“No need to worry about her, then,” said Mr. Hethersett, making the best of a bad business. “I’m much obliged to you!” He then requested Mr. Shotwick to step out in search of a hack, and cast an uneasy glance at Nell. She was looking quite stricken, but, to his relief, she did not speak until Mrs. Shotwick had curtseyed herself out of the room. He said curtly: “Going to take you home. Nothing to be done. Too late. Very scabby conduct of Allandale’s, but I’m bound to say I’m dashed sorry for him!”
“Oh, could he not have brought her back to her home?” Nell cried, wringing her hands.
“Not if she was screeching in hysterics,” said Mr. Hethersett, with considerable feeling. “What’s more, I don’t blame him!”
“I blame myself! If I had told Cardross of my suspicion! He might have been able then to have overtaken them, but now—! I was so certain Mr. Allandale would not—I thought I should be able to set the wretched business to rights, but I have only helped to ruin Letty!”
“Don’t see that at all,” he replied. “Plenty of time for Cardross to catch ‘em, if he wants to. Only travelling with a pair of horses. Wouldn’t make much difference if they had four. Give Cardross his curricle, and four good ‘uns, and I’d back him, over the distance, if they’d had twice as long a start of him. You ever seen Giles with a four-in-hand? Well, he’s top-of-the-trees, give you my word! Knows how to keep strange horses together, too.”
“Oh, do you think they could still be overtaken?” she said eagerly.
“Lord, yes! All we have to do—Now what is it?”
She had uttered a chagrined: “Oh!” and she now said: “Cardross is not at home. He was dining out, and I don’t know where!”
“No need to get into a taking over that,” replied Mr. Hethersett calmly. “Farley will know.”
This made her feel rather more cheerful, and upon Mr. Shotwick’s coming back to announce that a hack was waiting to take them up she started up, begging Mr. Hethersett to make haste.
There was certainly a hack standing in the street: a large and dilapidated vehicle, whose body, hanging drunkenly between two old-fashioned perches, showed by tarnished silverwork, and an almost obliterated coat of arms, that it had descended a long way in the social scale since the days when, with a powdered coachman on the box, and two Knights of the Rainbow standing up behind, it had been the town chariot of a nobleman. It was not at all the kind of carriage any person of fashion would now choose to ride in, but Nell and Mr. Hethersett, emerging from the house, found that their temporary possession of it was not to be undisputed. Two gentlemen were arguing with the jarvey on their right to claim it, and this worthy man had apparently found it necessary to come down from the box to preserve it from invasion.
Mr. Hethersett, after one glance, tried to obscure the scene from Nell’s view, saying tersely: “Better step inside again till I’ve got rid of ‘em!”
“But it’s Dysart!” said Nell.
“Yes, I know it is, but we haven’t any time to stand talking to him!” said Mr. Hethersett.
“No, of course not, but he is trying to hire our hackney, and he must not!” said Nell, trying to push him out of the way.
“For the lord’s sake, cousin, go back into the house!” begged Mr. Hethersett. “He ain’t alone!”
“No, but the other is only Mr. Fancot, and I think” said Nell knowledgeably, “that they are both of them a trifle foxed. Dysart!”
The Viscount, upon hearing himself addressed, turned. The light from the near-by street-lamp enabled him quite plainly to recognize his sister, but he knew better than to trust his eyes when he was (in his own estimation) a little above par. He called upon his companion for assistance. “Corny, that ain’t my sister Cardross, is it?”
“No,” said Mr. Fancot obligingly.
“What a horrid creature you are, Dy!” remarked Nell, descending the steps. “You cannot drive off in that coach, because it was brought for me, and I must have it. I am in the greatest haste, so do, pray, stop disputing with that poor man, and go away!”
“By God, it is my sister Cardross!” exclaimed the Viscount, thunderstruck.
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Fancot, smiling vaguely but with immense affability at Nell.
“Well, there’s no need to shout it all down the street!” said Mr. Hethersett tartly.
The Viscount looked intently at him, while he wrestled silently with a problem. “It’s you, is it?” he said, a certain kindling in his eyes, and a brooding note in his voice. “You, and my sister!”
Mr. Hethersett, who had foreseen from the start that something like this would happen, said soothingly: “Escorting her ladyship home!”
“Oh, you were, were you?” said the Viscount, showing signs of rising choler. “We’ll see that! Because it seems to me—Corny! Where are we?”
“Watier’s,” said Mr. Fancot, after a moment’s thought.
“No, we ain’t!” said his lordship, irritated.
“Going to Watier’s,” amended Mr. Fancot.
“I’ll tell you where we are!” announced the Viscount, in menacing accents. “We’re in Ryder Street!”
“That’s right, sir: Ryder Street it is,” said the jarvey encouragingly. “You don’t want no ‘ack to take you to Watier’s!”
“Ryder Street,” said the Viscount. “Now I know whose house you were coming out of! Now I know what made you take such an uncommon interest in my sister’s affairs! By God, if I don’t cut your liver out for this! As for you, my girl—”
“That’ll do!” interrupted Mr. Hethersett. “You can cut my liver out in the morning, but for the lord’s sake stop making such a damned kick-up in the street!”
