The Black Moth Read online

  Miss Betty bustled about and did all she could to stanch the bleeding, and when they had comfortably settled my lord, she sat down upon the seat opposite and nodded decisively.

  ‘We can do no more, my dear – but, yes – certainly bathe his forehead with your lavender water. Dear me, what an escape! I must say I would never have thought it of Mr Everard! One would say we were living in the Stone Age! The wretch!’

  Diana shuddered.

  ‘I knew he was dreadful, but never how dreadful! How can he have found out when we were to leave Bath – and why did he waylay us so near home? Oh, I shall never be safe again!’

  ‘Nonsense, my dear! Fiddlesticks! You saw how easily he was vanquished. Depend upon it, he will realise that he has made a bad mistake to try to abduct you, and we shall not be worried with him again.’

  With this comfortable assurance, she nodded again and leant back against the cushions, watching her niece’s ministrations with a professional and slightly amused air.

  Twelve

  My Lord Dictates a Letter and Receives a Visitor

  My lord came sighing back to life. He opened his eyes wearily, and turned his head. A faint feeling of surprise stole over him. He was in a room he had never been in before, and by the window, busy with some needlework, sat a little old lady who was somehow vaguely familiar.

  ‘Who – are – you?’ he asked, and was annoyed to find his voice so weak.

  The little lady jumped, and came across to him.

  ‘Praise be to God!’ she ejaculated. ‘Likewise, bless the boy! The fever is passed.’ She laid a thin hand on his brow, and smiled down into his wondering eyes.

  ‘As cool as a cucumber, dear boy. What a mercy!’

  It was a long time since anyone had called Jack dear, or boy. He returned the smile feebly and closed his eyes.

  ‘I – do not – understand – anything,’ he murmured drowsily.

  ‘Never trouble your head then. Just go to sleep.’

  He considered this gravely for a moment. It seemed sensible enough, and he was so very, very tired. He shut his eyes with a little sigh.

  When he awoke again it was morning of the next day, and the sun streamed in the window, making him blink.

  Someone rustled forward, and he saw it was the lady who had called him dear and bidden him go to sleep.

  He smiled and a very thin hand came out of the bedclothes.

  ‘But who are you?’ he demanded a little querulously.

  Miss Betty patted his hand gently.

  ‘Still worrying your poor head over that? I am Di’s Aunt Betty – though, to be sure, you don’t know who Di is!’

  Remembrance was coming back to my lord.

  ‘Why – why – you are the lady in the coach! – Tracy – I remember!’

  ‘Well, I know nought of Tracy, but I’m the lady in the coach.’

  ‘And the other –’

  ‘That was Diana Beauleigh, my niece – the pet. You will see her when you are better.’

  ‘But – but – where am I, madam?’

  ‘Now don’t get excited, dear boy!’

  ‘I’m thirty!’ protested Jack with a wicked twinkle.

  ‘I should not have thought it, but thirty’s a boy to me, in any case!’ retorted Miss Betty, making him laugh. ‘You are in Mr Beauleigh’s house – Di’s father, and my brother. And here you will stay until you are quite recovered!’

  Jack raised himself on his elbow, grimacing at the pain the movement caused him.

  ‘Egad, madam! have I been here long?’ he demanded.

  Very firmly was he pushed back on to his pillows.

  ‘Will you be still? A nice thing ’twould be if you were to aggravate that wound of yours! You will have been here a week to-morrow. Bless my heart, what ails the boy?’ For Jack’s face took on an expression of incredulous horror.

  ‘A week, madam? Never say so!’

  ‘’Tis as true as I stand here. And a nice fright you have given us, what with nearly dying, and raving about your Dicks and your Jims!’

  My lord glanced up sharply.

  ‘Oh! So I – talked?’

  ‘Talk? Well, yes, if you can call that mixture of foreign jargon talking. Now you must be still and wait till the doctor comes again.’

  For a while Carstares lay in silence. He thought of Jim and smiled a little. ‘I could not have thought of a better punishment had I tried,’ he told himself, and then frowned. ‘Poor fellow! He’ll be off his head with fright over me. Miss – er – Betty?’

  ‘Well, and are you not asleep yet?’

  ‘Asleep, madam? Certainly not!’ he said with dignity. ‘I must write a letter.’

  ‘’Deed, an’ you shall not!’

  ‘But I must! ’Tis monstrous important, madam.’

  She shook her head resolutely.

  ‘Not until Mr Jameson gives permission,’ she said firmly.

  Jack struggled up, biting his lip.

  ‘Then I shall get up!’ he threatened.

  In an instant she was by his side.

  ‘No, no! Now lie down and be good!’

  ‘I will not lie down and be good!’

  ‘Then I shan’t let you touch a pen for weeks!’

  Jack became very masterful and frowned direfully upon her.

  ‘Madam I insist on being allowed to write that letter!’

  ‘Sir, I insist on your lying down!’

  He controlled a twitching lip.

  ‘Woe betide you unless you bring me pen and paper, Miss Betty!’

  ‘But, dear boy, reflect! You could not use your arm.’

  ‘I will use it!’ replied Jack indomitably, but he sank back on to the pillows with his eyes closed and a tiny furrow of pain between his straight brows.

  ‘I told you so!’ scolded Miss Betty, not without a note of triumph in her voice, and proceeded to rearrange the disorderly coverlet.

  The blue eyes opened wide, pleadingly.

  ‘Madam, indeed ’tis very important.’

  She could not withstand that look.

  ‘Well,’ she compromised, ‘I’ll not let you write yourself, that’s certain – but could you not dictate to me?’

  Jack brightened, and caught her hand to his lips.

  ‘Miss Betty, you are an angel!’ he told her.

  ‘Ah now, get along with you!’ She hurried away to fetch paper and ink.

  When she returned she found him plucking impatiently at the sheet, and frowning.

  ‘I am ready,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you, madam. ’Tis very kind in you –’

  ‘Nonsense!’

  He laughed weakly.

  ‘I want you to write to my servant, to bid him bring my baggage to the nearest inn –’

  ‘That will I not! I shall tell him to bring it here.’

  ‘But, Miss Betty, I cannot possibly trespass upon –’

  ‘Will you have done? Trespass indeed!’

  ‘I perceive I shall be much put upon,’ sighed Jack, and watched her lightning smile.

  ‘You BOY! Will you dictate?’

  ‘Very well, ma’am. No, I have changed my mind. I’ll have it writ to a friend, please: “Dear Miles… True to my promise… I write to you… In case… you should be worried . . . over my disappearance… be it known… that I am at –” pray, madam, where am I?’

  ‘Horton Manor, Littledean,’ she replied, writing it down.

  ‘Thank you. “I had the misfortune to injure my shoulder in a –’”

  ‘“And arm”,’ put in the scribe, inexorably.

  ‘“And arm, in a fight… and a certain very… kind lady –”’

  ‘I refuse to write that rubbish! “One of the ladies whom I rescued –”’

  ‘Good heavens, madam, you’ve not put tha