The old gentleman smiled affectionately upon the assembled company. ‘Very like an encounter I had once with a Margrave,’ he said pensively. ‘I was acting as one of his lackeys at the time.’
‘Tare an’ ’ouns, a lackey ?’ gasped Clevedale.
‘Certainly,’ said my lord, with some hauteur. ‘Why not? There was a lady in the case.’ He smoothed a wrinkle from his satin sleeve. ‘She was the Margrave’s mistress,’ he remarked.
Quite a number of people drew nearer. March thrust his arm in my lord’s, and walked away with him. ‘Let’s hear that tale, Barham,’ he said. ‘Which Margrave?’
Fourteen
My Lord Barham Becomes Mysterious
The old gentleman was left undoubtedly a victor; there could be no gainsaying it. Poor Rensley came off badly from a battle of wits. The world shook its head sadly over the startling disclosures of my lord’s past history, but it was prepared to look indulgently on those shocking lapses. Had his lordship betrayed only the faintest sign of discomfiture, shown the slightest shame, the world might have decided to turn a cold shoulder on him. But my lord was far from showing either shame or discomfiture. So far, indeed, that his attitude was one of pride in his chequered career. He carried all off with a high hand. He said majestically that there was nothing he had not done, and such was the power of the man’s eye that the world began to perceive clearly that he had nothing at all to be ashamed of.
There was also the attitude of my Lord March to be considered. March seemed to be in no doubt of the old gentleman’s identity, and there were few who cared to set themselves up in opposition to my lord. If the newcomer was good enough for March, he was certainly good enough for the rest of the world, but there were one or two far-seeing people who began to realize that the new viscount had wormed himself into the graces of society so completely, and so cleverly that it would be quite extraordinarily difficult (in the event of his claim falling to earth) to turn him out without loss of dignity to oneself.
His lordship made not the smallest attempt to conceal his lamentable past: his attitude gave one to understand that whatever he chose to do must of necessity become straightway a creditable performance. In fact, not the lowest of vocations could demean this grand gentleman.
It was considered then that to be sure, if one had the good fortune to be born a Tremaine one might do most things with impunity. Certainly it was a pity to have dragged that noble name in the dust, but after all one had to take into account that the old gentleman had been cast off penniless when little more than a boy. That must stand for his excuse.
As for Rensley, his attack had been ill-judged, and he had taken many shrewder blows than he had dealt. Not a doubt of it that March was right when he said that the old gentleman had the advantage of him in good manners. A number of people remembered that they had said at the outset that there was very little breeding to Rensley, cousin to the Tremaines though he might be. Viscount or no viscount, the old gentleman had great polish, and he showed himself perfectly at ease in the politest of company.
My lord had something to say on the matter himself when he took a dish of Bohea with my Lady Lowestoft next day. He smiled benevolently upon his daughter, leaning over the back of a couch, and said triumphantly: ‘You saw me! You, my daughter, had the privilege of seeing a master mind at work! I felicitate you.’
Prudence gave her deep chuckle. ‘I knew a few moments’ dread, sir, I confess.’
He brushed that aside. ‘Never again make that mistake. I am invincible. Observe the subtlety of my methods! I achieve a miracle.’
My lady gave a piece of angel cake to the monkey nestling at her feet. ‘You told them, then, mon cher ? You admitted the past?’
‘They hung on my lips,’ his lordship said dramatically. ‘They waited breathlessly to hear what I would say. As always I became the centre, the dominating presence.’
My lady twinkled. ‘And you said?’ she prompted.
‘I said, Thérèse, that I had kept a dozen gaming-houses. No other man alive would have dared. But I swayed them – I, Tremaine of Barham!’ His admiration of the deed held him silent for a moment, but he went on. ‘They perceived that I could play the lackey and still keep my prestige. It is true! It is very true.’
My lady gasped. ‘And they condoned it? They supported you?’
‘It was not for them to condone what Tremaine might choose to do,’ said my lord, with hauteur. ‘They applaud me now. I achieve the impossible.’
