Джорджетт Хейер - The Talisman Ring

“I won’t,” promised Miss Thane. “But you must swear an oath of secrecy, Hugh!”

Sir Hugh laid down his knife and fork. “Sally, what the deuce is all this about?” he demanded.

She laughed. “My dear, I’ve scarcely any more notion than you have. But I am quite sure of my clear duty, which is to chaperone the little heroine. Moreover, I admit to a slight feeling of curiosity to see the wicked cousin. I am at present at a loss to decide whether Sir Tristram Shield is the villain of the piece or merely a plain man goaded to madness.”

“Shield?” repeated Sir Hugh. “Member of Brooks’s?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“If he’s the man I’m thinking of he hunts with the Quorn. Bruising rider to hounds. Good man in a turn-up, too.”

“This sounds very promising,” said Miss Thane.

“Spars with Mendoza,” pursued Sir Hugh. “If he’s the man, I’ve met him at Mendoza’s place. But I dare say I’m thinking of someone else.”

“What is he like?” inquired Miss Thane.

“I’ve told you,” said Sir Hugh, buttering a slice of bread. “He’s got a right,” he added helpfully.

Miss Thane gave it up, and went back to her own bedchamber to see how her protégée did.

Eustacie, not a whit the worse for her adventure, was trying to arrange her hair before the mirror. As she had never attempted anything of the kind before the result was not entirely successful. Miss Thane laughed at her, and took the brush and the pins out of her hand. “Let me do it for you,” she said. “How do you feel this morning?”

Eustacie announced buoyantly that she had never felt better. Her first and most pressing desire was to see how her cousin did, so as soon as Miss Thane had finished dressing her hair they went off to the little back bedchamber.

Nye was with Ludovic, apparently trying to induce him to descend into the cellar. Ludovic, whose eyes were a trifle too bright and whose cheeks were rather flushed, was sitting up in bed with a bowl of thin gruel. As the two ladies came into the room he was saying carelessly: “Don’t croak so, Joe! I tell you I have it all fixed.” He looked up and greeted his visitors with a smile of pure mischief. “Good morning, my cousin! Ma’am, your very obedient! Have you seen any Excisemen below stairs yet?”

“Mr Ludovic, I tell you your tracks lead right to my door, and there’s blood on the snow!”

“You’ve told me that twice already,” said Ludovic, quite unmoved. “Why don’t you send Clem to clear the snow away?”

“I have sent him to clear it away, sir, but don’t you realize they’ll be able to trace you all the way from the Forest?”

“Of course I realize it! Haven’t I made my plans? Eustacie, my sweet cousin, will you have me for your groom?”

“But yes, I will have you for anything you wish!” said Eustacie instantly.

His eyes danced. “Will you so? Begad, if I can settle my affairs creditably I’ll remind you of that!”

“Sir, will you listen to reason?” implored Nye.

An imperious finger admonished him. “Quiet, you! I’ll thank you to remember I’m in the saddle now, Joe.”

“Are you indeed, Mr Ludovic? Well, I’ll do no pillion-riding behind you, for well I know what will come of it!”

“Take away this gruel!” commanded Ludovic. “And get it into your head that I’m not Mr Ludovic! I’m mademoiselle’s groom, whom the wicked smugglers fired at.” He cocked his head, considering. “I think I’ll be called Jem,” he decided. “Jem Brown.”

“No!” said Eustacie, revolted. “It is a name of the most undistinguished.”

“Well, grooms aren’t distinguished. I think it’s a good name.”

“It is not. It will be better if you are Humphrey.”

“No, I’ll be damned if I’ll be called Humphrey! If there’s one name I dislike that’s it.”

Miss Thane interposed placably. “Don’t argue with him, Eustacie. It’s my belief he’s in a high fever.”

He grinned at her. “I am,” he agreed. “But my head’s remarkably clear for all that.”

“Well, if it’s clear enough to grapple with the details of this story of yours, tell us what became of the groom’s horse,” said Miss Thane.

“The smugglers killed it,” offered Eustacie.

Ludovic shook his head. “No, that won’t do. No corpse. Damn the horse, it’s a nuisance! Oh, I have it! When I was shot the brute threw me, and made off home.”

“Maddened by fright,” nodded Miss Thane. “Well, I’m glad to have that point settled. I feel I can now face any number of Excisemen.”

“Mon cousin,” interrupted Eustacie suddenly, “do you think it is Tristram who has your ring?”

The laugh vanished from Ludovic’s eyes. “I’d give something to know!”

