Venetia Read online

  But Imber, opening the door to this wholly unexpected visitor shortly after half-past eight, merely goggled more than ever at an airy request to pay off the postboy, and repeated in such stunned accents: ‘Pay off the postboy, miss?’ that Venetia said, impatient of further delay: ‘Oh, never mind! His lordship will give you the money! Where shall I find him? Is he in the library?’

  Still staring at her with dropped jaw Imber slowly shook his head. A numbing fear clutched her heart; she stammered: ‘G-gone? Imber, has he l-left Yorkshire? Don’t stand there gaping at me! do you take me for a ghost? Where is his lordship?’

  He swallowed, and replied: ‘He’s in the dining-room, miss, but – but he’s eaten Hull cheese, Miss Venetia! You hadn’t ought – Miss – !’

  But as this excursion into the vernacular was quite incomprehensible to Venetia, she paid no heed to the note of urgent entreaty in Imber’s voice, but went quickly down the hall towards the dining-room. Opening the door, she stepped into the room, and stood on the threshold, hesitating a moment, because suddenly, mingled with the longing to see her love again, she was aware of shyness.

  All the way north she had pictured this meeting, wondering what Damerel would say, and how he would look, what she herself would say to him. It had not occurred to her that he would neither speak nor look at her, or that their actual meeting would be so wholly unlike anything she had imagined.

  He was alone, sprawling in the carved armchair at the head of the table, one arm resting on the table, and the fingers of that hand crooked round the stem of a wineglass. The covers had been removed, and a half-empty decanter stood at his elbow, its stopper lying beside it. He was always rather careless of his appearance, but never had Venetia seen him so untidy. He had loosened his neckcloth, and his waistcoat hung open, and his black hair looked as if he had been in a high wind. He sat immobile, his shoulders against the high chair-back, his legs stretched out, and his brooding gaze fixed. The harsh lines of his face seemed to be accentuated, and his sneer was strongly marked. As Venetia moved softly forward into the candlelight he at last turned his eyes and looked at her. She stood still, shyness and mischief in her smile, and a hint of enquiry. He stared uncomprehendingly at her, and then, startling her, lifted his hand to his eyes, to shut her from his sight, ejaculating in a thickened voice of repulsion: ‘O God! No!’

  This entirely unexpected reaction to her arrival might well have daunted Venetia, but as she had by this time realised that his lordship was, in the common phrase, extremely well to live, she was undismayed, and even rather amused. She exclaimed: ‘Oh, Damerel, must you be foxed just at this moment? How odious you are, my dear friend!’

  His hand fell; for one instant he gazed at her incredulously, then he was on his feet, knocking over his wineglass. ‘Venetia!’ he uttered. ‘Venetia!’

  Two hasty, uncertain strides brought him round the corner of the table; she moved towards him, and melted into his arms as he seized her.

  He held her in a crushing embrace, fiercely kissing her, uttering disjointedly: ‘My love – my heart – oh, my dear delight! It is you!’

  She had flung one arm round his neck, and as he raised his head to devour her face with his eyes she tenderly smoothed back the dishevelled lock of hair from his brow. Whatever qualms or doubts had assailed her had vanished; she smiled lovingly up at him, and said, turning the word into a caress: ‘Stoopid!’

  He gave a laugh like a groan, kissing her again, tightening his arms round her until she could scarcely breathe. Then he seemed to recollect himself a little, and slackened his hold, exclaiming shakily: ‘I must reek of brandy!’

  ‘You do!’ she told him frankly. ‘Never mind it! I daresay I shall soon grow accustomed to it.’

  He released her, pressing his hands over his eyes. ‘Hell and the devil! I’m jug-bitten – drunk as a wheelbarrow! I can’t –’ His hands dropped, he demanded almost angrily: ‘What brings you here? O God, why did you come?’

  ‘The mail-coach brought me, love, and I’ll tell you why presently. Oh, my dear friend, I have so much to tell you! But first we must pay off the chaise. Imber seems not to have any money, so will you let him have your purse, if you please?’

  ‘What chaise?’

  ‘The one I hired in York to bring me here. I hadn’t enough of my own money left – in fact, I am run quite off my legs, and must now hang on your sleeve! Damerel, do, pray, give me your purse!’

