The Unknown Ajax

not the smallest desire to set you at outs with my grandfather, and even less to thrust a spoke into your wheel, which is what I can’t deny I have done.”

“There’s little chance he’ll let Richmond go with me to Yorkshire, if that’s what you mean,” answered Hugo.

“It is precisely what I mean. I perceive that I shall be obliged, after all, to offer you an apology.”

“Nay, I’ll make shift to do without it. Will you keep your eye on that lad while I’m away?” said Hugo bluntly.

“Yes, coz, I will—if only to prove you wrong in your suspicion! By the way, I wouldn’t, if I were you, mention it to my grandfather!”

“That’s the last thing I’ll do!” said Hugo.

“Very prudent! Goodnight!” said Vincent, beginning to mount the stairway. At the first landing, he paused, and looked down at Hugo, saying smoothly: “I wonder how it was that we contrived, before your arrival, to rub along tolerably well, and certainly without falling into disaster? I must confess myself to be wholly at a stand to account for it.”

“Well, that’s something that has me in a puzzle too!” retorted Hugo, a sudden grin putting the unusual gravity of his countenance to flight.

Vincent raised his brows in faint surprise. “Your trick, cousin!” he acknowledged, and went on up the stairs.

By the time a somewhat depleted breakfast-party met next morning, everyone at Darracott Place knew that the previous day had ended with a Scene of no common order, for those, like Richmond, whose rooms were so remote from the library as to put them out of the reach of even such a powerful voice as Lord Darracott’s had the pleasing intelligence conveyed to them with their cups of chocolate and cans of hot water. Mrs. Darracott, whose room was situated immediately above the library, carried the news to Lady Aurelia, together with a moving description of the nervous spasms which had subsequently made it impossible for her to close her eyes all night. Her appearance bore such eloquent testimony in support of her story that Lady Aurelia, though herself made of sterner stuff, said kindly: “Very disagreeable!”

“No one seems to know what provoked Lord Darracott, but my woman had it from Charles that Hugo slammed out of the house in a terrible rage—though that I do not believe, because I must have heard the door slam had he done so, and in any event Chollacombe told me himself that Hugo merely went out to smoke a cigar, which he always does—not that I knew it, and I own I wish he would not, for I cannot like smoking, even if it’s dear Hugo! However, that has nothing to do with it, and for my part I don’t believe that Hugo was in a rage, for there was never a sweeter- tempered, more truly amiable creature born, and when one considers—but I shall not speak of that, for I am sure we have talked it over often enough, and enter into each other’s sentiments exactly! But what makes me quite ill with apprehension, Aurelia, is that there seems to be no doubt at all that it was Hugo Lord Darracott quarrelled with! But why? What, I ask you, can Hugo possibly have done or said to provoke my lord? There were just the three of them; when we had gone up to bed, and it can’t have been Claud, because James told Mrs. Flitwick that he came out of the library long before the end of the quarrel; and it can’t have been Vincent, because he stayed with my lord, after Hugo had left the room, and after my lord stopped shouting. So it must have been dear Hugo! And what utterly sinks my spirits is that my woman met Grooby coming away from Lord Darracott’s room this morning, and knew, the instant she set eyes on him, that things are as bad as they could possibly be, instead of having blown over, as very often they do, and my lord in the worst of humours! So I sent for some coffee, and a slice of bread-and-butter, to my bed-chamber, not that I could swallow a morsel, for nothing will prevail upon me to go down to the breakfast- room while everyone is at outs! But,”concluded the widow, with sudden resolution, “if Lord Darracott has dared to endanger my only daughter’s happiness, he will have Me to reckon with, for where my children are concerned I can be as brave as a Lioness, Aurelia, even at the breakfast-table!”

Lady Aurelia, whose invariable custom it was to partake of a far more substantial breakfast in bed, saw nothing to object to in this, and nodded her head. After considering the matter she pronounced, in a very regal way: “I will see Claud.”

