CHAPTER XIII

MY LORD MAKES HIS BOW

After Jim's arrival my lord recovered quickly, each day making great

progress, much to the doctor's satisfaction, who never tired of telling

Mr. Beauleigh and Miss Betty that it was entirely owing to his treatment

that the patient had recovered at all. As his idea of treatment mainly

consisted of copiously bleeding John, which process Miss Betty very soon

put an end to, he and she had many arguments on the subject, in which he

was completely routed. She held that Mr. Carr was well on the strength

of her nursing and his own constitution--and very probably she was

right. In any case, hardly a fortnight after O'Hara's first visit, my

lord was standing before his mirror, surveying himself, with his head

speculatively on one side and a worried look in his eyes. Salter watched

him anxiously, knowing this to be a critical moment. His master was

somewhat of an enigma to him; the important things in life never

appeared to affect him, but over a question of two cravats as opposed to

each other, or some equally trivial matter, he would become quite

harassed.

After contemplating his appearance for several moments, Carstares

frowned and looked over his shoulder.

"I have changed my mind, Jim. I will wear blue after all." Salter sighed

despairingly.

"Ye look very well in what ye have on, sir," he grunted. Jack sat down

obstinately.

"I have conceived a dislike--nay, a veritable hatred--for puce. I will

wear blue."

"Now, sir, do ha' done changing your clothes! Ye'll be tired out before

ever ye get downstairs, and ye know what the doctor said."

My lord consigned the doctor and his words of wisdom to a place of great

heat.

"Ay, sir, but--"

"The doctor is a worthy individual, Jim, but he knows even less of the

art of dressing than you do. He does not understand the soul-agony of a

man who makes his first appearance in puce."

"But--"

"The blue coat laced with gold."

"Sir--"

"I order it! I insist; the blue coat or nought!"

"Very well, sir." Resignedly Jim walked to the cupboard.

When at length his lordship was dressed to his entire satisfaction it

was midway through the hot June afternoon, and Miss Betty was tapping at

the door, wishing to know whether Mr. Carr was coming down, or whether

he was not.

Carstares shifted his sling, and taking up his hat, moved just a little

shakily to the door.

Salter opened it, and cast a triumphant glance at Miss Betty, as though

he were showing off all my lord's graces. He proffered an arm.

"Shall I help ye, sir?"

Miss Betty curtsied low.

"La, Mr. Carr!"

John bowed profoundly.

"Give ye good den, madam," he said. "I am just about to descend. Thank

you, Jim." He leaned heavily on the man's arm.

Miss Betty walked round him admiringly.

"Lud! 'Tis mighty elegant, I vow! But I protest, I am shy!"

"Egad, Miss Betty! and why?"

"You are not so young as I imagined," she replied candidly.

"Bear in mind, madam, that I never sought to deceive you. I am an aged

man."

"Thirty!" she scoffed, and went on ahead. "Come, child, and mind the

first step!"

At the bottom of the staircase stood Mr. Beauleigh, a man of medium

height, thin-lipped and grey-eyed. He came forward with one hand

outstretched.

"I am delighted to see you so much better, sir. I trust your shoulder no

longer pains you?"

My lord pushed Jim gently to one side and placed his hand in Mr.

Beauleigh's.

"I thank you, sir, it is almost well. But for Miss Betty, who, I fear,

has the makings of a true tyrant, I should not wear this obnoxious

sling."

Mr. Beauleigh smiled a little.

"Ah, yes, she keeps us all in order, does Betty. Pray, will you not walk

a little in the garden? There are chairs on the lawn--and here is my

daughter."

He waved to the door, and Carstares, turning, beheld Diana.

She stood framed by the dark wood, gowned in amber silk, with old lace

falling from her elbows and over the bosom of her dress. Her hair was

dark as night, with little tendrils curling over her broad, white brow.

One rolling curl fell over her shoulder, the rest were gathered up under

a small lace cap, which was secured by means of a riband passed beneath

her chin.

Jack gazed, and gazed again, and in her turn Diana studied him with wide

brown eyes of almost childlike innocence. Then her lids fluttered and

curling lashes veiled the glorious depths, as a slow blush mounted to

her cheeks.

My lord recovered his manners and made his most approved leg as her

father presented him.

"My love, this is Mr. Carr--"

Diana sank into a curtsey.

"--and, Mr. Carr, this is my daughter, Diana."

"I am delighted to make Miss Beauleigh's acquaintance," said John, and

raised her hand to his lips.

The delicate, tapering fingers trembled a little in his hold, and

tremulous lips parted in the shyest and most adorable smile that he had

ever seen.

"Indeed, sir, we are already acquainted. I am not like to forget my

rescuer."

