These Old Shades Read online

‘Lord, did he want you, Fan?’ exclaimed Rupert. ‘Well, I always knew the man was a fool.’

  ‘I thank you, my lord!’ Davenant made him a mock bow. ‘You are all of you vastly complimentary towards my respected brother.’

  ‘Oh, and to me!’ said my lady. ‘Horrid boy! Do you remember that Colehatch wanted me, Justin?’

  ‘My memory fails me when I try to disentangle your suitors, my dear. Was he the one who demanded you of me with a pistol to my head, as it were? No, I believe that was Fonteroy. Colehatch, I think, wrote me a correct application for your hand which I still cherish. He said that he was willing to overlook such trifling faults in you, my dear, as your levity and your extravagance.’

  ‘Fanny, I make you my apologies on his behalf !’ laughed Hugh.

  Marling helped himself to a peach.

  ‘What an ardent lover!’ he remarked. ‘I hope I did not say that I would overlook your faults?’

  ‘Dearest Edward, you said that you adored me from my heels to my topmost curl!’ sighed her ladyship. ‘Lud, what days they were! Cumming – dear soul – fought John Drew because he disparaged my eyebrows, and Vane – do you remember Vane, Justin? – wanted to fly with me!’

  Léonie was greatly interested.

  ‘And did you?’ she inquired.

  ‘La, child, what will you ask next? He had not a penny, poor darling, and was mad into the bargain.’

  ‘I should like people to fight over me,’ Léonie said. ‘With swords.’

  Davenant was amused.

  ‘Would you, Léon – Léonie!’

  ‘But yes, m’sieur! It would be so exciting. Did you see them fight, madame?’

  ‘Good gracious no, child! Of course I did not. One never does.’

  ‘Oh!’ Léonie was disappointed. ‘I thought you watched.’

  Davenant looked at the Duke.

  ‘The lady would appear to have a taste for bloodshed,’ he remarked.

  ‘A veritable passion for it, my dear. Nothing pleases her more.’

  ‘You are not to encourage her, Justin!’ said my lady. ‘I vow it’s scandalous!’

  Léonie twinkled merrily.

  ‘There is one thing I made Monseigneur teach me that is very bloodthirsty,’ she said. ‘You do not know!’

  ‘What is it, puss?’

  ‘Aha, I will not tell!’ She shook her head wisely. ‘You would say it is unladylike.’

  ‘Oh, Justin, what have you been at? Some hoydenish trick it is, I dare swear!’

  ‘Tell us!’ said Marling. ‘You’ve whetted our curiosity, child, and soon we shall begin to guess.’

  ‘Ecod, do you mean –’ began Rupert.

  Léonie waved agitated hands.

  ‘No, no, imbécile ! Tais toi! ’ She pursed her mouth primly. ‘M. Marling would be shocked, and madame would say it is not at all respectable. Monseigneur, he is not to tell!’

  ‘One would infer that it was some disgraceful secret,’ said his Grace. ‘I believe I have several times requested you not to call Rupert “imbécile”, infant.’

  ‘But Monseigneur, he is an imbécile !’ she protested. ‘You know he is!’

  ‘Undoubtedly, ma fille, but I do not tell the whole world so.’

  ‘Then I do not know what I am to call him,’ said Léonie. ‘He calls me spitfire, Monseigneur, and wild-cat.’

  ‘And so she is, by Gad!’ exclaimed his lordship.

  ‘I am not, Rupert. I am a lady. Monseigneur says so.’

  ‘A manifestly false assertion,’ said his Grace. ‘But I cannot remember ever having said anything of the kind, infant.

  She peeped naughtily up at him, through her lashes. It was one of her most captivating little tricks.

  ‘But, Monseigneur, you said only a minute ago that your memory is not at all good.’

  There was a shout of laughter; Avon’s own eyes were alight with it. He picked up his fan and dealt Léonie a rap across the knuckles. She chuckled, and turned jubilantly to the others.

