The Unknown Ajax

by Georgette Heyer

  Lady Aurelia, whose invariable custom it was to partake of a far more substantial breakfast in bed, saw nothing to object to in this, and nodded her head. After considering the matter, she pronounced, in a very regal way: ‘I will see Claud.’

  But Claud, summoned to his august parent’s room before he had finished dressing, was far too peevish to be of any material assistance. Attired in a dressing-gown of rich silk, he was much more concerned with the style of neckcloth most proper to be worn with a frock-coat, and a daring waistcoat of Polyphant’s design, than with a quarrel from which he had managed to escape, and only wished to forget. He was inclined to be indignant with his mother for having sent for him on frivolous grounds; and, finding that she was determined to get to the bottom of what seemed to him a very trivial affair, extricated himself without hesitation or compunction by advising her to apply to Vincent for information, since he was the instigator of the quarrel. Before he could make good his retreat, however, he was incensed and appalled by a command to go immediately to Vincent’s room, and to inform him that his mama desired to have speech with him before he went down to breakfast. Since it was the time-honoured practice of the brothers to sacrifice each other in such situations as now confronted Claud, it was not fear of Vincent’s wrath at finding himself betrayed which prompted Claud to despatch Polyphant on the errand, but the knowledge that not even a messenger bearing gifts of great price would meet with anything but the rudest of receptions from Vincent at this hour of the morning.

  The events of the previous evening having put Vincent in the worst of tempers, it was in anything but a propitious mood that he presently visited Lady Aurelia, nor did the measured speech with which she favoured him soften his humour. Her ladyship, disclaiming any desire either to know the gist of the quarrel, or to listen to excuses, informed him, without passion or waste of words, that if his cousin and his grandfather were set at loggerheads through his agency he would fall under her deepest displeasure. That, she said, was all she wished to say to him; and as Vincent was well-aware that her fortune, and not his father’s humbler portion, was the source of his own allowance, it was quite unnecessary for her to say more. Pale with anger, he bowed stiffly, and replied in a voice of ice: ‘I do not propose to burden you, ma’am, with an account of what occurred last night, nor can I deny that some unfortunate words of mine were the cause of my grandfather’s attack on my cousin. It was not, however, my intention to instigate a quarrel, as I trust I made plain to my cousin. I have only to add that you need be under no apprehension that my dislike of Hugo would, under any circumstances, prompt me to make mischief between him and my grandfather.’

  ‘Your character, Vincent, is in many ways unsatisfactory, but I have never found you untruthful,’ said her ladyship. ‘I have no hesitation in accepting your assurance, therefore. Pray close the door carefully behind you! the catch is defective.’

  After this, it was not surprising that Vincent, instead of putting in an appearance at the breakfast-table, strode off to the stables, and worked off the worst of his spleen by riding at a slapping pace to Rye, where the George provided him with a belated but excellent breakfast.

  The breakfast-party at Darracott Place was thus reduced to four persons, Anthea having left the room before Claud entered it. Conversation did not flourish. Lord Darracott wore a forbidding scowl, and, beyond nodding curtly at Richmond, paid no attention to anyone; Richmond, as yet uninitiated into the cause of the quarrel, was looking anxious, and scarcely spoke; Claud, after one glance at his grandfather, confined his utterances to what was strictly necessary; and Hugo, finding his companions disinclined for conversation, placidly consumed his customary and sustaining meal.

  It was not until he was about to rise from the table that Lord Darracott broke the silence. Addressing himself to Richmond, he demanded to know how long it was since he had visited his tutor. Without waiting for an answer, he said that Richmond had been idle for weeks, and must now resume regular hours of study.

  ‘Yes, Grandpapa. But am I not to go with Hugo?’ Richmond asked.

  ‘No, certainly not! You need not look glum, for you would find nothing to interest you in Huddersfield, and a great deal to disgust you!’

  ‘The mills would interest me,’ Richmond said. ‘I know how sheep are sheared, but I don’t know what is done to the fleeces to turn them into cloth, but Hugo says I may see every bit of it, if I like. Pray let me go, Grandpapa!’

  ‘I said no, and I meant it!’ interrupted his lordship, more peremptorily than it was his custom to speak to Richmond. ‘I am astonished that you could wish to interest yourself in a cloth mill! You have nothing to do with mills, or any other such things, and you will oblige me by not mentioning the subject again!’ He then turned towards Hugo, and said: ‘As for you, I do not know what your purpose is in travelling to Yorkshire, but I trust you mean to dispose of whatever may be your interest in your grandfather’s business. It is extremely repugnant to me to think that a Darracott, and my heir, should owe any part of his subsistence to it!’

  He did not wait for an answer, which was fortunate, since Hugo showed no sign of giving him one, but stalked out of the room.

