Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 11] - Give All To Love Page 12

  "She is gone shopping, so I'm told," said Fontaine. "With Miss Storm. And her name is Faith, m'dear."

  Her silvery laugh tinkled out, but the meaningful gleam in her brother's eyes had not escaped her. She chattered on, praising Devenish for his generosity in seeing to it that their damaged relation was so kindly cared for, and going into ecstasies over the great house until at length her reluctant host had no alternative but to conduct his guests on a tour of the building. The afternoon was drawing to a close, when a door opened somewhere, and in a few seconds Josie came into the drawing room.

  The cold air had painted roses in her cheeks, her eyes sparkled over the packages she held, and her fur hood slipped back to reveal her curls in a pretty untidiness. "Lord Elliot!" she cried gaily, dumping her parcels into Devenish's arms, and running to hold out her hands to the Viscount. "Oh, how lovely!"

  Charmed by such unaffected spontaneity, Fontaine bowed to kiss each little hand. "Lovely, indeed," he said, smiling down at her. "You know my sister, I believe?"

  Josie crossed to shake hands with the beauty, and Devenish deposited his burdens on the sofa and went to take his ward's cloak. "Had you a nice time, Josie?"

  She spun to him, dimples flashing as she kissed his cheek. "Delightful, I thank you. And I need not have worried that we were so long, since you have such nice company." Unseen by the "nice company," her eyes quizzed him, but he managed to preserve his countenance and enquired as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Bliss.

  "She went straight up to see Sir William."

  Devenish said rather pointedly, "You will like to go up and see her before you leave," and was gratified when Isabella took the hint and stood, saying that they really must get back to the Manor. He went swiftly to open the door, and ushered the beauty along the hall.

  It was a long hall, and she contrived to walk very close beside him, clinging to his arm and murmuring scandalous gossip that he alone could hear, and that made him laugh. He was not so amused, however, that he did not keep an eye on his ward. There was little doubt but that she liked Fontaine very much, and the Viscount was as obviously attracted by her. 'She is so trusting, so guileless herself,' thought Devenish, irritated, 'that she does not look for duplicity in others.'

  Their carriage had not yet reached the front steps. Josie, striving to be cordial to the woman she detested, chattered to Isabella, and Fontaine turned to shake hands with his host. "Awfully good of you to put up with Sir William. He's a crusty old curmudgeon at times."

  "Not at all. I am only sorry he was injured in my house."

  "Unfortunate, I grant you. But," the pale eyes gleamed, "one man's meat, as they say…"

  Devenish succeeded in looking puzzled.

  His lordship grinned and said, man-to-man fashion, "Gives us a chance to visit you, my dear fellow."

  "Thank you," said Devenish frigidly. "I'd not realized you was so fond of my company.''

  "Had you not?" The graceful brows rose in amusement. "But how could I fail to seek your company when you have such enchanting—relations?''

  "Ah—so it is my ward that attracts. I must warn you, my lord, that Josie has many admirers."

  "What? Even though you've kept her so carefully isolated? You surprise me."

  Quivering with rage, Devenish responded, "I am sure you would be the first to appreciate that it is sometimes necessary to keep lovely things—guarded."

  Fontaine's gaze had returned to Josie, but at this he moved in the way that was so peculiarly his own, the pale eyes, unblinking, slanting to Devenish before the burnished auburn head swung slowly to him. "From… what?" he enquired.

  Devenish shrugged. "There are, sad to tell, monsters even among the noblest of our families, who do not shrink from blasting innocence." His eyes very steady as they met Fontaine's narrowed stare, he went on. "Only consider the case of poor little Miss Morrissey."

  For a long, still moment, the Viscount did not respond, but stood there, seeming scarcely to breathe. Then he murmured, "I had interest in that direction at one time, but cannot, alas, take your charitable view. Since the lady refuses to name the man who fathered her bastard, one can only suppose it to have been a case of unbridled passion, repented at leisure."

  "Or of rejected lust, followed by a merciless rape?" His level stare holding unmistakable disgust, Devenish said, "She was beaten, did you know?"

