‘Hugh –’ Avon tapped the table with his fan. ‘Your painful anxiety impels me to inquire – what do you mean by her?’
Davenant looked his disgust.
‘My God, do you think you are amusing? I mean this: That I will have her away from you if it costs me my life.’
‘This becomes interesting,’ said Avon. ‘How will you have her away from me, and why?’
‘You can ask that? I never thought you were a hypocrite, Justin.’
Avon unfurled his fan.
‘If you were to ask me, Hugh, why I permit myself to bear with you I could not tell you.’
‘My manners are atrocious. I know it. But I’ve an affection for Léon, and if I allowed you to take her, innocent as he is –’
‘Careful, Hugh, careful!’
‘Oh, she, then! If I allowed that – I –’
‘Calm yourself, my dear. If I did not fear that you would mutilate it I would lend you my fan. May I make known mine intentions?’
‘It’s what I want!’
‘I should not have guessed that, somehow. Strange how one may be mistaken. Or even how two may be mistaken. It will surprise you to hear that I am fond of Léon.’
‘No. She will make a beautiful girl.’
‘Remind me one day to teach you how to achieve a sneer, Hugh. Yours is too pronounced, and thus is but a grimace. It should be but a faint curl of the lips. So. But to resume. You will at least be surprised to hear that I had not thought of Léonie in the light of a beautiful girl.’
‘It amazes me.’
‘That is much better, my dear. You are an apt pupil.’
‘Justin, you are impossible. This is no laughing matter!’
‘Certainly not. You see in me – a strict guardian.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I am taking Léonie to England, where I shall place her ’neath my sister’s wing until I have found some discreet lady who will act the part of duenna to my ward, Mademoiselle Léonie de Bonnard. Again the fan expresses my emotions.’ He performed a sweep in the air with it, but Hugh was staring in open-mouthed wonderment.
‘You – your ward! But – why?’
‘Oh, my reputation!’ mourned his Grace. ‘A whim, Hugh, a whim!’
‘You’ll adopt her as your daughter?’
‘As my daughter.’
‘For how long? If it be a whim only –’
‘It is not. I have a reason. Léonie will not leave me until – let us say until she finds a more fitting home.’
‘Until she marries, you mean?’
The thin black brows twitched suddenly together.
‘I did not mean that, but let it stand. All that signifies is that Léonie is as safe in my care as she would be in – I will say yours, for want of a better simile.’
Hugh rose.
‘I – you – Good God, Justin, are you jesting?’
‘I believe not.’
‘You seriously mean what you say?’
‘You seem dazed, my dear.’
‘More like a sheep, than ever, then,’ retorted Hugh, with a quick smile, and held out his hand. ‘If you are honest now – and I think you are –’
‘You overwhelm me,’ murmured his Grace.
‘– you are doing something that is –’
‘– quite unlike anything I have ever done before.’
‘Something that is damned good!’
‘But then you do not know my motives.’
‘I wonder if you yourself know your motives?’ Hugh said quietly.
‘Very obscure, Hugh. I flatter myself that I do know – full well.’
‘I am not so certain.’ Hugh sat down again. ‘Ay, you’ve amazed me. What now? Does Léon know that you have discovered his – her – fiend seize it, I am becoming involved again! – sex?’
‘She does not.’
Hugh was silent for a few moments.
‘Perhaps she will not wish to remain with you when you tell her,’ he said at last.
‘It is possible, but she is mine, and she must do as I bid her.’
Suddenly Hugh rose again, and went to the window.
‘Justin, I don’t like it.’
‘May I ask why you do not like it?’
‘She – she is too fond of you.’
‘Well?’
‘Would it not be kinder to make some arrangement – send her away?’
‘Whither, my conscientious one?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How helpful! As I do not know either, I think we may safely banish that notion.’
Hugh turned, and came back to the table.
‘Very well. I trust no harm will come of this, Justin. When shall you – put an end to her boyhood?’
‘When we arrive in England. You see, I am deferring that moment as long as may be.’
‘Why?’
