Thirty-two
His Grace of Avon Astonishes Everyone for the Last Time
My dear Comte,’ said Fanny, in a voice of long-suffering, ‘I have not seen Justin since that terrible night.’
Armand threw out his hands.
‘But it is over a week ago!’ he cried. ‘Where is he? Where is the child?’
Lady Fanny cast up her eyes. Davenant it was who answered.
‘If we knew, Armand, we should be more at ease, I assure you. The last we saw of Avon was at Madame du Deffand’s.’
‘Where did he go?’ demanded Armand. ‘Did he not return here at all?’
Marling shook his head.
‘He vanished,’ he said. ‘We knew that he meant to set out for Anjou after the soirée, in search of Léonie, but he did not tell us exactly where he was bound. His valet is with him, and he has taken the light chaise. That is all we know.’
Armand sat down weakly.
‘But – but did he set out in his ball-dress?’ he said. ‘He must surely have returned here first to change it for something more convenable !’
‘He didn’t,’ Fanny replied positively. ‘That gold dress is not in his room. We looked.’
‘Fi, donc! ’ cried Armand. ‘Is he travelling through France in it?’
‘I should hardly think so.’ Davenant was amused. ‘He will have halted somewhere for the night, and if I know aught of Justin he did not set out without some baggage.’
Armand looked round helplessly.
‘And not one of you in his confidence!’ he said. ‘It becomes serious! Three times have I come to see –’
‘Four,’ said my lady wearily.
‘Is it so, madame? Four times, then, I have come to see if you have news of him, and of my niece! What can have happened, think you?’
Davenant looked at him.
‘We try not to think, Armand. Believe me, our anxiety is as great as yours. We do not know whether Léonie be alive or dead.’
Lady Fanny blew her nose, and cleared her throat.
‘And we can’t do anything!’ she said. ‘We must just sit idle, waiting!’
Marling patted her hand.
‘You at least have not been idle, my love.’
‘No, indeed!’ Armand turned to her. ‘Madame, your kindness to my unfortunate sister overwhelms me! I can find no words! That you should have brought her here, and housed her – Madame, I can only thank –’
‘Oh, fiddle!’ said Fanny, reviving. ‘What else could I do? She is in no fit case to be alone, I do assure you. At one time I feared she was like to die of her hysterics, pour soul! She has seen a priest, and since she wrote her confession I do think she is easier. If only Justin would send us word! I cannot sleep o’ nights for thinking of what may have befallen that poor, poor child!’
Davenant stirred the fire to a blaze.
‘In truth,’ he said, ‘there can be no ease for any of us, until we know her to be safe.’ His smile went awry. ‘The house is like a tomb since she left it.’
No one answered him. Rupert walked in, to an uncomfortable silence.
‘Hey, in the dumps again?’ he said breezily. ‘What, Armand here again? You’d best come and live with us, and ha’ done with it!’
‘I don’t know how you can find the heart to laugh, Rupert!’ said my lady.
‘Why not?’ replied the graceless Rupert, coming to the fire. ‘Justin told us that he knew where Léonie had gone, and I don’t see him failing now, Fan, damme, I don’t! I’ll lay a monkey he’ll bring her back before the week’s out, safe and sound.’
‘If he finds her,’ Marling said quietly. ‘It’s more than a week now, Rupert.’
‘That’s right, Edward,’ retorted his lordship. ‘Look on the cheerful side! Stap me if ever I met such a gloomy fellow! We don’t know how far Justin may have had to go.’
‘But he’s sent us no word, Rupert!’ Fanny said anxiously. ‘This silence frightens me!’
Rupert regarded her in some surprise.
‘Lord, and did you ever know Justin send word of what he would be at?’ he demanded. ‘He’ll play his own game, mark my words! He’s not one to take others into his confidence, and he don’t need any help.’ He chuckled. ‘We saw that on Tuesday last, so we did! The man likes to keep us in the dark, and that’s all there is to it.’
A lackey announced my Lord Merivale, and Anthony came in.
‘No news?’ he asked, bowing over Fanny’s hand.
