Marigold Chain (4 page)

Lord Gresham
had suffered a very trying fifteen minutes. He did not doubt that
Giles was capable of carrying out his threat and one look at the
faces of Danny and Matt was sufficient to inform him that they too
would be delighted to manhandle him.

‘
Oh vewy
well!’ he said with the nearest thing to a snap he could manage. ‘I
take it back – and do not doubt that His Highness has many
excellent qualities. Satisfied?’

‘
Not
especially,’ replied Giles coldly, ‘but it’s an improvement.’ He
picked up his lordship’s glass and put it in his hand. ‘Now get on
your feet and toast the Prince’s health.’

Gresham glared
but saw no help for it. He hauled himself out of his chair and
jerked up his glass as ungraciously as he dared.

‘
Pwince
Wupert – his health.’ And he drank.

‘
Prince
Rupert!’ echoed a mixed chorus of voices.

‘
And God
bless him,’ added Matt.

*

Alex came round
with a crashing headache, a jaw as stiff as last week’s bread and
total recollection. With practised ease, Matt used his most
uncommunicative front to prevent an eruption and it worked
perfectly until he was forced into a refusal by a demand for
brandy. His first flat denial was met with a dangerous silence but,
standing his ground, Matt remarked that ale was easier on the liver
and had the added advantage of being cheaper. Ten minutes later he
was allowed to have his way – but not graciously.

And that was
just the beginning. He stayed through the initial stages while
Alex, sprawling in a chair, consumed his first jug; and, then,
thinking nostalgically of night marches in wet weather, judged it
safe to go out for a time.

When he came
back the scene showed little change. Alex did not look up but sat
motionless and apparently relaxed, mug clasped in one lax hand. The
black hair was clinging in untidy dampness to his brow and the lawn
shirt was crumpled and sweat-stained. Matt stood in the doorway
where the hot, stale air hit him like a blow and assessed the
situation. Then he walked to the window and, pulling back the
curtains, threw it open.

Bright,
merciless daylight spilled into the room and an icy blast blew over
Mr Deveril producing an involuntary shiver. He looked round.

‘
Close
it.’ That was all. But his tone implied more than a death-threat
complete with ritual.

Matt stared
phlegmatically back without replying. With a lithe, violent
movement that overset his chair, Alex rose swearing, lurched across
the room and slammed the casement shut with a force that cracked
two of its panes. Matt grinned sourly.

‘
Man,
you’ve a way to go yet,’ he said. ‘You’ve still got the use of your
legs.’

As expected, he
was awarded a dirty look.

‘
Blame
the ale. It’s damned slow.’

Matt retrieved
the velvet coat from where it lay on the floor and hung it up. Then
he poured himself a mug of ale and sat down.

‘
It’s
fast enough – unless there’s a shortage I’ve not heard about.’ And
then, because he had certain private suspicions which he’d be happy
to have proved right, ‘And if it’s that bad, I doubt you’ll find
three days concentration will improve it. Why not find yourself a
woman?’ And he waited for the explosion.

It did not
come. Instead, his mouth curling unpleasantly but in much the same
tone as one saying ‘Pass the salt,’ Alex said, ‘All women are
whores.’

Matthew was
imbued with a certain satisfaction for, in his opinion, a few days
of rank discomfort would be small price to pay for an end to Madam
Sarah’s hold over Mr Deveril. It was just a pity that, after a
youth which had held no opportunity for more than passing
dalliance, Alex should fall in love for the first time at the age
of thirty with a rapacious beauty of doubtful reputation. ‘So if he
wants to stay cupshot for a sennight, he’s welcome this once,’
thought Matt, cynically. ‘I’ll have a few myself just to
celebrate.’

But, despite
these heartening reflections, there is nothing very pleasant about
being cloistered with an ill-tempered drunk and when, after a day
of unnatural silence his attempts to persuade Mr Deveril to put
some food in his stomach were met with an epitome of double-edged
wit, Matt removed himself instantly and without a word, leaving
Alex humming gently beneath his breath.