  "Likely by her papa." The Viscount shook his head in amused chiding. "No, really, Dev, it is too deliciously dramatic. Besides, were it as you say, the girl would only have to name the man, surely?"

  "True. Unless, perhaps, she has been threatened. Certainly, her father or her brother would call him out, once she accused the swine."

  "Ah… yes. And you imply that if they are inept shots, and her lover an experienced duellist, it would bring more tragedy into her life, eh? Gad, but it's a grisly villain you paint." Fontaine eased on his gloves. "Too far-fetched, my dear chap."

  "Oh, no," argued Devenish with a grim smile. "The implications are, I think, sufficiently obvious that I am not the only one to have noted them."

  Fontaine jerked his glove so viciously that the fabric tore. "Now see what I have done," he said mournfully. "You have quite overset my nerves with your dastardly scenario. Ah—here comes the carriage, at last." He turned to regard Devenish with fond admiration. "Farewell, my clever friend. And do pray have a care. You have no proof of your melodrama, and if your noble—ah, monster should learn of your beliefs, he just might— er, turn on you."

  "Never fear," said Devenish. "I, you see, am not inept with either sword or pistol." His eyes became hard and hostile, "As our monster will discover does he hunt my ward."

  They smiled at each other.

  "And they say women chatter!" My lady swooped down upon them, extending one hand for Devenish to kiss. "Taine, we shall not reach Oak Manor before dark do we not leave now. And poor dear Dev has enough on his hands without having to accommodate us for the night."

  "It has been lovely to see you," said Josie, beaming upon Fontaine. "You will visit your cousin again, I hope."

  "Assurément, dear lady." The Viscount bowed over her hand. "No one could keep me away."

  "There," Josie crossed the drawing room to hand Devenish a glass of brandy, and seat herself in the wing chair by the fire. "Now we may be comfortable, at last."

  Mildly astonished by such propriety, for she usually curled up as close to him as was possible, Devenish raised his glass to her.

  "Faith will be down in a moment," she explained with a twinkle.

  He grinned. "Just so. Now, Elf, tell me about your day. I'm very sure you had to stop in at the church."

  "Dear old St. John the Baptist. As lovely as ever, Dev. Faith had never been inside, and thought it splendid. She is such fun to shop with. There was a wonderful tang of winter in the air, and the shops were all so bright, and everyone bustling and cheerful." The enthusiasm in her vivid little face vanished. She said severely, "I collected something that I meant to give you for Christmas."

  His lips quirked. He said, "But will not do so because I am in deep disgrace."

  "You may smile, dearest, but you know very well she will not do for you."

  "Considering you find the lady's presence so offensive, you lost no time in hurling yourself into the arms of the—gentleman."

  Josie noted both the hesitation and the sudden bleak look in her guardian's eyes. She giggled. "I wish I might have made a sketch of your face when I came into the room. You looked fairly desperate. Had they been here long?"

  "Most of the afternoon, deuce take it. I had to show 'em all through the house."

  "Which my lady gushed over and 'adored,' I do not doubt. Poor Dev.''

  He said thoughtfully, "Oh, it is not the lady to whom I object."

  "Huh! The way she throws herself at you is fairly disgusting."

  "How odd. I do not find it so."

  She scowled at him in the way he found particularly delicious. "In that case, why did you look so thunderous when
you were talking with Lord Elliot just before they left? I vow you quite frightened me. For a moment I fancied you were really quarrelling."

  Devenish said nothing, but tilted his head, listening.

  "Oh, no!" Josie wailed. "Not more company!"

  "Anti-social baggage… Oh, it's Guy, I think."

  They both stood as the Frenchman made his difficult way into the room.

  "Welcome back," cried Josie, running to greet him with a hug and draw him closer to the fire.

  "You travel fast, mon ami," said Devenish, shaking his hand. "What news of Mitch?"

  "Oh, never worry for that one," answered Guy, making preparations to occupy his favourite Chippendale chair. "He have feel a little less well than he say, I think, but he have the head of rock, just the same." He smiled his thanks for the cognac Devenish brought him. "Which is a good thing when one is struck by the brick."

  "Exactly where did it hit him?"

  Guy put a hand on the back of his head. "Here. He will not— like our splendid Tristram, have the scar on the face."