‘He is a great man,’ my lady said to Prudence. ‘You must admit it.’
‘Oh, I do, ma’am, believe me.’
My lord tapped the lid of his snuff-box with one polished finger-nail. ‘Even that large gentleman, that ponderous baronet, that sleepy-eyed Sir Anthony Fanshawe, who looked askance at me – even he concedes me admiration. I win all to my side. It could not be otherwise.’
‘Indeed, sir, he said he had begun to conceive a liking for you,’ nodded Prudence.
My lord accepted this with a gracious inclination of the head.
His daughter continued with a hint of seriousness in her tone. ‘Yet I think you would be well advised, sir, not to seek too great an intimacy with that same large gentleman.’
‘My Prudence, it is he, and all the rest, shall seek intimacy with me,’ his lordship said majestically.
‘That’s as maybe, sir, but I have some friendship with Sir Anthony, and I say beware!’
He shook his head, but it was more in sorrow than in anger. ‘Still you do not sufficiently appreciate me,’ he said.
‘It’s conceivable, sir, you don’t sufficiently appreciate the large gentleman.’
My lady smiled. ‘Ah, my cabbage, you have a too great opinion of ce gros Sir Anthony! He sees no further than the end of his nose.’
‘You’re mistaken, ma’am. He sees more than the rest of them put together.’ She hesitated. ‘He watches me. That I know. Something he suspects: not much, but a little.’
My lady looked incredulous. ‘Not you, my child? But no!’
‘Oh, not that! Well, who lives may learn. But I’ve warned you, sir.’
‘The little Prudence!’ My lord smiled affably. ‘So cautious!’
‘You named me Prudence, sir.’
He was inclined to suspect a hitherto unperceived foresight in himself. ‘And wisely! A premonition. I must surely have known.’
‘But to return, mon ami !’ My lady clasped her hands in her lap. ‘Society adopts you, then, in spite of all?’
‘Again you observe the subtlety of my methods! Consider, my Thérèse! Consider how I become one of the select circle! It is fitting. I am at last in my proper milieu.’ He looked kindly at his daughter. ‘I shall carry you with me, my child. Have no fear. You shall be established – you and Robin.’ He became aware of Robin’s absence. ‘But where is my son? Where is the beautiful Miss Merriot?’ he demanded.
‘The rogue’s gone off to sit with his lady love,’ answered Prudence.
He looked incredulous. ‘You tell me he entrusts his secret to a woman? No, no, do not say so, my daughter! Robin is my son, and he has sense – a little.’
‘I don’t say it, sir. The lady knows naught. Robin – heigh ho, he must needs fall for a pair of brown eyes!’ She told him of the encounter with Miss Letty and Mr Markham on the road to Gretna Green.
He was pleased to approve. ‘I embrace you, my child. The hilt to the chin! Myself or Robin taught you that trick. You do me credit, enfin ! I permit myself to take pride in you. Who is the lady? Eh, but the little Robin inherits something of my disposition!’
‘It’s a Miss Grayson, sir, and an heiress as I believe. A pretty brown-eyed chit.’
The old gentleman’s eyes became intent. ‘Grayson?’ he repeated. ‘Grayson, my daughter?’
‘Do you know the name, sir?’
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nbsp; He put the tips of his fingers together and gazed abstractedly before him. There was no reading what lay in his mind. ‘Grayson!’ he said softly.
‘You know something of Sir Humphrey, sir?’
His remarkable eyes travelled to her face. ‘My child, there are few people of whom I do not know something,’ he announced, and took his stately leave of them.
Prudence saw no necessity to mention the matter to her brother, but to John, whom she found arranging pots of powder and paint in Robin’s chamber, she said: ‘The old gentleman’s mysterious over Miss Grayson, John. Is Sir Humphrey a friend of his boyhood?’
John could not take it upon himself to answer.
‘Ay, you know more than you’ll admit, don’t you?’ said Prudence.
