The Black Moth - Georgette Heyer (best ereader for students TXT) 📗

is so much to be done here. If you will wait a little longer—”

“Ah, if I will wait! If I will be patient and good! But I cannot! Oh, you don’t understand, Dicky—you don’t understand!”

“I am sorry, dear. I promise I will take you as soon as possible, and we will stay as long as you please.”

Her arms fell away.

“I want to go now!”

“Dear—”

“Very well—very well. We will go presently. Only don’t reason with me.”

He looked at her concernedly.

“You are overwrought, my love—and tired.”

“Yes,” she agreed listlessly. “Oh yes; I will go now and rest. Forgive me, Dick!” She kissed her finger-tips and extended them to him. “I will be good one day.” She turned and hurried out of the room and up the stairs, leaving the door open behind her.

Richard stayed for a moment looking round at the signs of her late presence. Mechanically he stooped to pick up her embroidery and the pieces of her handkerchief. The two flowers were broken off short, and he threw them away. Then he left the room and went out on to the sunny terrace, gazing across the beautiful gardens into the blue distance.

Across the lawn came a child of four or five, waving a grimy hand.

“Father!”

Richard looked down at him and smiled.

“Well, John?”

The boy climbed up the terrace steps, calling his news all the way.

“‘Tis Uncle Andrew, sir. He has rid over to see you, and is coming through the garden to find you.”

“Is he? Has he left his horse at the stables?”

“Ay, sir. So I came to tell you.”

“Quite right. Will you come with me to meet him?”

The little rosy face lighted up with pleasure.

“Oh, may I?” he cried and slipped his hand in Richard’s.

Together they descended the steps and made their way across the lawn.

“I have run away from Betty,” announced John with some pride. “There’s Uncle Andrew, sir!” He bounded away towards the approaching figure

Lord Andrew Belmanoir was Richard’s brother-in-law, brother to the present Duke. He came up with John in his arms and tumbled him to the ground.

“Good day, Dick! ‘Tis a spoilt child you have here!”

“Ay. He is but now escaped from his nurse.”

“Splendid—Come, John, you shall walk with us, and we’ll confound fat Betty!” He slipped his arm through Richard’s as he spoke. “Come, Dick! There’s a deal I have to say to you.” He grimaced ruefully.

The child ran on ahead towards the woods, a great bull-mastiff at his heels.

“What’s to do now?” asked Richard, looking round into the mobile, dissipated countenance.

“The devil’s in it this time, and no mistake,” answered his lordship with a rueful shake of his head.

“Debts?”

“Lord, yes! I was at Delaby’s last night, and the stakes were high. Altogether I’ve lost about three thousand—counting what I owe Carew. And devil take me an I know where ‘t’s to come from! Here’s Tracy turned saint and swears he’ll see me damned before he hands me another penny. I doubt he means it, too.”

Tracy was the Duke. Richard smiled a little cynically; he had already had to lend his Grace a thousand guineas to pay off some “trifling debt.”

“He means it right enough. I believe it would puzzle him to find it.”

“Do you say so? Why, ‘tis impossible man! Tracy was in town scarce a fortnight since, and he had a run of the devil’s own luck. I tell you Dick, I saw him walk off with a cool five thousand one night! And then he denies me a paltry three! Lord, what a brother! And all with the air of an angel, as if he had never lost at dice. And a homily thrown in! Anyone would think I had cheated, instead of—ahem! … Dick, I’m confoundedly sorry! Damned thoughtless of me—never thought about Jo—about what I was saying— I’m a fool!” For Richard had winced.

“You cannot help that,” he said, forcing a laugh. “Have done with your apologies, and continue.”

They had come to the stream by now, and crossed the little bridge into the

wood.

“Oh, there’s not much more. ‘Tis only that something must be done, for Carew won’t wait, and stap me if I’d ask him, the lean-faced scarecrow!—so I came to you, Dick.” He let go Richard’s arm and flung himself down on a fallen tree-trunk, regardless of velvet and laces.

“You’re a good fellow, and you don’t lecture a man as Tracy does, devil take him! And you play high yourself, or you did, though ‘tis an age since I saw you win or lose enough to wink at. And, after all, you’re Lavvy’s husband, and—oh, damn it all, Dick, ‘tis monstrous hard to ask you!”

Carstares, leaning against a tree, surveyed the youthful rake amusedly.

“‘Tush, Andrew!” he reassured him. “You’re welcome to ask, but the Lord knows where I’m to find it! Gad, what a life! Here’s Lavinia keeps buying silks, and I don’t know what all, and—”

“She was ever a spendthrift jade,” said Andrew with a mighty frown.

Richard laughed at him.

“You’re a thrifty fellow yourself, of course!”

Andrew looked round for something to throw at him, and finding nothing, relapsed once more into deepest despondency.

“You’re in the right of’t. We’re a worthless lot. ‘Tis the old man’s blood in us, I doubt not, with a smattering of her Grace. You never knew my mother, Richard. She was French—Lavvy’s the spit of her. There’s Tracy—stap me, but Tracy’s the very devil! Have you ever seen a face like his? No, I’ll swear you’ve not! What with his sneering mouth and his green eyes—oh, ‘tis enough to make a fellow go to the dogs to have a brother like it, ‘pon my soul it is! Ay, you can laugh, but I tell you ‘tis serious!”

