Devil's Cub (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 2)

‘With Vidal – at least, I went with him, but of course I did not elope, if that is what you mean! I hate Vidal! I wouldn’t marry him for the world.’

‘No, my girl, you’d not have the chance,’ struck in the Marquis.

Léonie at last released Mr Comyn’s hand, which all this time she had been warmly clasping. ‘Do not quarrel, mes enfants. I find all this very hard to understand. Please explain to me, one of you!’

‘They’re all mad, every one of ’em,’ said Rupert with conviction. He had put up his glass again, and was observing his nephew’s attire through it. ‘Blister it, the boy can’t spend one week without being in a fresh broil! Swords, eh? Well, I’m not saying that ain’t better than those barbarous pistols of yours, but why in thunder you must be for ever fighting. – Where’s the corpse?’

‘Never mind about that!’ interrupted Léonie impatiently. ‘I will have all of this explained to me at once!’ She turned once more to Mr Comyn, who had by now pulled on his boots and was feeling more able to face her. She smiled engagingly at him. ‘My son is in a very bad temper and Juliana is not at all sensible, so I shall ask you to tell me what has happened.’

Mr Comyn bowed. ‘I shall be happy to oblige you, ma’am. In fact, when your grace entered this room, I was about to make a communication of a private nature to his lordship.’

Vidal, who had gone over to the fireplace, and was staring down into the red embers, lifted his head. ‘What is it you have to say to me?’

‘My lord, it is a communication I should have desired to impart to you alone, but if you wish I will speak now.’

‘Tell me and be done with it,’ said my lord curtly, and resumed his study of the fire.

Mr Comyn bowed again. ‘Very well, sir. I must first inform your lordship that when I had the honour of making Miss Challoner’s acquaintance at the house of Mme. de Charbonne in Paris –’

Léonie had sat down in the armchair, but started up again. ‘Mon Dieu, the friend of Juliana! Why did I not perceive that that must be so?’

‘Because if anyone spoke a word about aught save Dijon you would not listen,’ said Rupert severely. ‘And that reminds me, Vidal: what in thunder brought you here? I’ve been puzzling over it all the way, and stap me if I can make it out.’

‘I had a reason,’ Vidal answered briefly.

‘It does not matter in the least,’ said her grace. ‘But it was very stupid of me not to see that of course the friend of Juliana must be this Mary Challoner. It was stupid of you too, Rupert. More stupid.’

‘Stupid of me? Lord, how the devil should I guess Vidal would take his –’ He encountered a sudden fiery glance from his nephew, and stopped short. ‘Oh, very well!’ he said. ‘I’m mum.’

‘So you went to Tante Elisabeth?’ cried Juliana. ‘I see!’

Mr Comyn, who had waited in vain for the interruptions to cease, saw that he must be firm if he wished to make himself heard in this vociferous family. He cleared his throat, and continued loudly: ‘As I was saying, my lord, when I first had the honour of making Miss Challoner’s better acquaintance I was under the impression that not only was your lordship’s suit disagreeable to her, but that you yourself were constrained to wed the lady out of consideration – which I confess surprised me – for her reputation, and were not prompted by any of the tenderer feelings. Being convinced of this, I had little compunction, upon Miss Marling’s sundering our secret betrothal, in offering for Miss Challoner’s hand; an arrangement which I believed would be preferable to her than a marriage with your lordship.’

My Lord Rupert, who had been listening in rapt admiration to this speech, said in what he imagined to be a whisper: ‘Wonderful, ain’t it, Léonie? Never heard aught to equal it. The boy always talks like that, y’know.’

Juliana said throbbingly: ‘Indeed, Frederick? And the marriage was, I need hardly ask, more to your taste than our contract?’

‘Madam,’ replied Mr Comyn, looking steadily across at her, ‘when you informed me that you had no desire to wed one so far removed from your world as myself, it mattered very little to me whom I married. I had for Miss Challoner a profound respect; and on this I believed it would be possible to lay the foundations of a tolerably happy marriage. Miss Challoner was so obliging as to accept my offer, and we set forth immediately for this town with what speed we could muster.’

‘Hold a minute!’ besought Rupert, suddenly alert. ‘Why Dijon? Tell me that!’

‘You take the devil of a time arriving at the point of your story,’ struck in the Marquis impatiently. ‘Be a little more brief, and to hell with your periods.’

‘I will endeavour, my lord. Upon the journey –’

‘Damn it, am I never to know why you came to Dijon?’ said Rupert despairingly.

‘Hush, Rupert! Let Mr Comyn speak!’ reproved Léonie.

‘Speak? The dratted fellow’s never ceased speaking for the past ten minutes,’ complained his lordship. ‘Well, go on, man, go on!’

‘Upon the journey,’ repeated Mr Comyn with unwearied patience, ‘I was gradually brought to realise that Miss Challoner’s affections were more deeply involved than I had supposed. Yet I could not but agree with her that a marriage with your lordship would be unsuitable in the extreme. My determination to marry her remained unshaken, for I believed your lordship to be indifferent to her. But when the late accident occurred it was apparent to anyone of the meanest intelligence that you felt for the lady all the most tender passions which any female could wish for in her future husband.’

The Marquis was watching him intently. ‘Well, man? Well?’

The question was destined to remain unanswered. A fresh interruption occurred. The landlord scratched on the door, and opened it to say: ‘There is another English monsieur desires to see M. Comyn. He calls himself Mr Hammond.’

‘Tell him to go to the devil!’ said Lord Rupert irritably. ‘Never heard of the fellow in my life! He can’t come in now.’