CHAPTER IX
Adrien's appearance in the stable-yard was the signal for much excitement among the hands there; and presently the head groom made his appearance, struggling into his coat, while coughing with embarrassed respect.
"Good morning, Markham," said his master with a nod; "where's the 'King'?"
"In the south stable, sir," replied the man, as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys. "You would like to see him, sir?"
Adrien nodded, and made his way to the stable, accompanied by the groom.
"No one else is allowed to enter the stable but yourself, Markham?" he asked, as the man unlocked the door.
"No one, sir. I'm always here when he's being littered or fed. Not a soul touches him without I'm at his side. He's in fine condition, sir; I never saw him in better."
Adrien passed his hand over the satiny coat of the race-horse. The dainty creature pricked up his finely-pointed ears, and turned to his master with a whinny of delight.
"He looks well enough," he admitted. "Has he had his gallop this morning?"
"Yes, sir; but would you like to see him across the paddock?"
"Yes," said Adrien. "By the way, who rides him to-morrow?"
"Peacock, sir."
"Ah, the new jockey."
"Yes, sir; Mr. Vermont's lad," returned the groom.
"A good seat?" asked Adrien.
"Capital, never saw a better, sir, and weighs next to nothing. I'll send for him." He whistled, and half a dozen stable helpers rushing forward, he despatched them to find the jockey. While waiting, the groom had the precious "King" brought into the yard and saddled; and in a few moments the man arrived. Markham had called him a lad; but in reality he was almost middle-aged, with the stunted stature of a child. Adrien looked him over critically.
"So you ride the 'King' to-morrow?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," replied the dwarf humbly.
"Let me see you take him round the paddock," said Adrien. The man threw off his coat, showing himself to be in shabby riding costume; then, vaulting into the saddle, he took the racer to the meadow at the back of the stable-yard. Adrien watched the bird-like flight of the superb animal, and nodded approvingly when he presently returned to the starting-point.
"You'll do," he said, as the jockey dismounted; "ride like that to-morrow, and we shall win. There is something for you, but no drinking, mind."
He held out a ten-pound note as he spoke. The man stared at it for a moment, then crouching almost like a dog, took it gingerly by the edge.
"Don't be afraid, man; one would think you expected a blow," said Adrien, with a smile.
Touching his forelock, the man took the note, and Adrien turned away. As he walked out of the stable-yard he happened to glance back at Markham, who was re-covering the "King," and he saw that the jockey was still gazing after him, with a tense, almost longing expression in his small, deep-set eyes.
"Poor devil!" said Leroy to himself as he went up the drive, "I must get Jasper to do something for him, especially if he wins--I only hope he doesn't get drunk!"
In the courtyard Lady Constance's horse and his own were waiting for him and in a few moments the girl herself appeared, accompanied by the ever-smiling Jasper Vermont.
Blessed by nature with a good figure, Art, as represented by French modistes and Redfern, had put the finishing touches, with the result that Lady Constance Tremaine, whether in evening dress or the blue cloth riding-habit of the field, was a joy to the eye. As she stood now, waiting Adrien's approach, he could not help mentally contrasting her natural, spiritual type of beauty with the made-up and coarsened charms of Ada Lester, and he wondered how he could have been so blind as not to notice it before.
He was not the only one who admired her. Jasper Vermont had elected himself as the girl's chief slave, and whenever he was at Barminster Castle invariably managed to carry out her lightest whims--indeed, would even endeavour to forestall them. Now it was he who attended to her saddle, and helped her into it before Adrien had fully realised what he was about to do; and for once Leroy experienced just the least feeling of resentment towards his devoted friend.
For a while the two rode almost in silence; but after the first canter Adrien reined up his horse close to that of his companion. Lady Constance purposely brought the conversation round to his estates, for, with all his dissipation and languor, Leroy was no indifferent landlord, and Lord Barminster invariably referred all complaints--such few as there were--to his son.
"I'm sorry you would not renew the lease for Farmer Darrell," she said gently; "he is almost heart-broken at having to leave Briar Farm."
Adrien pulled up his horse sharply.
"Farmer Darrell to leave Briar Farm!" he said quickly. "What do you mean, Constance?"
She looked at him steadily, as she replied:
"I rode over there yesterday, and found them all in great trouble. They told me Mr. Vermont, acting under your orders, had refused to grant them new leases. I promised to speak to Uncle Phillip; but you know how angry he gets whenever any one mentions Mr. Vermont's name, so I thought I would ask you myself." She blushed crimson, as if at her own boldness. "Of course, you mustn't do it just on my account, but--"
"Mustn't I?" interrupted her cousin, looking keenly, almost affectionately at the slim, girlish figure, and pretty piquant face. "I should certainty grant whatever you asked me if it lay in my power. As a matter of fact, however, I think Jasper said that, as they were unable to make Briar Farm pay, would I lower the rent; and as that would be creating a precedent for all the other tenants--I refused."
