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.
Chapter XV
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 Hotel 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.”
“But why should you doubt? We know that Dominique is in Paris!”
“Lord, Léonie, don’t be so simple! Dominic’s lax, but damme, he wouldn’t bring his mistress to your house.” Lord Rupert heaved his body out of the corner of the chaise, and looked out of the window. “Place looks as deserted as a tomb,” he remarked, opening the door.
A solitary lackey came out of the house, attracted by the noise of the arrival, and began to say that his lordship was out of town. Then Lord Rupert sprang from the chaise, and the lackey, recognizing him, looked very much taken aback, and as though he did not know what to say.
Lord Rupert eyed him appraisingly. “One of Lord Vidal’s servants, aren’t you?” he said. “Where’s his lordship?”
“I couldn’t say, my lord,” answered the lackey cautiously.
“Won’t say, more like,” said Rupert. He turned, and gave his hand to Léonie who was descending from the chaise. “There’s one of Vidal’s fellows here, so it looks as though the boy had been here. Odd, damned odd.”
The Duchess shook out her crushed skirts with a purposeful air, and looked at the lackey, who was staring at her aghast. “It is you who are my son’s servant? Bon! Where is milor’?”
“I don’t know, your grace. He’s not in town.”
“Is there anyone in the house?” demanded the Duchess.
“No, your grace. Only the servants, that is.”
Léonie pounced on this. “Why is it then that the house is full of my son’s servants and yet he is not here?”
The lackey shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “His lordship left Paris this afternoon, your grace.”
Léonie turned to Lord Rupert, throwing out her hands. “But it is imbecile! Why should he leave Paris? I don’t believe a word of it. Where is Fletcher?”
“Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Timms have both gone out, your grace.”
“What, has his lordship gone off without his valet?” demanded Rupert.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I am going into the house,” announced Léonie.
Rupert watched her go, and looked at the lackey again. “Come on, out with it, my man: Where’s his lordship?”
“My lord, indeed I could not say. If your lordship would wait till Mr. Fletcher comes in, maybe he would know.”
“It looks to me like a damned fishy business,” said Rupert severely, and followed Léonie into the hall.
He found her grace trying to pump the housekeeper. When she saw him Léonie said: “Rupert, it is what I do not at all understand! She says the girl was never here. And I do not think she is lying to me, for she is my servant, and not Dominique’s.”
Lord Rupert divested himself of his heavy Rockelaure. “Well, if Vidal’s got rid of the wench already, I’d say it’s quick work,” he remarked admiringly. “Stap me, if I know how he manages it! I always found ’em cling so there was no shaking the dear creatures off at all.”
Léonie cast him a glance of scorn and swept upstairs. The housekeeper would have followed her, but his lordship detained her, and broached the matter nearest his heart. The housekeeper was shocked to learn that the travellers had not yet dined, and hurried away to order a meal to be prepared at once.
When Léonie saw Rupert again dinner was on the table, and his lordship had just come in from a visit to the stables. He took his seat opposite Léonie, and said with a puzzled air: “Blister me if I can make head or tail of this coil. Vidal’s damned lackeys are as close as a lot of oysters. Y’know, Léonie, the boy’s a marvel, so he is. I never could keep a servant who didn’t blab all my affairs to the world.”
“He is coming back,” Léonie said positively. “I have looked in his room, and all his clothes are there.”
Lord Rupert coughed. “Anything else, my dear?” he asked, with delicacy.
“Nothing,” said Léonie. “It is very curious, do you not think? For where can the girl be?”
“That’s what beats me,” confessed Rupert. “Not but what I never thought to find her here. But if she’s not, why is Vidal? That’s what I don’t understand. Now, I’ve been talking to the grooms. All I can find is that Vidal left Paris by the Port Royal to-day. Naturally, I don’t like to ask ’em point-blank if he’d a wench with him, and none of ’em—”
“Why not?” interrupted the Duchess. “Burn it, you can’t ask lackeys questions like that, Léonie!”
“I do not see why not. I want to know, and if I do not ask who will tell me?”
“They’ll never tell you, anyway, my dear,” his lordship informed her.
Dinner was over when Fletcher at last put in an appearance, and Rupert and Léonie had repaired to the library. Fletcher came in, sedate as ever, and begged her grace’s pardon for having been out when she arrived. Léonie brushed that aside, and once more demanded to know her son’s whereabouts.
“I think, your grace,” he answered guardedly, “that his lordship has gone to Dijon.”
Lord Rupert stared at him. “What in the fiend’s name does he want in Dijon?” he asked.
“His lordship did not tell me, my lord.” Léonie smote her hands together. “Voyons, I find it insupportable that no one can tell me anything about my son! Speak, you! Was that girl with M. le Marquis?—No, I will not be quiet, Rupert! Was she with him, Fletcher?”
“I beg your grace’s pardon?” Mr. Fletcher was all polite bewilderment.
“Do not beg my pardon again, or I shall become enraged!” Léonie said dangerously. “It is no use to tell me you do not know of any girl, for me I am well aware that M. le Marquis had one with him when he left England. That is not a thing extraordinary. It is true, is it not?”
Mr. Fletcher cast an appealing glance at Lord Rupert, who said testily: “Don’t stare at me, man! We know the girl was with his lordship.”
Mr. Fletcher bowed. “As your lordship says.”
“Well, has she gone to Dijon?”
“I could not say, my lord.”
Léonie eyed him with hostility. “Did she leave this house with M. le Marquis?”
“No, your grace. She was not with his lordship when he set forward on his journey.”
“There you are, my dear!” said Rupert. “Vidal’s got rid of her, and we may as well go home again before Avon gets wind of the affair.”
Léonie told Mr. Fletcher he might go, and when the door had closed behind him, she turned to Rupert with an expression of great anxiety on her face. “Rupert, it becomes more and more serious!”
“Devil a bit!” said his lordship cheerfully. “You can’t get away from it, the girl’s not with Vidal now, so I don’t see we’ve aught to worry over!”