‘One reason, my dear, is that she might feel shy of me in her boy’s raiment when once I knew the secret. The other – the other –’ He paused, and studied his fan, frowning. ‘Well, let us be honest. I have grown fond of Léon, and I do not want to exchange him for Léonie.’
‘I thought so,’ Hugh nodded. ‘Be kind to Léonie, Justin.’
‘It is my intention,’ bowed the Duke.
Nine
Léon and Léonie
Early in the next week Davenant left Paris for Lyons. On the same day Avon summoned his maître d’hôtel, Walker, to his presence, and informed him that he was leaving France on the morrow. Well accustomed to his master’s sudden decisions, Walker felt no surprise. He was a discreet personage with an unyielding countenance. For many years he had been in the Avon employ, and as he had proved himself to be scrupulously honest and trustworthy, the Duke had placed him in charge of his Paris establishment. As his Grace owned another establishment in St James’s Square, London, and kept both open and staffed with servants, this post was one of considerable importance. It was Walker’s duty to keep the Hôtel Avon in such strictness and order that it should always be ready for the Duke or for his brother.
When Walker left the library he went below-stairs to inform Gaston, the valet, Meekin, the groom, and Léon, the page, that they must hold themselves in readiness to depart from Paris to-morrow morning. He found Léon seated on the table in the housekeeper’s room, swinging his legs and munching a slice of cake. Madame Dubois was sitting in a large chair before the fire, dolefully regarding him. She welcomed Walker with a coy smile, for she was a comely woman, but Léon, having cast one glance towards the prim figure in the doorway, tilted his head a little, and went on eating.
‘Eh bien, m’sieur! ’ Madame smoothed her gown, smiling upon the maître d’hôtel.
‘I crave pardon thus to have disturbed you, madame.’ Walker bowed. ‘I came but to find Léon.’
Léon wriggled round to face him.
‘You perceive me, Walker,’ he said.
A slight spasm contracted Walker’s features. Alone amongst the staff Léon never gave him a prefix to his name.
‘His Grace sent for me a few moments back to tell me that he is leaving for London to-morrow. I come to warn you, Léon, that you must be ready to accompany him.’
‘Bah! He had told me that this morning,’ said Léon scornfully.
Madame nodded.
‘Yes, and he comes to eat a last cake with me, le petit.’ She sighed gustily. ‘Indeed, my heart is heavy to think I must lose thee, Léon. But thou – thou art glad, little ingrate!’
‘I have never been to England, you see,’ apologised Léon. ‘I am so excited, ma mère.’
‘Ah, c’est cela! So excited that you will forget fat old Madame Dubois.’
‘No, I swear I will not! Walker, will you have some of Madame’s cake?’
Walker drew himself up.
‘No, I thank you.’
‘Voyons, he insults your skill, ma mère !’ chuckled Léon.
‘I assure you, madame, it’s no such thing.’ Walker bowed to her and withdrew.
‘He is
like a camel,’ remarked the page placidly.
He repeated this observation to the Duke next day, as they sat in the coach, bound for Calais.
‘A camel?’ said his Grace. ‘Why?’
‘We-ll…’ Léon wrinkled his nose. ‘I saw one once, a long time ago, and I remember it walked along with its head very high, and a smile on its face, just like Walker. It was so full of dignity, Monseigneur. You see?’
‘Perfectly,’ yawned his Grace, leaning farther back into the corner.
‘Do you think that I shall like England, Monseigneur?’ asked Léon presently.
‘It is to be hoped that you will, my infant.’
‘And – and do you think that I shall feel sick upon the ship?’
‘I trust not.’
‘So do I,’ said Léon devoutly.
As it chanced the journey was quite uneventful. They spent one night on the road to Calais, and embarked next day on a night boat. Much to Léon’s disgust, the Duke sent him into his cabin, with orders to remain there. For perhaps the first time in all his Channel crossings Avon remained on deck. Once he went down to the tiny cabin, and finding Léon fast asleep in a chair, lifted him, and put him gently into a bunk, covering him with a fur rug. Then he went out again to pace the deck until morning.