Lady Constance nodded her head. "Quite right," she agreed; "but I happen to know that the farm does pay splendidly, and--"
"In any case, Constance," interrupted Adrien, almost tenderly, "it is quite sufficient, if you wish it so. But I think--I am sure--Jasper must have made a mistake."
Lady Constance did not reply, but wisely changed the subject; she was too clever to pursue her advantage, and she had gained her point--sown the least little doubt of Mr. Jasper Vermont's rectitude in Adrien's mind.
Meanwhile, Mr. Vermont had also betaken himself to the stables; but he did not ask to see "King Cole"--contenting himself with beaming admiringly on Mr. Markham, while the head groom held forth on all the precautions he was taking with regard to the precious animal's safety.
"An' if he's got at, Mr. Vermont, sir, I'll eat my head," was his parting speech.
In reply to which Mr. Vermont murmured inaudibly, as he walked away: "It's a lucky job, my good fellow, that I shan't make you keep your word!"
At the end of the plantation, beyond the stable buildings, there was a little cottage attached to the straw-yard. Having reached this, Jasper listened attentively; then, without any warning knock, he lifted the latch, and entered.
To all appearances the room was empty, save for some pieces of poor furniture. But the visitor, blinking at the sudden transition from light to darkness, walked over to a rough couch, where lay the misshapen jockey Peacock, either asleep or deep in thought. Jasper shook him angrily by the shoulder, and a sullen scowl darkened the little monkey-like face as he recognised his visitor.
"Well?" he said gruffly, without attempting to change his position.
"Short, and not polite!" retorted Jasper, shaking him again. "Didn't I tell you I'd come here to-day, you imp of darkness?"
"You did, guv'nor," the man replied sullenly.
"Well, here I am. You're not drunk, are you? Here--let's look at you." With a cruel smile, the soft, amiable Mr. Vermont seized the ear of the dwarfed jockey and dragged him to the light. "No, not drunk--for a wonder. Well, you know what to do to-morrow?"
The man nodded sulkily.
"Tighten and choke off at the last hurdle. Mind you do it neatly, too. You can do it, I know; and it won't be the first little affair you've sold, eh? You sold one too many, though, when you crossed my path, and you know what will happen if you fail me."
"All right," the jockey muttered hoarsely.
"I hope it will be all right," said his persecutor, shaking him gently to and fro by the ear. "If not, you'll find yourself in the care of a paternal Government--I tell you--picking oakum."
The man gave a sudden jerk and released himself from the cruel grasp; then he looked up almost piteously.
"Must we do it, guv'nor?" he said hoarsely. "I've seen 'im----"
"Him! whom, you idiot?"
"Him--Mr. Leroy--as we're to sell."
"You're to sell, you mean, you gallows-bird," returned Jasper.
The man eyed him viciously.
"Yus," he growled, "you think you're going to git off scot-free, don't yer? What if I don't do it? He giv' me a tenner, he did. 'E's a real gent. What if I don't do it?" he repeated.
Mr. Vermont's eyes narrowed till he looked like a snake about to strike. Raising the riding-whip which he had in his hand, he seized the wretched creature once more, and brought the whip down again and again on his almost skeleton body.
"Play me false, you hound, and I'll kill you," he almost hissed; and, half beside himself with pain and rage, the jockey gasped brokenly:
"Stop! stop! I'll do it."
It was just five o'clock when Lady Constance and Leroy returned from their ride. During the course of it Adrien had realised something of his cousin's beauty of character, as well as of face. Until that day he had only regarded her as a younger sister, pretty, perhaps, in a quiet, retiring way, but nothing more. Now, as he lifted her down from the saddle, he could have bent and reverently kissed the little foot that lodged so lightly in the stirrup.
Woman-like, she was quick to notice the change in him, and her heart beat high with hope.
"He will love me yet," she whispered to herself triumphantly, as, with outward calmness, she bade him au revoir till they should meet at dinner.
Adrien went straight to his own rooms. An unusual restlessness was upon him, and his pulses throbbed wildly, but as yet he did not understand what these things meant. He, who had played the lover so lightly all his life, did not realise that it was now his turn to feel Cupid's dart, and that he was becoming as deeply enamoured of his pretty cousin as any raw boy straight from college.
As he paced up and down his luxurious study, thoughtfully smoking a cigar, his past life rose before him, with all its idleness and wasted years. He knew that with most women he had only to throw down the glove for it to be snatched up eagerly; women had loved him, petted and spoilt him ever since he could remember. But here was one who thought of him as nothing but a means to save her people--or, rather, his people---from distress. It said much for Lady Constance's powers of reserve that she had impressed him thus, and had she known it, nothing could have helped her cause more.
Throwing himself into a chair, the young man reviewed again the incidents of their ride. How beautiful she had looked; how pointedly and yet gently she had reproved him for his long absences from his estates and the people who loved him. Well, it should come to an end now, and there and then he formed a resolve to return to town directly after the race, and go through his affairs with Jasper. His friend would help him to lead a worthier and more useful life, he thought--if any one could do so.
