Brother of Daphne

by Dornford Yates

  She slipped on the cobbles, as we turned in, and almost brought me down.

  “Go on,” she gasped. “I’ll—”

  I picked her up and ran to the brougham. The humming was very loud. To fling open the door and push her in was the work of a moment. Then I stumbled in after her and slammed the door. As I pulled up the window, several bees dashed themselves buzzing against it.

  Neither of us spoke for a minute or two. We lay back against the cushions sobbing and gasping for breath, while more bees pattered against the windows.

  Presently I stole a glance at my companion. She was leaning back in her comer, still breathing hard with her eyes shut. But she seemed to know I was looking at her, for the soft lips parted in a smile. But she did not open her eyes.

  I laid a hand on her arm.

  “How’s the ankle?” I said. “You turned it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but it’s not very bad, thanks. I think you saved my life.”

  “I’m afraid that’s putting it rather high. But you might have been stung, so I’m thankful I was there. At the same time, I can’t help feeling that it is to my company that you owe this – this unwarrantable assault. It’s me they’re after. They want to swarm on me. Or else they’ve recognized one of their enemies. They said, ‘That’s a beer, one of the beers. Let us slay him, and the intoxicants…’ Exactly. Of course, Berry and Daphne are dead. It’s really very tiresome. With Jill and Jonah both away, I don’t know what on earth we shall do about tennis tomorrow.”

  “I wish we could have some air,” said the girl.

  I opened the near side window an inch and stood by to close it if necessary. But the bees kept to the other side, where they crawled venomously over the pane.

  “What ever are we to do?” she said.

  “Wait awhile,” said I. “Excuse me, but you don’t happen to have such a thing as a toad on you, have you?”

  “I hope not.”

  “That’s a pity,” I said thoughtfully.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” she said. “Have you lost yours?”

  “It’s all right,” said I. “Toads are with us. They simply hate bees. I’m going to get a pack of toads and hunt them. I shall advertise in the Exchange and Mart tomorrow. How’s the ankle?”

  “A little stiff.”

  “Let me rub it, please. It’s the only thing.”

  “Oh, no, thanks.”

  “Don’t be ungrateful,” I said. “What about my ear?”

  She set a small foot on the opposite seat. I took off the little shoe. At length:

  “I say,” she said suddenly, “what about dinner?”

  “Dinner!” I exclaimed. “Oh, dinner’s gone right out. Simply not done in the best circles. Dinner indeed. My dear, you surprise me!”

  “Ah, but you see I don’t move in the best circles. I’m only very common and vulgar and actually get hungry sometimes. Shocking, isn’t it?”

  “Never mind,” I said encouragingly. “You are still young. If you begin to break off this indecent habit—”

  “It seems I have begun. It’s a quarter to nine. You know it is awful. If you had told me yesterday that tonight I should be sitting shut up in a horseless brougham at the back of an inn, alone with a strange man massaging my foot, I should have—”

  “Of course you would. But there you are, lass, you never know your luck.”

  She looked at me darkly.

  “Needs must when the devil drives,” she said.

  I looked at her.

  “My skin may be thick,” said I, “but it’s not impenetrable. But you knew that.”

  With a light laugh she laid a hand on my arm.

  “Don’t be silly, lad, but put my shoe on again.”

  As I fitted it on, I heard footsteps in the yard outside. Instinctively we both shrank back into the brougham. It was quite dark now. Then a stable door grated and I heard a horse move.

  “Who is it?” she whispered.

  “Some ostler, I expect.”

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “I forget for the moment,” said I. “I ought to know, too,” I added reflectively. “Wait a minute, I will consult the oracle.”

  So saying I made a pass or two and gazed intently into the gloom.

  “Idiot,” she murmured.