  He dived a hand mechanically into his pocket, but apparently he was not carrying his purse, for he brought it out again empty. His love, apostrophising him affectionately as a castaway pea-goose, turned from him to go in search of Aubrey, and found that Imber was standing in the doorway, his face a study in disapproval, curiosity, and astonishment.

  ‘Marston is paying the postboy, miss,’ he said. ‘But, begging your pardon, if he’s to be sent back to York – Miss Venetia, you don’t mean to stay here?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she responded. ‘Tell Marston to send the chaise away, if you please!’

  This seemed to penetrate to Damerel’s somewhat clouded brain. ‘No!’ he said forcefully, if a little huskily.

  ‘No, my lord,’ agreed Imber, relieved. ‘Shall I tell him to rack up for a while, or –’

  ‘Pay no heed to his lordship!’ said Venetia. ‘Surely you must be able to see that he is not himself! Send the chaise off, and then, if you don’t wish me to drop into a swoon, do, I implore you, fetch me some supper! All I’ve eaten since yesterday is one slice of bread-and-butter, and I am famished! Tell Mrs Imber I beg her pardon for being so troublesome, and that some cold meat will do very well!’

  Imber looked for guidance towards his master, but as Damerel was occupied in an attempt to marshal his disordered wits, and paid no attention to him, he went reluctantly away to carry out Venetia’s orders.

  ‘Venetia!’ said Damerel, raising his head from between his hands, and speaking with painstaking clarity. ‘You can’t remain here. I won’t let you. Out of the question. Not so top-heavy I don’t know that.’

  ‘Nonsense, my dear friend! Aubrey is all the chaperon I need. Where is he, by the by?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not here. Gone – forget the fellow’s name – some parson! Grinder.’

  ‘What, is Mr Appersett home again?’ she exclaimed. ‘I knew I dared not wait another hour! Has Aubrey left you already? Oh, well! it can’t be helped, and, to own the truth, I don’t care a rush!’

  He frowned. ‘Not left me. Gone to dine at the Parsonage. Appersett. Yes, that’s right. He came home yesterday – or the day before. Can’t remember. But it doesn’t signify. You can’t remain here.’

  She regarded him with a sapient eye. ‘Yes, I see how it is,’ she remarked. ‘I daresay it is the same with every man, for I recall that whenever Conway was in the least disguised he would take some notion into his head, in general an idiotish one, and hold to it buckle and thong!’

  He repeated, very creditably: ‘“Idiotish”!’ A laugh shook him. ‘I thought I should never hear you say that again!’

  ‘Do I say it a great deal?’ she asked, and then, as he nodded: ‘Oh dear, how very tiresome of me! I must take care!’

  ‘No. Not tiresome. But,’ said his lordship, sticking to his guns, ‘you can’t remain here.’

  ‘Well, I warn you, love, that if you cast me out I shall build me a willow cabin at your gates – and very likely die of an inflammation of the lungs, for November is not the month for building willow cabins! Oh, good-evening, Marston! Have you paid the postboy for me? I am very much obliged to you!’

  ‘Good-evening, ma’am,’ said the valet, with one of his rare smiles. ‘May I say how very happy I am to see you here again?’

  ‘Thank you – I am very happy to be here!’ she replied warmly. ‘But what is to be done? Here is his lordship threatening to turn me out of doors: not at all happy to see me!’

  ‘J
ust so, ma’am,’ said Marston, casting an experienced glance at Damerel. ‘Perhaps if you would care to step up to Mr Aubrey’s room, to take off your bonnet and pelisse – ? There is a nice fire burning there, and I have instructed the housemaid to carry up a can of hot water, if you should wish to wash your hands. Also your portmanteau, ma’am.’

  She nodded, and crossed the room to the door.

  ‘No!’ said Damerel obstinately. ‘Listen to me!’

  ‘Yes, my lord, in one moment!’ replied Marston, ushering Venetia out of the room, and pulling the door to behind him. ‘The room next to Mr Aubrey’s shall be prepared for you, ma’am. I should perhaps explain that Mr Aubrey has driven over to dine at the Parsonage: but he will be back presently.’ He added, in a reassuring tone: ‘His lordship will very soon be himself again, ma’am.’