"I am happy to think that I was able to be of some service to you,

mademoiselle. Believe me, it was an honour to fight in your cause." His

eyes were on the fascinating dimple that played about her mouth.

"'Tis very kind of you to say so, sir. I fear we greatly incommoded

you--and--" She made a gesture towards his sling.

"That, mademoiselle, is less than nothing. All the obligation is on my

side."

Miss Betty bustled forward.

"Now that will do! I never heard such a foolish set of compliments! You

are looking tired, Mr. Carr; come into the garden and rest."

Salter stepped forward, but Diana stayed him with uplifted finger.

"If Mr. Carr will accept my arm?" she hazarded.

Jack flushed.

"Indeed, no, Miss Beauleigh--I can--"

"Oh, tut-tut!" cried Miss Betty. "Have done dilly-dallying! Take him

out, Di!"

Mr. Beauleigh had already disappeared. His world lay in his library, and

he was never far from it for any length of time. Now he had seized the

moment when his sister was not looking to withdraw quietly, and, when

she turned round, she was only in time to see the library door close

softly.

"Your papa has gone again," she remarked to her niece. "What a trying

man he is, to be sure!"

She followed the pair out on to the lawn, and helped to make Carstares

seat himself in a long chair under a great elm. A cushion was placed

under his wounded shoulder and another at his back.

"And are you sure that you are quite comfortable?" inquired Miss Betty,

anxiously bending over him.

Jack laughed up at her.

"Quite sure, thank you, madam. But where will you sit?"

"I shall sit in this chair, and Di will sit on a cushion"--throwing one

down--"at my feet--so."

"I see that you are all ruled with a rod of iron, mademoiselle," he

said, and watched the dimple tremble into being.

"Indeed, yes, sir. 'Tis very sad."

Miss Betty chuckled, and unrolled a packet of silks which she threw into

her niece's lap.

"Will you have the goodness to sort those for me, love?" she asked,

taking out her embroidery.

"Pray allow me to assist!" pleaded John.

Diana rose and planted her cushion down beside his chair. She then knelt

down upon it and emptied the multi-coloured strands on to his knee.

"Very well! You must be very careful to separate the different pinks,

though. See, we will have the rose here, the salmon here, the deeper

rose here, the pale pink over there, and the reds--there is no more

room--we will put the reds in this paper."

"Certainly," agreed Carstares. "Are we to leave the other colours until

the pinks are sorted?"

She nodded and bent her head over the silks.

"Is Sir Miles coming this afternoon, Mr. Carr?"

"Why yes, Miss Betty--now you mention it, I remember that he is. Miss

Beauleigh, I defy you to put that one on the rose pile; 'tis a shade too

deep."

"I am sure 'tis not! Where is one to compare with it?"

Carstares produced a long thread and held it next to hers. The two heads

were bent close over it. Diana sighed.

"You are right; I can just see the difference. But 'tis _very_ slight!"

Miss Betty peeped over their shoulders.

"Gracious, what an eye you must have! I can detect no difference." Her

eye ran along the row of silks laid out on my lord's white satin leg.

"Mr. Carr," said Diana suddenly, "I want to ask you something--something

that has been puzzling me."

"Faith, what is it, Miss Beauleigh?"

"Just this: why did you call Mr. Everard M. le Duc?"

There was a tiny pause. My lord looked down into the gold-flecked eyes

and frowned a little.

"Did I call him that?"

"Yes, I remember it distinctly. Was it just--a manner of speaking?"

"Just a manner of speaking.... You may call it that, mademoiselle. Do

you not think that he looks rather ducal?"

"I tried not to think of him at all. I hate him!"

"Almost I begin to pity this Mr. Everard," quoth Jack.

The dimple peeped out.

"Then 'tis most ungallant of you, sir!" she reproved. "Do you know Mr.

Everard?"

"I have certainly seen him before, madam."

Diana sat back on her heels and eyed him wonderingly.

"I believe you do not wish to answer me," she said slowly. "Tell me, is

'Everard' that man's real name?"

My lord twisted the ring on his finger uneasily. He did not feel himself

at liberty to expose Belmanoir, and if he should reveal his true

identity, it was quite possible that Mr. Beauleigh might seek him out,

in which case he himself might be recognised. He looked up.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle, but whence this cross-examination?"

Diana nodded placidly.

"I thought you would refuse, but I have discovered something that will

confound you, sir!" She rose to her feet. "I will go and get it." She

walked gracefully away towards the house, and my lord watched her go.

"Now _I_ am going to ask a question," broke in Miss Betty's voice.

He threw out an imploring hand.

"Madam, I beg you will consider my feeble condition. Am I fit to bear

the strain, think you?"

"I do!--Is it usual for gentlemen to ride masked, as you were?"

At that he laughed.