He came back,
of course, because a few heated words were not enough to sever a
bond forged over fifteen dangerous yet often hilarious years that
he would not have missed for anything that he could think of and
which made him remain now from what he insisted was habit. So,
having walked off his temper in the cold air, he returned and was
instantly rewarded. Still at the table, head pillowed on his arms,
Alex was asleep. Mr Lewis nodded to himself and tiptoed out
again.

It was some two
hours later when Giles Beckwith ran lightly up the stairs, rapped
at the door and received no answer. Having good reason to suppose
that there was someone within, he waited for a moment and then
knocked again, this time more loudly. After a moment he heard
Alex’s voice, a trifle blurred but otherwise composed.

‘
Who is
it?’

‘
Giles.
Open the door.’

‘
Why?’

‘
I want
to talk to you.’

‘
Why?’

Mr Beckwith was
aware of intense irritation.

‘
Oh for
God’s sake – don’t be an ass!’

That did the
trick. The tumblers clicked and the door swung wide on the point of
a sword. Coatless and disorderly, Alex examined his friend with an
impersonal stare. Giles looked back, cool but cautious.

‘
Is that
really necessary?’ he asked, indicating the bright ribbon of
steel.

‘
Yes. I
thought it might persuade you to just turn around and
go.’

‘
It
hasn’t,’ said Giles simply. ‘We need to talk. But not like
this.’

‘
Why not?
Scared?’

Giles looked
from the perfectly steady blade to the expressionless face above
it.

‘
Hardly,’
he said. ‘You aren’t sober enough to present a problem.’ And then
threw himself swiftly to one side at the sword drove at his throat.
Hitting the doorpost, he grabbed the velvet coat from where it hung
and used it to protect his hand as he caught at the flashing steel.
He gave it a hard, downward twist and, abruptly, Alex let go. For a
second they faced each other, both breathing rather fast, then
Giles spoke, his voice icily quiet.

‘
Do that
again and you’d best hope to make a thorough job of it.’

‘
Or
what?’

‘
Or I may
forget our past friendship.’

‘
My God!
How will I survive?’ mocked Alex, smiling but pale.

The grey eyes
hardened with something akin to disgust.

‘
I don’t
think I care.’

‘
That’s
the spirit! So is that all you came to say?’

‘
No. I
thought you might have sobered up and be ready to talk.’

‘
You
should have known better.’

‘
As you
say. Where’s Matt?’

‘
Out.’

‘
In other
words, you’ve exceeded even his patience.’ Giles paused briefly,
and then, ‘I presume we owe this epic tantrum to Sarah
Courtney?’

Suddenly bored,
Alex turned away and dropped into a chair.

‘
Presume
what you like – just don’t expect me to listen.’

‘
I
don’t,’ came the blunt reply. ‘But if you’re sulking because I hit
you, accept that I did it before you choked the life out of that
pompous fool and ended up in front of a magistrate.’

‘
It
wouldn’t have come to that.’

‘
It could
very well have come to that. You were drunk and in a foul mood –
and capable of just about any kind of lunacy.‘ He paused. ‘You’re
out of control, Alex. A spoiled brat taking your ill-temper out on
everyone around you and plunging into whatever kind of dangerous
stupidity occurs to you next. I’m just glad that Rupert isn’t here
to see you.’

Alex came to
his feet like an uncoiling spring.

‘
That’s
enough. You can chew on my failings till you choke – but not here.
I don’t want sympathy, brotherly love or nauseating bloody morality
– and I don’t respond to the magic name of Rupert being banged over
my head. So go and mourn my decaying senses with Matt and Danny.
They’ll agree with everything you say – which should comfort you –
and I’ll be left in peace, which should suit everybody. Shut the
door on your way out.’

Giles gazed
across at him, his expression taut and cold. Then he threw down the
sword so that it went clattering and sliding across the floor.

‘
Go to
hell,’ he said. And left.

