Georgette Heyer - Devil’s Cub

Miss Marling was prevented from replying by the entrance of two serving-men. Covers were laid, and chairs placed at the table. The men withdrew, and Miss Marling said carefully: “You have a vast deal to say in my dispraise, Vidal. Pray, is it to be expected that I should feel no agitation? To be sure, I am sorry I complained of the speed, but to be left hour upon hour alone in a jolting chaise is enough to try the patience even of a Mary Challoner.”

“No,” said his lordship. A reminiscent smile softened his mouth for a brief moment. “Come and sit down.”

She came, but told him that a glass of wine to revive her was all that was needed.

The Marquis shrugged. “Just as you please, cousin.”

Miss Marling sipped her wine, and watched his lordship carve the capon. She shuddered, and said that she wondered at him. “For my part,” she added, “I should have thought any gentleman of the least sensibility would have refrained from-from gorging when the lady in his company-”

“Ah, but I’m not a gentleman,” said the Marquis. “I have it on the best of authority that I am only a nobleman.”

“Good gracious, Vidal, who in the world dared to say such a thing?” cried his cousin, instantly diverted.

“Mary,” replied his lordship, pouring himself out a glass of wine.

“Well, if you sat eating as though nothing mattered save your dinner I’m not surprised,” said Juliana viciously. “If I were not so angry with her, the deceitful, sly wretch, I could pity her for all she must have undergone at your hands.”

“Seeing me eat was the least of her sufferings,” answered the Marquis. “She underwent much, but it may interest you to know, Juliana, that she never treated me to the vapours, as you seem like to do.”

“Then I can only say, Vidal, that either she had no notion what a horrid brutal man you are, or that she is just a dull creature with no nerves at all.”

For a moment Vidal did not answer. Then he said in a level voice: “She knew.” His lip curled. He glanced scornfully at his cousin. “Had I carried you off as I carried her you would have died of fright or hysterics, Juliana. Make no mistake, my dear; Mary was so desperately afraid she tried to put a bullet through me.”

“Tried to put a bullet through you, Dominic?” repeated Miss Marling incredulously. “I never heard a word of this before!”

“It is not a story that I should be likely to tell, since it don’t redound to my credit,” said Vidal dryly. “But when you sit there full of airs and graces because you’ve been jolted over a bad road, and sneer at Mary-”

“I didn’t sneer!” said Juliana hastily. “I’d no notion you behaved so dreadfully badly to her. You said you forced her aboard your yacht, but I never supposed that you really frightened her enough to make her fire at you. You need not be in a rage with me for saying so, Dominic, but when I saw Mary at your house she was so placid I made sure you’d not treated her so very brutally after all. Had you?”

“Yes,” said Vidal bluntly. He looked at Juliana. “You think it was vastly romantic for Mary to be carried off by me, don’t you? You think you would enjoy it, and you cannot conceive how she should be afraid, can you? Then think, my girl! Think a little! You are in my power at this moment, I may remind you. What if I make you feel it? What if I say to start with that you shall eat your dinner, and force it down your throat?”

Juliana shrank back from him involuntarily. “Don’t, Vidal! Don’t come near me!” she said, frightened by the expression in his face.

He laughed. “Not so romantic, is it, Ju? And to force you to eat your dinner would be a small thing compared with some other things I might force you to do. Sit down, I’m not going to touch you.”

She obeyed, eyeing him nervously. “I-I wish I hadn’t come with you!” she said.

“So did Mary, with more reason. But Mary would have died sooner than let me see that she was afraid. And Mary, my love, is not my cousin.”

Juliana drew a long breath. “Of course, I didn’t think that you would really force me to eat,” she said. “You-you merely startled me.”

“Well, I shall force you if you don’t take care,” said his lordship. He carved a slice of breast, and handed it to her. “Don’t be tiresome, Juliana. Eat it, and forget your sensibilities. You’ve not much time.”

Juliana took the plate meekly. “Oh, very well,” she said. “I must say, Dominic, if you looked at Mary in that dreadful threatening way I can almost forgive her for running off with Frederick.” She stole a sidelong look at him. “You were not very kind to Mary, apparently.”

“Kind!” ejaculated Vidal. “No, I was not-kind.”

Juliana ate another morsel of capon. “You seem to me to have behaved as though you hated her,” she remarked.