"No, madam, but for the gentlemen of the High Toby, it is _de régie_."

She paused, with her needle held in mid-air:

"Now, what mean you by that?"

"Just that I am a common highwayman, Miss Betty."

She stared at him for a moment, and then resumed her work.

"You look it."

John cast a startled glance down his slim person.

"Is that so, madam? And I rather flattered myself I did not!"

"I was only laughing at you. You do not expect me to believe that

fabrication--surely?"

"I fear I do," he sighed. "'Tis very true, alack!"

"Oh, indeed? Also a friend of Sir Miles O'Hara, _J.P_.--and of Mr.

Everard?"

"At least the last-named is not an acquaintance to be proud of," he

retorted.

"Perhaps not. My Di says he is some great gentleman."

"I perceive that your Di is by nature suspicious. Why does she think

that?"

"You will see. Di, love, here is Mr. Carr trying to make me believe that

he is a highwayman!"

Diana came up to them smiling.

"I fear he teases you, aunt. Do you remember this, sir?" Into Jack's

hands she put his Grace of Andover's sword.

Carstares took it, surprised, and glanced casually at the hilt. Then he

started up.

"Why, 'tis his sword. And I thought 'twas left on the roadside. Can it

be--did _you_ bring it, mademoiselle?"

She dropped him a curtsey, and laughed.

"You are surprised, sir? You demanded the sword, so I naturally supposed

that you required it. Therefore I brought it home."

"'Twas monstrous thoughtful of you then. I dared not hope that it had not

been forgotten. I am very grateful--"

"Then pray show your gratitude by sitting down again!" advised the elder

Miss Beauleigh. "Remember that this is your first day up, and have a

care!"

John subsided obediently, turning the sword over in his hands.

Diana pointed to the wrought gold hilt with an accusing finger.

"An I mistake not, sir, that is a coronet."

My lord's eyes followed the pink-tipped finger and rested wrathfully

upon the arms of Andover. It was like Tracy to flaunt them on his

sword-hilt, he reflected.

"It certainly has that appearance," he admitted cautiously.

"Also, those are not paste, but real diamonds, and that is a ruby."

"I do not dispute it, madam," he answered meekly.

"And I believe that that big stone is an emerald."

"I am very much afraid that it is."

"An expensive toy!" she said, and looked sharply at him.

"Ornate, I agree, but as true a piece of steel as ever I saw," replied

my lord blandly, balancing the rapier on one finger.

"A very expensive toy!" she repeated sternly.

John sighed.

"True, madam--true." Then with a brightened air: "Perhaps Mr. Everard

has expensive tastes?"

"It is very possible. And I think that Mr. Everard must have been more

than a simple country gentleman to indulge those tastes."

Carstares bit his lip to hide a smile at the thought of Tracy in the

light of a simple country gentleman, and shook his head sadly.

"Do you infer that he came by this sword dishonestly, madam?"

The dimple quivered and was gone.

"Sir, I believe that you are playing with me," she said with great

dignity.

"Madam, I am abashed."

"I am very glad to hear it, then. I infer that Mr. Everard was something

more than he pretended to be."

"In truth, a sorry rogue to deceive a lady."

"And I want to know if I am right. Is he, perhaps, some grand

gentleman?"

"I can assure you, madam, that there is very little of the gentleman

about Mr. Everard."

Miss Betty began to laugh.

"Have done, my dear! 'Tis of no avail, and 'tis impolite to press Mr.

Carr too hard."

Diana pouted.

"He is monstrous provoking, I think," she said, and eyed him

reproachfully.

"I am desolated," mourned Jack, but his eyes danced.

"And now you are laughing!"

"But then, mademoiselle, so are you!"

She shook her head, resolutely repressing the dimple.

"Then I am inconsolable."

The brown eyes sparkled and her lips parted in spite of her efforts to

keep them in a stern line.

"Oh, but you are ridiculous!" she cried, and sprang to her feet. "And

here is Sir Miles!"

O'Hara came across the lawn towards them, bowed to the ladies, and

glanced inquiringly from one to the other.

"Is it a joke ye have?" he asked.

Diana answered him.

"Indeed no, sir. 'Tis Mr. Carr who is so provoking."

"Provoking, is it? And what has he been doing?"

"I'll tell you the whole truth, Miles," interposed the maligned one.

"'Tis Mistress Diana who is so inquisitive!"

"Oh!" Diana blushed furiously "I protest you are unkind, sir!"

"Sure, 'tis no gentleman he is, at all!"

"'Twas on the subject of gentlemen that we--"

"Quarrelled," supplied her aunt.

"Disagreed," amended his lordship.

"Disagreed," nodded Diana. "I asked him whether Mr. Everard was not some

grand gentleman, and he evaded the point."

