“That, cousin,” murmured Vincent, “is the most un-kindest cut of all! Proceed!”
“Nay, I didn’t mean it so! For the rest, we’ve settled it between us—my aunts and I—that it will be best to get the lad away from here, and Claud too, at first light, before the servants are up and about. It will be easily done, and accounted for: your mother wants her own doctor to deal with Claud, and Richmond goes to help her with him on the journey. John Joseph will drive them to Tonbridge in her ladyship’s own carriage, and see to the hiring of a post-chaise there to carry them on to London. I’ve promised my Aunt Elvira I’ll take her to London myself as soon as I get back from the north, but it won’t do for her to join Richmond too soon, for we don’t want to set tongues wagging.”
“Have you induced her to let him go without her? Good God!”
“She’ll do nothing to hinder us from doing what’s best for him, little though she may like it. She knows your mother will take good care of him, too.”
“Your staff work is admirable, coz. Why, by the way, does Richmond go to succour Claud while I remain here?”
“No one will wonder at that, lad! Claud’s in no state for fratching!”
“Touché!”Vincent acknowledged, throwing up a hand. “You don’t feel that I ought to drive myself to town in the wake of the chaise, as—er—rearguard?”
“I don’t,” replied Hugo. “You and I, lad, have got work to do here! Something must be done about that secret passage. If we can do no more, between the pair of us, than block it, as it was when Richmond first saw it, we’ll do that.”
“What an enchanting prospect!” said Vincent faintly. “How right you are—damn you!”
Hugo chuckled, but addressed his grandfather. “There’s one thing more, sir. That young good-like naught of yours won’t rest until he’s seen you. He knows well the blow he’s dealt you. He bade me tell you so.”
Lord Darracott rose from his chair. “I’ll go to him,” he said curtly.
Hugo moved to the door, to open it for him. His lordship paused for a moment before he went out, passing a hand across his brow. “I suppose you will do what’s necessary. There will be many things—his boat, his horses—I’m too tired tonight, but I’ll discuss it with you tomorrow. Goodnight!”
“Goodnight, sir,” Hugo replied. He shut the door, and came back into the room. “Happen I’d best do something to put him in a passion tomorrow,” he said thoughtfully. “It won’t do to let him fall into a lethargy.”
“You will, cousin, you will!” Vincent said, with his mocking smile. “I own, however, that I shall greet the familiar storm-signs with positive relief.”
Ten minutes later, Anthea was saying much the same thing. “I never thought I could be sorry for Grandpapa,” she told her cousins, “but I am, and, what’s more, I had rather by far have him cross than stunned!”
“Have no fear!” said Vincent. “Ajax is already considering how best to enrage him.”
She smiled, but said: “Well, anything would be preferable to having him so quiet and crushed. He didn’t utter one word of reproach to Richmond. But what almost sank me to the floor was his saying to Mama that she had much to forgive him! It was precisely what she had been saying to me, except that she said she never would forgive him, so you may imagine my astonishment when she burst into tears on his chest! As a matter of fact I nearly burst into tears myself.”
“Dear me, what a lachrymose scene!” remarked Vincent. “I shall go to bed to fortify myself for the inevitable reaction—not to mention the exhausting labours I shall no doubt be expected to undertake in that accursed passage. To think how much I once wanted to discover it, and how much I wish now that it never had been discovered!” He went to the door, and opened it, looking back to say: “My dislike of you is rapidly growing, Ajax: I shouldn’t make the smallest attempt to drag you back from that cliff-edge!”
“What cliff-edge?” enquired Anthea, as Vincent left the room.
“Just a joke, lass. Eh, you look tired out!”
“I am tired out, but I couldn’t go to bed without coming to thank you, Hugo. I—oh, Hugo, I can’t believe yet that it wasn’t a nightmare!” she said, walking straight into his arms, and hugging as much of him as she could.
He received her with great willingness, enfolding her in a large and comforting embrace, “Well, that’s all it was, think on,” he said. “Now, don’t you start on cry, lass!”
“I won’t,” she promised. She took his face between her hands, smiling up at him, and saying: “Noble Ajax, you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable!”
“Nay then, love!” expostulated the Major. “Don’t be so daft!”