*

A little while
later when Matthew returned he found Alex at the window, his
fingers pressed hard on the ledge and his face glacially composed.
Matt took one look and suffered the rare sensation of being out of
his depth.

‘
Thinking
hard, Matt? Difficult, isn’t it? The wrong word now could spell
catastrophe.’ Alex’s voice was brittle and, when he turned Matt saw
that the blue eyes were at their most impenetrable.

‘
Aye. Who
woke you?’

‘
Giles.
Thoughtless of him, wasn’t it? But cheer up. I’m going
out.’

Matt eyed him
sardonically.

‘
On two
hours sleep in as many days and no food to speak of? They’ll be
finding you in some gutter.’

‘
Perhaps.’ He crossed to the mirror and inspected his
reflection with a wry grimace. ‘Oh God – Faustus reborn. I need a
shave. And a clean shirt.’

‘
And a
bloody good wash.’

Alex turned,
smiling a little. ‘Well, then?’

Matt did not
respond but he did go in search of hot water. Nearly an hour later
when Alex was washed, shaved and changed, he was still presenting
an aspect of dour silence. Alex picked up his hat with its trailing
white plumes and walked to the door, his face thoughtful. He laid a
hand on the latch and then turned back.

‘
Matt?’

‘
What?’

A hint of
colour touched the flat pallor of his cheeks.

‘
It’s not
easy, I know – but it will pass. Until then, don’t let me …’ He
hesitated a little. ‘I’m aware that I’m often my own worst enemy.
But bear with me – if you can.’

Matt
scowled.

‘
I’ll do
my best,’ he said gruffly. And then, ‘If you go to Ashton’s house,
you’ll probably meet Mr Giles there.’

‘
Ah.’
Alex met his gaze with one of limpid innocence. ‘Then I should be
in for an interesting evening, shouldn’t I?’

And was
gone.

~ * * * ~

It was close on
five o’clock when Alex let himself out of the house and the wintry
dusk was almost complete. He walked swiftly in the direction of the
Acorn and was nearly there when, cutting down a narrow passage, his
ears were alerted by sounds of a scuffle round the corner ahead of
him. He checked his pace and moved silently to the end of the
wall.

It was too dark
to see details but the overall picture was plain enough and Alex
stifled the first impulse to laugh that he had felt in three days.
What he had heard was nothing more that the ensuing struggle as an
inexpert young man attempted to embrace an unwilling young lady. As
Alex turned the corner, she dealt her admirer a ringing box on the
ear and, as he stepped back to try and capture her arm, followed it
up with a well-placed kick on the shin. The young man released her,
cursing, and bent to rub his afflicted leg. Strangely, the girl
remained where she was, watching him.

‘
Damn it
all, there’s no need to cripple me!’ he expostulated.

The girl said
something Alex couldn’t quite hear and the fellow replied with,
‘Well, I didn’t think you meant it. And it’s not as if you don’t
know how I feel about you. But I suppose I should have guessed how
it would be.’

‘
Indeed
you should,’ said Alex, his voice quivering slightly.

The girl
stiffened and pulled her hood more closely about her face while the
young man straightened so quickly he banged his elbow against the
wall.

‘
Who the
devil are you?’ he gasped, clutching this new injury.

’
Call me
the Voice of Experience,’ returned Alex. ‘And I’m appalled by your
clumsiness. Don’t you know better than to maul a girl in a draughty
alley? And if you
must
do so,
you’ll find it helps to decide beforehand the way your attentions
are likely to be received. When uncertain, a wise man always
protects his flank by taking the lady’s hands – so!’ And before the
youthful pair had any idea of his intention, he had imprisoned the
girl’s hands and pulled her against him to hold them behind her
back.

‘
I say!
What the --’

‘
Watch
and learn,’ reproved Alex. ‘You’ll find it worthwhile. Now, where
was I? Ah yes. One hand should suffice – now darling, don’t
struggle – and with the other you may lift her chin.’ He smiled
fleetingly into the girl’s startled face, very little of which
could be seen for her enveloping hood, and then bent his head till
his mouth found hers.