‘No, alas!’
Rupert made room for my lord on the couch.
‘Fan’s in the dumps over it,’ he said. ‘I’m telling her she should have more faith in Justin.’ He wagged his finger at her. ‘He’s won every trick in the game, Fan, and he wouldn’t be Justin an he lost the last.’
‘Faith, I believe Rupert is right,’ Merivale agreed. ‘I am fast coming to think Avon omnipotent.’
Marling spoke gravely.
‘He is a very dangerous man,’ he said. ‘It will be long before I forget the happenings at that soirée.’
Rupert was disgusted.
‘Y’know, Edward, you’re a kill-joy,’ he said.
Fanny shuddered.
‘Oh, Edward, pray do not speak of it! It was horrible, horrible!’
‘I do not wish to speak ill of the dead,’ Davenant said, ‘but it was – justice.’
‘Ay, and he did it well, by Gad!’ said Rupert. ‘I can see him now, standing there like – damme, like an executioner! But he was devilish, oh, he was devilish! He had me fascinated, I give you my word!’
The door opened.
‘Madame est servie,’ bowed a lackey.
Fanny rose.
‘You’ll dine with us, Comte? And you, Anthony?’
‘I trespass upon your hospitality!’ Armand protested.
‘Devil a bit, man!’ said Rupert. ‘It’s Avon’s hospitality you trespass on, and our patience.’
Fanny laughed.
‘Disagreeable boy! Comte, will you give me your arm? I protest I am shy amongst so many of you men!’
‘What of Madame?’ Marling asked, as she passed him.
‘She has a tray in her room,’ Fanny replied. ‘I cannot induce her to join us yet, and indeed, I think she is better alone.’
So they went into the dining-room, and seated themselves round the long table, Fanny at one end, and Marling at the other.
‘Y’know I scarce dare venture abroad nowadays,’ remarked Rupert, shaking out his napkin. ‘Wherever I go I’m pounced on for news.’
‘Ay, no one seems able to believe that we know no more than the rest of the world,’ said Davenant.
‘And the people who flock to the house to inquire if Léonie is safe!’ said my lady. ‘This very day I have received Condé, and de Richelieu, and the de la Roques! The child will have a great welcome when – if – if she returns.’
‘Plague take your “ifs”, Fan!’ said Rupert. ‘Will you have claret, Tony?’
‘Burgundy, I thank you, scamp.’
‘I have ceased to answer the letters,’ said Fanny. ‘People have been very kind, but in truth I cannot hope to reply to all.’
‘Kind?’ snorted Rupert. ‘Damned inquisitive, is what I say!’
‘Armand, what becomes of de Valmé – I mean, Bonnard?’
Armand laid down his fork.
‘If you will believe me, the boy is almost glad!’ he said. ‘He understood not in the least what was toward at Madame du Deffand’s that night, but when I explained the matter to him – what do you think he said?’
‘We don’t know,’ said Rupert. ‘We’ve enough mystery without you trying to start a fresh one, stap me if we’ve not!’
‘Rupert!’ My lady frowned upon him. ‘Rude boy!’
‘He said,’ Armand went on, ‘“At last, at last I may have a farm!”’ He looked round impressively. ‘Did you ever hear the like of it?’
‘Never,’ said Davenant gravely. ‘And so?’
‘I shall buy him a farm, of cour
se, and settle money upon him. I suggested that he might wish to remain in Paris, and assured him of my protection, but no! He hates town-life, if you please!’
‘Mad,’ said Rupert with conviction.
Merivale started up.
‘Listen!’ he said sharply.
Outside in the hall was some stir, as of an arrival. Those in the dining-room sprang up, looking half shamefacedly at each other.
‘A – a caller,’ Fanny said. ‘I’m sure it’s only –’
The door was flung open, and his Grace of Avon stood upon the threshold, booted and spurred, and great-coated. Beside him, her hand in his, was Léonie, flushed and radiant. She had shed her cloak and hat, and her bright curls were tumbled.
There was an outcry. Fanny ran forward, exclaiming incoherently; Rupert waved his napkin over his head.