“Not liver,” said Mr. Fancot positively, his wandering attention recalled by this word. “Duck. That’s what we said, Dy. Got a way of cooking it at Watier’s I like.”
“Well, you take Dysart there!” recommended Mr. Hethersett.
‘E can take him, but ‘e won’t never get ‘im past the porter, guv’nor, not as lushy as what they both are!” observed the jarvey sapiently.
“Yes, I will,” said Mr. Fancot. “It’s my birthday.”
“Get into the hack!” Mr. Hethersett said to Nell. “No, not you!”
Mr. Fancot, hauled off the step of the coach by the jarvey, called upon the Viscount to come and give this individual one in the bread-basket, but the Viscount had more important matters to attend to. Addressing himself to Mr. Hethersett, he commanded that harassed exquisite to name his friends.
Alarmed by his evident intention to force a quarrel on to Mr. Hethersett, Nell laid a hand on his arm, and said: “Dy, pray don’t be so gooseish! You quite mistake the matter, you know! Indeed, it is abominable of you to think such horrid things, besides being excessively embarrassing!”
“Don’t you try to bamboozle me!” replied her brother, shaking off her hand. “Are you going to name your friends, sir, or are you not?”
“You wouldn’t remember ‘em if I did. What you need is a damper: you’re as drunk as a brewer’s horse!”
“Oh, no, I’m not! I’ll tell you what you are! A damned loose fish! A regular hedge-bird! A man-milliner, by God! Cowhearted!”
“If you ain’t stale-drunk in the morning, come round to my place, and I’ll dashed well show you how cowhearted I am!” promised Mr. Hethersett, stung by these opprobrious terms. “It’ll be bellows to mend with you, what’s more! I’ve seen you sport your canvas at Jackson’s, and when it comes to handy-blows you ain’t any better than a moulder!”
“Now, by God—I” ejaculated the Viscount, squaring up to him.
The jarvey called out approvingly: “A mill, a mill!” Nell flung herself between the two incensed gentlemen; and Mr. Fancot, who had been standing wrapped in thought, suddenly announced his intention of driving to Watier’s in the hack, and disappeared round the back of the coach.
“Dysart, how dare you be so uncivil!” Nell said hotly. Pray don’t heed him, Felix! I was never so mortified! Dysart, if you say anothe
r word to Felix—”
“It don’t signify!” interrupted Mr. Hethersett, who had had time to recollect the impropriety of engaging in fisticuffs in a lady’s presence. “Forgot myself!” He looked at the Viscount. “If you want to fight, you can tell me so tomorrow! I’m going to escort her ladyship home now.”
“Oh, no, you ain’t!” retorted the Viscount. “I am going to take her home! Yes, and I’m dashed well going to tell Cardross what sort of a May-game you’ve been playing, my buck!”
“Oh, dear, what are we to do?” said Nell distractedly. “Felix, there are a couple of men coming towards us!”
“Good God! There’s nothing for it: we shall have to take him along with us. Get into the hack, cousin!”
“Take him with us! But if Cardross sees him in this shocking state—!”
“Lord, Giles knows what he is!” said Mr. Hethersett impatiently.
“Good heavens!” said Nell rather faintly. “Then that must have been what he meant! How very dreadful!”
“Here, wait a bit!” suddenly said the Viscount. “Where’s Corny? Can’t leave Corny behind: it’s his birthday!”
“Well, thank goodness he has gone at least!” said Nell, as Mr. Hethersett handed her up into the coach. “If only we could persuade Dy—Oh!”
“Good God, what’s the matter?” demanded Mr. Hethersett, as she recoiled from the vehicle.
“He hasn’t gone!” said Nell despairingly. “He’s inside, and I think he’s fallen asleep!”
“Well, I’ll be gormed!” exclaimed the jarvey, peering into the coach. “‘E must have crope round when I wasn’t a-watching of ‘im, and got in by t’other door. Now we’ll ‘ave to ‘aul ‘im out again!”
“No, no, pray don’t!” begged Nell, hurriedly getting into the coach. “Only let us go away from here!”
“But I can’t let you drive about the town with a couple of ensign-bearers!” expostulated Mr. Hethersett. “Oh, my God, if it ain’t Bottisham bearing down on us! Well, that settles it: we can’t stay here another moment! Here, Dysart, stop looking for Fancot under the hack! He’s in it!” With this, he thrust the Viscount into the coach, gave a hurried direction to the jarvey, climbed into the coach himself, and slammed the door.
Chapter Fourteen
It seemed at first as though the drive to Grosvenor Square was to be enlivened by a brawl, for although the Viscount’s mind had been diverted by the loss of his friend, this aberration was but of short duration. No sooner had he satisfied himself that Mr. Fancot was still with them than he discovered that Mr. Hethersett was also with them, and took instant exception to his presence. However, before he could attempt to carry out his promise to throw him out Mr. Fancot, roused by the jolting of the wheels over the cobblestones, woke up, and demanded to know where he was.
“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: stand 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.
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