  “Hush,” I said. “Do not speak to the man at the wheel, and, above all, refrain from disconcerting the beer – I mean seer. What do I see? A man – let him pass for a man – in motion. He moves. Yes,” I said excitedly, “yes, it is a stable. The man moves across the stable. Lo, he leads forth a horse. There now.” I turned to her triumphantly. “The horse you fancy, madam, will also run, and the – ah – fee is one guinea. You don’t fancy any horse, madam? Ah, but you will. Very soon too. Sooner, perhaps, than you – But you can’t help it, madam. The crystal cannot lie. Pleasant weather we’re having, aren’t we? No, I’m afraid I haven’t change for a note, but I could send it on, madam. On. On Monday you for instance—”

  “Stop, stop,” she said, laughing and putting a little hand on my wrist. “Listen. Oh, I say.”

  A horse was undoubtedly led out of the stable. Breathlessly we heard it come across the yard, and the next moment we felt rather than saw it put between the shafts of our brougham.

  My companion uttered a stifled cry and set a hand upon the door handle.

  “Sit still, lass,” I whispered; “for the love of Heaven, sit still. He’s going to drive us away.”

  “Oh, lad.”

  “We are in luck.”

  “But where are we going?”

  “Heaven knows. But away from the bees, anyway.”

  The horse was harnessed at last. The lamps were lighted – the while we cowered in the depths of the brougham, the coachman mounted heavily upon the box and we rolled slowly out of the yard.

  Round to the left we swung, away from White Ladies, slowly into the village and to the left again. I kept my companion informed as to our whereabouts.

  “That’s right,” I said, “ there’s the butcher’s. Splendid meat he sells – I beg his pardon – purveys. Wears wonderfully well. Always follows the hounds on one of his own saddles. And there’s the tobacconist. You should see the plugs he keeps. I’ve got one I use as a paper-weight. We used to think it was a piece of the original Atlantic cable. I’ve had it years now, and it’s still going strong – very strong. It makes rather a good paper-weight, imparts a homely soupçon of farmyard life into one’s correspondence, you know. The P.M. had to give up reading my letters – said they made him feel as if he’d gone to the country. Ah, we are now within a stone’s throw of the church – a noble edifice, complete with one bell. Hullo! Stand by with that ankle, lass; we’re going to the doctor’s. You’ll like him rather. Incompetent, but genial. Shouldn’t wonder if he wants to paint your foot. He is a bit of an artist in his way. When I cut my head open last year, he painted the place all over with some of his stuff. It certainly healed all right, but the way the wasps followed me – I might have been a private view. Now for it. You stand on the steps quite naturally, and I’ll manage the driver.”

  As we drew up to the porch, I opened the door of the vehicle and handed her out. Then I closed the door very carefully and looked at the coachman. His eyes were protruding from his head, and he recoiled as I laid a hand on the box.

  “How much?” I said carelessly.

  A choking sound came from between his lips, and the the next moment he had flung off the opposite side and was peering into the depths of the brougham. When he had felt all over the cushions, he shut the door and came and looked at me over the back of the horse.

  “Well, I’m drat—”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Don’t anticipate. How much?”

  “Six months’ ’ard, I should say,” he replied slowly, “and let down easy at that, gettin’ into a private broom wiv yeller wheels an’ frightenin’ an honest man out of his blooming life. Look at the perspiration on my forehead.”

  He took off his hat
, and bent his head toward the lamp, that my view might be the better.

  “I had already noticed that you were rather hot,” I said shortly, “but had in error attributed it to the clemency of the weather. But pray be covered. I would not have your blood also upon my soul. The air strikes cold.”

  “Go hon,” he said with ponderous sarcasm. “Go hon. Hi am all ears.”

  “No, no,” I said hastily, “not all. Do yourself justice, man.”

  “Justice,” he said bitterly. “Justice. I wonder you ’ave the face to—”

  “Be thankful that one of us has a face to have,” I said shortly. “Among other maladies you suffer from irritation of the palm. Yes?”

  He stared at me.

  “Don’t know about the palm in particular,” he said, after a while, “but being so much with the ’orses it do tend to—”

  “That’ll do,” I said hurriedly. “Lo, here is a crown, by the vulgar erroneously denominated a ‘dollar’. Take it, and drink the lady’s health before you go to bed.”