  ‘Voyons, I have made you all laugh!’ she said. ‘And I meant to make you laugh! I am a wit, enfin!’

  Davenant was looking at Avon, dawning wonder on his face, for Avon’s eyes rested on his ward with such tender amusement in them that Davenant could hardly believe it was the Duke that he looked on.

  ‘Oh, lud, what a child it is!’ said my lady, dabbing at her eyes. ‘I vow I would never have dared speak so to Justin at your age!’

  ‘Nor I!’ said Rupert. ‘But there’s nothing she won’t dare, damme, there’s not!’ He turned to Davenant. ‘Never was there such a girl, Hugh! Do you know she’s even been abducted?’

  ‘Abducted?’ Davenant looked round, half-incredulous. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Oh, that pig-person!’ said Léonie scornfully.

  ‘My love!’ Lady Fanny jumped. ‘What did I hear you say?’

  ‘Well, but, madame, Monseigneur allows me to say pig-person. You do not mind, do you, Monseigneur?’

  ‘My infant, it is not a beautiful expression, nor am I in any way enamoured of it, but I believe that I did say I could support it as long as you refrained from talking of pig – er – wash.’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ she said triumphantly.

  ‘But what do you mean?’ demanded Davenant. ‘Who abducted Léonie? Is it true?’

  Marling nodded to him across the table.

  ‘As pretty a piece of villainy as ever I heard.’

  ‘But who did it? Who is the – the pig-person?’

  ‘The bad Comte de Saint-Vire!’ said Léonie. ‘He gave me an evil drink, and brought me to France, and Rupert saved me!’

  Davenant started, and stared at his Grace.

  ‘Saint-Vire!’ he said, and again, beneath his breath, ‘Saint-Vire.’

  His Grace cast a quick look round, but the lackeys had left the room.

  ‘Yes, Hugh, yes. The so dear Comte.’

  Davenant opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again.

  ‘Quite so,’ said his Grace.

  ‘But Avon’ – it was Marling who spoke – ‘Fanny tells me that cards for the ball have been sent to Saint-Vire and his wife. Why did you do that?’

  ‘I believe I had a reason,’ said his Grace pensively. ‘No doubt it will return to my mind some time or other.’

  ‘If the fellow comes I’ll never be able to contain myself !’ Rupert said.

  ‘I do not imagine that he will come, my child. Hugh, if you have finished, I suggest we repair to the library. It is the only room that Fanny has left undisturbed.’

  Fanny rose, and shook her finger at him.

  ‘I shall throw it open on the night of the ball, never fear! I have a mind to set card-tables there.’

  ‘No,’ said Léonie firmly. ‘It is our very own room, Monseigneur. You are not to let her!’ She laid her finger-tips on his crooked arm, and prepared to go out with him. Hugh heard an urgent whisper. ‘Monseigneur, not that room! We always sit there. You brought me to it the very first night.’

  Avon turned his head.

  ‘You hear, Fanny?’

  ‘It’s most tiresome!’ said her ladyship, in a long-suffering manner. ‘What odds can it make, child? What’s your reason?’

  ‘Madame, I cannot think of the word. It is what Monseigneur says when you ask him why he does a thing.’

  Rupert opened the door.

  ‘Faith, I know what she means! A whim!’

  ‘C’est cela! ’ Léonie gave a little skip. ‘You are very clever to-night, Rupert, I think.’

  The ladies retired early to bed, and as Rupert dragged the unwilling Marling out to Vassaud’s, Avon and Hugh were left alone in the quiet library. Hugh looked round with a little smile.

  ‘Egad, it’s like old times, Justin!’

  ‘Three months ago, to be precise,’ said his Grace. ‘I am becoming something of a patriarch, my dear.’

  ‘Are you?’ Davenant said, and smiled to himself. ‘May I compliment you on your ward?’

  ‘Pray do! You find h