Reluctant Widow Read online

  He continued walking about the room, advancing and discarding theories, until relief came to Mrs Cheviot in the solid shape of Mr John Carlyon, who, after shaking hands with his hostess, prosaically recommended Nicky to take himself off for a brisk walk.

  ‘Walk! I do not want to go for a walk!’ said Nicky, quite affronted.

  ‘Then sit down, and do not be fidgeting Mrs Cheviot in this way. What has become of your guest, ma’am?’

  ‘He is laid down upon his bed.’

  He smiled. ‘Well, my brother may say what he likes, but I shall not readily believe that we have anything to fear from Francis Cheviot! I trust you have not allowed yourself to be alarmed by what I make no doubt Nicky has told you?’

  She regarded him with patent hostility. ‘Dear me, how excessively like your brother Carlyon you are, to be sure!’ she remarked.

  ‘Like Ned? No, that I am sure I am not!’ he replied, laughing.

  ‘You are mistaken. The resemblance is most pronounced. I might have fancied him to have been addressing me. What a nonsensical thing it would be in me to allow myself to become alarmed by a trifle such as murder!’

  ‘My dear Mrs Cheviot, nothing of the sort is likely to threaten you, believe me! But I cannot but feel that it is not comfortable for you to be left with Cheviot in your house at night, when he is most likely to make the attempt to possess himself of that memorandum.’

  ‘Hey!’ said Nicky, ruffling up. ‘I shall be here!’

  ‘Yes,’ said John unkindly. ‘Falling over suits of armour, I dare say. Tell me, ma’am, shall I come over to you? I may be perfectly comfortable on the sofa in this room, you know. I would set old Barrow to mount guard if it were not an object with us to keep the servants in ignorance of our suspicions.’

  She thanked him, but upon reflection declined his offer, saying that she was content to trust in Nicky and in Bouncer, who had taken such a dislike to Francis that he barked whenever he encountered him, and would certainly rouse the household if Francis ventured out of his chamber during the night. Bouncer opened a pair of sleepy eyes, and gently thumped his tail on the carpet.

  ‘Yes,’ said Nicky gratefully, ‘and if I tie him to the foot of the stairs, after Francis has gone to bed, there can be no fear of his giving him poisoned meat, because he will never be able to come near enough to him to do so. He will have roused the whole house before Francis has had time to reach the head of the stairs.’

  ‘Well, ma’am, I own I think you are wise not to refine too much upon suspicions which may yet prove to be without foundation,’ John said. ‘Indeed, when I reflect soberly I find myself loth to believe that we are not all of us hunting for mares’ nests.’

  Such a spiritless remark as this could not have been expected to appeal to Nicky, who was provoked into joining issue with his brother in a very heated manner. But when, a few minutes before dinner was announced, Francis came down from his room, his demeanour gave a good deal of colour to John’s prosaic reflections. He wore, besides a complete suit of black, embellished with a crape-edged handkerchief, so woebegone a countenance that it was hard to suspect him of duplicity. His mind seemed to be wholly absorbed by the two evils of his friend’s death, and his own incipient cold, and it was difficult to decide which loomed the larger in his brain. Whenever the thought of Louis De Castres came into his head it cast him into a silence broken only by deep sighs; but his conversation turned for the most part on a sore throat which he trusted would not be found to be putrid. He partook sparingly of the pheasant pie, trifled with the ratafia-cream, and declined mournfully to taste the roasted cheese. Nicky, whose ambition was to goad him into betraying himself, divulged to him the discovery of the secret stair, but as the revelation was met with a strong shudder and an urgent prayer to Mrs Cheviot to securely nail up such an undesirable feature of the house, he could not be said to have got much good by this gambit. Nor did a reference to Eustace Cheviot’s papers succeed better. Francis said that he had no doubt of their being in the utmost disorder, but begged no one would ask him to assist in unravelling them. ‘For I have no head for business, dear boy: positively none at all! Your estimable brother will do very much better without me. I am so thankful it is he and not I who is an executor of poor Eustace’s Will!’

  When the party gathered in the parlour after dinner, he very soon detected a draught, and directed Nicky where to place a handsome needlework-screen so that he might be protected from it. But even this did not serve, and with many apologies to Elinor, he desired Nicky to summon Crawley to his assistance. ‘For if I were to take one of my colds, you know, I might be tied to Highnoons for a month,’ he said earnestly. ‘The thought of putting Mrs Cheviot to such inconvenience is very disturbing.’

  Elinor could only hope that her countenance did not betray how completely she agreed with him. Miss Beccles came forward with offers of remedies, and Crawley presently draped his cloak round his shoulders, and promised to have ready a foot-bath of hot mustard-and-water when he should come up to bed. This he soon did, leaving Nicky to exclaim: ‘He is the paltriest fellow! Why, I think him worse than Eustace, and as for standing in awe of him, pooh!’

  Even Miss Beccles allowed herself to be dissuaded from again roping the handle of his door to Nicky’s. Bouncer was tethered to the banister at the foot of the stairs, and provided with a rug to lie upon. This, however, was found to be a failure, that free-spirited animal being unable to brook such unaccustomed restraint, and yelping so persistently that Nicky was obliged to untie him.

  After this, peace descended upon the house, and remained unbroken until the clatter of dust-pans and brushes showed that the servants were once more at work.

  Scarcely had Elinor risen from the breakfast-table than Crawley presented himself to her, wearing a most lugubrious expression, and informing her in suitably grave accents that his master found himself far from well, and begged that a doctor might be summoned. She promised that a message should be dispatched to Dr Greenlaw, and hoped that Mr Cheviot had been able to swallow some breakfast.

  ‘Thank you, madam, just a little thin gruel,’ said Crawley. ‘I have taken the liberty of requesting the cook to make some arrowroot jelly for my master, which he might be able to partake of a little later.’

  ‘Mutton and herbs make a very supporting broth,’ suggested Miss Beccles helpfully.

  The valet bowed, but shook his head. ‘My master, thank you, miss, can never stomach mutton. I took the precaution of packing a pot of Dr Ratcliffe’s Restorative Pork Jelly in the larger valise, and shall endeavour to persuade my master to swallow a spoonful every now and then.’

  An enquiry in the kitchen brought corroboration of this tale, and with it a tirade from Mrs Barrow on the valetudinarian habits of a young gentleman who should, she held, be above coddling himself in such a fashion.

  ‘I disremember when I’ve seen Mr Francis here without he took ill,’ remarked Barrow dispassionately. ‘I mind one time he gave his ankle a twist, and carried on like he was burnt to the socket. I dare say we’ll have him here a se’nnight, setting us all by the ears.’

  ‘By Jupiter, we will not!’ declared Nicky, when this was reported to him. ‘I see his game, cousin: he thinks to remain on till he may take us off our guard, but it will not answer! I’ll ride for Greenlaw myself – Rufus needs a good gallop, you know! – and see if I don’t get him to have Francis up out of his bed this very day! Yes, and on the road to London, what’s more!’

  ‘I wish you may!’ she said. ‘but I do not know how it is to be contrived.’

  His eyes danced. ‘Don’t you, though? Smallpox in the village!’

  She was obliged to laugh, but doubted whether he would be able to persuade the respectable physician into perjuring himself so shockingly.

  ‘Oh, lord, yes, nothing easier!’ Nicky assured her. ‘I can always make old Greenlaw do what I want. The only rub is that I may have to hunt all over for him. But