  Claud, who had listened to him in open-mouthed astonishment, exclaimed: ‘Dashed if I don’t think he’s begun to get queer in his attic! Well, what I mean is, hubble-bubble! I don’t set up as one of these clever coves, but I’ve got more sense in my knowledge-box than to say such an addle-brained thing as that! Seems to me it don’t make a ha’porth of difference whether you keep the dashed mill, or whether you don’t, because that’s where all your gingerbread came from, whichever way you look at it. And don’t you tell me it’s repugnant to him to have you coming down with the derbies, because all I’ve got to say to that is, Gammon!’

  Hugo did not reply. He was watching Richmond, who had gone over to the window, and was staring out, his gaze unfocused. He looked dejected, and Hugo said: ‘I’m sorry, lad, but happen I’ll be able to take you another time.’

  Richmond turned his head. ‘Yes, of course. I hope you will, for I should like very much to go with you. Was it that which made him angry last night? He didn’t like it, when I told him you’d asked me to go, but he didn’t rip up at you. Why did he fly into a passion all at once, and quarrel with you?’

  ‘Nay, the Lord only knows!’ said Hugo.

  ‘Well, that’s a hummer, if ever I heard one!’ said Claud. ‘We all know what made him quarrel with you! It was Vincent’s doing, of course. Sort of thing he would do, what’s more!’

  ‘Vincent?’ Richmond said.

  ‘That’s it,’ nodded Claud. ‘If he hadn’t stirred the coals, it wouldn’t have happened, and I daresay the old gentleman would have let you go with Hugo, but once he’d flung the cat amongst the pigeons the trap was down.’

  ‘He didn’t mean to stir the coals,’ interposed Hugo, seeing the look of bewildered chagrin on Richmond’s face. ‘He certainly took the wrong sow by the ear, but what he wanted to do was to try whether he couldn’t get his lordship to listen to reason about you, lad.’

  ‘Well, if that’s what you think, you don’t know Vincent!’ said Claud. ‘Yes, I wish I may see Vincent trying to help Richmond, or anyone else, for that matter! A fine way to help him, asking you whether you’d be willing to purchase a cornetcy for him! Why, even a regular flat would have seen what he was trying to do!’

  Richmond caught his breath, his eyes flying to Hugo’s face. ‘Oh, no! You wouldn’t – would you?’

  Hugo smiled at him. ‘Yes, of course I would, but I may not be able to do it until you’re of age. You needn’t fear I won’t make a push to bring his lordship round to the notion, but it’ll be best if you, and Vincent, too, leave it to me to choose my own time for coming to grips with him.’

  Those ridiculously expressive eyes were fairly blazing; Richmond said impetuously: ‘I’ll do anything you say! Hugo, do you mean it? If I’d known – ! I didn’t
think there was the least hope, because even when I’m of age I shan’t be able to purchase it for myself, and all I thought I could do was to join as a volunteer, which I would, only I want a cavalry regiment m-more than anything else in the world! Hugo, will you lend me the purchase-price? I shan’t be able to pay it back for years, because my father didn’t leave anything but debts, and Mama’s own fortune is very small, but in the end, of course, it will come to me, so –’

  ‘Whoa, lad!’ begged Hugo, laughing at this tumbled entreaty. ‘You keep out of mischief, and I’ll make you a present of it for your twenty-first birthday!’

  Richmond tried to speak, failed, swallowed convulsively, and managed to jerk out: ‘Thank you! I c-can’t– You don’t know what it means to me! Even if I have to wait – go to Oxford – it doesn’t signify! It was thinking there wasn’t any hope – ! Well, I– Well, thank you!’ he ended, in a rush. He bestowed a shy, tremulous smile upon his benefactor, and, his feelings threatening to overcome him, ran out of the room.

  Claud, who had been regarding him with the sort of mild wonder he might have felt upon being confronted with a freak at Bartholomew Fair, sighed, and shook his head. ‘What did I tell you?’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if it turns out he’s a trifle queer in his attic too. I don’t say he won’t look bang-up to the knocker in Hussar rig, because, now I come to think of it, it’s just the thing for him, but it’s my belief he don’t care a rush what kind of a uniform he’ll have to sport.’

  ‘Nay, do you think I’m queer in my attic?’ expostulated Hugo.

  ‘Think? I dashed well know you are! In fact,’ said Claud frankly, ‘it’s my belief you were born with rats in your upper storey!’

  Eighteen

  Lord Darracott’s bleak mood lasted throughout the day, but since Richmond appeared to have accepted his harsh decree with perfect serenity, and neither repulsive looks nor snubbing replies produced any change whatsoever in Hugo’s demeanour, he had become so far mollified, by the time he sat down to dinner on the following evening, as to be able to bring himself to address several remarks to Hugo, and even, once, to agree with what he said, besides demanding of Lady Aurelia, with a near approach to geniality, whether they were to enjoy their usual rubber or two of whist. This was generally felt to be a sign that the storm (provided that no one offered him any provocation) was over; and although Anthea could have thought of a more agreeable way of passing the evening, and Vincent considered that playing whist for chicken-stakes was a dead bore, neither hesitated to acquiesce in this scheme for his lordship’s entertainment, though both wished heartily that it had not developed into a ritual. Lord Darracott had been a hardened gamester in his day, but, unlike Vincent, he cared as much for the play as for the stake, and all that was needed for his enjoyment was a reasonable degree of luck, and three other players who could be relied on not to provoke him by stupidity, inattention, slowness of wit, or, in fact, any of the faults that characterized such indifferent card-players as Mrs Darracott, and Hugo.

