Джорджетт Хейер - The Toll-Gate

“I expect I must have been in Spain,” he said thoughtfully. “I never went to Almack’s till after I had sold out, and my sister dragged me there. To own the truth, I found it devilish dull, and there wasn’t a woman there, beside my sister, whose head reached my shoulder. It made me feel dashed conspicuous. If you had been there, and we had stood up together, it would have been a different matter.”

“Alas, I’m more at home in the saddle than the ballroom!”

“Are you? So am I! But my sister can keep it up all night.”

“Is your sister married?”

“Yes, she married George Lichfield, a very good fellow,” he replied.

“I think I met him once—but I might be mistaken. It is seven years since my London season. Do you feel that Lady Lichfield would approve of your present occupation?”

“Oh, no, not a bit!” he said. “She and George don’t approve of any of the things I do. I shan’t tell her anything about it.”

“I think I am a little sorry for her. And still I don’t understand why you mean to remain here!”

“No,” he said, “I don’t suppose you do. I didn’t mean to, last night, but something happened today which made me change my mind.”

“Good gracious! What in the world was it?”

“I can’t tell you that now. I will, one day.”

“No, that’s too provoking!” she protested. “Is it about Brean? Have you discovered something?”

“No, nothing. It wasn’t that,” John replied.

“Then what, pray——”

“I must own I should be glad if I could discover what has happened to the fellow,” he remarked, as though she had not spoken. “If he had met with an accident, one would think there would have been news of it by now. He must be pretty well known in the district, isn’t he?”

She nodded. “Yes, certainly. He is red-haired, too, which makes him easily recognizable. You don’t think, I collect, that he can have gone off, perhaps to Sheffield, and drunk himself into a stupor?”

“I did think so,” he admitted, “but Ben assures me his dad don’t go on the mop. He is quite positive about it, and I imagine he must know. According to his story, Brean went out on Friday evening, saying that he would be back in an hour or two. He was not wearing his hat, or his best coat, which, in Ben’s view, precludes his having had the intention of going to town.”

“He would scarcely set out for Sheffield after dark, in any event. It is more than ten miles away! How very odd it is! Are you sure that Ben is telling you the truth when he says he doesn’t know where his father went?”

“Oh, yes, quite sure! Ben is excessively frightened—partly by the thought that he may be thrown on the Parish, much more by a mysterious stranger who seems to have formed the habit of visiting the toll-house after dark, and with the utmost secrecy.”

She looked startled. “Who—?”

“That I don’t know. But I have a strong suspicion that he is in some way concerned in Brean’s disappearance,” John said. “And I have another, even stronger, that there’s something devilish havey-cavey going on here!”

“WHAT makes you say that?” she asked quickly, her eyes fixed with great intentness on his face.

He looked a little amused. “Well, ma’am, when a man does his visiting at night, and takes the most elaborate precautions against being seen, he’s not commonly engaged on honest business!”

“No. No, he cannot be, of course. But what could he be doing here? It is absurd!—it must be absurd!”

He turned his head. “That sounds as though you have been thinking what I have said,” he remarked shrewdly.

She glanced at him, and away again. “Nonsense! You must let me tell you that you are a great deal too fanciful, Captain Staple!”

He smiled very warmly at her. “Oh, I would let you tell me anything!” he said. “You are quite right, of course, not to confide in strangers.”

She gave a little gasp, and retorted: “Very true—if I had anything to confide! I assure you, I have not!”

“No, don’t do that,” he said. “I don’t mean to tease you with questions you don’t care to answer. But if you think, at any time, that I could be of service to you, why, tell me!”

“You—you are the strangest creature!” she said, on an uncertain laugh. “Pray, what service could I possibly stand in need of?”

“I don’t know that: how could I? Something is troubling you. I think I knew that,” he added reflectively, “when that would-be Tulip of Fashion put you so much out of countenance this morning.”

Her chin lifted; she said, with a curling lip: “Do you think I am afraid of that counter-coxcomb?”

“Lord, no! Why should you be?”

She looked a trifle confounded, and said in a defiant tone: “Well, I am not!”

“Who is he?” he enquired.

“His name is Nathaniel Coate, and he is a friend of my cousin’s.”

“Your cousin?”

“Henry Stornaway. He is my grandfather’s heir. He is at this present staying at Kellands, and Mr. Coate with him.”

