Theo was frowningly silent. After a moment, the Viscount said: ‘Quarrelled last night, didn’t they? Oh, you needn’t be so discreet! I walked into the middle of it! Got a shrewd notion I know what it was about, too.’
‘They did quarrel, but I believe it was not serious. Martin is hot-tempered, and will often say what he does not mean.’
‘What’s the matter with the fellow?’ demanded the Viscount. ‘Seems to live in the sulks!’
Theo smiled faintly. ‘He has certainly done so ever since St Erth came home, but he can be pleasant enough when he likes.’
‘Pity he don’t like more often! Does he dislike Ger?’
‘He is jealous of him. I think you must have realized that. St Erth has inherited what Martin has always regarded as his own. I hope he may soon perceive the folly of his behaviour. Indeed, I believe he must, for there is not a better fellow living than Gervase, and that Martin will be bound to discover before he is much older.’
‘But this is Gothick, Frant, quite Gothick!’ objected Ulverston.
‘Well, in some ways I think Martin is rather Gothick!’ said Theo. ‘His disposition is imperious; his will never was thwarted while his father lived; nor was he taught to control his passions. Everything that he wanted he was given; and, worse than all, he was treated as though he had been the heir, and Gervase did not exist.’
‘Went to school, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he followed Gervase to Eton.’
‘Well, don’t tell me his will wasn’t thwarted there!’ said Ulverston. ‘Doing it too brown, dear fellow! I was at Eton m’self!’
‘You were perhaps not so much indulged at home. With Martin, the influence of school counted for nothing once he was back at Stanyon.’
They were interrupted by the Earl, who, coming up behind them, said lightly: ‘What treason are you hatching, the pair of you? I don’t think Cloud’s legs will be marked.’
‘Gervase, are you concealing something from us?’ asked Theo bluntly.
‘Oh, so Lucy has been telling you that I have never been known to let my rein go, has he? I thank you for the compliment, Lucy, but it is undeserved. Now I think I should do well to slip into the house unobserved, for if Martin were to catch a glimpse of my cravat in its present lamentable condition he would cease to think me a dandy, and that would be a sad disappointment to both of us.’
‘Martin ain’t in the house,’ said the Viscount. ‘He went out with his gun, my man tells me.’
‘Ah, did he? He is the most indefatigable sportsman! I have not yet seen him riding to hounds – neck-or-nothing, I feel tolerably certain! – but he is an excellent shot. Lucy, I never thanked you for coming so heroically to my rescue! My dear fellow, I could not be more grateful if I had needed you!’
‘Bamming, Ger, bamming! I know this humour, and shan’t be taken in!’
The Earl laughed, kissed the tips of his fingers to him, and vanished into the Castle.
He was received in his bedchamber by Turvey, who palpably winced at the sight of him. ‘I know, Turvey, I know!’ he said. ‘My coat will never be the same again, do what you will, and I am sure you will do everything imaginable! As for my cravat, I might as well wear a Belcher handkerchief, might I not?’
‘I am relieved to see that your lordship has sustained no serious injury,’ responded Turvey repressively.
‘You must be astonished, I daresay, for you believe me to be a very fragile creature, don’t you?’
‘The tidings which were brought to the Castle by Miss Bolderwood were of a sufficiently alarming nature to occasion anxiety, my lord.’
‘Oh, so that is how the news was spread!’
‘Miss Bolderwood had but just stepped down from my Lord Ulverston’s curricle when your lordship’s horse bolted past them. I understand that the young lady sustained a severe shock. Permit me, my lord, to relieve you of your coat!’
The Earl was seated at his dressing-table when, some twenty minutes later, Ulverston came into his room. He was dressed in his shirt and his satin knee-breeches, and was engaged on the delicate operation of arranging the folds of a fresh cravat into the style known as the Napoleon. At his elbow stood Turvey, intently watching the movements of his slender fingers. A number of starched cravats hung over the valet’s forearm, and three or four crumpled wrecks lay on the floor at his feet. The Earl’s eyes lifted briefly to observe his friend in the mirror. ‘Hush!’ he said. ‘Pray do not speak, Lucy, or do anything to distract my attention!’
‘Fop!’ said the Viscount.
Turvey glanced at him reproachfully, but Gervase paid no heed. He finished tying the cravat, gazed thoughtfully at his reflection for perhaps ten seconds, while Turvey held his breath, and then said: ‘My coat, Turvey!’
A deep sigh was breathed by the valet. He carefully disposed the unwanted cravats across the back of a chair, and picked up a coat of dark blue cloth.
‘And what do you call that pretty confection?’ enquired Ulverston.