He said nothing. Juliana peeped at him again. “You’re very anxious to get her in your power again, Vidal. But I don’t quite know why you should be, for you meant to marry her only because you had ruined her, and so were obliged to, didn’t you?”

She thought that he was not going to answer, but suddenly he raised his eyes from the contemplation of the dregs of his wine. “Because I am obliged to?” he said. “I mean to marry Mary Challoner because I’m devilish sure I can’t live without her.”

Juliana clapped her hands with a crow of delight. “Oh, it is famous!” she exclaimed. “I never dreamed you had fallen in love with my staid Mary! I thought you were chasing her through France just because you so hate to be crossed! But when you flew into a rage with me for saying she was too dull to be afraid of you, of course, I guessed at once! My dearest Dominic, I was never more glad of anything in my life, and it is of all things the most romantic possible! Do, do let us overtake them at once! Only conceive of their astonishment when they see us!”

“Mary knows I am hard on her heels,” Vidal answered, with a little laugh. “At every stage I meet with the same tale: the English lady was anxious to lose no time. She’s used to my way of travel, Juliana; she’ll whisk your Frederick to Dijon in a manner highly discomposing to his dignity.”

“It is possible,” said Miss Marling stiffly, “that Frederick and not Mary will have the ordering of the journey.”

Vidal chuckled. “Not if I know my Mary,” he replied.

Twenty minutes later they took the road again. Dinner had revived Miss Marling’s spirits, and she made no demur at entering the chaise again. Knowing that she was within reach of her Frederick she could not now drive fast enough, and her only fear was that they might overshoot their mark. Somewhere on the route Frederick and Mary must have halted for the night, and Miss Marling was inclined to stop at every village they passed, in case the fugitives might be there.

She occupied herself in planning the scene that lay before her, and had decided on the speech she would make when there was a sudden crash, and she was hurled against the side of the chaise. There was a dreadful bump, the smash of breaking glass, and Miss Marling, considerably shaken and dazed, tried to right herself only to find that the seat of the coach was now at a very odd angle, and the off-door almost where the roof should have been. She heard the trampling of the horses plunging in alarm, and the voices of the postillions. Then the off-door was wrenched open, and Vidal said sharply: “Are you hurt, Ju?”

“No, but what has happened?-Oh, I have cut myself! Oh, this dreadful glass! It is too bad of you, Dominic! I said we were driving at a wicked pace, and now see what has happened!”

“We’ve lost a wheel,” explained his lordship. “Reach up your hands to me, and I’ll pull you out.”

This feat was performed in an expeditious if somewhat rough-and-ready fashion. Juliana was swung down on to the road, and left to examine her hurts while his lordship went to see that the frightened horses were unhurt. When he came back he found his cousin in a state of seething indignation. She demanded to know where they were, how he proposed to come up with the runaways, where they were to sleep, and whether anyone cared enough to bind up her bleeding hand or not.

The Marquis performed this office for her by the light of one of the chaise lamps, and told her not to be in a taking over a mere scratch. He said that they were, providentially, only a quarter of a mile from the next village, where they could obtain a lodging for the night in one of the cottages.

“What?” shrieked the afflicted Miss Marling. “Sleep in a horrid peasant’s cottage? I won’t! You must find another chaise at once! At once, Vidal, do you hear?”

“I hear,” said his lordship coolly. “Now, don’t be nonsensical, Juliana. You’ll do well enough. For all I know there may be an inn you can stay at, though I won’t vouch for the sheets. There’s no hope of repairing the chaise till the morning, for Richards will have to ride to the nearest town to find a smith. I’m sending him off now, and for the present you must make the best of it. We shall catch our runaways in time, don’t doubt it.”

Miss Marling, overcome by the ignominy of her position, sank down on the bank by the roadside and gave way to her emotions. The postillions regarded her with interested sympathy; Richards coughed in embarrassment; and my lord, raising his clenched fists to heaven, prayed to be delivered from every female but one.

at about the same time that the Marquis of Vidal’s chaise lost a wheel, the Duchess of Avon and Lord Rupert Alastair arrived in Paris, and drove straight to the Hôtel Avon.

“What had we best do first, Rupert?” her grace asked anxiously, as the chaise drew into the courtyard.

“Have some dinner,” replied his lordship, with a prodigious yawn. “If there’s anyone in the house, which I doubt.”