  He took the coins greedily, and touched his hat. Then he partially undressed, in the traditional fashion, and put them away, apparently in a wallet next to his skin.

  I turned to the girl.

  “We’ll go in, shall we?” I said. “They’ll give us some food, even if they do want to paint us. And we can ring up your people. I expect they’ll be getting anxious.”

  “Oh, no. This morning they went up to town for the day, and they’ve only just about got back. And, as I was dining out, they won’t expect me for another half hour. But I think—”

  “Dining out, lass? Good heavens, I’m afraid you’ll have missed the soup, won’t you?”

  “I thought they’d given up dinner in the best circles.”

  “Ah, yes. Of course. But what about the auction halma?”

  “That’s what’s worrying me. And so I was going to say if you’ll be good enough to tell me where I am, I’ll make my way home to where I’m staying.”

  Before I could reply, a voice that I recognized came through the drawing-room window.

  “Ah, how do you do, Mrs Fletcher. Sorry we’ve taken up so much of your husband’s time. But he’s done us proud. I had fourteen. Just cast your eye – your critical eye – over this arm and take your pick. How do you like them? Penny plain, twopence coloured. Walk up. Damn. I beg your pardon. Has the ambulance arrived?”

  The voice was the voice of Berry.

  “The cab’s here,” said another voice. “I can see the horse’s nose.”

  I suddenly realized that Jonah had got the car and was just wondering what was the matter with our own brougham, when:

  “That’s Daphne,” said my companion. “Was it Berry who spoke first?”

  I stared at her.

  “Was it, lad?” she repeated.

  “Yes, witch, it was. But how on earth?”

  “I admit I’m only your second cousin and haven’t seen Daphne for eighteen months, still, after being at school in France together for two years, we ought to have some dim recollection of each other’s tones.”

  “Why,” I said, “you’re cousin Madrigal, who bit me on the nose, aged four, under the nursery table. Are you sorry, now?”

  “I did it in self-defence, lad.”

  “What was I doing?”

  “You tried to kiss me.”

  I glanced round. The coachman had begun to undress again, and it was very dark.

  “That was a long time ago,” I said wistfully.

  “Once bitten, twice shy,” she said.

  As I kissed her, the light went up in the hall.

  “Put not your faith in proverbs,” said I.

  Dr Fletcher opened the door.

  “Hullo,” said the worthy leech.

  “Bring forth your dead,” said I.

  He laughed heartily.

  “Have you come for them?”

  “We have. Complete with plague cart. Allow me introduce my cousin. Dr Fletcher – Miss Madrigal Stukely. How are the deceased?”

  “Flourishing,” replied the leech. “I took eleven out of your sister.”

  “And fourteen out of Berry – that’s twenty-five. I say, there’s no chance of their getting bee hydrophobia, is there? And stinging us, or anything?”

  At this moment Daphne appeared, smelling like a consulting-room.

  “Why, Madrigal darling, so Boy brought you to fetch us back; did he? I’m so awfully sorry Berry and I weren’t there for dinner. I hope Boy entertained you properly.”

  I gasped. Then :

  “Madrigal, were you – ?”

  Daphne was staring at me. So our brougham had been sent to fetch…

  Madrigal laid her hand on my arm.

  “It’s all right, Daphne dear. As I was going home to dress about half past seven, I met Boy—”

  “Hurrying?” said Daphne.

  “Now I come to think of it, he was walking rather—”

  “A nice brisk pace,” said I.

  “Be quiet,” said Daphne, “or I’Il sting you.”

  “Well,” resumed Madrigal, “I met him and he explained—”

  “About dinner?”

  “About dinner. So we didn’t either of us dress. In fact we didn’t dine either; we were – er…”

  “So anxious about you and Berry,” I suggested.

  My brother-in-law put his head round the door and looked at me.