‘What did I tell you?’ he shouted. ‘Mademoiselle de Saint-Vire!’
His Grace raised one white hand, holding them in check. A curiously proud smile hovered above his mouth.
‘No, Rupert,’ he said, and bowed slightly. ‘I have the honour to present to you all – my Duchess.’
‘Thunder an’ turf !’ gasped Rupert, and surged forward.
Fanny reached Léonie first.
‘Oh, my sweet life! I am so glad – I can hardly believe – where did you find her, Justin? Silly, silly child! We have been in such a taking – Kiss me again, my love!’
Rupert pushed her aside.
‘Hey, you little madcap!’ he said, and kissed her soundly. ‘What a sister you have given me, Justin! I knew you’d find her! But married already, egad! It beats all, so it does!’
Merivale thrust him away.
‘My dear little Léonie!’ he said. ‘Justin, I felicitate you!’
Then Marling and Davenant in their turn pushed forward. Armand grasped Avon’s hand.
‘And my permission?’ he asked with mock dignity.
Avon snapped his fingers.
‘So much for your permission, my dear Armand,’ he said, and looked across at Léonie, surrounded by the vociferous family.
‘Where was she?’ Armand tugged at his sleeve.
His Grace was still watching Léonie.
‘Where was she? Where I had expected her to be. In Anjou, with the Curé I spoke of,’ he said. ‘Well, Fanny? Have I your approval?’
She embraced him.
‘My dear, ’tis what I planned for you months ago. But to be married thus secretly when I had dreamed of a truly magnificent wedding! It’s too bad, I declare! Dear, dear child! I could weep for joy!’
A hush fell. In the doorway, shrinking, Madame de Saint-Vire stood, her eyes fixed on Léonie. There was a moment’s uncomfortable silence. Then Léonie went forward, and put out her hand with pretty hesitancy.
‘Ma – mère ?’ she said.
Madame gave a shattering sob, and clung to her. Léonie put an arm about her waist, and led her quietly out.
Fanny’s handkerchief appeared.
‘The dear, sweet child!’ she said huskily.
Davenant took Avon’s hand, and wrung it.
‘Justin, I cannot find words to tell you how glad I am!’
‘My dear Hugh, this is most unexpected,’ drawled his Grace. ‘I made sure of a despondent head-shake.’
Hugh laughed.
‘No, no, my friend, not this time! You have learned to love another better than yourself at last, and I believe that you will make your Duchess a good husband.’
‘It is mine intention,’ said his Grace, and struggled out of his coat. There was a tinge of colour in his cheeks, but he put up his glass in the old manner, and surveyed the room. ‘My house seems to be remarkably full of people,’ he observed. ‘Is it possible we were expected?’
‘Expected?’ echoed Rupert. ‘Stap me, but that’s rich! We’ve done naught but expect you for the past ten days, I’ll have you know! It’s very well for you to go careering off to Anjou, but it’s mighty poor sport for us. What with Armand hopping in and out like a jack-in-the-box, and Madame upstairs with the vapours, and half Paris forcing its way in to nose out the mystery, the house is a veritable ants’ nest. I believe Merivale still sleeps with de Châtelet, for I don’t see him here at breakfast, thank the Lord!’
‘What I want to know,’ said Merivale, ignoring his lordship, ‘is this: did you journey all the way to Anjou in that preposterous gold dress?’
‘Faith, he must have startled the countryside!’ chuckled Rupert.
‘No, my friend, no,’ sighed his Grace. ‘I changed it for more sober garments at the first halt. Armand, is all well?’
‘Completely, Justin! My sister wrote her confession as soon as she was able, and mine erstwhile nephew is to have a farm, and retire from Society. I owe you a debt of gratitude which I can never hope to repay.’
His Grace poured himself out a glass of burgundy.
‘I have taken payment, my dear, in the person of your niece,’ he said, and smiled.
Then Léonie came in, and went at once to Avon’s side.
‘My mother desires to be left alone,’ she said gravely. The sparkle came into her eyes again. ‘Oh, I am so very pleased to see you all again!’
