Black Moth Read online

  It was true that she had retired into her shell, a little hurt at what she termed his man’s blind obstinacy. She had laid her heart bare for him to read; she had offered herself to him as plainly as if she had spoken in terms less general than in the pleasance; she had fought desperately for her happiness, thrusting aside all thought of maiden modesty, and when she afterwards had realised what she had done, and tried to imagine what he must think of her, she had blushed dark, and mentally flayed herself for her lack of proper pride and manners. Terrified that he might think her immodest, overwhelmed with sudden shyness, she had been colder in her attitude towards him than she had intended, even in her anxiety not to appear forward. But in spite of her coldness, how intensely had she hoped that he would sense her love and all that she wanted him to know! Incomprehensible the ways of women!

  Not endowed with feminine perspicacity or intuition, how could John hope to understand her dual feelings? He only knew that he had hurt her, and that she had drawn back that she might not lay herself open to more. He could not hope to understand her when she did not fully understand herself.

  Reflecting on the swiftness with which love had come to them, he believed that with a like swiftness it might fade, at least from Diana’s memory. He told himself that he hoped for that end, but he was honest enough to know that it was the last thing in the world he wanted. The mere thought of Diana indifferent to him, or worse, another man’s bride, made him bite on his underlip and tighten his hold on the rein.

  O’Hara cast many a surreptitious glance at the stern young profile beside him, wondering whether his lordship would last out the tedious ride or no. He knew enough of Carstares’ indomitable courage to believe that he would, but he feared that it would prove too great a strain on him in his present weakened condition.

  Very wisely he made no attempt to draw Carstares out of his abstraction, but continued to push on in silence, past fields knee-deep in grass, soon to be hay, with sorrel and poppies, growing apace, long lanes with hedges high above their heads on either side, over hill and down dale – always in silence.

  Presently O’Hara fell a little to the rear that he might study his friend without palpably turning to do so. He thought he had never seen Jack’s face wear such a black look. The fine brows almost met over his nose with only two sharp furrows to separate them; the mouth was compressed, the chin a little prominent, and the eyes, staring ahead between Jenny’s nervous ears, seemed to see all without absorbing anything. One hand at his hip was clenched on his riding-whip, the other mechanically guided the mare.

  O’Hara found himself admiring the lithe grace of the man, with his upright carriage and splendid seat.

  Suddenly, as if aware that he was being studied, my lord half turned his head and met O’Hara’s eyes. He gave a tiny shrug and with it seemed to throw off his oppression. The frown vanished, and he smiled.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Miles. I am a surly fellow.’

  ‘Mayhap your shoulder troubles you,’ suggested O’Hara tactfully.

  ‘N-no, I am barely conscious of it. I’ve no excuse beyond bad manners and a worse temper.’

  From thence onward he set himself to entertain his friend, and if his laugh was sometimes rather forced, at least his wit was enough to keep O’Hara in a pleasurable state of amusement for some miles.

  By the time they arrived at Thurze House, Carstares was suspiciously white about the mouth, and there was once more a furrow – this time of pain – between his brows. But he was able to greet my Lady O’Hara with fitting elegance and to pay her at least three neat, laughing compliments before O’Hara took him firmly by the arm and marched him to his room, there to rest and recover before the dinner hour.

  Shortly after, Jim arrived, highly contented with his new surroundings, and able to give a satisfactory verdict on Jenny’s stalling. He had quite accepted O’Hara as a friend, after some jealous qualms, and was now well pleased that his master should be in his house instead of roaming the countryside.

  At five o’clock, as the gong rang, my lord descended the stairs resplendent in old gold and silver trimmings, determined to be as gay and light-hearted as the occasion demanded, as though there had never been a Diana to upset the whole course of a man’s life.

  Not for nothing had he fought against the world for six long years. Their teaching had been to hide all feeling beneath a perpetual mask of nonchalance and wit; never for an instance to betray a hurt, and never to allow it to appear that he was anything but the most care-free of men. The training stood him in good stead now, and even O’Hara wondered to see him in such spirits after all that had passed. Lady Molly was delighted with her guest, admiring his appearance, his fine, courtly manners, and falling an easy victim to his charm.

  O’Hara, watching them, saw with content that his capricious little wife was really attracted to my lord. It was a high honour, for she was hard to please, and many of O’Hara’s acquaintances had been received, if not with actual coldness, at least not with any degree of warmth.

  At the end of the meal she withdrew with the warning that they were not to sit too long over their wine, and that Miles was not to fatigue his lordship.

  O’Hara pushed the decanter towards his friend.

  ‘I’ve a piece of news I daresay will interest ye!’ he remarked.

  Carstares looked at him inquiringly.

  ‘Ay. ’Tis that his Grace of Andover has withdrawn his precious person to Paris.’

  Carstares raised one eyebrow.

  ‘I suppose he would naturally wish to remain in the background after our little fracas.’

  ‘Does he ever wish to be in the background?’

  ‘You probably know him better than I do. Does he?’

  ‘He does not. ’Tis always in front he is, mighty prominent. Damn him!’

  My lord was faintly surprised.

  ‘Why that? Has he ever interfered with you?’

  ‘He has interfered with me best friend to some purpose.’

  ‘I fear the boot was on the other leg!’

  ‘Well, I know something of how he interferes with Dick.’

  Carstares put down his glass, all attention now.

  ‘With Dick? How?’

  O’Hara seemed to regret having spoken.

  ‘Oh, well – I’ve no sympathy with him.’

  ‘What has Tracy done to him?’

  ‘’Tis nothing of great moment. Merely that he and that worthless brother of his seek to squeeze him dry.’

  ‘Robert?’

  ‘Andrew. I know very little of Robert.’

  ‘Andrew! But he was a child –’

  ‘Well, he’s grown up now, and as rakish a young spendthrift as ye could wish for. Dick seems to pay their debts.’

  ‘Devil take him! Why?’

  ‘Heaven knows! I suppose Lavinia insists. We all knew that ’twas for that reason Tracy flung you both in her way.’

  ‘Nonsense! We went of our own accord. She had but returned from school.’

  ‘Exactly. And whose doing was that but Tracy’s?’

  Carstares opened his eyes rather wide and leant both arms on the table, crooking his fingers round the stem of his wine glass.

  ‘Do the debts amount to much?’

  ‘I can’t tell ye that. ’Twas but by chance I found it out at all. The Belmanoirs were never moderate in their manner of living.’

  ‘Nor were any of us. Don’t be so hard on them, Miles!… I knew, of course, that the Belmanoir estate was mortgaged, but I did not guess to what extent.’

  ‘I don’t know that either, but Dick’s money does not go to pay it off. ’Tis all frittered away on gambling and pretty women.’

  My lord’s brow darkened ominously.

  ‘Ye-s. I think I shall have a little score to settle with Tracy on that subject – some day.’

  Miles said nothing.