  ‘Marston, has he been getting foxed often?’ Venetia asked bluntly.

  ‘Oh, no, ma’am! He has been dipping rather deep, perhaps, but only when Mr Aubrey has gone up to bed.’ He hesitated, and then added, in his expressionless way: ‘It is always a sign of trouble with his lordship when he makes indentures, if you will pardon my saying so, ma’am.’

  She looked frankly into his impassive countenance. ‘Has he been in trouble, Marston?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. In worse trouble than I have ever known him to suffer.’

  She nodded, and said with a little smile: ‘We must see what can be done to cure that.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am: I should be extremely glad,’ said Marston, bowing slightly. ‘May I suggest supper in – about half an hour?’

  She was so hungry that it took considerable resolution to enable her to suppress an instinctive protest; but she managed to do it, and even to acquiesce graciously, since it was evident that he wished her to keep out of the way. She went upstairs, and was rewarded for her docility as soon as she caught sight of her reflection in the looking-glass in Aubrey’s bedchamber. In the indifferent light provided by the one candle brought in by the chambermaid at the inn she had dressed by guess, and had done no more than drag a comb hastily through her curls before tieing on her hat; but Marston had caused two branches of candles to be set on the dressing-table, and in their relentless light Venetia saw with horror that she presented almost as dishevelled an appearance as did her castaway host. All thought of supper forgotten, she ripped off her hat, flung her pelisse on to the bed, and set about the urgent task of making herself once more fit to be seen. By the time this had been accomplished rather more than half an hour had elapsed. She disposed a very handsome zephyr shawl across her elbows, in the approved mode, took a last, critical look at her reflection, blew out the candles, and went downstairs again to the dining-room.

  Here she found matters much improved, all traces of debauch having been removed, the table freshly laid, the fire made up, and Damerel, his disordered attire set severely to rights, miraculously sobered. He was in the act of draining a tankard when Venetia entered the room. She looked a little doubtfully at it, but whatever its contents had been they seemed to have exercised a beneficial effect upon his system, for he said in a perfectly clear voice, as he handed the empty tankard to Marston: ‘That’s better! Bread-and-cheese, and I shall do.’ He turned, and smiled at Venetia, saying lightly, but with a glow in his eyes that warmed her heart: ‘Quite starving, my poor child? You shall be served immediately! Come and sit down – and let me set your anxious mind at rest! I won’t drive you from my roof: we have hit on a better scheme – or, to be honest, Marston has done so! My head isn’t yet capable of devising schemes. You have come here to consult with Aubrey on some important matter – don’t forget that! – and I am going to remove to the Red Lion. Thus we observe the proprieties!’ He pushed in her chair, as she seated herself at the table, and added, still in that light tone: ‘You are doing your hair in a new way: very smart!’

  She realised that he was going to be difficult, but she was not much perturbed. Whatever his tongue might utter, his eyes betrayed him. She said chattily: ‘Do you like it? I hope you do, for I’m assured that it’s all the crack!’

  He had moved to his own chair, and he now lifted his quizzing-glass to one eye. ‘Yes, excellent! A la Sappho, I fancy.’

  ‘Wretch!’ she said, with her infectious chuckle. ‘Do you know the names of all the styles of female coiffure?’

  ‘Most of ’em, I think,’ he replied brazenly. He sat down, letting his quizzing-glass fall on the end of its long ribbon. ‘What has brought you here, Venetia?’

  ‘The mail coach – and excessively uncomfortable it was!’

  ‘Don’t quibble, girl!’

  She smiled at him, saying softly: ‘Stoopid!’

  She won no answering smile; he was looking pale, and rather grim; and after a tiny pause, he said: ‘I wish to God you had not come!’

  ‘Oh! That’s – that’s a horrid set-down, particularly when it seemed to me that you were glad to see me.’

  ‘I was badly foxed – I’m still a trifle concerned, but no longer out of my senses!’

  ‘Oh, dear, do you mean to kiss me only when you’re foxed?’

  ‘I don’t mean to kiss you at all!’ he said harshly.

  ‘Then of course I won’t press you to,’ she replied. ‘Nothing is more detestable than to be pressed to do what one hasn’t the smallest wish to do! I have lately had a great deal of experience of that. I know of only one worse thing, and that is to be beset by well-meaning but perfectly mutton-headed persons who can’t keep from meddling with what doesn’t concern them.’

