The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer (best mobile ebook reader TXT) 📕

CHAPTER V HIS GRACE OF ANDOVER

LADY LAVINIA dressed herself with even more than her usual care next afternoon, and well-nigh drove her maid distracted by her flashes of temper and impatient, contradictory orders. So lengthy was the toilet that she was only just in her boudoir when his Grace of Andover was announced. She had no time to tell the footman that she would receive his Grace, for almost before the words were out of James’ mouth, he stood bowing in the doorway, sure of his welcome.

He was curiously like his sister, this man, and at the same time curiously unlike. Hers were the high cheek-bones and pinched, aristocratic nostrils, but the mouth with its thin lips, and the heavy-lidded green eyes, were totally different. His Grace’s brows slanted up at the corners, and his eyes, though piercing and bright, were constantly veiled by the black-lashed lids. He wore his own black hair, unpowdered, and that, together with the black and silver garments that he always affected, greatly enhanced the natural pallor of his countenance. Altogether it was a very striking figure that stood just before the closed white door and bowed to my lady.

Lavinia took an eager step towards him, swinging her pearl-grey brocades.

“Oh, Tracy!” she cooed, holding out both hands.

His Grace advanced into the room and bent low over them.

“I rejoice to find you within, Lavinia,” he said, a faint tinge of sarcasm running through his smooth tones. “As you perceive, I rode over.” He made a gesture towards his high boots with their wicked looking spurs. “No doubt Andrew forgot to give you my letter?”

“No,” she said, slipping her hand in his arm. “He remembered in time, and—oh, Tracy, I was so vastly delighted to have it!”

“I am indeed honoured,” he replied. “I am come on a sufficiently important matter.”

“Oh!” She pulled her hand away disappointedly. “Money!”

“You are really wonderful, my dear. As you so crudely remark—money! Will you not be seated?”

She sank down on the couch dejectedly and watched him take a chair opposite her.

“Your most noble lord and master lent me a trifling sum the other day, but very trifling. I am, as usual, hard-pressed. And that young fool Andrew must needs fall into debt.”

My lady opened wide her eyes in surprise.

“Do you tell me you need money from Richard to pay Andrew’s debts?” she asked, frankly incredulous.

“I do not. Is it likely? The remark was purely by the way.”

“Well, in any case, Andrew borrowed three thousand from poor Dick only yesterday. I know, because I heard him speak of it.”

His Grace raised his black brows in patient exasperation.

“How unnecessary of Andrew! And how typical! So ‘poor Dick’ has been squeezed already?”

“Don’t speak like that, Tracy!” she cried. “Dicky is good to me!” She met his piercing look unflinchingly.

“Now this becomes interesting,” drawled the Duke. “Since when have you come to that conclusion? And why this sudden loyalty?”

“I have always been loyal to him, Tracy! You know I have! I worry him—and indeed he is very forbearing.”

“But how charming of him!”

“No, do not sneer, Tracy! He has promised to take me to London for the whole winter—”

His Grace leant back in his chair again.

“Now I understand,” he said placidly. “I was at a loss before.”

“‘Tis not that, Tracy! Indeed I realise how kind he is to me. And we have quarrelled again. We are always quarrelling, and I know ‘tis all my fault.”

“What a comfortable conviction, my dear!”

“No, no! ‘Tis not comfortable, Tracy! For somehow I cannot change my disposition, though I mean to be patient and sweet. Tracy, I hate Wyncham!”

“You hate Wyncham? There was a time—”

“I know, I know! But I never meant to live here always like this! I want to go to London!”

“I thought you said you were going?”

“Yes, I am! But I want to go with someone who is gay—not—not—”

“In fact, you want distraction, and not with the amiable Richard? Well, I can conceive that life with him might prove uninspiring. Safe, my dear, but not exciting.”

“I knew you would understand! You see, he does not like me to play at cards, because I cannot stop! And he cannot see how ‘tis that I care nought for what he calls ‘home-life’ when there are routs, and the play, and real life. He—he is so—so—so staid, Tracy, and careful!”

“A good trait in a husband, Lavinia,” replied his Grace cynically. “‘Tis because I do not possess it that I am single now.”

Her lips curled scornfully at this, for well she knew her brother.

“No, Tracy, that is not so! It is because you are a devil! No woman would marry you!”

“That is most interesting, my dear,” purred his Grace. “But pray strive to be a little more original. Continue your analysis of Richard’s sterling character.”

“‘Tis only that we are so different,” she sighed. “I always desire to do things quickly—if I think of something, I want it at once—at once! You know, Tracy! And he likes to wait and think on it, and—oh, ‘tis so tiresome, and it puts me in a bad humour, and I behave like a hysterical bourgeoise!” She got up swiftly, clasping her nervous little hands. “When he speaks to me in that gentle, reasoning way, I could scream, Tracy! Do you think I am mad?” She laughed unmusically.

“No,” he replied, “but the next thing to it: a Belmanoir. Perhaps it was a pity you ever married Richard. But there is always the money.”