John set down one of the pots with a snap. ‘I’ll say this, Miss Prue: I don’t understand the game he’s playing now!’
‘Why, when have any of us understood him?’
The man compressed his lips, and seemed to regret his outburst. He could vouchsafe no more.
Robin came in a while later, a vision in cherry stripes, and a lace fichu. ‘The Markham hangs about Letty still,’ he said abruptly. ‘She meets him at houses here and there. I’m to gather he tries to ingratiate himself once more.’
Prudence raised her brows. ‘She’s ill-watched then,’ she said.
‘As to that, the aunt plays euchre, and it’s supposed none but the most reputable have admission to these private parties. He’s all conciliation from what she says.’
‘Lord, has she a mind to play the fool again?’
Robin looked scornful. ‘Oh, is it a jest?’
‘One of your own, child. I take a leaf from your book.’ She laughed. ‘Or does she dream of the Black Domino?’
‘God knows. The Markham has no hope of her now.’
‘A persistent gentleman, faith.’
‘I take it the man goes in danger of a debtor’s prison. He’s deeply involved, as I hear, but was used to hang upon Rensley. Now, if the old gentleman ousts Rensley, he’ll have need of a fresh patron, or a rich bride. It’s a dangerous dog.’
He had set his finger on the very marrow of it. Mr Markham saw himself in some need of relief. The turf played him false, and the cards went badly. It seemed to him that his noble friend’s sun was setting fast: Mr Rensley had that day been informed by a grave man of law that no fault could be found with my Lord Barham’s papers. If it could not be proved that my lord had stolen them from the real owner he must stand acknowledged Tremaine of Barham. There was, then, an end to a profitable friendship. Mr Markham had small hope of a happy issue. Mr Rensley, in a moment of impetuosity, had named the sum he would be glad to give the man who should prove my lord an impostor, but although Mr Markham would be willing to perform that office for him he could not at present see the means of doing it.
His recollection of the gaming-house at Munich had led nowhere. Mr Rensley had had some biting words to say of it. Mr Rensley was in a very bad temper over the whole affair, and his manner to his friend was such that Mr Markham began to conceive a positive dislike for him.
Fifteen
Challenge to Mr Merriot
There was no means of telling what John, that stolid creature, made of the situation. His young master and mistress suspected him of being deeper in the old gentleman’s secrets than they were, but he had never a word to say on the matter. When my lord had made his first startling appearance they came home and told him of it, and awaited some show of surprise. It was not forthcoming. John gave a grunt and said that he had doubted but that the old gentleman would arrive soon. As to the manner of his arrival, John seemed to think it natural enough, and he never failed thereafter to give my lord his title. The old gentleman had greeted him with an affectionate smile, and a hand carelessly outflung. John had looked beneath his brows and said gruffly that the affair of Master Robin must be seen to. He further volunteered the opinion that Robin’s present guise was unseemly. As for Miss Prue, the sooner she was got out of this coil the better. John had a grim way with him, but they had none of them the need ever to stand in doubt of his devotion. Nothing could abate the supreme belief in himself that my lord held, but certainly he used fewer extravagancies with his servant than with his children, and would condescend to listen to John’s disapproving words. But not even John could hope to make much impression on that magnificent mind. My lord waved a hand, and promised ultimate success.
‘You’re playing a game I don’t understand, my lord,’ John said severely. ‘It’s more of your play-acting, for sure, but why you should do it, sir, I can’t see.’
‘I plan a great coup,’ my lord assured him. ‘There must never be aught crude in my actions, John. There has never been. I go warily, and I contrive. Oh, but I contrive a tour de force ! Continue to watch over my children!’
‘It’s well there’s someone to do it, my lord,’ said John. ‘For it’s little care of them you’d be taking. Masquerades and the like!’
‘My John, you are foolish. You lack understanding. My wing is spread over the children, as ever.’
