The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century Read online

  CHAPTER III

  INTRODUCING THE HON. RICHARD CARSTARES

  Wyncham! A stately old house with mullioned windows, standing high onits stone terraces, half-covered by creepers; a house surrounded bylawns, rolling down on the one side to a river that rippled and murmuredits way along beneath overhanging trees and a blue sky, over bouldersand rocks, so clear and sparkling that the myriad pebbles could be seendeep down on its bed.

  In the other direction, the velvet lawns stretched away till they metthe orchards and the quiet meadowland.

  On two sides the house had its terraces, very white in the sunshine,with stone steps leading down to a miniature lake where water-liliesgrew, and where the tiny fish darted to and fro unconcernedly.

  Flagged walks there were, running between flower beds a riot of colour,and solemn old trees that had stood there through all the years. Coolwoodland lay beyond the little river, carpeted with dark moss, where inspring the primroses grew. So thick was the foliage of the trees thatthe sun but penetrated in uneven patches.

  Up the terrace walls crept roses, yellow and red, pink and white, andtossed their trailing sprays across the parapet. Over the walls of thehouse they climbed, mingling with purple clematis, jasmine, and sicklyhoneysuckle. The air was heavy with their united perfumes, while, waftedfrom a bed below, came the smoky scent of lavender.

  The old house seemed half asleep, basking in the sunlight. Save for apeacock preening its feathers on the terrace steps, there was no sign oflife....

  The old place had harboured generations of Carstares. Earl had succeededEarl and reigned supreme, and it was only now that there was no Earlliving there. No one knew where he was. Scarce a month ago one died, butthe eldest son was not there to take his place. For six years he hadbeen absent, and none dared breathe his name, for he disgraced thatname, and the old Earl cast him off and forbade all mention of him. Butthe poor folk of the countryside remembered him. They would tell oneanother tales of his reckless courage; his sweet smile and his winningways; his light-heartedness and his never-failing kindness andgood-humour. What a rider he was! To see him sit his horse! What aswordsman! Do ye mind the time he fought young Mr. Welsh over yonder inthe spinney with half the countryside watching? Ah, he was a one, wasMaster Jack! Do ye mind how he knocked the sword clean out o' Mr.Welsh's hand, and then stood waiting for him to pick it up? And do yemind the way his eyes sparkled, and how he laughed, just for the sheerjoy o' living?

  Endless anecdotes would they tell, and the old gaffers would shake theirheads and sigh, and long for the sight of him again. And they would jerktheir thumbs towards the Manor and shrug their old shoulderssignificantly. Who wanted Mr. Richard for squire? Not they, at least.They knew he was a good squire and a kindly man, but give them MasterJohn, who would laugh and crack a joke and never wear the glum looksthat Mr. Richard affected.

  In the house, Richard Carstares paced to and fro in his library, everynow and again pausing to glance wretchedly up at the portrait of hisbrother hanging over his desk. The artist had managed to catch theexpression of those blue eyes, and they smiled down at Richard in justthe way that John was always wont to smile--so gaily, and withal sowistfully.

  Richard was twenty-nine, but already he looked twice his age. He wasvery thin, and there were deep lines on his good-looking countenance.His grey eyes bore a haunted, care-worn look, and his mouth, thoughwell-shaped, was curiously lacking in determination. He was dressedsoberly, and without that touch of smartness that had characterised himsix years ago. He wore black in memory of his father, and it may havebeen that severity, only relieved by the lace at his throat, that madehis face appear so prematurely aged. There was none of his brother'sboyishness about him; even his smile seemed forced and tired, and hislaughter rarely held merriment.

  He pulled out his chronometer, comparing it with the clock on themantelpiece. His pacing took him to the door, and almost nervously hepulled it open, listening.

  No sound came to his ears. Back again, to and fro across the room,eagerly awaiting the clanging of a bell. It did not come, but presentlya footfall sounded on the passage without, and someone knocked at thedoor.

  In two strides Richard was by it, and had flung it wide. Warburton stoodthere.

  Richard caught his hand.

  "Warburton! At last! I have been waiting this hour and more!"

  Mr. Warburton disengaged himself, bowing.

  "I regret I was not able to come before, sir," he said primly.

  "I make no doubt you travelled back as quickly as possible--come in,sir."

  He led the lawyer into the room and shut the door.

  "Sit down, Warburton--sit down. You--you found my brother?"

  Again Warburton bowed.

  "I had the felicity of seeing his lordship, sir."

  "He was well? In good spirits? You thought him changed--yes? Agedperhaps, or--"

  "His lordship was not greatly changed, sir."

  Richard almost stamped in his impatience.

  "Come, Warburton, come! Tell me everything. What did he say? Will hetake the revenues? Will he--"

  "His lordship, sir, was reluctant to take anything, but upon maturerconsideration, he--ah--consented to accept his elder son's portion. Therevenues of the estate he begs you will make use of."

  "Ah! But you told him that I would touch nought belonging to him?"

  "I tried to persuade his lordship, sir. To no avail. He desires you touse Wyncham as you will."

  "I'll not touch his money!"

  Warburton gave the faintest of shrugs.

  "That is as you please, sir."

  Something in the suave voice made Richard, from his stand by the desk,glance sharply down at the lawyer. Suspicion flashed into his eyes. Heseemed about to speak, when Warburton continued:

  "I believe I may set your mind at rest on one score, Mr. Carstares: hislordship's situation is tolerably comfortable. He has ample means."

  "But--but he lives by--robbery!"

  Warburton's thin lips curled a little.

  "Does he not?" persisted Carstares.

  "So he would have us believe, sir."

  "'Tis true! He--waylaid me!"

  "And robbed you, sir?"

  "Rob me? He could not rob his own brother, Warburton!"

  "Your pardon, Mr. Carstares--you are right: his lordship could not rob abrother. Yet have I known a man do such a thing."

  For a long minute there was no word spoken. The suspicion that had dweltlatent in Carstares' eyes sprang up again. Some of the colour drainedfrom his cheeks, and twice he passed his tongue between his lips. Thefingers of his hand, gripping a chair-back, opened and shutspasmodically. Rather feverishly his eyes searched the lawyer's face,questioning.

  "John told you--told you--" he started, and floundered hopelessly.

  "His lordship told me nothing, sir. He was singularly reticent. Butthere was nothing he could tell me that I did not already know."

  "What do you mean, Warburton? Why do you look at me like that? Why doyou fence with me? In plain words, what do you mean?"

  Warburton rose, clenching his hands.

  "I know you, Master Richard, for what you are!"

  "Ah!" Carstares flung out his hand as if to ward off a blow.

  Another tense silence. With a great effort Warburton controlled himself,and once more the mask of impassivity seemed to descend upon him. Afterthat one tortured cry Richard became calm again. He sat down; on hisface a look almost of relief, coming after a great strain.

  "You learnt the truth ... from John. He ... will expose me?"

  "No, sir. I have not learnt it from him. And he will never expose you."

  Richard turned his head. His eyes, filled now with a species of dullpain, looked full into Warburton's.

  "Oh?" he said. "Then you...?"

  "Nor I, sir. I have pledged my word to his lordship. I would not speakall these years for your father's sake--now it is for his." He choked.

  "You ... are fond of John?" Still the apathetic, weary voice.