The Tyrant (9 page)

*   *   *

Ada was waiting in the overpowering suite assigned them, and lost no time in informing her employer that she ‘could
feel
the ghostes!' her manner implying that Meredith Hall fairly thronged with such apparitions. Phoebe laughed at her. She washed, changed into a wrapper, and enjoyed the tea and biscuits that were sent up. Her efforts to rest were useless, however, and she rang for Ada only half an hour after her handmaiden had departed, and was dressed for the evening, her hair restyled and powdered. She had chosen a new green taffeta gown with the flattened panniers now fashionable. Little lace frills were layered down the front opening of the skirt and repeated in a double line about the swooping neckline. Her only jewellery was the strand of pearls that had been her gift from Papa on the occasion of her come-out. She knew she looked well and, ignoring Ada's horrified wails, ventured forth to explore a little before she went to find her mama and Sinclair.

The passage stretched on and on. The glow from the lighted branches of candles or the wall sconces seemed to peter out ahead, and the air grew chill. Phoebe hesitated, but although Meredith Hall was a perfectly hideous collection of decrepitudes, she could not deny that she found it interesting, and eventually she went on again.

After a few more minutes, however, she had to admit she was properly lost. Wherever she was now, the hallway was becoming wider, the ceiling buttressed by beautifully carved beams. She came to a railed balcony running around a squared well. Below was a huge, dimly seen apartment that must be the ballroom Carruthers had spoken of. At eye level, a gigantic inverted mushroom was suspended from the ceiling high above her. The chandelier protected by that holland cover must be vast. She could envision minstrels playing up here, and below, gentlemen in doublets and hose dancing sedate measures with ladies in huge farthingales. She smiled dreamily. Not fearsome ghosts, as Ada had sensed, but—

She felt rather than heard a stealthy movement just behind her. Trying not to be silly, she waited for someone to speak, but the silence was heavy and undisturbed. The air seemed suddenly much colder and she
was
frightened! She gave a yelp of terror as something icy cold slid into the palm of her hand, and she whirled around, to be confronted by great doleful eyes and an ample sufficiency of wrinkles. She leaned against the railing for a moment, regaining her breath. The rail creaked ominously, and her hand flew instead to the head of her unexpected companion.

The bloodhound wagged his tail shyly and uttered a tentative ‘wuff.'

“How do you do?” replied Phoebe, grateful for his presence. “You must be Justice. Perhaps you can guide me to your master, sir.” The tail continued to wag, the dog regarding her with patient friendliness. “Find Carruthers!” she ordered sternly. He sat down and repeated his previous remark. It was unchanged through every command Phoebe could think of until she hit on the lucky “Would you like a walk?” whereupon he at once sprang up and began to pad back the way she had come, glancing over his shoulder from time to time, to ensure that she did not draw back from their bargain.

He turned to the left at the first side hall and went down some dim-seen stairs. Phoebe slowed. The hound could see more clearly than she was able to do, besides which he was in familiar territory. By the time she had groped her way to the ground floor, he was out of sight once more. The draperies were drawn across the windows, and with the approach of evening the hall was hushed and shadowy. The dog did not respond to her calls, and there was not a servant in sight. Phoebe suspected she must still be in the Lancastrian wing, and turned to the right. She entered the first room she came to, a shabby saloon bathed in the fading glow of sunset. Here the draperies had not been closed, and she hurried to the window to see if the ominous dark clouds she had noticed earlier were still coming this way.

She had arrived at the rear of the house and looked out onto gardens and lawn with a drivepath beyond. Carruthers, rather impressively clad in evening dress, although his thick dark hair was still unpowdered, stood on a flagged path, hands on hips, in an attitude of vexation. She began to wonder if he was ever cheerful. The casement opened easily enough, and she started to call to him, only to pause when he growled “So you have deigned to appear at long last! Where the devil have you been? I'd think you could manage to be here to welcome my prospective bride and her family!”