Rupert nudged Davenant.
‘Look at Justin’s face!’ he whispered. ‘Did you ever see aught to equal the pride of him? Léonie, I’m devilish hungry, and with your permission I’ll go on with my capon.’
‘I am very hungry too,’ she nodded. ‘Madame, you have no idea how nice it is to be a married lady!’
‘Oh, have I not indeed?’ cried my lady. ‘How am I to take that?’ She led Léonie to her own place at the foot of the table. ‘Sit down, my love!’
‘Madame, that is where you sit!’ Léonie said.
‘My sweet, I am a guest in your house now,’ said Fanny, and curtsied.
Léonie looked at Avon inquiringly.
‘Yes, infant. Sit down.’
‘Voyons, I feel very important!’ Léonie said, settling herself in the high-backed chair. ‘Rupert shall sit beside me on one side, and – and –’ she debated – ‘M. de Saint-Vire – I mean, my uncle, on the other.’
‘Very prettily done, my dear,’ nodded her ladyship, and went to a seat on Avon’s right.
‘And since I am now a Duchess,’ said Léonie, twinkling, ‘Rupert must treat me with respect, n’est-ce pas, Monseigneur ?’
Avon smiled at her across the table.
‘You have only to say the word, mignonne, and he shall be cast forth.’
‘Respect be damned!’ said Rupert. ‘I’ll have you remember you’re my sister now, child! Lord, where are my wits!’ He sprang up, wine-glass in hand. ‘I give you all a toast!’ he said. ‘The Duchess of Avon!’
They rose as one.
‘The Duchess!’ Davenant bowed.
‘My dearest sister!’ Fanny cried.
‘My wife!’ said his Grace softly.
Léonie stood up, blushing, and taking Rupert’s hand, jumped on to her chair.
‘Thank you very much!’ she said. ‘May I give a toast, please?’
‘Ay, bless you!’ said Rupert.
‘Monseigneur!’ Léonie said, and made him a quaint little bow. ‘Oh, where is my glass? Rupert, hand it up to me quickly!’
The Duke’s health was duly drunk.
‘And now,’ said Léonie, ‘I drink to Rupert, because he has been very good, and useful to me!’
‘Here’s to you, brave lad!’ said his lordship gravely. ‘What now, minx?’
Still perched upon the chair Léonie said gleefully:
‘Voyons, I get higher and higher in the world!’
‘You’ll fall off the chair if you jump like that, silly chit!’ Rupert warned her.
‘Do not interrupt me,’ said Léonie reprovingly. ‘I am making a speech.’
‘Lord save us, what next will you be at?’ Rupert said, unrepentant.
‘Tais-toi, imbécile!… First I was a peasant, and then I became a page. Then I was made Monseig
neur’s ward, and now I am a Duchess! I am become very respectable, n’est-ce pas ?’
His Grace was at her side, and lifted her down from the chair.
‘My infant,’ he said, ‘duchesses do not dance on chairs, nor do they call their brothers “imbécile”.’
Léonie twinkled irrepressibly.
‘I do,’ she said firmly.
Rupert shook his head at her.
‘Justin’s in the right of it,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to mend your ways, spitfire. No more bouquets from Princes of the Blood, eh, Justin? Dignity! That’s the thing! You must let your hair grow too, and speak to me politely. I’ll be pinked an I’ll have a sister who tells all my friends I’m an imbecile! Politeness, my lady, and some of your husband’s haughtiness! That’s what you must have, isn’t it, Fan?’
‘Ah, bah!’ said the Duchess of Avon.
About the Author
Author of over fifty books, Georgette Heyer is one of the best-known and best-loved of all historical novelists, making the Regency period her own. Her first novel, The Black Moth, published in 1921, was written at the age of fifteen to amuse her convalescent brother; her last was My Lord John. Although most famous for her historical novels, she also wrote twelve detective stories. Georgette Heyer died in 1974 at the age of seventy-one.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
About the Author
Georgette Heyer - [Alastair 01] Page 34