When Léon appeared on deck next morning he was shocked to find that his master had remained there all night, and said so. Avon pulled one of his curls, and, having breakfasted, went below to sleep until Dover was reached. Then he emerged, and with becoming languor went ashore, Léon at his heels. Gaston had disembarked one of the first, and by the time the Duke arrived at the inn on the quay had roused the landlord to activity. A private parlour awaited them, with lunch set out on the table.
Léon eyed the meal with some disapproval and not a little surprise. A sirloin of English beef stood at one end of the table, flanked by a ham and some capons. A fat duck was at the other end, with pasties and puddings. There was also a flagon of burgundy, and a jug of foaming ale.
‘Well, my Léon?’
Léon turned. His Grace had entered the room, and stood behind him, fanning himself. Léon looked sternly at the fan, and seeing the condemnation in his eyes Avon smiled.
‘The fan does not find favour with you, infant?’
‘I do not like it at all, Monseigneur.’
‘You distress me. What think you of our English meats?’
Léon shook his head.
‘Terrible, Monseigneur. It is – it is barbare !’
The Duke laughed, and came to the table. At once Léon went to him, intending to stand behind his chair.
‘Child, you will observe that two places are laid. Seat yourself.’ He shook out his napkin, and picked up the carving-knife and fork. ‘Will you essay the duck?’
Léon sat down shyly.
‘Yes, please, Monseigneur.’ He was served, and began to eat, rather nervously, but daintily, as Avon saw.
‘So – so this is Dover,’ remarked Léon presently, in a politely conversational tone.
‘You are right, infant,’ replied his Grace. ‘This is Dover. You are pleased to approve?’
‘Yes, Monseigneur. It is queer to see everything English, but I like it. I should not like it if you were not here, of course.’
Avon poured some burgundy into his glass.
‘I fear you are a flatterer,’ he said severely.
Léon smiled.
‘No, Monseigneur. Did you remark the landlord?’
‘I know him well. What of him?’
‘He is so little, and so fat, with such a bright, bright nose! When he bowed to you, Monseigneur, I thought he would burst! It looked so droll!’ His eyes twinkled.
‘A horrible thought, my child. You would appear to have a slightly gruesome sense of humour.’
Léon gave a delighted chuckle.
‘Do you know, Monseigneur,’ he said, wrestling with a stubborn joint, ‘I had never seen the sea until yesterday! It is very wonderful, but just for a little while it made the inside of me go up and down. Like that.’ He described the motion with his hand.
‘My dear Léon! Really, I cannot have that topic discussed at meal time. You make me feel quite ill.’
‘Well, it made me feel ill, Monseigneur. But I was not sick. I shut my mouth very tightly –’
Avon picked up his fan and dealt Léon a smart rap with it across the knuckles.
‘Continue to keep it shut, infant, I beg of you.’
Léon rubbed his hand, looking at the Duke in aggrieved wonderment.
‘Yes, Monseigneur, but –’
‘And do not argue.’
‘No, Monseigneur. I was not going to argue. I only –’
‘My dear Léon, you are arguing now. I find you most wearisome.’
‘I was trying to explain, Monseigneur,’ said Léon, with great dignity.
‘Then please do not. Confine your energy to the duck.’
‘Yes, Monseigneur.’ Léon continued eating in silence for perhaps three minutes. Then he looked up again. ‘When do we begin to go to London, Monseigneur?’
‘What an original way of putting it!’ remarked his Grace. ‘We begin in about an hour’s time.’
‘Then when I have finished my déjeuner may I go for a walk?’
‘I am desolated to have to refuse my permission. I want to talk to you.’
‘To talk to me?’ echoed Léon.
‘Madness, you think? I have something of import to say. What is the matter now?’
Léon was examining a black pudding with an expression akin to loathing on his face.
‘Monseigneur, this’ – he pointed disdainfully at the pudding– ‘this is not for people to eat! Bah!’
‘Is aught amiss with it?’ inquired his Grace.