  “I remember,” he said slowly, “I remember catching a fleeting glance – a very fleeting glance – of the anxious look upon your face as you cleared the second celery bed. At the time I thought – but never mind. I now realize that the solicitude there portrayed was on our account. Woman, I fear we judged your brother too hastily.”

  “I was going for assistance,” I said.

  “And lost your way,” said Berry. He turned to his wife: “M’dear, I’m afraid he will always remain a worm. What a thought.”

  “Make it toads,” said I. “It’s safer.”

  9: A Point of Honour

  “The point is–” I began.

  The girl looked up quickly.

  “What?”

  “This,” said I. “Would you be alarmed or offended if I put my services—”

  “Such as they are.”

  “Such as they are, thank you, at your disposal?”

  “Is that an offer or a question?”

  “Neither,” said I. “It’s a point.”

  She knitted her brows.

  “What does one do with points?”

  “One deals with them.”

  “M’m. Well, you can see what you can do, if you like. You mustn’t be rough with the bag. It’s sensitive, for all that it’s made of pigskin.”

  “May I have the alleged key? Thank you. It is not by force, but by persuasion, that I – ahem – gain my points.”

  “I should think you’re an only child.”

  “I am,” I said. “That’s why.”

  We were in a first-class compartment on the London South Western Railway, rushing away from London, down to Dorsetshire, with its heights and woodland and its grey stone walls. There had been some trouble at Waterloo, and it was only at the last moment that an ‘engaged’ label had been torn off our carriage window and we had been permitted to enter. The other occupant of the carriage – an aged member of the House of Lords – after regarding us with disapproval for ninety miles, had left the train at the last station. Then my lady had turned to her nice new dressing-bag and had sought to open it. In vain she had inserted a key. In vain she had attempted to insert other keys, obviously too large. Therein she had shown her feminism. I love to see a woman do a womanly thing. Finally she had sighed and pushed her dark hair back from her temples with a gesture of annoyance. The time seeming ripe, I had spoken.

  Now I turned to the obstructive wards. All she had done was to double lock it, and I had it open in a moment.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Not at all. I was brought up as a burglar. What a blessed
thing the old earl’s left us.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Not at all.”

  “You see if I had offered my services – such as they are – in his presence, he would probably have challenged me, and stuck your glove in his hat.”

  She laughed.

  “He looked rather like it, didn’t he?”

  “And, of course, according to his lights, you should still be endeavouring to pull the alarm cord.”

  “Instead of which—”

  “You are going to put your feet up and smoke one of my cigarettes. It’s not a smoking carriage so you’ll be able to taste the tobacco.”

  “Is this another point?” she said, smiling.

  “No,” said I. “It’s a certainty.”

  Her dark hair was smooth and shining and full of lights and set off her fresh complexion to perfection. This was not at all brown, but her eyes were. Great, big ones these, with a star in each of them for laughter. Her nose turned up ever so slightly, and she had a little way of tilting her dainty chin, as if to keep it company. Red lips.

  Presently she looked at me through the smoke.

  “Are you going to Whinnerley?” she said.

  “Yes, please.”

  “To the Hall?”

  “Even as you are.”

  “How did you know?”

  “The sensitive bag had a label.”

  “Oh, I believe you’re one of Berry and Co.”

  “Look here,” I said, “you mustn’t judge me by my company. If my relatives and connections by marriage like to make themselves infamous, that is no fault of mine. They have made their beds. Let them lie on them. I will recline upon my humble, but separate couch.”

  “What have they done?”

  “Notorious wrong. Only last week, for instance, they mocked me.”

  “No?”

  “They did, indeed – during the savoury. As part-owner, I craved a seat in the car. They scorned my request. Who was I? Today, they drive from Norfolk to Dorset. But for their swabhood they would have picked me up in London on the way.”

  “On the what?”

  “I admit it would have necessitated a slight deviation, but against that you must set off the tone my presence lends – Forgive me, but there’s a wasp on your left leg.”