“Ay, go on!”

“Well next there’s Bob—damn it all, but I’m sorry for Bob! ‘Tis a beggarly pittance they give one in the army, and he was never one to pinch and scrape. Well, as I say, there’s Bob, and I never see him, but what it’s: ‘Lend me a hundred, Andy!’ or the like. And all to buy his mistress some gewgaw. That’s what sickens me! Why, Bob’s for ever in some scrape with a petticoat, and as for Tracy! Gad, how they can! Then there’s Lavinia, but I should think you know her by now, and lastly, there’s your humble servant. And I tell you, Dick, what with the racing, and the cards, and the bottle, I shall be a ruined man before you can turn round! And the pother is I’ll never be any different. ‘Tis in the blood, so where’s the use in trying?” He made a rueful grimace, and rose. “Come on, young rip! We’re going back.”

John, engaged in the task of hunting for tadpoles in the water some yards distant, nodded and ran on.

“I fear my lady is indisposed,” said Richard hesitatingly. “You wished to see her?”

Andrew winked knowingly.

“Tantrums, eh? Oh, I know her. No, I do not care an I do not see her; ‘tis little enough she cares for me, though she’s as thick as thieves with Tracy—oh, ay, I’ll be dumb.”

They walked slowly back to the house, Andrew, silent for once, twirling his gold-mounted cane.

“You shall have the money, of course. When do you want it?” said Richard presently.

“‘Pon honour, you’re a devilish good fellow, Dick! But if ‘tis like to put you to any—”

“Nonsense. When do you need it?”

“I should pay Carew as soon as may be. Markham can wait over if—”

“No, no! Wednesday?”

“‘Twill do excellently well. Dick, you’re a—”

“Oh, pshaw! ‘Tis nought. I want your opinion on the bay mare I bought last week. You’ll maybe think her a trifle long in the leg, but she’s a fine animal.”

John had run indoors, and the two men proceeded to the stables alone, Andrew discoursing all the way, recounting for his brother-in-law’s benefit the choicest morsels of scandal that were circulating town at the moment. That his auditor but attended with half an ear affected him not at all; he never paused for an answer, and, in any case, was far too good-natured to care if he received none.

By the time they had duly inspected the mare and walked back to the house, it was nearly four o’clock, and, not altogether to Carstares’ surprise, Lavinia was awaiting them on the terrace, clad in a totally different gown, and with her hair freshly arranged and curled.

“‘Twould appear that Lavinia has recovered,” remarked Andrew as they mounted the steps. “She was ever thus—not two minutes the same. Well, Lavvy?”

“Well, Andrew?” She gave him a careless hand to kiss, but smiled sweetly up at her husband. “My headache is so much better,” she told him, “and they said that Andrew was come to see you. So I came downstairs.” She turned eagerly to her brother. “Tell me, Andrew, is Tracy at home?”

“Lord, yes! He arrived yesterday, devil take him! Do you want him?”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded. “I want to see him again. I’ve not set eyes on him for an age. I want you to take me back with you.”

“Surely, my dear, ‘tis a trifle late in the day for such a drive?” demurred Richard, trying to conceal his annoyance. “Can you not wait until tomorrow?”

“Faith, you’ll have to, Lavvy, for I’ll not take you to-day, that’s certain. I’m riding to Fletcher’s when I leave here. Tracy can visit you tomorrow an he chooses.”

“Will he?” she asked doubtfully.

Andrew clapped his hand to his vest pocket. “If I had not forgot!” he exclaimed. “I’ve a letter from him for you. He intends waiting on you tomorrow, in any case. Lord, what it is to have a scatter brain like mine!” He pulled a handful of papers from his pocket and selected one, sealed, and addressed in a sloping Italian handwriting.

Lavinia pounced upon it joyfully, and tore it open. Andrew restored the rest of the documents to his pocket with yet another rueful laugh.

“Duns, Richard! Duns!”

“Give them to me,” answered the other, holding out his hand.

“Oh, no! But many thanks, Dick. These are quite unimportant.”

“Why not pay them all, and start afresh?” urged Carstares.

“Lord, no! Why, I should be so damned elated that before the day was out there’d be a score of fresh debts staring me in the face!”

“Let me lend you a thousand to begin on? Could you not keep out of debt?”

“I keep out of debt? Impossible! Don’t look so solemn, Dick; I told you ‘twas in the blood. We never have a penny to bless ourselves with, but what’s the odds? I shall have a run of luck soon—a man can’t always lose. Then I shall be able to repay you, but, of course, I shan’t. It’ll all go at the next table. I know!” He spoke so ingenuously that Richard could not be angry with him. There was a certain frankness about him that pleased, and though he might be spendthrift and heedless, and colossally selfish, Richard felt a genuine affection for him. He would have liked to argue the point further, but Lavinia came forward, refolding her letter.

“Tracy is coming tomorrow afternoon,” she told her husband. “‘Twill be prodigiously agreeable, will it not?”

He assented, but with a lack of warmth that did not fail to strike her ears.

“And he will stay to dine with us!” she cried challengingly.

“Certainly, my love.”

“Look pleased, Dicky, look pleased! Why don’t you like Tracy? He is my own brother; you must like him!”

“Of course I like him, Lavinia. Pray, do not be foolish.”

“Oh, I am not! Don’t be cross, Dicky dear!”

“Well, if you like