‘There’s this Miss Grayson,’ John continued, entirely ignoring his lordship. ‘Master Robin must needs set his fancy on her. I’d a word or two with Sir Humphrey’s man, and it’s little hope there is that he’d countenance such a marriage.’
The old gentleman half closed his eyes. ‘He shall countenance it, John. If I were to fail in my claim, which is not possible, he should countenance it. You shall all of you dance to my piping.’ He smiled with delight at the thought. In some things he had the mind of a child.
‘There’s one that won’t dance to your piping, my lord,’ was John’s parting shot. ‘And that’s Miss Prue’s sleepy gentleman!’
My lord wasted as much as three minutes on the consideration of this announcement, but arrived at the conclusion that there could be no truth in it. He could never be got to doubt his own powers.
It was understood in polite circles that Mr Rensley had had disturbing news from his lawyers regarding the claim. It was soon bruited abroad that these men thought some inquiry should be made into his lordship’s past before he should be positively declared Tremaine of Barham. My lord seemed to be quite content with this decision. He smiled, and put his finger-tips together as his habit was, and begged the lawyers to make what enquiries they would. Meanwhile he continued to parade the town.
Mr Rensley was soon infuriated to find that his supposed cousin’s past was hidden in an obscurity there seemed to be no hope of piercing. Inquiries led precisely nowhere. It was true that a Mr Challoner had once kept a gaming-house in Munich, and it was believed he had gone thence to Rome. But there could be found no trace of him in that ancient city. Indeed, how should there be? Had these seekers after truth mentioned the name of a German baron who had stayed in Rome some years ago they might have learned something of considerable interest from those who remembered that remarkable gentleman. But the seekers, unfortunately, had never heard of the baron, and they were forced to abandon the search for truth.
My lord was understood now to have two children. He spoke of them enthusiastically upon all occasions. Sir Anthony, hearing him, said humorously: ‘It seems you are to be congratulated, sir.’
‘You have said it!’ His lordship turned his compelling gaze upon the immovable large gentleman. ‘My daughter – my Prudence! A Venus!’ He looked soulful. ‘I say it who should not. She favours her mother, my poor Maria. A statue carved in ivory and rose! A goddess, with a voice of gold! Soon you shall see her,’ he promised.
‘Egad, we’re agog to, sir!’ said Mr Molyneux, smothering a grin. ‘And is your son thus godlike too?’
‘My little Robin!’ sighed his lordship. ‘He has not the height for it, alack! But he is well enough. To see him in the duello is to say he is incomparable. I pine to clasp them to me once more.’
‘It is permitted. They stay with a friend in France. I send for them when this business is at an end.’
‘Did you ever see or hear the like?’ demanded Sir Raymond Orton when the old gentleman had gone.
‘A most remarkable man,’ said Sir Anthony, and yawned behind his scented handkerchief.
Prudence herself, encountering my lord at Lady Elton’s rout one evening, was informed that she too should have the felicity of meeting his daughter. She bowed politely, and professed herself to be enchanted by the prospect.
A new piece of information was very soon passed from mouth to mouth. It appeared that no one could discover whence my lord had sprung when he came to make his claim. It had been supposed that he came from France, but no trace of him could be found either at Calais or on the packet boat. He seemed to have sprung up out of the earth in a manner most mysterious, and he could not be identified with any traveller from France for weeks past.
It was Mr Devereux who conceived the brilliant notion that my lord had not been in France at all, but even this flash of insight failed to lead anywhere.
Prudence, remembering past traffickings, guessed that my lord had been a passenger on one of those crafts that carefully avoid all ports and King’s ships, but put into land in odd out-of-the-way coves under cover of night. But this she kept to herself.
Mr Devereux begged her to say whether or no she credited my lord’s claim. She laughed, and tapped her riding whip against her boot. ‘Why, sir, it’s not for me to hazard an opinion. But it seems to me that his lordship was born to the part.’
‘True, very true,’ nodded Mr Devereux. ‘Charles was saying only this moment he has more the manner of it than our friend Rensley.’
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