  "Thank heavens it was not serious!" Josie, reassured, proceeded to ply him with questions concerning Lord Redmond, his wife, and his children. He replied politely, but she noticed that he looked tired, and soon broke off her interrogation.

  Devenish met her eye and suggested it was probably time for them all to go upstairs and change for dinner.

  Stairs were implacable foes for Guy, making it necessary that he humble his pride and accept assistance. This was not a painful matter at Devencourt, however. Maintaining breezily that he had his own problems in climbing to the upper floors, Devenish required Josie to lend her aged parent a hand, and summoned the nearest manservant, who chanced to be Cornish, to aid his companion in infirmity. The journey took a little longer than was needful, being accomplished with a good deal of raillery and laughter. Josie detained Devenish at the landing, asking anxiously about refreshments for the ball, these questions leading inevitably to others, so that he at last warned her they would be late, and they repaired to their separate chambers, hers being in front of the house in the central block, and his towards the rear of the west wing.

  Guy was first to leave his room. Cornish, having arranged his tasks with an eye to this moment, was waiting, and rendered assistance downstairs again, tactfully taking himself off as soon as the Great Hall was reached.

  In earlier times, when Josie had been a schoolgirl and safely in bed by seven o'clock, Devenish and his friends had been used to gather in the red saloon, which chamber was situated in the west wing between the morning and music rooms. His thoughts elsewhere, Guy instinctively wandered in that direction, and not until he was halfway across the hall did a piping voice halt his erring steps.

  He manoeuvred himself about. Wolfe was weaving more or less towards him, waving his arms. "Not that… room, sir," he puffed. He had worked up to quite a good speed and, unable to stop, came perilously close, took three steps backwards, pitched forward, and grasped Guy's free arm. "Le' me… help," he wheezed, clinging desperately to the swaying Frenchman. Exerting all his strength, Guy managed to remain erect. "Thank you, Wolfe," he said, convinced they both must go down at any second, but having not the least intention of humiliating the old man by rejecting his "aid." The ensuing struggle was really exhausting, and he was much relieved when they reached the drawing room door and he was able to insist that he could manage by himself now. The butler conveyed that he had been only too glad to be of assistance, and went off at a pace somewhere between a stagger and a reel.

  Guy heard the cracked old voice raised in greeting, and turned about to see Mrs. Bliss coming gracefully into the room. She had undoubtedly seen the fiasco in the hall. His nerves tightened, and his face grew hot, but he bowed as well as he could, thinking how very lovely she looked in the gown of dusty-green tulle, a fine lace shawl of white, trimmed with palest green rosettes, draped around her shoulders. He had been very conscious of her avoidance of him in the two days prior to his departure and, having seen to it that she was comfortably seated, he made his way towards a distant chair, not wishing to embarrass her with unwanted conversation.

  "That was very kind, Monsieur Sanguinet," she said in her musical voice.

  He glanced at her in surprise, and hesitated.

  "The poor old fellow would have been mortified had you made it clear that you were holding him up rather than t'other way round," she said, her green eyes twinkling at him in the friendly way they had done on that first afternoon.

  Heartened, he said, "He have mean so well, you know, Madame," and took a tentative step back towards her. "Would you permit that I bring you the glass of wine?''

  The light of the flames was echoed in her bright curls as she nodded her head. "Ratafia would be nice, if you please."

  So she thought him capable of carrying the liqueur to her. Further, she had apparently forgiven him for being the scion of such an infamous house. Guy turned eagerly to the sideboard.

  Josie had determined to ride out with her guardian next morning, to inspect the progress, if any, that had been made on the repairs to the access road. Before they left, however, she wanted to look over the ancient and allegedly valuable tapestries that had been packed away for decades, but that Devenish had now ordered restored to the ballroom walls.

  She ate breakfast with Mrs. Grenfell in the breakfast parlour. Devenish was off somewhere, and Guy did not put in an appearance. As soon as the light meal was finished, the two ladies repaired to the vast, cold ballroom in which the tapestries were being assembled. Several large rolls already had been deposited on folding tables that were usually employed for al fresco picnics. Two footmen were carrying in another roll, Simeon Wolfe supervising the process. Josie asked, "Is this all of them, Wolfe?"