“Dear me!” said John mildly. “That, of course, is enough to trouble anyone. What brings so dashing a blade into these parts?”

“I wish I knew!” she said involuntarily.

“Oh! I thought I did know, “said John.

She threw him a scornful look. “If you imagine that it was to fix his interest with me, you’re quite out! Before he came to Kellands, I daresay he did not know of my existence: he had certainly never seen me!”

“Perhaps he came into the country on a repairing lease,” suggested John equably. “If he teases you, don’t stand on ceremony! Give him his marching orders! I’m sure his waistcoat is all the crack, but he shouldn’t sport it in the middle of Derbyshire.”

“Unfortunately, it is not within my power to give him his marching orders.”

“Isn’t it? It is well within mine, so if you should desire to be rid of him, just send me word!” said John.

She burst out laughing. “I begin to think you have broken loose from Bedlam, Captain Staple! Come, enough! I am sure I do not know how it comes about that I should be sitting here talking to you in this improper fashion. You must be thinking me an odd sort of a female!”

She rose as she spoke, and he with her. He did not reply, for Ben chose that moment to appear upon the scene, with the announcement that Farmer Huggate said he was welcome to stable Beau in the big barn.

“Well, that’s famous,” said John. “You shall show me where it is presently, but first go and see if you can prevail upon Mrs. Skeffling to come up to the toll-house tomorrow. Promise her as many pig’s babies as you think necessary, but don’t take no for an answer!”

“What’ll I say?” demanded Ben. “She’ll think it’s a queer set-out, gov’nor, ’cos what would anyone want with her coming to clean the place every day?”

“You may tell her that your cousin, besides being the worst cook in the Army, has picked up some finical ways in foreign parts. Off with you!”

“Wait!” interposed Miss Stornaway, who had been listening in considerable amusement. “Perhaps I can help you. I collect you wish Mrs. Skeffling to come to the tollhouse each day. Very well! I daresay I can arrange it for you. Go and ask her, Ben, and if she says no, never mind!”

“Admirable woman!” John said, as Ben went off down the road. “I’m much in your debt! What will you tell her?”

“Why, that you seem to be a very good sort of a man, but sadly helpless! Have no fear! She will come. Did I not tell you that they call me the Squire? I shall ride down the road directly, to visit her, which is a thing I frequently do. She will tell me, and at length, of your summons, and certainly ask my advice. You may leave the rest to me!”

“Thank you! Will you assist me in one other matter? I must contrive somehow to ride to Tideswell tomorrow, to make some necessary purchases, and the deuce is in it that I’ve no notion of what, precisely, I should ask for. I must have some tolerable soap, for instance, but it won’t do just to demand soap, will it? Ten to one, I should find myself with something smelling of violets, or worse. Then there’s coffee. I can’t and I won’t drink beer with my breakfast, and barring some porter, the dregs of a bottle of rum, and a bottle of bad tape, that’s all I can find in the place. Tell me what coffee I should buy! I’ll make a note of it on my list.”

Her eyes were alight. “I think I had better take a look at your list,” she decided.

“Will you? I shall be much obliged to you! I’ll fetch it,” he said.

She followed him into the toll-house, and he turned to find her standing in the kitchen doorway, and looking critically about her. “Enough to make poor Mrs. Brean turn in her grave!” she remarked. “She was the neatest creature! However, I daresay Mrs. Skeffling will set it to rights, if she is to come here every day. Is this your list?”

She held out her hand, and he gave it to her. It made her laugh. “Good heavens, you seem to need a great deal! Candles? Are there none in the store-cupboard?”

“Yes, tallow dips. Have you ever, ma’am, sat in a small room that was lit by tallow dips?”

“No, never!”

“Then take my advice, and do not!”

“I won’t. But wax candles in a kitchen! Mrs. Skeffling will talk of it all over the village. Soap—blacking—brushes—tea—” She raised her eyes from the list. “Pray, how do you propose to convey all these things from Tideswell, Captain Staple?”

“I imagine there must be a carrier?”

“But that will not do at all! Conceive of everyone’s astonishment if such a quantity of goods were to be delivered to the Crowford gatekeeper! Depend upon it, the news would very soon be all over the county that an excessively strange man had taken Brean’s place here. It must come to the ears of the trustee controllers, and you will have them descending on you before you have had time to turn round.”