The Masqueraders

‘How?’ inquired my lord. ‘No one but myself knew of it.’

‘I am assuming, sir, for the moment, that you are not Tremaine.’

‘An impertinence,’ said my lord. ‘But I suppose I must forgive it. Pray continue. The legal mind is very wonderful.’

‘And if – I only say if, sir – you are not Tremaine, you might have heard this from the man himself.’

My lord looked at him in blank astonishment. It was Clevedale who spoke. ‘Lord, what in the plague’s name would Tremaine tell such a secret for?’

‘It is a possibility, my lord: I do not say a probability.’

‘This is all quite ridiculous,’ said my Lord Barham. ‘Moreover I am becoming weary of it. I bring you papers, and you say I stole them. I show you where I hid my own portrait, years ago, and you say I was told of it. I show you a ring, and you say I stole that. What a pity it is I have no birthmarks! Or would you say that I had stolen them as well? It is a very good thing that I brought my friend Mr Fontenoy. And here is Mr Clapperly as well may remember a little about me.’

‘Vividly, sir.’ Mr Clapperly inclined his head.

‘Then I am sure you will remember the circumstances of my departure, all those years ago?’

‘I do, sir.’

‘Then I beg you will correct me if I should err in my tale. It is quite short.’ He offered snuff to Clevedale. ‘My own mixture, Clevedale. You will like it. Well, gentlemen, you know that I was never at one with my father: he could not appreciate the genius that was in me. I disliked my brother only less than he disliked me. He hated me, I believe, but he would not have chosen to set you in my shoes, cousin, in spite of it. He was, after all, a Tremaine. I was no doubt a wild youth. I can remember incidents here and there – but no matter. I overspent my allowance with amazing regularity. I shall be careful to put no limits to my son’s income. Then I committed the indiscretion of falling in love with a lady called Maria Banstead. She was the daughter of a farmer.’

‘Near Barham,’ nodded Mr Clapperly.

My lord looked ironically across at him. ‘Your memory fails you, sir. Not in the least near Barham. She lived at Culverly, on the estate of my aunt Johanna’s husband. I was, I admit, young, and possibly hot-headed. But I have never regretted my marriage. An incomparable creature! I led her a sad dance I fear me. I eloped with her secretly, and went to France, just as soon as I heard that I had been thrown off by my indignant family. That is my story, gentlemen. Is it true?’

It was admitted to be true. My lord indicated the clerk with a wave of his hand. ‘Tell your clerk, Brent, to call my man in. He is in the hall.’

‘Certainly, my lord. Go, Fawley.’ It was the first time he had addressed my lord by his title and Rensley flushed as he heard him.

The clerk went out, and a moment later John stood in the doorway.

Everyone looked towards him, since it seemed he had been called for some special purpose. But my lord’s eyes were on Mrs Staines’ face. ‘He does not change much with the passing of time, I believe,’ he said.

Mrs Staines was staring. The colour left her face, and she put up a hand to her ample bosom. ‘Johnny!’ she faltered. ‘Oh, dearie, dearie, am I dreaming?’

Burton was incredulous. ‘It’s never our John!’ he gasped. ‘Bless my soul, but it is really yourself, John?’

‘Ay, it’s me,’ John said grimly and sustained the shock of having his sister cast herself on his chest. ‘Well, Maggie, how do you, eh? Remember where you are, lass!’

Mrs Staines was quite oblivious of her surroundings. ‘Oh, Johnny, to think of you come back to us after all these years! Snakes, and I scarcely knew you, dearie, you’ve grown so grey! Sam, do you know your brother?’

Mr Samuel Burton gripped Mr John Burton’s hand. ‘Well, John!’ was all he could find to say.

‘Did you ever learn to master the bay mare?’ John asked grinning.

It appeared to be an old jest. Samuel shook with laughter. ‘Lordy, John, to think you’d remember that! Ay, I was naught but a stripling then, and the mare the tricksiest piece – well, to think you’d remember!’

Surprise had held the others spellbound, but Mr Brent recovered himself. ‘Mrs Staines, do you recognise this man?’

‘Oh, the legal mind!’ murmured my lord.

‘Why, of course I do, sir! It’s our John, who went off years ago soon after Master Robert.’ She turned again to her brother. ‘And you’ve been with him all the time! Eh, and we never thought of it! But you was always saying you’d be off to Americky to try your fortune, Johnny, and we made sure you’d gone there.’

Mr Brent put a question no one thought needful. ‘Is this gentleman Viscount Barham?’ he said.

John looked scornful. ‘Ay, of course he is,’ he answered. ‘Is there ever another would have that nose but a Tremaine?’

‘You have been with him all these years?’