Hugo’s replying doubtfully that he knew what the moves were but hadn’t played since he was a boy, he had said bluntly: “You couldn’t give me a game, then. What can you play? Piquet? Backgammon?”
“Ay, or whist,” offered Hugo.
“Play whist, do you?” said his lordship. “Very well, I’ll try you in a rubber or two. Aurelia, you won’t object to making up a table? Ring the bell, Hugh!”
The Major, with an uneasy apprehension that the form of whist played by a number of generally impecunious young officers belonging to a regiment that boasted very few bucks and blades of Society was likely to fall considerably short of his lordship’s standard, tried to draw back from the engagement; but his suggestion that he should watch, while Mrs. Darracott, or Claud, took his place, found no favour at all. His lordship said that Mrs. Darracott was fit for nothing but casino, and that he would be damned if he played with Claud, who had no head for cards, or, indeed, anything else. So Hugo had been obliged to take his seat at the card-table, with his grandfather for partner. They played only for chicken-stakes, and it was not long before Hugo found that his apprehension had been well-grounded. He was forced to endure many sharp scolds for stupidity; and later, when the billiard-players came into the drawing-room, the severe imposition of having his hand overlooked by Vincent. He seized the earliest opportunity of relinquishing his seat to Vincent. No opposition had been raised, my lord merely saying “Well, you’re no card-player!” and recommending him to watch his cousin’s play. He had preferred, however, to slip away when my lord’s attention was devoted to the play of a difficult hand, and to enjoy the solace of one of his cigars on the terrace. Here he had presently been joined by Richmond. “I thought you had come out to blow a cloud!” Richmond had said.
“Now, if you’re framing to squeak beef on me—!” he had responded.
Richmond had chuckled. “You’d be in the suds, cousin! So would I be, if you were to squeak beef on me! Grandpapa thinks I’ve gone to bed. He wouldn’t like it above half if he knew—That is, he don’t want me to ask you about the war in the Peninsula, or—But never mind that! I wanted to tell you—you might not know—he—he doesn’t
“Nay,” Hugo had said reassuringly. “I won’t take it amiss! Why should I? I’ve nothing to say against the Gentlemen’s Sons, or the Cavalry either—some of ’em!”
“No. Well, I wanted just to warn you!” Richmond had confided. “He’s quite antiquated, you know, and, of course, he does ride devilish rusty—though not with me, so perhaps I ought not to say it, only—”
“There’s no need for you to be fatched, lad: my Grandfather Bray was just such a cobby old fellow!”
“Oh!” Richmond had sounded rather taken aback. “
“Happen I will.”
“Yes, of course. Do you drive yourself, cousin?”
“Nay, I’m no Nonesuch!”
Richmond had been disappointed, but he had said quickly: “No, you haven’t had the opportunity—” He had broken off short, and although no colour could live in the moonlight, Hugo had known that a vivid flush had flooded his cheeks. He had stammered: “I don’t mean—I meant only that you have been doing other things! Things m-more worth the doing! I wish you will tell me, if it isn’t a dead bore, about your campaigns!”
Yes, Hugo thought, reviewing that interlude, a nice lad, young Richmond; but what such an ardent colt was doing hobbled at Darracott Place was a puzzle. If ever a lad was mad after a pair of colours! He had said that his grandfather had set his face against the granting of this desire, but he didn’t look to be the sort of lad to submit docilely to the decree of even so absolute an autocrat as old Darracott. If my lord didn’t take care, thought Hugo, casting off the bedclothes, and swinging his feet to the ground, he would have the lad chin-deep in mischief.
Dismissing Richmond from his mind, he strode to the window, and pulled back the curtains, and stood for a minute or two, leaning his hands on the sill, and looking out. The sprawling house was built on a slight elevation, in parkland which stretched for a considerable distance to the south and east, but merged rapidly into thick woods on the northern and western fronts. Below Hugo’s window, a part of the gardens, which appeared to be extensive though not in very trim order, lay between the house and the park; and the Military Canal and, beyond it, the Weiland Marsh stretched into a distance still shrouded in morning mist The day was fresh but fair; it beckoned compellingly; and within a very short space of time Hugo, fortified by a thick ham sandwich and a pint of Kentish ale, supplied to him by a pleasantly fluttered kitchenmaid, had set out for an exploratory ramble round the park.
He returned by way of the stables, which were situated to the west of the house. They had been built to accommodate many more horses than now stood in the stalls, and were ranged round several cobbled yards. Only two of these seemed to be in use; in the others weeds were pushing up between the cobbles, and rows of shut doors, the paint on them blistered and cracked with age, lent a melancholy air of decay to the scene.
The Major found his groom, a middle-aged Yorkshireman of stocky build and dour countenance, severely repelling the mischievous advances of a plump damsel in a print frock and a mob cap. To judge by the grin on the face of one of the stableboys, who had paused, bucket in hand, to listen to her sallies, she was full of liveliness and wit; but when she saw Hugo coming across the yard she fell into a twitter of embarrassment, dropped a hasty curtsy, and ran away.
“Set up a flirt already, have you?” remarked Hugo. “I’m surprised at you, John Joseph, at your time of life!”
“That giglet!” snorted his servitor. “I’ bahn to take t’gray to the stithy, Mester Hugo: he’s got a shoe loose, like I told you.”
“How’s Rufus?”
“Champion!”
“Good! I’ll take a look at him. All well with you, John Joseph?”
“I’m suited,” responded John Joseph stolidly. He cast an upward sidelong glance at his master’s face, and added in a rougher tone: “Tha knows we mun be suited, Mester Hugo, choose how!”
The blue eyes gave nothing away, but there was a hint of mulishness about the Major’s firm lips. “Maybe! We’ll see!”
“Tha’s quality-make, like t’gaffer used to say,” urged John Joseph. “Nay then, sir—! If tha’s bahn to be a lord, think on—”
“I am thinking,” Hugo answered. He smiled. “Hold thy gab, John Joseph!”
“
“I’d get a bang on the lug. But—”
“Sneck up!” commanded his henchman. “Here comes his lordship, and Mester Richmond! I mun fettle t’tits.”
With these words he withdrew into the stable, just as Lord Darracott and Richmond, who had been out at exercise, dismounted.
“Ha! Glad to see you’re up and about!” said his lordship. “I’ve no patience with young fellows who lie abed till all hours. Another morning you may come out with me: no use suggesting it to you last night: you’ll need to rest your horses. I’ll take a look at ’em,”
“Ay, sir, do! They’re neither of them the equal of this fellow,” said Hugo, patting the neck of Richmond’s colt, “but the bay’s a prime fencer, and strong in work. He has need to be!”
“H’m! Pity you’re so big!” commented his lordship. “What do you ride? Seventeen stone?”
“All of that,” admitted Hugo. “Eh, lad, you’ve got a proper high-bred ’un here!”
“Do you like him?” Richmond asked eagerly. “He’s young—pretty green still, but a perfect mover! I broke him myself.”
Lord Darracott, leaving Richmond to show off his treasure, went into the stable, and was soon heard putting curt questions to John Joseph. It seemed doubtful that he would find John Joseph’s answers intelligible, but he apparently understood enough to satisfy him, for when he presently emerged he rather surprisingly told Hugo that he had a good man there, who knew his work. He bestowed moderate praise on Rufus, the big bay, but dismissed the Andalusian with the loose shoe as a clumsy-looking brute, high in flesh. Richmond having gone off to confer with
