These Old Shades Read online

  ‘Rupert?’ said his Grace.

  ‘I should have told you that Rupert has been staying with us these past three weeks.’

  ‘You amaze me,’ said Avon. His eyes were as hard as agates. He turned, and put his snuff-box down on the table. ‘The mystery would seem to be solved,’ he said evenly.

  ‘Sir!’ It was Jennifer who spoke. His Grace looked at her indifferently. ‘If you are thinking that – that they have eloped, I am sure – oh, I am sure that ’tis not so! Such a notion was never in either of their heads!’

  ‘So?’ Avon looked from one to the other. ‘Pray enlighten me!’

  Merivale shook his head.

  ‘Faith, I cannot. But I would stake mine honour that there’s been no thought of love between them. They are the veriest children and even now I suspect they may be playing a trick on us. More than that –’ He paused.

  ‘Yes?’ said Avon.

  Jennifer broke in.

  ‘Sir, the child can talk of no one but yourself !’ she said impetuously. ‘You have all her – her adoration!’

  ‘So I thought,’ answered Avon. ‘But one may be mistaken. I believe there is a saying that youth will to youth.’

  ‘It’s no such thing,’ Merivale averred. ‘Why, they are for ever quarrelling! Moreover they have taken no horses. Mayhap they are hiding somewhere to frighten us.’

  A footman came to them.

  ‘Well?’ Avon spoke without turning his head.

  ‘Mr Manvers, your Grace, who desires speech with my Lord Rupert.’

  ‘I have not the pleasure of Mr Manvers’ acquaintance,’ said the Duke, ‘but you may admit him.’

  Entered a little wiry gentleman with red cheeks and bright, angry eyes. He glared at the assembled company, and, singling out the Duke, rapped forth a question.

  ‘Are you Lord Rupert Alastair, sir?’

  ‘I am not,’ said his Grace.

  The irate little man rounded on Merivale.

  ‘You, sir?’

  ‘My name is Merivale,’ Anthony replied.

  ‘Then where is Lord Rupert Alastair?’ demanded Mr Manvers, in a voice of baffled rage.

  His Grace took snuff.

  ‘That is what we should all like to know,’ he said.

  ‘Damme, sir, do you think to play with me?’ fumed Mr Manvers.

  ‘I have never played with anyone,’ said the Duke.

  ‘I am come here to find Lord Rupert Alastair! I demand speech with him! I want an explanation of him!’

  ‘My dear sir,’ said Avon. ‘Pray join our ranks! We all want that.’

  ‘Who the devil are you?’ cried the exasperated little man.

  ‘Sir,’ bowed his Grace. ‘I believe I am the devil. So they say.’

  Merivale was shaken with silent laughter. Mr Manvers turned to him.

  ‘Is this a mad-house?’ he asked. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘He is the Duke of Avon,’ said Merivale unsteadily.

  Mr Manvers pounced on Avon again.

  ‘Ah! Then you are Lord Rupert’s brother!’ he said vindictively.

  ‘My misfortune, sir, believe me.’

  ‘What I demand to know is this!’ said Mr Manvers. ‘Where is my roan? ’

  ‘I haven’t the least idea,’ said his Grace placidly. ‘I am not even sure that I know what you are talking about.’

  ‘Faith, I am sure I don’t!’ chuckled Merivale.

  ‘My roan horse, sir! Where is it? Answer me that!’

  ‘I fear you will have to hold me excused,’ said the Duke. ‘I know nothing about your horse. In fact, I am not, at the moment, interested in your horse – roan or otherwise.’

  Mr Manvers raised his fists heavenwards.

  ‘Interested in it!’ he spluttered. ‘My horse has been stolen!’

  ‘You have all my sympathy,’ yawned his Grace. ‘But I fail to see what concern it is of mine.’

  Mr Manvers thumped the table.

  ‘Stolen, sir, by your brother, Lord Rupert Alastair, this very day!’

