“It is a possibility, my lord: I do not say a probability.”
“This is all quite ridiculous,” said my Lord Barham. “Moreover I am becoming weary of it. I bring you papers, and you say I stole them. I show you where I hid my own portrait, years ago, and you say I was told of it. I show you a ring, and you say I stole that. What a pity it is I have no birthmarks! Or would you say that I had stolen them as well? It is a very good thing that I brought my friend Mr Fontenoy. And here is Mr Clapperly as well may remember a little about me.”
“Vividly, sir.” Mr Clapperly inclined his head.
“Then I am sure you will remember the circumstances of my departure, all those years ago?”
“I do, sir.”
“Then I beg you will correct me if I should err in my tale. It is quite short.” He offered snuff to Clevedale. “My own mixture, Clevedale. You will like it. Well, gentlemen, you know that I was never at one with my father: he could not appreciate the genius that was in me. I disliked my brother only less than he disliked me. He hated me, I believe, but he would not have chosen to set you in my shoes, cousin, in spite of it. He was, after all, a Tremaine. I was no doubt a wild youth. I can remember incidents here and there — but no matter. I overspent my allowance with amazing regularity. I shall be careful to put no limits to my son’s income. Then I committed the indiscretion of falling in love with a lady called Maria Banstead. She was the daughter of a farmer.”
“Near Barham,” nodded Mr Clapperly.
My lord looked ironically across at him. “Your memory fails you, sir. Not in the least near Barham. She lived at Culverly, on the estate of my aunt Johanna’s husband. I was, I admit, young, and possibly hot-headed. But I have never regretted my marriage. An incomparable creature! I led her a sad dance I fear me. I eloped with her secretly, and went to France, just as soon as I heard that I had been thrown off by my indignant family. That is my story, gentlemen. Is it true?”
It was admitted to be true. My lord indicated the clerk with a wave of his hand. “Tell your clerk, Brent, to call my man in. He is in the hall.”
“Certainly, my lord. Go, Fawley.” It was the first time he had addressed my lord by his title and Rensley flushed as he heard him.