“There is not,” she cried out sharply.

“Not? What mean you?”

“Tracy, ‘tis of this that I wanted to speak! You think my lord left his money to Dick?”

“Certainly. He should be stupendously wealthy.”

“He is not!”

“But, my good girl, the revenue must be enormous. He has the land, surely?”

“No! No! He has not the land! Oh, but I am angry whenever I think on it! He induced my lord to leave it to John. He has but his younger son’s portion!”

“I still fail to understand. You informed me that the Earl left all to Richard?”

“He changed his will, Tracy!”

“He—changed—his—will! Then, my dear, must you have played your cards very badly!”

“‘Twas not my fault, Tracy—indeed ‘twas not! I knew nought until the will was read. Richard never spoke a word to me about it! And now we are comparatively poor!” Her voice trembled with indignation, but his Grace only whistled beneath his breath.

“I always knew, of course, that Dick was a fool, but I never guessed how much so till now!”

At that she flared up.

“He is not a fool! He is an honest man, and ‘tis we—_we_, I tell you—who are mean and despicable and mercenary!”

“Undoubtedly, Lavinia, but pray do not excite yourself over it. I suppose he is still devoted to that young hothead?”

“Yes, yes—‘tis all Jack, Jack, Jack, until I am sick to death of the sound of his name—and—” She broke off, biting her lip.

“And what?”

“Oh, nought! But ‘tis all so disagreeable, Tracy!”

“It certainly is slightly disturbing. You had better have chosen John, in spite of all, it seems.”

She stamped angrily.

“Oh, where’s the good in being flippant?”

“My dear Lavinia, where’s the good in being anything else? The situation strikes me as rather amusing. To think of the worthy Richard so neatly overturning all my plans!”

“If it had not been for you, I might never have married him. Why did you throw them both in my way? Why did I ever set eyes on either?”

“It should have been a good match, my dear, and, if I remember rightly, no one was more alive to that fact than yourself.”

She pouted angrily and turned her shoulder to him.

“Still,” he continued reflectively, “I admit that for the smart lot we are, we do seem rather to have bungled the affair.”

Lavinia swept round upon him.

“Oh, do you care no more than that? How can you be so casual! Does it affect you not at all?”

He wrinkled his thin nose expressively.

“I shall not weep over it, Lavinia, but ‘tis a plaguey nuisance. But we must see what can be done. And that brings me back to the original subject. Despite these upsetting revelations, I still require that money.”

“Oh, dear! How much must you have, Tracy?”

“Five hundred might suffice.”

“Tracy, do not the estates bring in anything?” she asked petulantly. “And Andrew told us you had a run of marvellous luck not a fortnight since?”

“Since then, my dear, I have had three runs of marvellous ill-luck. As to the estates, they are mortgaged up to the hilt, as you very well know. What little there is is between three. And Robert is extravagant.”

“I hate Robert!”

“I am not partial to him myself, but it makes no odds.”

“I wish he might die!—oh no, no! Now I am become ill-natured again—I don’t wish it—only I am so tired of everything. You shall have that money as soon as possible; but be careful, Tracy—please be careful! ‘Tis not easy to get money from Dick!”

“No, I should imagine not. However, we have managed rather well up to the present, take it all in all.”

“Up to the present he has had all the money he wanted. My lord denied him nought!”

“Well, ‘tis unfortunate, as I said before, but it must be endured. Where is Dick?”

“I know not. You will stay to dinner, Tracy?”

“Thank you. I shall be charmed.”

“Yes, yes—oh, how prodigiously pleasant it is to see you again! Soon I shall come to Andover. Will you let me stay a few days?”

“The question is, will Richard allow you to stay so long in my contaminating presence?”

“Richard would never keep me away, Tracy!” she replied proudly. “He could not. Oh, why is it that I don’t love him more? Why do I not care for him as much as I care for you even?”

“My dear Lavinia, like all Belmanoirs, you care first for yourself and secondly for the man who masters you. That, alas! Richard has not yet succeeded in doing.”

“But I do love Richard. I do, I do, yet—”

“Exactly. ‘Yet!’ The ‘grand passion’ has not yet touched you, my dear, and you are quite self-absorbed.”

“Self-absorbed! Those are hard words.”

“But not too hard for the case. You think solely of yourself, your own pleasure, your own character, your own feelings. If you could cast yourself into the background a little, you would be less excitable and considerably less discontented.”

“How dare you, Tracy! Pray, what of you? Are you so selfless?”

“Not at all. I am precisely the same. I was merely suggesting that you might be happier an you could depose ‘self.’”

“You had best do the same yourself!”

“My dear Lavinia, when I feel the need of greater happiness, I most undoubtedly shall. At present I am quite content.”

“You are unkind!” she protested. “And you sneer at me.”

“Pray, accept my heartfelt apologies! You shall come to Andover if the worthy Richard permits.”

Her face cleared as by magic.

“Oh, Tracy! Oh, I am so desirous to be gay once more! I cannot even receive now, on