Phoebe looked curiously at the young man who strode to meet him. She was as agreeably surprised in him as she had been in his mama. As fair as Meredith was dark, Jeffery was a little taller and of slighter frame. His features were more finely chiselled, and about him clung an air of careless impudence far removed from his brother's stern manner. Phoebe already knew he was eight years the younger, but she would never have supposed them to be brothers; in fact, the only resemblance she could find was that Jeffery's handsome head was as innocent of powder or wig as was Meredith's.

“I do apologize, Merry,” he said in a pleasant, repentant voice. “'Fraid the time eluded me. I know you'll not approve, but truth to tell, I was sallying to the rescue of one sore-afflicted, who—”

Meredith's hands dropped. He said in a near snarl, “
Rescue,
is it? By God, Jeff, if you've allowed yourself to become involved with some damnable Jacobite…!”

Phoebe's eyes widened.

“Oh, for Lord's sake,” exclaimed Jeffery. “As if I would do such a bog-brained thing! You know how I feel about their idiotic Cause! No, a far more pleasant rescue. I chanced upon the sweetest little creature, trying to climb down a tree whilst carrying a baby bird she had seen fall from its nest.”

“Whereupon you played the knight-errant, eh?”

“Did you fancy I'd neglect so fine an opportunity? A luscious morsel, Merry. I've not seen her since I went off to Cambridge, and—”

“You amaze me, brother, considering you're more often out of that seat of learning than in it! Who is this ‘luscious morsel'? Do I know the chit?”

“
Assurement!
She has changed in so delightful a way—
many
ways, in fact—that I did not recognize her. And not until old Lockwood came galumphing up, complaining we were on his lands—”

“Were you?
Dammit!
You
know
I'm already at odds with the old curmudgeon!”

“Well, I suppose we were. But Rosalie managed to charm him out of his bad humour.”

Meredith said thunderously, “
Rosalie?
Do you refer to Rosalie Smith?”

“Yes. And do not come the ugly, aged mentor. You've had an eye in that direction yourself, from all I hear!”

“She is one of my village people, and I'll not have her pestered!”

“She don't talk like a villager. Nor behave like one. And as for her being pestered—have you
exclusive
pestering rights, perchance?” Jeffery's amiable demeanour had undergone a subtle change; he was standing very straight, resentment in every line of him.

Meredith seized his arm. In a voice harsh with anger, he ground out, “My relationship with Rosalie need not concern you, bantling! Suffice it to say that if you annoy her, you'll answer to me!”

Jeffery wrenched free. “'Tis my understanding you've brought your future bride here. Do not be a hog, Merry!” He grinned, in a sudden disarming shift of mood. “No, really, old fellow, I am most enthralled by this bombshell you've hurled. To think that 'neath that formidable exterior lurks a yearning heart!”

“Yearning, is it? Say rather that I yielded to Mama's importunities.”

“Oh, Gad! Your affianced is a dragon, with tombstone teeth, a squint, and a figure like a blob!”

“Oh!” gasped Phoebe.

Meredith drawled with a grin, “But of course. Did you fancy I would offer for a beauty?”

“I cannot feature you offering at all. I thought you irretrievably shackle-shy. How did you manage it, old lad? Were you the gallant, dropping to one knee to plead your suit? Did she yield her lips with a tremulous sigh, or—”

“Scatter wit! As I recall, she said something about—bats.”

Amused, Phoebe saw Jeffery's look of disbelief.

“Bats?” he gasped.

“Bats. And her mama made some remark about their feet.”

“Good God! Have they feet, then?”

“Well, of course they have feet! How d'you suppose they go on when they come to earth?”

“Well, I don't think they stroll about much. They hang upside down in caves. By their tails.”

“Tails!” They began to walk away side by side, Meredith saying scornfully, “For Lord's sake, Fidget, did you learn nothing in Nature Studies?”

“Never mind about Nature Studies,” Jeffery argued, his voice fading. “It sounds to me, Merry, as if you've offered for a proper widgeon. Best get out of it, old lad. I don't want no addle-pated nephews.…”

Closing the window without a vestige of guilt for having been so dishonourable as to eavesdrop, Phoebe murmured, “Nor are you likely to have any, Mr. Jeffery Carruthers! Your grump of a brother will probably remain a bachelor to the end of his miserable days. Unless he marries your luscious Rosalie!”

