘Felix, it is my fault! Oh, if I had but told him! He will never forgive me!’

  The Viscount, his attention jerked from the bones by her unguarded movement and raised voice, looked round. ‘What the deuce – Well, by God, if that fellow Hethersett hasn’t come sneaking back!’

  ‘What are you still castaway?’ said Mr Hethersett disgustedly. ‘I wish you’d take yourself off!’

  ‘Oh, you do, do you?’ countered his lordship. ‘Well, I’m not going to stir from this house while you’re in it, my buck, and that you may depend on!’

  Mr Fancot, with hazy recollection of earlier events, looked puzzled, and said: ‘But you don’t like him, Dy! You said you was going to throw him out.’

  ‘Felix!’ said Nell, too lost in agitated reflection to heed this interchange. ‘There is nothing for it but for me to go after them! It may not be too late!’

  ‘Good God, cousin, you can’t do that!’ said Mr Hethersett, shocked.

  ‘If I went in our own chaise, and you were so very obliging as to go with me?’ she urged. ‘It may be hours before Giles returns, and then –’

  ‘Well, upon my soul!’ ejaculated the Viscount, rising with such hasty violence as to overset his chair. ‘If that don’t beat all hollow!’ He seized his sister by the shoulders, and shook her. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’ he demanded. ‘Go off in a chaise with that fellow? Not while I’m here to stop you!’ He rounded suddenly on Mr Hethersett, an ugly look on his face. ‘What damned cajolery have you been playing off on her?’ he said fiercely.

  ‘For the lord’s sake, Dysart, go and dip your head in a bucket!’ begged Mr Hethersett.

  ‘Oh, listen!’ Nell said sharply, her face turned towards the door.

  A quick stride was heard approaching; the door was flung open, and Cardross stood on the threshold. There
was a hard, anxious look on his face, and he had not stayed to put off his long, many-caped driving coat. His eyes swept the room, and found his wife. He went quickly forward, totally ignoring the rest of the company, saying in a shaken voice which she hardly recognized: ‘Nell! Thank God! Oh, my darling, forgive me!’

  ‘Giles! Oh, no! it was all my fault!’ she cried, casting herself into his arms. ‘And it is much, much worse than you know! Letty has gone with Mr Allandale!’

  ‘Damn Letty!’ he said, folding her close. ‘You have come back to me, and nothing else is of the smallest consequence!’

  Mr Hethersett, averting his eyes with great delicacy from the passionate embrace being exchanged, began to polish his quizzing-glass; the Viscount stared in thunderstruck silence; and Mr Fancot, after blinking at the extraordinary spectacle offered him, rose carefully to his feet, and twitched his friend’s sleeve. ‘Think we ought to be taking leave, Dy,’ he said confidentially. ‘Not the sort of party I like, dear boy! Go for a toddle to the Mutton-walk!’

  ‘Damned if I will!’ replied Dysart. ‘I want a word with Cardross, and I’m going to have it!’

  Recalled to a sense of his surroundings, Cardross looked up. Flushing a little, he let Nell go. ‘By all means, Dysart: what is it?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in private,’ said the Viscount, in whom the effects of his potations were beginning to wear off.

  ‘Well, I don’t know why you should suddenly wish to be private!’ said Nell, with unusual asperity. ‘When you have been saying the most abominable things without the least regard for anyone, even the hackney coachman! Besides trying to call poor Felix out in the most insulting way! Oh, Giles, pray tell him he must not do so!’

  ‘But why in the world should he wish to?’ asked Cardross, startled, and considerably amused.

  ‘Silly clunch saw her ladyship coming away from Allandale’s lodging with me, and would have it that it was my lodging,’ said Mr Hethersett tersely, responding to the laughing question in his cousin’s eye.