The Black Moth Read online

  ‘Sacrifice!’ She caught her breath. ‘You call it that!’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘I… I… I do not think that you are very wise, Mr Carr. Nor… that you… understand women… very well. She might not call it by that name.’

  ‘It would make no difference what she called it, madam. She would ruin her life, and that must never be.’

  A white rose joined its fallen brethren, pulled to pieces by fingers that trembled pitifully.

  ‘Mr Carr, if the lady… loved you… is it quite fair to her – to say nothing?’

  There was a long silence, and then my lord lied bravely.

  ‘I hope that she will – in time – forget me,’ he said.

  Diana sat very still. No more roses were destroyed; the breeze wafted the fallen petals over her feet, lightly, almost playfully. Somewhere in the hedge a bird was singing, a full-throated sobbing plaint, and from all around came an incessant chirping and twittering. The sun sent its bright rays all over the garden, bathing it in gold and happiness; but for the two in the pleasance the light had gone out, and the world was very black.

  ‘I see,’ whispered Diana at last. ‘Poor lady!’

  ‘I think it was a cursed day that saw me come into her life,’ he groaned.

  ‘Perhaps it was,’ her hurt heart made answer.

  He bowed his head.

  ‘I can only hope that she will not think too hardly of me,’ he said, very low. ‘And that she will find it in her heart to be sorry – for me – also.’

  She rose and came up to him, her skirts brushing gently over the grass, holding out her hands imploringly.

  ‘Mr Carr…’

  He would not allow himself to look into the gold-flecked eyes… He must remember Dick – his brother Dick!

  In his hand he took the tips of her fingers, and bowing, kissed them. Then he turned on his heel and strode swiftly away between the hedges towards the quiet woods, with a heart aflame with passion, and with rebellion and impotent fury. He would go somewhere quite alone and fight the devil that was prompting him to cry the truth aloud and to throw aside his burden for love, forgetting duty.

  But Diana remained standing among the scattered flowers, very still, very cold, with a look of hopeless longing in her eyes and a great hurt.

  Fifteen

  O’Hara’s Mind is Made Up

  Jim Salter folded one of my lord’s waistcoats and placed it carefully in an open valise; then he picked up a coat, and spread it on the bed preparatory to folding it in such wise that no crease should afterwards mar its smoothness. All about him my lord’s clothing was strewn; Mechlin ruffles and cravats adorned one chair, silk hose another; gorgeous coats hung on their backs; shoes of every description, red-heeled and white, riding boots and slippers, stood in a row awaiting attention; wigs perched coquettishly on handy projections, and piles of white cambric shirts peeped out from an almost finished bag.

  Jim laid the coat tenderly in the valise, coaxing it into decorous folds, and wondering at the same time where his master was. He had been out all the morning, and on his return had looked so ill that Jim had been worried, and wished that they were not leaving Horton House quite so soon. A little while ago my lord had been closeted with his host; Jim supposed he must be still there. He reached out his hand for another waistcoat, but before his fingers had touched it, he stopped, and lifted his head, listening. Hasty, impetuous footsteps sounded on the stairs, and came furiously along the corridor. The door was twisted open, and my lord stood on the threshold. Jim scanned the tired face anxiously, and noted with a sinking heart that the blue eyes were blazing and the fine lips set in a hard, uncompromising line. The slender hand gripping the door-handle twitched in a way that Jim knew full well; evidently my lord was in an uncertain mood.

  ‘Have you finished?’ rapped out Carstares.

  ‘Not quite, sir.’

  ‘I wish to leave this year, and not next if ’tis all the same to you!’

  ‘Yes, sir. I didn’t know you was in a hurry, sir.’

  There was no reply to this. My lord advanced into the room and cast one glance at his scattered baggage and another all round him.

  ‘Where is my riding dress?’

  Jim shivered in his luckless shoes.

  ‘I – er – ’tis packed sir. Do ye want it?’

  ‘Of course I want it! Do you suppose that I am going to ride in what I have on?’

  ‘I rather thought ye were driving, your honour.’

  ‘I am not. The scarlet suit at once, please.’

  He flung himself down in a chair before his dressing-table and picked up a nail-file.

  Salter eyed his reflection in the glass dismally, and made no movement to obey. After a moment my lord swung round.

  ‘Well! What are you standing there for? Didn’t you hear me?’

  ‘Ay, sir, I did, but – your pardon, sir – but do ye think ’tis wise to ride to-day for – for the first time?’

  The file slammed down on to the table.

  ‘I am riding to Horley this afternoon!’ said his master dangerously.

  ‘’Tis a matter of fifteen miles or so, your honour. Hadn’t ye better –’

  ‘Damn you, Jim, be quiet!’

  Salter gave it up.

  ‘Very well, sir,’ he said, and unearthed the required dress. ‘I’ll see the baggage goes by coach, and saddle the mare and Peter.’

  ‘Not Peter. You go in the coach.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What!’

  My lord stared at him. There had been a note of finality in the respectful tone. My lord became icy.

  ‘You forget yourself, Salter.’

  ‘I ask your pardon, sir.’

  ‘You will travel in charge of my things, as usual.’

  Jim compressed his lips, and stowed a shoe away in one corner of the bag.

  ‘You understand me?’

  ‘I understand ye well enough, sir.’

  ‘Then that is settled.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  My lord dropped his eye-glass.

  ‘What the devil do you mean – “No sir?”’

  ‘I ask your pardon, sir, an I presume, but I can’t and won’t let ye ride alone with your wound but just healed.’ There was not a hint of defiance or impertinence in the quiet voice, but it held a great determination.

  ‘You won’t, eh? Do you imagine I am a child?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Or unable to take care of myself?’

  ‘I think ye are weaker than ye know, sir.’

  ‘Oh, you do, do you?’

  Jim came up to him.

  ‘Ye’ll let me ride with ye, sir? I won’t trouble ye, and I can ride behind, but I can’t let ye go alone. Ye might faint – sir –’

  ‘I can assure you I am not like to be a pleasant companion!’ said Carstares with a savage little laugh.

  ‘Why, sir, I understand there’s something troubling ye. Will ye let me come?’

  My lord scowled up at him, then relented suddenly.

  ‘As you please.’

  ‘Thank ye, sir.’ Salter returned to his packing, cording one bag and placing it near the door, and quickly filling another. The piles of linen grew steadily smaller until they disappeared, and he retired into a cupboard to reappear with a great armful of coats and small-clothes.

  For a long while my lord sat silent staring blankly before him. He walked to the window and stood with his back to the room, looking out, then he turned and came back to his chair. Jim, watching him covertly, noted that the hard glitter had died out of his eyes, and that he looked wearier than ever.

  Carstares studied his nails for a moment in silence. Presently he spoke:

  ‘Jim.’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘I shall be – going a