“He knows nothing whatsoever about Richmond, whatever he may know of any other boy! I should like to know what trouble he thinks could possibly befall my grandson!” said his lordship contemptuously. “Damme, I thought you’d more wit than to be nose-led by Hugh! I know his cut! I’d be willing to lay you any odds that his notion of trouble is the sort of scrape I don’t doubt Richmond will tumble into, just as you did, and I did, and every one of my sons did! It won’t worry me, but I haven’t any shabby-genteel moralities, as you may be sure he has! Damn his infernal impudence! I’ll have him know that Richmond’s a gentleman! Ay, and a grandson to be proud of, too! There’s not one of you that can match him for pluck, for he don’t know what fear is! He has the best disposition of any of you, too, and the best looks! Let me hear no more from you! Hugh to think he knows the boy better than I do—! By God, it passes the bounds of effrontery!”
“Certainly,” said Vincent. “But I am afraid I have expressed myself inaccurately. It is only fair that I should tell you that Hugo cast no slur on Richmond’s character. The trouble he has in mind is the sort of dangerous—mischief—a green and headstrong boy might plunge into because he was bored, reckless—as we all know Richmond is!—and too much disappointed to care what risks he ran.” He glanced frowningly at Lord Darracott, and then lowered his eyes to the snuff box he was holding. “Rather a surprising youth, Richmond,” he said slowly. “I collect you didn’t know that he hasn’t by any means forgotten his ambition; I certainly didn’t, until I took him to watch that fight. I can only suppose that he was a trifle carried away, for he has never before favoured me with his confidence. I am quite sure he later regretted it, which makes me wonder how much any of us know about him.”
“Well, don’t wonder any more!” said his lordship brusquely. “Why the devil should he confide in you? I know all I need to about him, and I’ll thank you to mind your own business!”
Vincent shrugged, and got up. “As you wish, sir. I am clearly unequal to the rôle I so foolishly assumed, but I do hope it may be chalked up somewhere to my credit that I did at least attempt it.”
“Oh, don’t talk such fustian!” exclaimed his lordship irritably. “Go away before I lose my patience with you!”
“Consider me gone, sir!” Vincent replied.
He went out of the room as he spoke, and walked slowly across the hall to the staircase. Before he had reached it, Hugh came into the house through the still unbolted main door. At sight of him, a shade of annoyance came into Vincent’s eyes, but he said lightly: “Ah, still indulging your lamentable taste for cigars, I collect!” He hesitated, and then, as Hugo said nothing, added, with a wry grimace: “I am afraid, coz, that I did more harm than good—or, at any rate, that you think so!”
“I do,” said Hugo, just a trifle grimly. “And I’m wondering which of the two it was that you meant to do.”
“Strange as it may seem to you—it seems very strange to me!—my intentions were admirable. I actually had not the smallest desire to set you at outs with my grandfather, and even less to thrust a spoke into your wheel, which is what I can’t deny I have done.”
“There’s little chance he’ll let Richmond go with me to Yorkshire, if that’s what you mean,” answered Hugo.
“It is precisely what I mean. I perceive that I shall be obliged, after all, to offer you an apology.”
“Nay, I’ll make shift to do without it. Will you keep your eye on that lad while I’m away?” said Hugo bluntly.
“Yes, coz, I will—if only to prove you wrong in your suspicion! By the way, I wouldn’t, if I were you, mention it to my grandfather!”
“That’s the last thing I’ll do!” said Hugo.
“Very prudent! Goodnight!” said Vincent, beginning to mount the stairway. At the first landing, he paused, and looked down at Hugo, saying smoothly: “I wonder how it was that we contrived, before your arrival, to rub along tolerably well, and certainly without falling into disaster? I must confess myself to be wholly at a stand to account for it.”
“Well, that’s something that has me in a puzzle too!” retorted Hugo, a sudden grin putting the unusual gravity of his countenance to flight.