‘Everything!’ said Léon crushingly. ‘First I am made to feel sick upon that ship, and then I am made to feel sick again by an evil – pudding, you call it? Voyons, it is a good name! Pig-pudding! Monseigneur, you must not eat it! It will make you –’
‘Pray do not describe my probable symptoms as well as your own, infant. You have certainly been prodigiously ill-used, but endeavour to forget it! Eat one of those sweetmeats.’
Léon selected one of the little cakes, and started to nibble it.
‘Do you always eat these things in England, Monseigneur?’ he asked, pointing to the beef and the puddings.
‘Invariably, my infant.’
‘I think it would be better if we did not stay very long here,’ said Léon firmly. ‘I have finished now.’
‘Then come here.’ His Grace had moved to the fire, and was sitting on the oaken settle. Léon sat beside him obediently.
‘Yes, Monseigneur?’
Avon started to play with his fan, and his mouth was rather grim. He was frowning slightly, and Léon racked his brains to think how he could have offended his master. Suddenly Avon laid his hand on Léon’s and held it in a cool strong clasp.
‘My infant, it has become necessary for me to put an end to the little comedy you and I have been playing.’ He paused, and saw the big eyes grow apprehensive. ‘I am very fond of Léon, my child, but it is time he was Léonie.’
The little hand in his quivered.
‘Mon-seigneur!’
‘Yes, my child. You see, I have known from the very first.’
Léonie sat rigid, staring up into his face with the look of a stricken creature in her eyes. Avon put up his free hand to pat her white cheek.
‘It is no such great matter after all, infant,’ he said gently.
‘You – you won’t send me – away?’
‘I will not. Have I not bought you?’
‘I – I may still be your page?’
‘Not my page, child. I am sorry, but it is not possible.’
All the rigidity went out of the slight frame. Léonie gave one great sob, and buried her face in his coat sleeve.
‘Oh please! Oh please!’
‘Infant, sit up! Come I object to having my
coat ruined. You have not heard all yet.’
‘I won’t, I won’t!’ came the muffled voice. ‘Let me be Léon! Please let me be Léon!’
His Grace lifted her.
‘Instead of my page you shall be my ward. My daughter. Is it so terrible?’
‘I do not want to be a girl! Oh please, Monseigneur, please.’ Léonie slipped from the settle to the floor, and knelt at his feet, gripping his hand. ‘Say yes, Monseigneur! Say yes!’
‘No, my babe. Dry your tears and listen to me. Don’t tell me you have lost your handkerchief.’
Léonie drew it from her pocket, and mopped her eyes.
‘I don’t w-want to be – a girl!’
‘Nonsense, my dear. It will be far more pleasant to be my ward than my page.’
‘No!’
‘You forget yourself,’ said his Grace sternly. ‘I will not be contradicted.’
Léonie gulped down another sob.
‘I – I am sorry, Monseigneur.’
‘It’s very well. As soon as we have come to London I am going to take you to my sister – no, do not speak – my sister, Lady Fanny Marling. You see, infant, you cannot live with me until I have found some lady to act as – ah – duenna.’
‘I will not! I will not!’
‘You will do as I say, my good child. My sister with clothe you as befits your new position, and teach you to be – a girl. You will learn these things –’
‘I will not! Never, never!’
‘– because I command it. Then, when you are ready, you shall come back to me, and I will present you to Society.’
Léonie tugged at his hand.
‘I won’t go to your sister! I will be just Léon! You cannot make me do as you say, Monseigneur; I will not !’
His Grace looked down at her in some exasperation.
‘If you were still my page I should know how to deal with you,’ he said.
‘Yes, yes! Beat me, if you like, and let me still be your page! Ah, please, Monseigneur!’
‘Unhappily it is impossible. Recollect, my infant, that you are mine, and must do as I say.’
Léonie promptly collapsed into a crumpled heap beside the settle, and sobbed into the hand she held. Avon allowed her to weep unrestrainedly for perhaps three minutes. Then he drew his hand away.
‘You want me to send you away altogether?’
‘Oh!’ Léonie started up. ‘Monseigneur, you would not! You – oh no, no!’
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