Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 06] - The Noblest Frailty (42 page)

"Then I shall be so crude as to go to your papa over your
grandfather's protest, lay my claim before him, and beg his
understanding."

He smiled at her confidently, but her answering smile was wan,
for she sensed that his hopes for a happy resolution to their problems
were as forlorn as her own.

The General said kindly, "Never despair, Yolande. We'll all
throw our efforts into discovering the truth of matters. Between us—"
He paused as a knock sounded.

The door swung open, and Devenish entered to say cheerfully,
"Only look at who we found coming up the drive!"

Colonel Alastair Tyndale strode briskly into the room, shook
hands with Drummond, bestowed a kiss upon Yolande's cheek, looked with
obvious shock at Craig, and exclaimed, "Good God! Dev wrote you was
better, but you look in very queer stirrups still, poor fellow. The
effect of this beastly climate, I suppose."

"There speaks a fugitive from London's clammy fogs!" Drummond
retaliated, laughing. "Devenish, be so good as to pour your uncle a
glass of Madeira. You'll stay with us, of course, Alastair, and very
welcome. But what brings you up here? We'd understood you didnae plan a
trip."

"No more did I." The Colonel raised his glass to the assembled
company and sipped the wine appreciatively. "Three things brought me.
The first, naturally, was to see for myself how Craig goes on.
Secondly, I received a rather strange letter from a lady who lives on
your estate, Andy. And, thirdly"—he reddened and said with boyish
shyness—"and to me most importantly, to announce my forthcoming
marriage."

Sir Andrew, in the act of sampling his wine, spluttered and
choked. Devenish, who had put down the decanter, fumbled with the
stopper, caught it, juggled it frantically, but dropped it, fortunately
onto the carpet. Yolande clapped her hands and cried a joyous, "Oh, how
lovely! To Lady Grenfell, sir?"

"Thank
you
, at least, my dear," he said,
his eyes glinting with amusement at these reactions.

"At
your
age… ?" wheezed the General.

Devenish, utterly incredulous, gasped, "The Silver Widow
B-but—she's the most sought after lady in Town!"

"And the best catch, I heard!" Craig grinned broadly.
"Congratulations, sir!"

"Thank you, Craig. Have I quite bowled you out, Dev?"

"What? Oh—er, no, of course not, sir. I only thought— That is
to say, I
didn't
think— Well, what I mean to say
is—at your time of life, who would guess you'd do such a thing?"

"Devenish!" said Yolande indignantly. "Uncle Alastair is in
the prime of his life! And is, besides, a very handsome gentleman. Lady
Grenfell has been setting out lures for him this age!"

Colonel Tyndale laughed. "Oh, no! You put me to the blush. I
count myself a very lucky man."

"Well, so you should, by Jove!" said the General heartily,
coming around the desk to shake his hand again and pound him on the
back. "A beautiful lady, The Grenfell. I'll own my eyes have strayed in
that direction a time or two since poor Stephen got himself killed,
although I know she is too young for me, despite that pretty silver
hair of hers."

Recovering himself, Devenish hastened to also offer
congratulations but, shaking the hand of this man who had been his
family for so long, chided, "What a sly dog you are, sir! I do think
you might have let me know you was contemplating becoming a Benedick. I
was never so taken in."

"To tell you the truth, Dev, I should probably have delayed my
announcement until after you and Yolande are wed. But now that is…
imminent…" He was struck to silence by the sudden bleakness in his
nephew's eyes and, glancing quickly at Yolande, saw her face flushed
and distressed.

"The lady won't have me, sir," Devenish imparted with a forced
grin. "Prefers a dashed Colonial bumpkin, if you can credit it."

It was the Colonel's turn to be bowled out. His gaze flying to
Craig's grave features, he gasped, "Does she—by God!" And then,
ruefully, "Gad, but I properly wedged both feet into my mouth!"

"Not at all," said Devenish, filling a sudden awkward silence.
"But, it's as well I'd intended to remove to Devencourt before the
summer's out."

The Colonel frowned. "No need for that, Dev. There's more than
enough room at Aspenhill for all of us."

"Do you seriously expect me to live bodkin between two
newlyweds?" Appalled by such a prospect, Devenish made a swift
decision. "I've a lady of my own now. You've not met my—my ward, sir."

Colonel Tyndale's jaw dropped. Then he uttered a hearty laugh.
"Young varmint! you really had me for a moment. Lord, if there was ever
a here-and-thereian less qualified to take on an adopted daughter!"

"How I am maligned!" mourned Devenish. "I assure you, sir,
Josie don't share your opinion of me. Does she, Craig?"