When he went down to dinner that night few would have noticed any difference in his calm face and demeanour; none, indeed, save Lady Constance herself, who, with the subtlety which seems inbred in even the best of her sex, devoted her attention almost exclusively to Mr. Jasper Vermont. It was he who was allowed to sit next her at dinner; it was to him she turned when the race, with which all present were concerned, was the subject under discussion.
Adrien noted all this, and his heart grew heavy within him. But he did not grudge Jasper her favour--as yet; he blamed himself too deeply for the neglect of his past opportunities.
Jasper skilfully turned the conversation to Lady Merivale's ball, which he described in detail to Lady Constance; adding many little realistic touches concerning the fair hostess and Adrien, till he had convinced her--as he thought--that there was a great deal more between them than was really the case. For Vermont, as had been said before, was "no fool"; and he realised only too well in what direction events were tending with Lady Constance and her cousin.
But she showed no signs either of understanding or misunderstanding his allusions to Adrien, and began to discuss a ball which Miss Penelope was trying to arrange.
"Mr. Shelton, I am counting on you to help us," she said, turning to the gentleman on her other side. "Auntie has been besieging uncle for the last two months; and has, I think, carried the citadel."
"What is the motive of the attack?" inquired Mortimer Shelton.
"Aunt Penelope wants a fancy dress dance in the ball-room in the east wing," she returned gaily, adding, as she looked across at her cousin, who was listening attentively: "Adrien, if you would add your word, we should get it. Won't you do so?"
"A fancy dress ball here?" he replied. "But if my father has refused you, it is scarcely likely that I shall have any more influence." He turned to his aunt. "Why not have Barminster House, Aunt Penelope?" This was the town house, supposed to be given up almost exclusively to the young man's use, though he generally inhabited his own chambers in Jermyn Street. "I will hand it over to you from cellar to attic, and will bind myself to be your faithful slave from early morn to dewy eve."
His aunt laughed.
"No, thank you, Adrien, I know your idea of slavery," she said. "You would hand it over to Mr. Vermont, and he does quite enough of your work already." Vermont was a favourite with Miss Penelope, owing chiefly to his frequent gifts of marron glacés--a great weakness of hers. "Besides," she continued, "Barminster House is too modern. I want to revive a ball, just as it happened two or three centuries ago. It must be Barminster Castle or nothing."
Adrien smiled across at her.
"Your word is law, my dear aunt; but if I were you, and it comes off at all, I'd leave the arranging of it to Jasper."
Mr. Vermont beamed. Nothing seemed to please him so much as the idea of work, especially when it involved the spending of money other than his own.
"I am at your service, dear lady," he said amiably.
Miss Penelope rose, and gave the signal for the ladies to retire.
"I shall take you at your word, Mr. Vermont," she said graciously, as she passed out.
After the ladies had gone, the wine circulated freely, and in the merry badinage that followed it must be admitted that Jasper Vermont was the life and soul of the party. He had the newest scandal at his finger-tips, the latest theatrical news; and all was related in a witty manner that kept his listeners in a perpetual roar of laughter.
Adrien, though compelled by politeness to take his share in the conversation, was yet glad when they adjourned to the silver drawing-room. This was one of the smallest of the half-dozen drawing-rooms in Barminster Castle, and was decorated entirely in blue and silver. The furniture was upholstered in pale blue stain and silver embroideries. Curtains, hangings, and even carpet, were all of the same colour, while the mirrors and ornaments were entirely of silver.
To-night, Lady Constance's dress matched the room, for it was of palest azure silk, veiled with chiffon, on which were Etruscan silver ornaments and silver-thread embroidery. It was a colour which suited her shell-like complexion; and she looked her best in it.
She was at the piano when the men entered; and Leroy, who was passionately fond of music, and a musician of no mean order himself, came straight over to her. At his request, Constance sang song after song; while Vermont sat a little apart, listening, and occasionally glancing thoughtfully at the beautiful profile of the singer. Then his cold, malignant eyes would wander with an almost sinister expression over the rapt face of his friend and benefactor, as he leaned over the piano. But at any movement of the other guests his countenance would assume its usual amiability of expression, as though a mask were re-adjusted, while his fat, white hand softly beat time to the music.
At last Lady Constance declared she was tired, and turned to Adrien, begging him to sing instead. He hesitated for a moment; then, as if throwing off the unusual moodiness that oppressed him, he seated himself at the piano; and, after a few moments of restless improvisation, he sang song after song from Schumann's "Dichter-liebe," with an intensity of passion in the clear tenor notes that thrilled the soul of every listener.
In the silence which fell on the little company when the last chords died away, Jasper Vermont, half-hidden by the curtain, opened the window, and slipped out on the terrace. The moon shone full on his white face, distorted with an unaccountable fury, as he muttered through his clenched teeth: "Curse the fellow! How I hate him!"