  ‘Venetia –’ He checked himself, as Imber came in, and sat in frowning silence while a bowl of soup was set before her.

  ‘How very good it smells!’ said Venetia, picking up her spoon. ‘Oh, Imber, fresh bannocks? Yes, indeed I’ll take one! Now I know I’m at home again!’ She turned her head to address Damerel. ‘My aunt, I must tell you, has a French cook. He contrives the most delectable dishes, but I couldn’t help yearning sometimes for plain Yorkshire food.’

  ‘How do you like London?’ he asked, as Imber filled Venetia’s glass with lemonade.

  ‘Not at all. Well, perhaps that is being unjust to it! Under different conditions I think I might have liked it very well.’ She added, as Imber left the room: ‘I was too unhappy, and too lonely to be entertained. I had no one to laugh with, you see.’

  He said in a constricted voice: ‘You felt strange, of course. Were they kind to you, your uncle and aunt?’

  ‘Very kind. Only – well never mind! I don’t think I can explain it to you.’

  ‘Explain it to me? Do you think I don’t know? Do you think I haven’t missed you every day – every minute?’ he demanded impetuously. ‘And pictured you, sitting just where you are now, as you sat on that first evening, with that smile in your eyes –’ He broke off. ‘Well, you need not explain it to me! I know! But believe me, believe me, my dear delight, it will pass!’

  ‘Yes, so you told me, when you said goodbye to me,’ she agreed. ‘My aunt told me so too, and I’ve no doubt my uncle would, for I’m sure he told you it would. But what none of you has made at all plain to me is why you should think it a – a consummation devoutly to be wished! However, I don’t mean to be troublesome, so I won’t tease you with questions. Oh, dear, I can hear Imber coming back! I think it would be better if I don’t tell you what brought me here until we can be safe from interruption. I have so many other things to tell you, too! Oh, Damerel, I have seen your cousin! He was at a rout-party, and I heard his name spoken, and nearly disgraced myself by laughing! He is a splendid quiz!’

  He smiled, but with an effort. ‘A quiz? Good God, what can you be thinking of? Top-of-the-Trees is Alfred! You should see him when he goes upon the strut! Who is in town? Not many people yet, I fear, but I hope you made a few agreeable acquaintances?’

  She responded readily, and continued to chat in an easy, cheerful way, while she ate her
supper. Damerel did not say very much, but sat watching her, a queer smile in his eyes which made her long to put her arms round him, because she thought that just so would he smile at a dear memory.

  When Imber set apples and nuts on the table, and finally withdrew from the room, Damerel said: ‘And now, Venetia, tell me what happened to make you take this crazy step!’

  ‘I will,’ she replied. ‘But first, my dear friend, I have a question to put to you! Why did you never tell me that my mother wasn’t dead, but very alive?’

  He was cracking a walnut between his long fingers, but he looked up at that, and said: ‘So you’ve found that out, have you?’

  ‘That,’ said Venetia severely, ‘is not an answer!’

  He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t for me to tell you what you were evidently not meant to know. Who did tell you? Your aunt? Very wise of her! I hoped she would, for you might otherwise have discovered it in a way that could have shocked you.’

  ‘Well, that is precisely how I did discover it! It was certainly a surprise to me – but I had almost guessed it before poor Aunt Hendred was compelled to tell me the whole. I saw her at the play, the day before yesterday.’

  ‘The devil!’ he exclaimed frowning. ‘I thought she was fixed in Paris!’

  ‘So she is,’ Venetia answered, holding out her hand for the nut he had just peeled. ‘Thank you! She was obliged to come to London to have a new riding-habit made. She tells me that no Frenchman can make them as well as an English tailor.’

  There was suddenly an arrested look on his face. ‘She tells you? You spoke to her?’

  ‘Spoke to her? Why, of course! I visited her at the Pulteney, and I can’t describe to you how kind she was – and Sir Lambert, who, I must say, is the greatest dear! Only fancy! he walked all the way to the top of Bond Street with me, and as though that were not enough he bought this charming brooch for me! Wasn’t it touching of him? He told me that he wished I was his daughter, and –’