Джорджетт Хейер - The Unknown Ajax

“Whippersnapper!” said my lord.

The door was opened again. “Major Darracott!” announced Chollacombe.

The Major trod resolutely over the threshold, and there stopped, pulled up short by the battery that confronted him. Five pairs of eyes scanned him with varying degrees of astonishment, hostility, and criticism. He looked round, his own, very blue orbs holding a comical expression of dismay, and a deep flush creeping up under his tan. Three of the gentlemen had levelled their quizzing-glasses at him; and one, whom he judged to be his grandfather, was scowling at him from under a beetling brow.

For a nerve-racking minute no one spoke, or moved. Surprise was, in fact, responsible for this frozen immobility, but only Richmond’s widening gaze and Claud’s dropped jaw betrayed this.

The Darracotts were a tall race, but the man who stood on the threshold dwarfed them all. He stood six foot four in his stockinged feet, and he was built on noble lines, with great shoulders, a deep barrel of a chest, and powerful thighs. He was much fairer than his cousins, with tightly curling brown hair, cut rather shorter than was fashionable, and a ruddy complexion. His nose had no aquiline trend: it was rather indeterminate; and this, with his curly locks and his well-opened and childishly blue eyes, gave him an air of innocence at variance with his firm-lipped mouth and decided chin. He looked to be amiable; he was certainly bashful, but for this there was every excuse. He had been ushered into a room occupied by five gentlemen attired in raiment commonly worn only at Court, or at Almack’s Assembly Rooms, and he was himself wearing leathers and top-boots, and a serviceable riding-coat, all of which were splashed with mud.

“Good God!” muttered Matthew, breaking the silence.

“So you’ve shown at last, have you?” said Lord Darracott. “You’re devilish late, sir!”

“I am a trifle late,” acknowledged the culprit. “I’m sorry for it, but I missed the way, and that delayed me.”

“Thought as much!” said Claud.

“Well, don’t stand there like a stock!” said Darracott. “This is your uncle Matthew, and the others are your cousins: Vincent—Claud—Richmond!”

Considerably unnerved by his reception, the Major took an unwary step forward, and very nearly fell over an unnoticed stool in his path. Vincent said, in Richmond’s ear, not quite under his breath: “The lubber Ajax!”

If the Major heard him, he gave no sign of having done so. Matthew caught the words, and uttered a short laugh, which he changed, not very convincingly, into a cough. The Major, recovering his balance, advanced towards Lord Darracott, who waved him, slightly impatiently, to his uncle. He turned, half putting out his hand, but Matthew,—not moving from his stand before the empty fireplace, only nodded to him, and said: “How do you do?”

The Major made no attempt to shake hands with the rest of the company, but when he had exchanged formal bows with Vincent and Claud, Richmond, whose colour was also considerably heightened, stepped forward, with his hand held out, saying with a little stammer: “How—how do you do, Cousin Hugh?”

His hand was lost in the Major’s large clasp. “Now, which of my cousins are you?” asked the. Major, smiling kindly down at him.

“I’m Richmond, sir.”

“Nay!” protested the Major. “Don’t call me sir! I’d as lief you didn’t call me Cousin Hugh either. I was christened Hugh, but I’ve never answered to anything but Hugo all my life.”

Lord Darracott broke in on this. Having by this time had time to assimilate the fact that Hugo’s clothes were freely bespattered with mud, he demanded to know the reason. Hugo released Richmond’s hand, and turned his head towards his grandfather. “Well, you’ve had some rain down here, sir. I should not have come in till I’d got rid of my dirt, but I wasn’t given any choice in the matter,” he explained.

“Chaise overturn?” enquired Claud, not without sympathy.

Hugo laughed. “No, it wasn’t as bad as that. I didn’t come by chaise.”

“Then how did you come?” asked Matthew. “From the look of you one would say that you had ridden from town!”

“Ay, so I did,” nodded Hugo.

“Ridden?”gasped Claud. “Ridden all the way from London?”

“Why not?” said Hugo.

“But—Dash it, you can’t do things like that!” Claud said, in a shocked tone. “I mean to say—no, really, coz! Your luggage!”

“Oh, that!” replied Hugo. “John Joseph had all I need, loaded on my spare horse—my groom, I mean—my private groom!”

“How very original!” drawled Vincent. “I rarely travel by chaise myself, but I confess it had never before occurred to me to turn any of my cattle into pack-horses.”

“Nay, why should it?” returned the Major good-humouredly. “Maybe you’ve never been obliged to travel rough. I don’t think I’ve gone in a chaise above two or three times in my life.”