But Claud, summoned to his august parent’s room before he had finished dressing, was far too peevish to be of any material assistance. Attired in a dressing-gown of rich silk, he was much more concerned with the style of neckcloth most proper to be worn with a frock-coat, and a daring waistcoat of Polyphant’s design, than with a quarrel from which he had managed to escape, and only wished to forget. He was inclined to be indignant with his mother for having sent for him on frivolous grounds; and, finding that she was determined to get to the bottom of what seemed to him a very trivial affair, extricated himself without hesitation or compunction by advising her to apply to Vincent for information, since he was the instigator of the quarrel. Before he could make good his retreat, however, he was incensed and appalled by a command to go immediately to Vincent’s room, and to inform him that his mama desired to have speech with him before he went down to breakfast. Since it was the time-honoured practice of the brothers to sacrifice each other in such situations as now confronted Claud, it was not fear of Vincent’s wrath at finding himself betrayed which prompted Claud to despatch Polyphant on the errand, but the knowledge that not even a messenger bearing gifts of great price would meet with anything but the rudest of receptions from Vincent at this hour of the morning.

The events of the previous evening having put Vincent in the worst of tempers, it was in anything but a propitious mood that he presently visited Lady Aurelia, nor did the measured speech with which she favoured him soften his humour. Her ladyship, disclaiming any desire either to know the gist of the quarrel, or to listen to excuses, informed him, without passion or waste of words, that if his cousin and his grandfather were set at loggerheads through his agency he would fall under her deepest displeasure. That, she said, was all she wished to say to him; and as Vincent was well-aware that her fortune, and not his father’s humbler portion, was the source of his own allowance, it was quite unnecessary for her to say more. Pale with anger, he bowed stiffly, and replied in a voice of ice: “I do not propose to burden you, ma’am, with an account of what occurred last night, nor can I deny that some unfortunate words of mine were the cause of my grandfather’s attack on my cousin. It was not, however, my intention to instigate a quarrel, as I trust I made plain to my cousin. I have only to add that you need be under no apprehension that my dislike of Hugo would, under any circumstances, prompt me to make mischief between him and my grandfather.”

“Your character, Vincent, is in many ways unsatisfactory, but I have never found you untruthful,” said her ladyship. “I have no hesitation in accepting your assurance, therefore. Pray close the door carefully behind you! the catch is defective.”

After this, it was not surprising that Vincent, instead of putting in an appearance at the breakfast-table, strode off to the stables, and worked off the worst of his spleen by riding at a slapping pace to Rye, where the George provided him with a belated but excellent breakfast.

The breakfast-party at Darracott Place was thus reduced to four persons, Anthea having left the room before Claud entered it. Conversation did not flourish. Lord Darracott wore a forbidding scowl, and, beyond nodding curtly to Richmond, paid no attention to anyone; Richmond, as yet uninitiated into the cause of the quarrel, was looking anxious, and scarcely spoke; Claud, after one glance at his grandfather, confined his utterances to what was strictly necessary and Hugo, finding his companions disinclined for conversation, placidly consumed his customary and sustaining meal.

It was not until he was about to rise from the table that Lord Darracott broke his silence. Addressing himself to Richmond, he demanded to know how long it was since he had visited his tutor. Without waiting for an answer, he said that Richmond had been idle for weeks, and must now resume regular hours of study.

“Yes, Grandpapa. But am I not to go with Hugo?” Richmond asked.

“No, certainly not! You need not look glum, for you would find nothing to interest you in Huddersfield, and a great deal to disgust you!”

“The mills would interest me,” Richmond said. “I know how sheep are sheared, but I don’t know what is done to the fleeces to turn them into cloth, but Hugo says I may see every bit of it, if I like. Pray let me, go, Grandpapa!”

“I said no, and I meant it!” interrupted his lordship, more peremptorily than it was his custom to speak to Richmond. “I am astonished that you could wish to interest yourself in a cloth mill! You have nothing to do with