  "All we could find, miss. They hang between each pair of windows."

  Dubious, Josie touched a long, dusty roll with the tip of one finger. "What do you think, Pan? They look awfully dreary."

  "We cannot tell," rumbled the chaperon. "They are inside out."

  Josie requesting without much enthusiasm that this condition be reversed, the footmen untied the wide strips of cloth that had been used to bind one of the rolls, and the tapestry was spread. It was quite creased. The two men held it up and shook it out helpfully as Josie stepped nearer, and she was at once enveloped in a cloud of dust.

  "Oh… dear!" she gasped, and retreated, sneezing.

  Clapping a handkerchief over her nostrils, Mrs. Grenfell declared resonantly, "We cannot like dust!" and fled the room.

  Josie persisted, however, wiping her eyes, and drawing near again. The workmanship was superb, but the colours were rather faded, as well they might be after several centuries. "What on earth is it supposed to represent?" she murmured, peering.

  "Good gracious!" cried Wolfe, and launched his erratic way between Josie and the tapestry. "Do not look, miss!" he implored, spreading wide his arms.

  "What's to do?" enquired Devenish, coming briskly into the room and eyeing his butler with amusement. "Charades, Wolfe?"

  "It is—not fitting for the young lady," declared the butler, agitated.

  ''I think Wolfe finds your tapestry improper, dear sir,'' Josie said with a dimple.

  "Is it, begad! Step aside, my Elf, and let me see." His ward dutifully retreating a few paces, Devenish in turn inspected the tapestry, guided by Wolfe's whispered comments. Chuckling, he spun about and clapped a hand over Josie's eyes. "Disgraceful! If that's the way they behaved in those days, one would think they'd have tried to keep still about it, rather than raise great embroidered monuments to their depravity!"

  "Depravity?" she said, trying to remove his hand. "I did not see—"

  "Nor shall you, my girl!" He jerked his head, and the footmen, grinning, laid the offending tapestry to one side.

  "Let's see the next," said Devenish. "Josie, perhaps you'd best go and knit, or something."

  Released, she replied indignantly that she would do no such thing, and they both be
nt their interest upon the next objet d'art to be held up for inspection. This one, in tones of muted greens, faded blues, and dejected pinks, depicted some extraordinarily well-endowed maidens cavorting in a most abandoned way around a maypole. A bullock of heroic proportions was being roasted over some pallid flames, and various rather distorted cottages wavered beside the village green. "May Day," read Josie, squinting at the lower edge.

  "What d'you suppose these shepherds are up to over here?" muttered Devenish.

  Josie joined him, gave a gasp, and put her hand over his eyes.

  "The deuce!" he exclaimed, taking her hand away. "Jove, but they were a warm lot! I don't know about our ancestors, m'dear!"

  "Your ancestors," she corrected him primly. "I'm sure mine, being poor, were figures of propriety"

  "Probably," he agreed absently, frowning at another scene. "Whoever bent her needle on this lot didn't know her business! Only look at all these legless birds. They're not flying, and whoever heard of birds just hanging in the air like that? I'll tell you what, Josie, let's forget about these mons—"

  "Foolish creature! They are ducks," she said.

  "They are? Where's the pond?"

  They both leaned nearer. "I think this must be it," said Josie, gesturing. "Perhaps, if we stood farther back…"

  "Now, this is rather well done," he said, interested. "See how the wolf is killing that sheep." He pointed, and Josie gave a shriek as "the wolf" scampered off, leaving the placid sheep untouched.

  "It's only a spider, silly chit," said Devenish, laughing as she threw her arms around him.

  "I don't l-like spiders," she said, shivering.

  "Then I shall murder it for you." He raised his boot.

  "No!" she shrieked, clinging to him and pulling him back.

  She caught him off balance, and his game leg gave out. Trying to restore him, Josie fell also. They both toppled into the tapestry, the footmen staggered, the ancient fabric split, and Devenish and his ward fell through the middle, the tapestry, wrenched from the footmen's hands, folding in upon them.