“Well, but I must tell you that I thought of a very good plan last night,” said Eustacie. “I will marry Tristram, and then I can search in his collection for the ring.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” snapped Ludovic.

Nye said roughly: “For shame, Mr Ludovic! What’s this unaccountable nonsense? Sir Tristram’s no enemy of yours!”

“Is he not?” retorted Ludovic. “Will you tell me who, besides myself, was in the Longshaw Spinney that accursed night?”

Nye’s face darkened. “Are you saying it was Sir Tristram as did a foul murder all for the sake of a trumpery ring, my lord? Eh, you’re crazed!”

“I’m saying it was he who met me in the Spinney, he who would have given his whole collection for that same trumpery ring! Didn’t he always dislike me? Can you say he did not?”

“What I wish to say,” interrupted Miss Thane in a calm voice, “is that I want my breakfast.”

Ludovic sank back on to his pillows with a short laugh. Nye, reminded of his duty, at once led both ladies down to the parlour, apologizing as he went for there being no one but himself and Clem to wait upon them. “I’ve only my sister besides, who does the cooking,” he told them, “and a couple of ostlers, of course. We don’t get folk stopping here in the winter in the general way. Maybe it’s as well, seeing who’s under my roof, but I doubt it’s not what you’re accustomed to, ma’am.”

Miss Thane reassured him. He set a coffee-pot down on the table before her, and said gloomily: “It’s in my mind that no one in his senses would take Mr Ludovic for a groom, ma’am. If you could get him only to see reason—! But there, he never did, and I doubt he never will! As to this notion he’s taken into his head that ’tis Sir Tristram who has his ring, I never heard the like of it! It was Sir Tristram as got him out of England—ay, and in the very nick!”

“Yes, and my cousin Basil says that it was to make him a murderer confessed!” said Eustacie.

Nye looked at her from under his rugged brows. “Ay, does he so? Well, I’ve not had the gloves on with Mr Lavenham, miss, but I’ve sparred with Sir Tristram a-many times, and I say he’s a clean-hitting gentleman! With your leave, ma’am, I’ll go back to Mr Ludovic now.”

He went out, and Miss Thane, pouring out two cups of coffee, said cheerfully: “At all events there seems to be some doubt about Sir Tristram’s guilt. I think, if I were you, I would not marry him until we can be positive he is the murderer.”

Upon reflection Eustacie agreed to the wisdom of this course. She ate a hearty breakfast, and returned to Ludovic’s room, leaving Miss Thane in sole possession of the parlour. Miss Thane finished her meal in a leisurely fashion, and had gone out into the coffee-room, on her way to the stairs, when the sound of an arrival made her pause. An authoritative, not to say peremptory voice outside called the landlord by name, and the next moment the door was flung open and a tall gentleman in riding-dress strode in, carrying a somewhat battered bandbox in either hand. He checked at sight of Miss Thane, favouring her with a hard stare, and putting down the bandboxes, took off his hat, and bowed slightly. “I beg your pardon: do you know where I may find the landlord?” he asked.

Miss Thane, one hand on the banisters, one foot on the bottom stair, looked at him keenly. A pair of stern, rather frowning grey eyes met hers with an expression of the most complete indifference. Miss Thane let go of the banisters, and came forward. “Do tell me!” she said invitingly. “Are you ‘my cousin Tristram’?”

Sir Tristram’s worried frown lightened. He stared at Miss Thane with an arrested look in his eyes, and his stern mouth relaxed a little. “Oh!” he said slowly, and seemed for the first time to take stock of Sarah Thane. He saw before him a tall, graceful woman, with a quantity of light, curling brown hair, a generous mouth, and a pair of steady grey eyes which held a distinct twinkle. He noticed that she was dressed fashionably but without furbelows in a caraco jacket over a plain blue gown, a habit as nearly resembling a man’s riding-dress as was seemly. She looked to be a sensible woman, and she was obviously gently born. Sir Tristram was thankful to think that his betrothed had (apparently) fallen into such unexceptionable hands, and said with a slight smile: “Yes, I am Tristram Shield, ma’am. I am afraid you have the advantage of me?”

Miss Thane saw her duty clear before her, and answered at once: “Let me beg of you to come into the parlour, Sir Tristram, and I will explain to you who I am.”

He looked rather surprised. “Thank you, but as you have no doubt guessed, I am come in search of my cousin, Mademoiselle de Vauban.”

“Of course,” agreed Miss Thane, “and if you will step into the parlour—”

“Is my cousin in the house?” interrupted Sir Tristram.

“Well, yes,” admitted Miss Thane, “but I am not at all sure that you can see her. Come into the parlour, and I will see what can be done.”