  Any apprehension that Richmond’s unmistakeable air of elation would make his lordship suspicious the Major was soon able to banish from his mind. His lordship’s egotism was of too sublime an order to allow of his having the smallest perception; and since a long and unquestioned reign over his family had convinced him that submission to his commands and prohibitions was inevitable, he saw nothing remarkable in a docility that anyone else must have deemed so unnatural as to give rise to serious alarm. If he thought at all of the warning Vincent had tried to convey to him, it was with contempt. No doubt of his infallibility troubled him; no misgiving that the high courage in which he gloried was incompatible with docility ever so much as occurred to him: Richmond was the product of his own, untrammelled training; he had perceived at the outset he was worthy of attention; so it would have seemed to him very extraordinary had the boy not grown up to be as near perfection as made no odds.

  Vincent, perceiving more clearly than anyone the absolute nature of his lordship’s beliefs, remarked to Hugo, with something of a snap: ‘It is devoutly to be hoped there’s no truth in your suspicion, coz, for I shudder to think of what the consequences might be if Richmond were to tumble off the pedestal our misguided progenitor built for him to sit on!’

  Hugo nodded.

  ‘I tried to give him a hint, you know. I might as well have spared my breath.’

  ‘Eh, you shouldn’t have done that!’ Hugo said.

  ‘Oh, have no fear! I seem to have made a slip-slop of the whole affair, but I am not quite chuckleheaded! I gave him no hint of the particular mischief I had in mind,’ replied Vincent, with a short laugh. ‘I collect, by the way, that you’ve promised Richmond that cornetcy. I trust it may give him something other to think of than smuggling – if he does think of smuggling!’

  ‘That’s what I trust, too,’ said Hugo. ‘I told him he should have it if he kept out of mischief, and I’m hopeful we’ll have no more need to fatch ourselves, for there’s no question at all about it: he was thrown into such transports he could hardly speak!’

  ‘I am aware. You have certainly become his beau ideal!’

  ‘Nay, there’s no hope of that,’ said Hugo despondently. ‘I’ll never be able to take the shine out of you, for I’m no top-sawyer, and I’m sick everytime I go to sea.’

  Vincent laughed, but a faint flush stained his cheeks, and he said sharply: ‘Good God, do you think I care? Not the snap of my fingers!’

  Having had ample time to become acquainted with his demon of jealousy, Hugo heaved a profound sigh of relief, and said: ‘Eh, I’m glad to hear you say that! The way you’re never happy but what you have the lad at your heels, let alone the pleasure it is to you to listen to his chatter, I thought you’d be reet miserable!’

  This response succeeded as well as any could; but although Vincent smiled in genuine amusement, he was still furious with himself for that instant’s self-betrayal, and his temper, already exacerbated, was not improved. He had never felt more than tolerance for Richmond; and the boy’s admiration had amused rather than gratified him. Had he arrived at Darracott Place to find that Richmond had outgrown his youthful hero-worship it would not have troubled him in the least; but when he saw Richmond’s eyes turn away from him towards Hugo, and realized that, instead of following his lead, Richmond had drawn a little aloof from him, he fell a prey to a jealousy which none knew better than he to be irrational. Between this bitter envy of his brother and cousin, whose financial circumstances rendered them independent of Lord Darracott; resentment that his own, very different, circumstances made it necessary for him to serve his grandfather’s caprice; and dislike of the usurper whose arrival on the scene had led to a great many disagreeable results, he was so much chafed that to keep his temper under control imposed a severe strain upon him. Pride, quite as much as prudence, demanded that he should preserve an attitude of languid indifference, but so coldly civil was his manner to Hugo that that usually immovable giant was considerably surprised when, two evenings later, he came quickly into the billiard-room, and said, in a voice from which all affectation had vanished: ‘Hugo, where’s Richmond? Have you seen him?’

  Claud, startled into miscueing, exclaimed indignantly: ‘Damn you, Vincent, what the devil do you mean by bursting in here when you know dashed well we’re playing? Anyone would take you for a cawker instead of the Go you think you are! Look what you’ve made me do!’

  Vincent paid not the smallest heed to him; his frowning eyes remained fixed on the Major’s face; he said: ‘He’s not in his room.’

  The Major met that hard, anxious stare without any sign of emotion. He returned it, in fact, with a blankness that might well have led Vincent to suppose that he was wholly lacking in comprehension. After a moment, he said calmly: ‘Nay, it’s too early.’

  ‘It’s eleven o’clock.’

  ‘As late as that?’ Hugo seemed to consider this, but shook his head. ‘No, I don�
�t think it. Not while everyone’s still up.’