Vincent raised his brows in faint surprise. “Your trick, cousin!” he acknowledged, and went on up the stairs.
By the time a somewhat depleted breakfast-party met next morning, everyone at Darracott Place knew that the previous day had ended with a Scene of no common order, for those, like Richmond, whose rooms were so remote from the library as to put them out of the reach of even such a powerful voice as Lord Darracott’s had the pleasing intelligence conveyed to them with their cups of chocolate and cans of hot water. Mrs. Darracott, whose room was situated immediately above the library, carried the news to Lady Aurelia, together with a moving description of the nervous spasms which had subsequently made it impossible for her to close her eyes all night. Her appearance bore such eloquent testimony in support of her story that Lady Aurelia, though herself made of sterner stuff, said kindly: “Very disagreeable!”
“No one seems to know what provoked Lord Darracott, but my woman had it from Charles that Hugo slammed out of the house in a terrible rage—though that I do not believe, because I must have heard the door slam had he done so, and in any event Chollacombe told me himself that Hugo merely went out to smoke a cigar, which he always does—not that I knew it, and I own I wish he would not, for I cannot like smoking, even if it’s dear Hugo! However, that has nothing to do with it, and for my part I don’t believe that Hugo was in a rage, for there was never a sweeter-tempered, more truly amiable creature born, and when one considers—but I shall not speak of that, for I am sure we have talked it over often enough, and enter into each other’s sentiments exactly! But what makes me quite ill with apprehension, Aurelia, is that there seems to be no doubt at all that it was Hugo Lord Darracott quarrelled with! But why? What, I ask you, can Hugo possibly have done or said to provoke my lord? There were just the three of them; when we had gone up to bed, and it can’t have been Claud, because James told Mrs. Flitwick that he came out of the library long before the end of the quarrel; and it can’t have been Vincent, because he stayed with my lord, after Hugo had left the room, and after my lord stopped shouting. So it must have been dear Hugo! And what utterly sinks my spirits is that my woman met Grooby coming away from Lord Darracott’s room this morning, and knew, the instant she set eyes on him, that things are as bad as they could possibly be, instead of having blown over, as very often they do, and my lord in the worst of humours! So I sent for some coffee, and a slice of bread-and-butter, to my bed-chamber, not that I could swallow a morsel, for nothing will prevail upon me to go down to the breakfast-room while everyone is at outs! But,”concluded the widow, with sudden resolution, “if Lord Darracott has dared to endanger my only daughter’s happiness, he will have Me to reckon with, for where my children are concerned I can be as brave as a Lioness, Aurelia, even at the breakfast-table!”
Lady Aurelia, whose invariable custom it was to partake of a far more substantial breakfast in bed, saw nothing to object to in this, and nodded her head. After considering the matter she pronounced, in a very regal way: “I will see Claud.”
But Claud, summoned to his august parent’s room before he had finished dressing, was far too peevish to be of any material assistance. Attired in a dressing-gown of rich silk, he was much more concerned with the style of neckcloth most proper to be worn with a frock-coat, and a daring waistcoat of Polyphant’s design, than with a quarrel from which he had managed to escape, and only wished to forget. He was inclined to be indignant with his mother for having sent for him on frivolous grounds; and, finding that she was determined to get to the bottom of what seemed to him a very trivial affair, extricated himself without hesitation or compunction by advising her to apply to Vincent for information, since he was the instigator of the quarrel. Before he could make good his retreat, however, he was incensed and appalled by a command to go immediately to Vincent’s room, and to inform him that his mama desired to have speech with him before he went down to breakfast. Since it was the time-honoured practice of the brothers to sacrifice each other in such situations as now confronted Claud, it was not fear of Vincent’s wrath at finding himself betrayed which prompted Claud to despatch Polyphant on the errand, but the knowledge that not even a messenger bearing gifts of great price would meet with anything but the rudest of receptions from Vincent at this hour of the morning.