"Viewing you with the trusting eyes of childhood," said Craig
with his slow grin, "I'd say she has endowed you with halo and wings."

"Oh, Dev!" cried Yolande with delight. "Do you really mean to
make her your ward? She will be in heaven!"

"The devil!" exploded Sir Andrew. "She's mine, you rogue! I've
already spoke for her!"

"Yes, but I've stolen her away, sir."

"You mean… it really
is
true?" the
Colonel stammered. "But—"

From the door no one had heard open, Enderby announced, "Mrs.
MacFarlane!" and absented himself before his indignant employer could
request that the gardener's wife be denied at this particular moment.

Yolande went at once to welcome the little woman, exclaiming,
"Good heavens! I completely abandoned you when you came last week! I do
pray you will forgive me such disgraceful conduct."

The hand she took was like ice and violently trembling. Mrs.
MacFarlane's sharp eyes darted about the room, finding curiosity in
some faces, amusement in others, and annoyance in the eyes of the
General. She mumbled a response to Yolande and nodded to Alastair
Tyndale. "I seed you come, sir, and I reckoned I'd best do it the noo,
before I—I lose my… courage. It's—" she drew herself up, gripped her
hands tightly, and finished—"it's right ye should all be here."

Yolande's heart began to race. She said, "Do sit down, ma'am,
and tell us whatever troubles you."

Mrs. MacFarlane allowed herself to be settled into a
comfortable chair, but when Yolande made to draw back, she tightened
her hold on the girl's hand and said huskily, "It's yourself has
brought me to this pass, Miss Yolande. Your gentle ways and kind words,
even in your own sorrows, were an endless barb in my immortal soul! The
Good Book says 'there is no peace unto the wicked' and so it is. So
I've come here." Tears began to glitter in her eyes. She bit her lip
and finished threadily, "I didnae think I'd find the courage tae come
again… I only hope I can—can go through wi' it!"

Intent now, the General returned to the chair behind his desk.
Alastair Tyndale sat on the leather sofa, Craig stood behind Yolande's
chair, and Devenish settled his shoulders against the bookcase.

"I expect," Mrs. MacFarlane began nervously, "I expect ye all
ken I lived at Castle Tyndale when I was a wee bairn."

Devenish tensed, pushed himself away from the bookcase, and
the smile vanished from his eyes, to be replaced by a keen stare.
Yolande reached up, and Craig at once took her hand in a strong, brief
clasp.

Pleating and unpleating a fold of her dress with trembling
fingers, Mrs. MacFarlane quavered, "I should've told… years syne… what
happened that day, b-but—"

"By thunder!" the General ground out, leaning both hands on
the desk top as he bent forward. "You
saw
it?
Now, why in the name of— Why did ye not come
forward
?
Why did your
parrrents
nae speak?"

His tone of voice and fierce mien caused the little woman to
become even more nervous. She shrank and pressed both hands to her
lips, a stifled moan escaping her.

Colonel Tyndale said,
sotto voce
, "Easy,
Andrew. Easy."

Craig and Devenish exchanged glances of flashing excitement.

Yolande stood, and clinging to Craig's arm, whispered, "Oh, my
dear—I have prayed for this, but… I am so afraid!"

He patted her hand and drew her closer.

"We are more than grateful to you, Mrs. MacFarlane," said
Colonel Tyndale kindly. "But—can you tell us why nothing has been said
in all this while?"

She blinked at him. "Me mum and dad didnae dare speak, sir.
They was terrified they'd be turned off. And besides, we're only simple
folk. It—it don't always do tae—tae tell truth to the Quality." Her
drawn face twisting with emotion, she wailed wretchedly, "Oh, if ye but
knew how I longed tae speak oot! All these years I've knowed the truth!
I've knowed the murderer!"

Craig was jolted as though he had been struck. "
Murderer
?"
he echoed, his hopes crashing.

"Whatever ye've tae tell us," said Sir Andrew, his own heart
sinking, "ye'll be fairly dealt with here, ma'am. As well ye know."

She closed her eyes for an instant, then began almost
inaudibly. "I was only six, then. I minded my ma verra well, usually.
But—I'd a toy. Me brother Ian had carved it out fer me, and—and it was
me most favourite, but Ma didnae like tae see me always playing with
it, and bade me tae put it by and tend tae me chores and schooling. She
was teaching me tae read and write." She sat with head bowed, her eyes
fixed on the hands that wrung and wrung in her lap. "I hid it, though,"
she said chokingly. "I daren't leave it aboot or it would've been taken
and burnt, so—so I hid it, and every afternoon when Ma was busy with
her sewing of Miss Esme's pretty things, I'd go and—and take oot me
toy. And play with it. Oh!" She gave a wail and clutched her head in
near frenzy.

