His sister’s serenity was ruffled momentarily. She looked with some anxiety towards my lady, who bent towards her swiftly, and patted her hand.
“Ah, no more of that! Au fond, you do not like to see blood flow, you English. It is thought there has been blood enough: the tide turns. Lie close, and all blows over. I am certain of it — moi qui te parle!”
Robin made a face at his sister. “The creature must needs play the mother to me, madam.”
“Madam, behold my little mentor!” Prudence retorted. “Give you my word I have my scoldings from him, and not the old gentleman. ’Tis a waspish tongue, egad.”
Talk ran a while then on the vagaries of Mr Colney. My lady must needs speculate upon his whereabouts; his dutiful children could not permit themselves to indulge in the optimism of hazarding a guess. Sufficient for them that he had named London as a meeting-place: wherefore behold them here, in all obedience.
My lady professed alarm; Prudence cracked a nut. My lady was urgent to know the nature of Mr Colney’s business in the late rebellion; her queries were met by a humorous quirk of the eyebrow, and a half shrug of the shoulder. Eh bien then, might he with safety show himself in town? Had he not, in effect, been conspicuous up there in the North?
It was Robin who said with a laugh — “Lud, ma’am, and did you ever know him when he was not conspicuous? It has been dark intrigue for him, here and there — a go-between, as I take it. What does one know of him? Nothing! But I’d wager my last guinea he has his tracks well covered.”
My lady reflected on the likelihood of this, but it was evident that she continued to feel some trepidation at the thought of ce cher Robert coming to London, which was, in fact, the lion’s den.
Prudence smiled. “My lady, he has very often informed us that I contrive might well stand for his motto, and, faith, I believe him.”
“I contrive,” mused my lady. “Yes, that is Robert. But it is the motto of the Tremaines.”