These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

Marling swung round to face him.

‘Your pleasantries are ill-timed, Alastair. I believe we shall do better if you leave us.’

‘How dare you, Edward? And the poor boy just out of his bed, with a wound in his shoulder that only escaped the lung by a bare inch!’

‘I am not concerned with Rupert’s hurts,’ said Marling cuttingly. ‘He will survive without my sympathy.’

‘Ay, but damme, I shall suffer a relapse if I have to look on your gloomy countenance much longer!’ retorted Rupert. ‘For God’s sake, smile, man!’

‘Oh yes, Edward, do smile!’ begged her ladyship. ‘It gives me a headache to see you frowning so.’

‘Fanny, you will give me five minutes in private.’

‘No, sir, I shall not. You are prodigious ill-natured to talk to me in this vein, and I protest I want no more of it.’

‘There’s for you, Marling!’ Rupert said. ‘Go and bespeak some breakfast. You’ll be better for it, I swear! ’Tis the emptiness of you makes you feel jaundiced: I know the feeling well. A ham, now, and some pasties, with coffee to wash it down will make a new man of you, stap me if it won’t!’

Lady Fanny giggled. Marling’s brow grew blacker, his eyes harder.

‘You’ll regret this, madam. You’ve trifled with me once too often.’

‘Oh, sir, I’m in no mood for your heroics! Pray keep them for Harriet! She has the taste for them, no doubt!’

‘Try ’em on Justin,’ suggested Rupert. ‘Here he is, with Léonie. Lord, what a happy gathering!’

‘For the last time, Fanny, – I shall not ask again – will you accord me a few minutes alone?’

‘Alone?’ echoed Rupert. ‘Ay, of course she will, as many as you like! Solitude’s the thing, so it is! Solitude, and a fat ham –’

‘My dear Marling, I hope I see you well?’ His Grace had come quietly in.

Marling picked up his hat.

‘I am in excellent health, I thank you, Avon.’

‘But his spirits!’ said Rupert. ‘Oh, lud!’

‘I confess,’ Marling said steadily, ‘my spirits are a little – bruised.’

‘Never say so!’ Rupert feigned astonishment. ‘You’ve had a bad crossing, Edward, and your liver’s upside down.’

Avon turned.

‘Your conversation is always so edifying, Rupert. Yet I believe we can dispense with it.’

Rupert collapsed promptly. My lady tossed her head. Avon went to the side-table, and poured out a glass of burgundy, and offered it to Marling, who waved it aside.

‘I came, sir, to fetch my wife home. As she declines to accompany me there is no more to be said. I’ll take my leave of you.’

Avon put up his quizzing glass, and through it regarded my lady.

‘Yes, Justin. I do. I am coming to Paris with you.’

‘I am gratified, of course,’ said his Grace. ‘Nevertheless, my dear, you will go with your husband.’

‘I thank you!’ Marling laughed harshly. ‘I do not take her an she comes at your bidding! She must come at mine.’

‘I w-won’t go at anyone’s b-bidding!’ Lady Fanny’s face puckered like that of a child about to cry. ‘You are very unkind!’