" 'Twas wicked! I ken that well!"

"Poor soul," said Yolande, touched by such anguish. "As if
anyone could condemn so natural a thing. You were scarcely more than a
babe, and likely had very few toys. Was it a doll your brother made for
you?"

For a moment the unhappy woman seemed too lost in remorse to
hear the gentle words. Then she looked up at the girl's sympathetic
face and answered, "No, miss. But it was my only real toy. Och, but I
thought it the finest Diabolino ever…"

Baffled, Craig murmured, "Finest—what?"

"Diabolino," rasped the General, more than a little impatient
with all this talk of toys. "A wooden ball on a string that is swung up
so as to fall into a cup."

"I was playing that day," Mrs. MacFarlane muttered, her wide
gaze very obviously looking back into the past that so terrified her.
"I heered someone coming. I was awful scared, for me ma had always told
me I was
never
tae go up to the battlements. So I
ran so fast as ever I could, and hid on t'other side of the tower.
Only… I dropped me toy."

Again, she paused, and now the room was so still that the
soughing of the wind outside sounded like the voice of a hurricane.
They waited, breathlessly, for no one dared to ask that Mrs. MacFarlane
resume her tale lest her obviously teetering intellect should be pushed
too far and completely give way.

"Stuart Devenish, it was," she said in a half whisper. "And he
walked over tae stand where he always did, looking oot tae sea. I
remember praying he'd soon go inside, but he didnae. And then—then Mr.
Tyndale come. He was running almost, and I could tell he was cross
again. Mr. Devenish turned round and said, 'Hello, Jonas' in his nice,
friendly way, but Mr. Tyndale started ranting and cursing. And all this
time I was sae afeared they'd see my toy, for it was close by them."

Under his breath the General snorted, "The devil fly away with
the toy!" He asked, "Can you recall ma'am, what the two men were
discussing? I suppose 'tis a lot to expect of a lady who was only six
at the time."

"I can remember," she said, her stare still fixed and vacant,
"as if it was yesterday."

"Can you, by God!" breathed Devenish, moving to stand beside
his uncle.

"Miss Esme—Mrs. Devenish, I should say," muttered Mrs.
MacFarlane, "was increasing, ye'll mind. Her brother wanted her back in
London Town. 'She dinna look right, Stuart,' he said. 'I be afeared fer
her! If ye'll nae go, let me take her back with me.' Mr. Devenish said
he couldnae allow it, for 'twould be a weary way fer her tae travel. He
was verra quiet and calm, and the quieter he was, the angrier Mr.
Tyndale got. I was sure as they were going tae start fighting, and so
was Mr. Devenish, fer he said, 'Jonas—mon, ye dinna understand! I canna
take her back! I
canna
!' Mr. Tyndale shouted, "
Will
not, ye mean!' and he took hold of Mr. Devenish's arm and said, 'Ye
want
her tae die, sae ye can get your hands on her fortune!' Mr. Devenish
told him he was a fool, and then he said in a funny sort of voice, 'If
she must die, it will be here, where she's been so happy.' I remember
it was all quiet then, and they stood there, staring at each other. And
Mr. Tyndale asked what was meant by that, and Mr. Devenish says, near
weepinglike, 'I'm going tae lose her, Jonas. The doctor says she canna
survive this birthing.' "

She stopped speaking, and there was a long, hushed pause Then,
she went on slowly, "Mr. Tyndale wouldnae heed him at first. He kept
ranting it was all none but lies, and Mr. Devenish kept saying it was
truth, and he looked so sad and sounded so—sort of lost, that I reckon
poor Mr. Tyndale had tae face it at the last. He put his head in his
hands and began tae weep. Mr. Devenish tried to comfort him, but he was
fair crazy with grief. He shouted, 'If ye knowed she would die, why did
you get her with child?' And he marched smack up tae Mr. Devenish, like
he meant tae throttle the life frae him. Mr. Devenish said he
hadn't
knowed until a few days syne, fer the doctor hadnae told him of it. But
Jones Tyndale wouldnae listen. He screamed oot that Mr. Devenish was
nae better than a murderer. That he'd murdered Miss Esme. Lor', but I
was scared! He was throwing his arms aboot and raving sae wild. Mr.
Devenish grabbed him and said sharp-like, 'Have a care, mon! Ye're tae
close tae the edge!' Mr. Tyndale pulled free and then—he hit Mr.
Devenish. Not hard-like. More as if he didnae want tae be held. But…
but Mr. Devenish jumped back and then… and then…" She cowered, bending
over and rocking to and fro in a paroxysm of grief.