Devil’s Cub

Lady Fanny stamped her foot “Pray what is the use of a stupid theory when Vidal is about to shame us all with a dreadful scandal? You can’t go to any society! You must go to Bedford.”

“When you ask, mamma, what is the use of the Phlogistic Theory, and apparently compare it with Vidal’s exploits, I can only reply that the comparison is ridiculous, and renders the behaviour of my cousin completely insignficant,” said Mr. Marling with heavy sarcasm.

“I do not want to hear another word about your tiresome theory,” declared her ladyship. “When our name is dragged in the mud we shall see whether Vidal’s conduct is insignificant or no.”

“I am thankful to say, ma’am, that my name is not Alastair. What has Vidal done now?”

“The most appalling thing! I must write at once to your aunt. I always said he would go too far one of these days. Poor, poor Leonie! I vow my heart quite aches for her.”

Mr. Marling watched her seat herself at her writing-table, and once more inquired: “What has Vidal done now?”

“He has abducted an innocent girl—not that I believe a word of it, for the mother’s a harpy, and I’ve little doubt the girl went with him willingly enough. If she didn’t, I shudder to think what may happen.”

“If you could contrive to be more coherent, mamma, I might understand better.”

Lady Fanny’s quill spluttered across the paper. “You will never understand anything except your odious theories, John,” she said crossly, but she paused in her letter-writing, and gave him a vivid and animated account of her interview with Mrs. Challoner.

At the end of it, Mr. Marling said in a disgusted voice: “Vidal is shameless. He had better marry this young female and live abroad. I quite despair of him, and I feel sure that while he is allowed to run wild in England we shall none of us know a moment’s peace.”

“Marry her? And pray what do you suppose Avon would have to say to that? We can only hope and trust that something may yet be done.”

“I had better journey to Newmarket, I suppose, and inform my uncle,” said Mr. Marling gloomily.

“Oh John, don’t be so provoking!” cried his mother. “Leonie would never forgive me if I let this come to Avon’s ears. You must fetch her from the Vanes at once, and we will lay our heads together.”

“It is impossible not to feel affection for my Aunt Leonie,” announced Mr. Marling, “but have you considered, mamma, that she is capable of treating even this piece of infamy with levity?”

“It does not signify in the least. All you need do is to bear this letter to her, and bring her back to town,” said Lady Fanny imperatively.

Mr. Marling, disapproving but obedient, arrived at Lady Vane’s house near Bedford that evening. There were several people staying there, but he contrived to meet his aunt in a room apart. His countenance was so lugubrious that she asked him in quck alarm if anything were amiss?

“Aunt,” said Mr. Marling gravely, “I am the bearer of bad tidings.”

Leonie turned pale. “Monseigneur?” she faltered. “No, ma’am, so far as I am aware my uncle enjoys his customary health.”

“Ah, mon Dieu, it is Dominique! He has been shot in a duel? drowned in his yacht? dead of a fever? Speak, you!”

“My cousin is well, ma’am. Do not alarm yourself on that score. But the news is the worst imaginable.”

“If he is well it cannot be the worst,” said Leonie. “Please do not prepare me for a shock any more; I find it too alarming. What has happened to my son?”

“Madam, I regret to be obliged to soil your ears with the story, which I myself find excessively disagreeable. Vidal has abducted—I fear perhaps with violence—a young female of virtue and family.”

“Oh, mordieu, it is the bourgeoise!” said Iconic. “And now Monseigneur will be more displeased than ever! Tell me it all!”

Mr. Marling regarded her with an expression of pained severity. “Possibly, my dear aunt, you would prefer to read it. I have a billet for you from my mother.”

“Give it to me at once, then,” said Leonie, and fairly snatched it from his hand.

Lady Fanny’s agitated scrawl covered three pages. Leonie read them quickly, and exclaimed at the end that Fanny was an angel. She said that she would return to town at once, and upon her hostess coming into the room, greeted her with apologies, and the information that Lady Fanny was ill, and needed her. Lady Vane was all solicitude, and put a number of sympathetic questions to John which caused that conscientious young man to wriggle uncomfortably. She prevailed on Leonie to postpone her departure at least until next morning, and this Leonie consented to do out of consideration for her nephew, who had been travelling all day.

He and she set forth next day in her grace’s huge travelling coach. Leonie did not seem to be greatly disturbed by her son’s conduct. She said cheerfully that it was very odd of Dominique to abduct the wrong sister, and asked John what he supposed could have happened. John, who was feeling tired and annoyed, said that he could not venture a guess.

“Well, I think it was very stupid of him,” said the Duchess.

Mr. Marling said austerely: “Vidal’s conduct is nearly always stupid, ma’am. He has neither sense nor decency.”

“Indeed?” said the Duchess dangerously.

“I have endeavoured again and again to interest him in serious things. I am his senior by six years, and I have not unnaturally supposed that my advice and frequent warnings would not go entirely unheeded. It seems I was wrong. The late scandalous happenings at Timothy’s make it positively unpleasant for me to enter the clubs, where I am aware that I must be indicated to any stranger as the cousin of a notorious rake and—not to mince matters—murderer. Moreover—”

“I will tell you something, John,” interrupted the Duchess. “You should be very grateful to Dominique, for of a certainty no one would point you out at all if you were not his cousin.”

“Good God, aunt, do you imagine I wish to achieve notoriety in such a fashion? It is of all things the most repugnant to me. As for this latest exploit—well, I ascribe it very largely to my Uncle Rupert’s influence. Vidal has always chosen to be intimate with him to a degree I and, I may say, my mother, have considered to be unwise in the extreme. I don’t doubt he learned his utter disregard for morality from him.”

“I find you insupportable!” stated the Duchess. “My poor child, it is quite plain to me that you are jealous of Dominique.”

“Jealous?” repeated Mr. Marling, astounded.

“Of a certainty,” nodded the Duchess. “To shoot a man dead: it is terrible, you say. For you could not do it. You could not shoot an elephant dead. To elope with a woman: it is scandalous! Bien entendu, but you, you could not persuade even a blind woman to elope with you, which I find not scandalous, but tragic.”

Mr. Marling was unable to think of a suitable retort. His aunt, having disposed of him in this one withering speech, smiled affably, and patted his knee. “We will discuss now what I must do to rescue Dominique from this impasse.”

Mr. Marling could not resist the temptation of saying: “I apprehend that the unfortunate young female at present in his company is more in need of rescue.”

“Ah, bah!” cried the Duchess, “it is is not possible to talk to you, for you are without sense!”

“I am sorry, ma’am, if I disappoint you, but you appear to regard this affair very lightly.”

“I do not regard it lightly at all,” said Leonie stiffly. “Only I do not believe that it is just as this Mrs. Challoner has told Fanny. If Vidal has taken her daughter to France I think she went very willingly, and the matter solves itself. Mrs. Challoner would have me believe that the one sister went with my son to save the other. Voila une histoire peu croyable. I ask myself, if this were true where is the girl now? In England, bien sur, for why should Vidal take to France someone he did not want?”

“I’ve thought of that too, Aunt Leonie, and I have the answer, though I am must afraid you will not credit it. If the story is true, Vidal will have taken her for revenge.”

There was a long silence. The Duchess clasped and unclasped her hands. “That is what you think, John?”

“It is possible, ma’am, you’ll agree.”

“Yes. In a black mood Dominique might ... I must go to Rupert at once! Why do we go so slowly? Tell them