Sylvester Read online

  Knowing nothing of what was in his mind Phoebe watched him in perplexity. After a long pause she said, in a constricted tone: ‘I collect you have not received my letter, Duke?’

  ‘I have not had that pleasure. How obliging of you to have written to me! To inform me of this affair, no doubt?’

  ‘I could have no other reason for writing to you.’

  ‘You should have spared yourself the trouble. Having read your book, Miss Marlow, it was not difficult to guess what had happened. I own it did not occur to me that you were actually aiding my sister-in-law, but of course it should have. When I discovered that she had taken Edmund away without his nurse I ought certainly to have guessed how it must be. Are you filling that position out of malice, or did you feel, having made London too hot to hold you, that it offered you a chance of escape?’

  As she listened to these incredible words Phoebe passed from shock to an anger as great as his, and not as well concealed. He had spoken in a light, contemptuous voice; she could not keep hers from shaking when she retorted: ‘From malice!’

  Before he could speak again Edmund said, in an uneasy tone: ‘Phoebe is my friend, Uncle Vester! Are – are you vexed with her? Please don’t be! I love her next to Keighley!’

  ‘Do you, my dear?’ said Phoebe. ‘That is praise indeed! No one is vexed: your uncle was funning, that’s all!’ She looked at Sylvester, and said as naturally as she could: ‘You must wish to see Lady Ianthe, I daresay. I regret that she is indisposed – is confined to her bed, in fact, with an attack of influenza.’

  His colour was rather heightened; for he had forgotten that Edmund was still clinging to his hand, and was annoyed with himself for having been betrayed into impropriety. He said only: ‘I trust Fotherby is not similarly indisposed?’

  ‘No, I believe he is sitting with Lady Ianthe. I will inform him of your arrival directly.’ She smiled at Edmund. ‘Shall we go and see if that cake Madame said she would bake for your supper is done yet?’

  ‘I think I will stay with Uncle Vester,’ Edmund decided.

  ‘No, go with Miss Marlow. I am going to talk to Sir Nugent,’ said Sylvester.

  ‘Will you grind his bones?’ asked Edmund hopefully.

  ‘No, how should I be able to do that? I’m not a giant, and I don’t live at the top of a beanstalk. Go, now.’

  Edmund looked regretful, but obeyed. Sylvester cast his driving-coat over a chair, and walked over to the fire.

  He had not long to wait for Sir Nugent. That exquisite came into the room a very few minutes later, exclaiming: ‘Well, upon my soul! I declare I was never more surprised in my life! How do you do? I’m devilish glad to see your grace!’

  This entirely unexpected greeting threw Sylvester off his balance. ‘Glad to see me?’ he repeated.

  ‘Devilish glad to see you!’ corrected Sir Nugent. ‘Ianthe was persuaded you wouldn’t follow us. Thought you wouldn’t wish to kick up a dust. I wouldn’t have betted on it, though I own I didn’t expect you to come up with us so quickly. Damme, I congratulate you, Duke! No flourishing, no casting, and how you picked up the scent the lord only knows!’

  ‘What I want, Fotherby, is not your congratulation, but my ward!’ said Sylvester. ‘You will also be so obliging as to explain to me what the devil you meant by bringing him to France!’

  ‘Now, there,’ said Sir Nugent frankly, ‘you have me at Point Non-Plus, Duke! I fancy Nugent Fotherby ain’t often at a loss. I fancy you’d be told, if you was to ask anyone, that Nugent Fotherby is as shrewd as he can hold together. But that question is a doubler. I don’t mind telling you that every time I ask myself why the devil I brought that boy to France I’m floored. It’s a great relief to me to hear you say you want him – you did say so, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did, and I will add that I am going to have him!’

  ‘I take your word for that,’ Sir Nugent said. ‘Nugent Fotherby ain’t the man to doubt a gentleman’s honour. Let us discuss the matter!’

  ‘There is nothing whatsoever to discuss!’ said Sylvester, almost grinding his teeth.

  ‘I assure your grace discussion is most necessary,’ said Sir Nugent earnestly. ‘The boy has a mother! She is not at the moment in plump currant, you know. She must be cherished!’

  ‘Not by me!’ snapped Sylvester.

  ‘Certainly not! If I may say so – without offence, you understand – it’s not your business to cherish her: never said you would! I daresay, being a bachelor, you may not know it, but I did. I’m not at all sure I didn’t swear it: it sounded devilish like an oath to me.’

  ‘If all this is designed to make me relinquish my claim on Edmund –’

  ‘Good God, no!’ exclaimed Sir Nugent, blenching. ‘You mistake, Duke! Only too happy to restore him to you! You know what I think?’

  ‘No! Nor do I wish to!’

  ‘He’s like some fellow in the Bible,’ said Sir Nugent, ignoring this savage interpolation. ‘Or was it a pig? Well, it don’t signify. What I mean is, he’s possessed of a devil.’ He added rather hastily: ‘No need to take a pet: you can rely on my discretion: shouldn’t dream of spreading it about! Well, by Jove, now I know why you’re so anxious to get him back, and, what’s more, I don’t blame you. He’s your heir too, ain’t he. Tut, tut, tut, it’s a nasty business! Very understandable you should wish to keep him hidden away. Shouldn’t be surprised if he got to be dangerous when he grows up.’

  Sylvester said with ominous calm: ‘Will you have the goodness, sir, first to stop talking nonsense, and second to ask Lady Ianthe, without more ado, if she will receive me – for five minutes! No longer!’

  ‘Five minutes! Why, she can be cast down in five seconds!’ exclaimed Sir Nugent. ‘In fact, she would be cast down by the very sight of you, Duke. This business must be handled with delicacy. Her la’ship hasn’t a suspicion in her noddle that you are here. It was a near-run thing, though. I came out of her room just as Miss Marlow was about to knock on the door. I instantly charged her not to breathe a word to her la’ship. “Miss Marlow,” I said – Good God!’ he ejaculated, with a sudden change of tone. ‘The abigail! The landlady! Must crave your grace’s indulgence – not a moment to be lost! They must be warned! Obliged to leave you!’

  He hurried over to the door as he spoke, and collided with Tom on the threshold. ‘The very person!’ he said. ‘Allow me to present Mr Orde to your grace! It’s Salford, Orde: beg you will entertain him while I’m gone! Feel sure you’ll be pleased with one another!’

  ‘No need to put yourself about,’ Tom said. ‘I want a few words with his grace myself.’

  ‘You do? Well, that’s a devilish fortunate circumstance because I think I should take a look in at her la’ship, in case she’s got wind of Salford.’

  Tom shut the door upon him, and turned to confront Sylvester, standing by the table, his eyes as hard as agates, and as glittering. Tom met their challenge unwaveringly, and limped forward.

  ‘If there was one person whom I never expected to have lent himself to this damnable affair it was you,’ said Sylvester very evenly. ‘What, if you please, am I to understand by it?’

  ‘From all I’ve been able to make out,’ said Tom, continuing to look him in the eye, ‘you’re riding too damned rusty to understand anything, my lord Duke! What the devil do you think I’m doing here? Trying to serve you a backhanded turn?’

  Sylvester shrugged, and turned away to lean his arm along the mantelshelf. ‘I suppose you to be here in support of Miss Marlow. The distinction between that and serving me a backhanded turn may be plain to you: it is not so to me.’

  ‘The only persons who have been trying to serve you a backhanded turn, my lord Duke, are Lady Ianthe and the court-card she’s married!’ said Tom. ‘As for Phoebe, the lord knows I didn’t wish her to meddle in this business, but when I think of all she’s done for you, and the thanks she’s had for it, damme, I