"I vow 'tis slander!" cried Jack. "I merely said that Everard was no

gentleman at all."

"There! And was not that evading the point, Sir Miles?"

"Was it? Sure, I'm inclined to agree with him."

"I declare you are both in league against me!" she cried, with greater

truth than she knew. "I mean, was he perhaps a _titled_ gentleman?"

"But how should Jack know that?"

"Because I am sure he knows him--or, at least, of him."

"Listen, Mistress Di," broke in my lord, shooting a warning glance at

O'Hara. "I will tell you all about Mr. Everard, and I hope you will be

satisfied with my tale." He paused and seemed to cudgel his brain.

"First he is, of course, titled--let me see--yes, he is a Duke. Oh, he

is certainly a Duke--and I am not sure but what he is royal--he--"

"Now you are ridiculous!" cried Miss Betty.

"You are very teasing," said Diana, and tried to frown. "First you

pretend to know nothing about Mr. Everard, and then you tell me foolish

stories about him. A Duke, indeed! I believe you _really_ do know

nothing about him!"

As Carstares had hoped, she refused to believe the truth.

"He is playing with ye, child," said O'Hara, who had listened to Jack's

tale with a face of wonder. "I warrant he knows no Everard--eh, Jack?"

"No, I cannot say that I do," laughed his lordship.

"But--but--you said--"

"Never mind what he said, Miss Di. 'Tis a scurvy fellow he is."

She regarded him gravely.

"Indeed, I almost think so."

But the dimple peeped out for all that! The next instant it was gone,

and Diana turned a face of gloom to her aunt, pouting her red lips

adorably, so thought my lord.

"Mr. Bettison," she said in accents of despair.

At these mystic words, Jack saw Miss Betty frown, and heard her

impatient remark: "Drat the man!"

He looked towards the house, and perceived a short, rather stout, young

man to be walking with a peculiar strutting gait towards them. The boy

was good-looking, Carstares acknowledged to himself, but his eyes were

set too close. And he did not like his style. No, certainly he did not

like his style, nor the proprietary way in which he kissed Diana's hand.

"How agreeable it is to see you again, Mr. Bettison!" said Miss Betty

with much affability. "I declare 'tis an age since we set eyes on you!"

"Oh, no, Aunt," contradicted Diana sweetly. "Why, it was only a very

short while ago that Mr. Bettison was here, _surely_!" She withdrew the

hand that the young man seemed inclined to hold fast to, and turned to

John.

"I think you do not know Mr. Bettison, Mr. Carr?" she said. "Mr.

Bettison, allow me to present you to Mr. Carr. Sir Miles I think you

know?"

The squire bowed with a great deal of stiff hostility. Carstares

returned the bow.

"You will excuse my not rising, I beg," he smiled. "As you perceive--I

have had an accident."

Light dawned on Bettison. This was the man who had rescued Diana,

confound his impudence!

"Ah, yes, sir! Your arm, was it not? My faith, I should be proud of such

a wound!"

It seemed to Carstares that he smiled at Diana in a damned familiar

fashion, devil take his impudence!

"It was indeed a great honour, sir. Mistress Di, I have finished sorting

your green silks."

Diana sank down on the cushion again, and shook some more strands out on

to his knee.

"How quick you have been! Now we will do the blue ones." Bettison

glared. This fellow seemed prodigious intimate with Diana, devil take

him! He sat down beside Miss Betty, and addressed my lord patronisingly.

"Let me see--er--Mr. Carr. Have I met you in town, I wonder? At Tom's,

perhaps?"

This country bumpkin _would_ belong to Tom's, reflected John savagely,

for no reason at all. Aloud he said:

"I think it extremely unlikely, sir. I have been abroad some years."

"Oh, indeed, sir? The 'grand tour,' I suppose?"

Mr. Bettison's tone was not the tone of one who supposes any such thing.

John smiled.

"Not this time," he said, "that was seven years ago."

Mr. Bettison had heard rumours of this fellow who, it was murmured, was

nought but a common highwayman.

"Really? After Cambridge, perhaps?"

"Oxford," corrected Carstares gently.

Curse his audacity! thought Mr. Bettison.

"Seven years ago--let me think. George must have been on the tour

then--Selwyn, I mean, Miss Beauleigh."

Jack, who had made the tour with several other young bucks fresh down

from college, accompanied as far as Paris by the famous wit himself,

held his peace.

Mr. Bettison then launched forth into anecdotes of his own tour, and

seeing that his friend was entirely engrossed with Miss Diana and her

silks, O'Hara felt it incumbent on him to draw the enemy's fire, and,

taking his own departure, to bear the squire off with him. For which he

received a grateful smile from my lord, and a kiss blown from the tips

of her fingers from Mistress Di, with whom he was on the best of terms.