A Blot on the Scutcheon Part 18

Michael turned, half rising as he saw her standing there, for, if he had neither kisses nor smiles for pretty barmaids, he treated every woman he met with a deference which they found vastly pleasing.

"Why, yes, Mollie," quoth he. "The coach is never ready to start yet?"

"No, indeed!" she answered at a gabble. "Sir Stephen has but now ordered an omelette, which that s.l.u.t Jenny is sure to burn, but I had to leave her, having news of moment for your ear."

Her air of self-importance was amusing.

Michael's grey eyes twinkled.

"News of moment! Now you must not complain to me, child, if Mr.

Conyers kisses you too often."

She pouted at that, with the air of a spoilt little coquette.

"Kisses indeed! I'll teach Mr. Conyers! No, no, Mr. Berrington, sir.

It's news I bring you. You remember the young gentleman from France who rode up from the country a day since to see that same Mr. Conyers?"

"Jehan de Quernais? His pardon! Monsieur le Comte. Oh yes, I recall him very well, since he only left yesterday."

"He was cousin to Mr. Conyers, and had a favour to crave from him?"

"Fie, Mollie, you should not interest yourself with the affairs of gentlemen."

"There's no harm done if I have, this time, Mr. Berrington, sir.

Perhaps you know, as well as I, that Mr. Conyers sent him back to his country-house, bidding him wait there a few days for him, and promising to do afterwards all he asked."

Michael nodded, recollecting an annoyance that Morry should send this dainty Breton gentleman back to Langton, where Mistress Gabrielle dwelt alone, save for the chaperonage of old Nurse Bond.

"They sent him away," nodded Mollie. "But, poor gentleman, they mean to play a scurvy trick on him from what Mr. Conyers cried, laughing, to that ugly Frenchman just now. They'll play him false, and leave him in the country, whilst they go back to Brittany to do what Moosoo Trouet and the black Revolution want, and from what the pretty young gentleman begged Mr. Conyers to save them."

Michael was frowning now, his cheeks pale and grey eyes stern.

"Where learnt you this, girl?" he rapped out imperiously.

Mollie flushed, hanging her head.

"I ... I learnt it b--but now, sir," she stammered.

"Ah, I see. At the keyhole. Fie, Mollie; it was not well done!"

Yet his tone was more absent than upbraiding, for he was trying to fit the key to the tale.

"I ... I did it to p-pleasure you, sir, and because my father says the Revolution in France is a b.l.o.o.d.y and wicked thing. And ... and I am sure Moosoo Trouet would be ready to murder us all in our beds as they have been doing in Paris. So, for sake of it all, and the pretty young gentleman from France, I came to tell you. An' it's certain Jenny's burnt the omelette, which if father knew he'd beat me sorely."

A tear in a pretty eye is a wonderful softener to men's hearts.

Michael Berrington took Mollie's hand and tried to express at the same moment his grat.i.tude for her good intent and the wrongness of deceit and eavesdropping.

Mollie sobbed a little, smiled a little, found coquetry vain, and a golden guinea consoling.

Michael's conscience p.r.i.c.ked him at the thought that this last might be termed bribery and corruption.

Yet Mollie's news was startling even if incoherent.

What did it mean?

The cousin from Brittany had found more in common with Michael Berrington than with Morice Conyers, though the latter had been constrainedly affable.

Monsieur Marcel Trouet had been confined to his room through illness during the young Count's stay, but Morry had visited him.

Monsieur Jehan de Quernais had been pressing and enthusiastic in the cause of his mission. At first Morice, with a round oath, had declared that nothing should take him to Brittany. He had his own pies to bake, and had not the least wish for the embrace of the "widow."*

* The guillotine.

But this hectoring decision, mark you, was before he visited Monsieur Trouet--poor Monsieur Trouet, who lay groaning in bed with that kind Lord Denningham to act as sick nurse!

Afterwards Morry climbed down; that is, he began to feel the bonds of kins.h.i.+p and the great responsibility due to him as Monsieur le Marquis de Varenac.

Yes, he would come and guide his waiting people in the right way.

He and the overjoyed Jehan talked long into the night over the matter, till Morice felt that he was indeed Breton too, and almost ready to join the ranks of la Rouerie's desperate band, which meant to sweep Robespierre, the guillotine, and the whole Revolution itself into the sea.

But Jehan must not be impatient.

It was absolutely impossible for his cousin to be whirled off on the instant to Varenac.

He must arrange his affairs. An appointment of the utmost importance, nay, the command of the Prince of Wales himself, took him the next day to Brighton.

Three days, and then he would be at the disposal of Brittany, the Royalists, and, finally, of Jehan de Quernais. But for those three days he asked his good cousin to accept the hospitality of Langton Hall. He himself would not be there, though he regretted it a thousand times. However, he would find many interests and amus.e.m.e.nts, as well as the society of his little sister Gabrielle.

Monsieur Jehan, even though he disliked delay, was ready to admit that he should find Langton Hall charming.

He had seen la belle Cousine Gabrielle.

It was that last speech which had so ruffled poor Michael's humour.

Morry had no right to make it possible that even the breath of a sullying whisper should spread about young Mistress Conyers entertaining a handsome foreigner alone.

Morry--whose ideas of propriety were as elastic as London morals--would have laughed at such a suggestion.

So, perforce, Michael, having no right to interfere, had to swallow his vexation.

He was glad to see in Monsieur Jehan a discreet and pleasant gentleman.

Yet his own heart-strings tugged him homewards, whilst that fetish, honour, held him bound at the Goat and Compa.s.ses.

The power of a strong will over a weak had already given him some influence with Sir Stephen, and he would not leave him alone in the company of such men as Denningham and Trouet.