Lord Darracott stirred restlessly in his chair, gripping its arms momentarily. “No doubt! You are not obliged to travel rough, as you term it, now! My orders were that a chaise was to be hired for you, and I expect my orders to be obeyed!”

“Ay, I’m that road myself,” agreed Hugo cheerfully. “Your man of business was mighty set on arranging the journey for me. He said it was what you’d told him to do, so there’s no sense in blaming him. And not much sense in blaming me either,” he added, on a reflective note. He smiled down at his seething progenitor. “I’m much obliged to you, sir, but there’s no need for you to worry your head over me: I’ve looked after myself for a good few years now.”

“Worry my head—? Richmond! Ring the bell! You, sir! Did you bring your valet, or haven’t you one?”

“Well, no,” confessed the Major apologetically. “I used to have a batman, of course, but, what with one thing and another, I haven’t had time to think about hiring a personal servant since I came home.”

“No valet?”repeated Claud, gazing at him incredulously. “But how do you manage? I mean to say, packing—your boots—your neckcloths—!”

“Hold your tongue!” said his father, in an undervoice.

“If you had been listening,” interpolated Vincent severely, “you would have heard our cousin say that he has been in the habit of looking after himself. Except when he had a batman, that is.”

“Ay, but I’m a poor hand at packing,” said Hugo, shaking his head over this shortcoming.

“How much longer is dinner to be kept waiting?” demanded Lord Darracott. “Ring that damned bell again, Richmond! What the devil does Chollacombe mean by—Oh, you’re there, are you? Have Major Darracott taken up to his room, and tell someone to wait on him! We shall dine in twenty minutes from now!”

Claud was moved to protest, his sympathy roused by the plight of anyone who was expected to dress for dinner in twenty minutes. “Make it an hour, sir! Well, half an hour, though I must say it’s coming it a bit strong to ask the poor fellow to scramble into his clothes in that short time!”

“No, no, twenty minutes will be long enough for me!” said Hugo hastily, a wary eye on his lordship. “If I’m not down then, don’t wait for me!”

Chollacombe, ushering him out of the saloon, and softly closing the door behind him, said: “I will take you up myself, sir. I understand you haven’t brought your valet with you, so his lordship’s man has unpacked your valise!”

“Much obliged to him!” said Hugo, following him to the broad, uncarpeted oak staircase. “It seems as if Mr. Lissett ought to have warned me not to show my front here without a jack-a-dandy London valet at my heels.”

“Yes, sir. Being as his lordship is, as they say, rather a high stickler. Not but what Grooby—that’s his lordship’s man, sir—will be very happy to wait on you. We were very much attached to the Captain, if I may venture to say so.”

“My father? I never knew him: he was killed when I was just three years old. I’m afraid I don’t favour him much.”

“No, sir. Though you do remind me a little of him.”

The butler paused, and then said with great delicacy, as they reached the upper hall: “I hope you won’t think it a liberty, sir, but if there should be anything you might wish to know—his lordship being a trifle twitty at times, and not one to make allowances—I beg you won’t hesitate to ask me! Quite between ourselves, sir, of course.”

“I won’t,” promised Hugo, a twinkle in his eye.

“It is sometimes hard to know the ways of a house when one is strange to it,” said Chollacombe. “Anybody might make a mistake! Indeed, I well remember that I was obliged to give my Lord Taplow a hint, when he stayed here on one occasion. He was a friend of Mr. Granville’s: quite in the first style of elegance, but he had a habit of unpunctuality which would have put his lordship out sadly. This way, if you please, sir. We have put you in the West Wing.”

“It’s to be hoped I don’t lose myself,” remarked Hugo, following him through an archway into a long gallery. “If ever I saw such a place!”

“It is rather large, sir, but I assure you there are many that are far larger.”

“Nay!” said Hugo astonished.

“Oh, yes, indeed, sir! This is your bedchamber. I should perhaps tell you that Mr. Richmond sleeps at the end of the gallery, and must not on any account be disturbed.”

“Why not?” enquired Hugo.

“Mr. Richmond suffers from insomnia, sir. The least sound brings him broad awake.”

“What, a lad of his age?” exclaimed Hugo.

“Mr. Richmond’s constitution is not strong,” explained Chollacombe, opening the door into a large, wainscoted room, hung with faded blue damask, and commanding a distant view of the sea beyond the Marsh. “This is Grooby, sir. His lordship dines in fifteen minutes, Grooby.”