  His words brought about a sudden silence.

  ‘Continue!’ requested his Grace. ‘You interest us now exceedingly. Where, when, how, and why did Lord Rupert steal your horse?’

  ‘He stole it in the village, sir, this morning! And I may say, sir, that I consider it a gross impertinence! A piece of insolence that infuriates me! I am a calm man, sir, but when I receive such a message from a man of birth, of title –’

  ‘Oh, he left a message, did he?’ interposed Merivale.

  ‘With the blacksmith, sir! My groom rode over on the roan to the village, and the horse casting a shoe, he took him to the smith, very properly! While Coggin was shoeing the animal my fellow walked on to Fawley to execute my commands.’ He breathed heavily. ‘When he returned, the horse was gone! The smith – damn him for a fool! – tells me that Lord Rupert insisted on taking the horse – my horse, sir! – and left his compliments for me, and his – his thanks for the loan of my horse!’

  ‘Very proper,’ said his Grace.

  ‘Damme, sir, it’s monstrous!’

  A gurgling laugh came from Jennifer.

  ‘Oh, was there ever such a boy?’ she cried. ‘What in the world should he want with your horse, sir?’

  Mr Manvers scowled at her.

  ‘Exactly, madam! Exactly! What did he want with my horse? The man’s mad, and should be clapped up! Coggin tells me he came running into the village like one demented, with no hat on his head! And not one of those gaping fools had the sense to stop him from seizing my horse! A set of idiots, sir!’

  ‘I can well believe it,’ said Avon. ‘But I do not yet see how your information can help us.’

  Mr Manvers fought with himself.

  ‘Sir, I am not come here to help you!’ he raged. ‘I have come to demand my horse!’

  ‘I would give it you had I it in my possession,’ said his Grace kindly. ‘Unfortunately Lord Rupert has your horse.’

  ‘Then I want its recovery!’

  ‘Do not distress yourself !’ Avon advised him. ‘No doubt he will return it. What I wish to know is, why did Lord Rupert want your horse, and where did he go?’

  ‘If that dolt of a landlord is to be believed,’ said Mr Manvers, ‘he has gone to Portsmouth.’

  ‘Fleeing the country, evidently,’ murmured his Grace. ‘Was there a lady with Lord Rupert?’

  ‘No, there was not! Lord Rupert went off at a disgraceful pace in pursuit of a coach, or some such nonsense.’

  The Duke’s eyes widened.

  ‘Almost I begin to see daylight,’ he said. ‘Proceed.’

  Merivale shook his head.

  ‘I’m all at sea,’ he confessed. ‘The mystery grows.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ his Grace replied gently. ‘The mystery is very nearly solved.’

  ‘I don’t understand you – any of you!’ exploded Mr Manvers.

  ‘That was not to be expected,’ said Avon. ‘Lord Rupert, you say, went to Portsmouth in pursuit of a coach. Who was in that coach?’

  ‘Some damned Frenchman, Fletcher said.’

  Merivale started; so also did Jennifer.

  ‘Frenchman?’ Merivale echoed. ‘But what did Rupert –’

  His Grace was smiling grimly.

  ‘The mystery,’ he said, ‘is solved. Lord Rupert, Mr Manvers, borrowed your horse to go in pursuit of M. le Comte de Saint-Vire.’

  Merivale gasped.

  ‘You knew he was here, then?’

  ‘I did not.’

  ‘Then how a’ God’s name – ?’

  Again the Duke took snuff.

  ‘Shall we say – intuition, my dear Anthony?’

  ‘But – but why did Rupert pursue Saint-Vire? And – and what was Saint-Vire doing on the road to Portsmouth? He told me he was journeying north to visit a friend! This goes beyond me!’

  ‘What I want to know,’ Jennifer said, ‘is, where is Léonie?’

  ‘Ay, that’s the question,’ nodded Merivale.

  ‘Yo