*   *   *

Sinclair was not in his room, but when Phoebe returned to her suite she found her brother sprawled in one of the overstuffed chairs, deep in a book.

He glanced up idly when she entered, then closed the book, staring. “Jove, but you look nice in that green thing.”

It was a rare compliment, for although she knew he was proud of her, he seldom deemed it necessary to remark upon his own sister's good looks.

“Thank you, kind sir. But it is not green. According to the milliner who sold me the material, it is
menthe poivrée glacée.
”

“Well, it's jolly pretty, but were I you, old lady, I'd think twice before pitching my peppermint at Carruthers.”

“Pitching … my…” she gasped. “
Oh!
Why ever would I do such a thing?”

“Do not try to throw dust in
my
peepers! He ruffled your feathers when he did not melt at your feet the way all the other fellows do. I saw you fire up.”

“To put it mildly.” She crossed to perch carefully against the end of the great tester bed. “Now, Sin, you cannot really think I would be interested in such a creature?”

“Because of those scars? I don't think he's so bad-look—”

“Of course not because of the scars. What rubbish! Because of his disposition, rather. He bullies his brother, terrifies his mother, is brusque and lacks polish, and if you say the least little thing that displeases, he fairly freezes you.”

“Yes, but don't forget it is thanks to him that we—”

“Oh, pish! Lascelles is his best friend, yet he begrudges every least thing he does for the poor soul! Sin—whatever are you going to do?”

“I'd a word with Carruthers whilst you and Mama were resting. We're to slip out tonight and move Lascelles to this Cut he told us of.”

“And that's another thing! How can he be so heartless as to refuse to bring his friend into the Keep? Lascelles would be a deal more comfortable. He is terribly weak and ill, Sin. That wound in his leg must be properly dressed, and he needs food and water, much Carruthers cares!”

Rather surprised by this outburst, Sinclair came to sit beside her. “Not like you to be so unfair, m'dear. Carruthers is head of his house, and as such is directly responsible for the well-being of both his brother and his mama. It is very obvious he dotes on her, and—”

“
Dotes
on her? Why, he frightens the poor lady half to death! Did you notice how scared she became when he started growling about Jeffery? Oh, that reminds me! Sin, I have seen his brother, and we must be very cautious, dearest. Jeffery is a fine-looking young gentleman, a very different article to Meredith. But oh, so contemptuous of the Jacobites.” She giggled suddenly. “Meredith flew out at him because he suspected he'd been helping a rebel. I wondered he could keep his countenance, considering what
he
has been about!”

Sinclair's lip curled. “I've heard rumours about Jeff Carruthers. He makes a practice of being rusticated, silly block. Here he is so fortunate as to be able to go to University, and—” He bit off the sentence hastily. “Why did Carruthers think he'd been helping a fugitive?”

“Jeffery said he'd come to someone's rescue, but it turned out to be only some village belle. And when Carruthers railed at him for it, Jeffery told him to his head it was known he himself has eyes for the girl.” She sighed heavily. “A fine rake I'm to take to husband.”

They chuckled together. Sinclair said, “You little witch! Carruthers is no rake, and you'd never be able to get him to the altar, so don't fret.”

“
Get
him! Why, you horrid! I'll wager I could have Sir Grimly at my feet in a month!” She saw her brother's troubled look, and hugged him. “Silly! I am only puffing off my allure!”

He did not look wholly reassured. “You are altogether too alluring in that gown for my liking. And did you see how Mrs. Lucille fairly floated when we arrived? She was in
alt
! It would be unkind in the extreme did you tease Carruthers. He is really in a desperate situation.”

“Well, I shall not tease, never fear. At all events, he dislikes me. And why his mama should be in alt only because her son has contracted a far from brilliant marriage, I cannot fathom. He is a fine figure of a man, and were it not for those scars would be quite handsome. He is vastly rich, I gather, and for all this place is such a ruin, I fancy he could bring it up to style without being in the slightest purse-pinched. All in all, I wonder he's stayed a bachelor so long, but I suppose his manner frightens the ladies away, no?”