A Blot on the Scutcheon Part 30

[Transcriber's note: page 176 was missing from source book]

... carriage without in the avenue; it stops. Our friend Morice, no doubt."

He turned, with a sneer, to meet the expected host whom they had forestalled.

But it was not Morice Conyers who stood in the doorway, but his sister Gabrielle, her hood flung back from her dark hair, cheeks flushed, and hazel eyes defiant.

She scarcely deigned to bestow a glance at the man before her, but looked past him eagerly.

"Morice!" she cried. "Morice!"

Then swiftly she turned to Denningham.

"Where is my brother?" she asked peremptorily.

CHAPTER XIX

AND WELCOMES A HOSTESS

Perhaps for the first time in his life Lord Denningham was taken aback.

The vision was so wholly unexpected, so welcome, and yet most unwelcome, for behind the slim, girlish figure, m.u.f.fled in its long travelling-coat, stood Michael Berrington and the young Breton, de Quernais, whom Denningham had met and strongly disapproved at that jolly hostel the Goat and Compa.s.ses.

Behind this triple apparition lurked a mystery calling for explanation.

However, at the moment, an impatient lady awaited an answer.

"Where is Morice?" she repeated, glancing from Denningham to Sir Stephen, who stood leaning against the wall laughing softly to himself in maudlin enjoyment.

"I fear, Mistress Gabrielle, that that is the question we have been asking ourselves for the last thirty-six hours."

My lord's tones were slightly mocking, and his glance into the pretty, flushed face over-bold.

Michael made a step forward.

"Mr. Conyers is here," he said quietly.

"Indeed, Mr. Berrington, you are vastly astute. On my honour, I am glad, however, to hear your news. Your father and I came here at Mr.

Conyers' own invitation, but at present he appears to be absent--perhaps a Breton fashion of treating guests."

Lord Denningham's bow included de Quernais deftly enough in the gibe; but, to his surprise, the young Breton n.o.ble paid no heed to the sly hint.

"My brother not here?" echoed Gabrielle, in perplexity. "But he must have been here?"

A shrug of the shoulders was her only answer.

"You appear to have doubts as to my word, Mistress. Would it not be better to apply to old grey-beard without! He will tell you that, till you came, we have been the only guests beneath this ancestral roof."

She took no heed of his sneer, but turned instinctively to Michael.

"What does it mean?" she asked. "What shall I do?"

It was indeed a perplexing situation,--after so hot a chase, and then to draw a blank.

But the news, which so discomfited her, was well enough to the taste of Count Jehan.

"The saints be praised, ma cousine," he cried, taking her cold hand.

"It is evident that he has been delayed. We are in time to save Varenac from dishonour."

Her face lighted with answering enthusiasm.

"Yes," she said; "what you say is true, Jehan. If Morice is not here, his ill-work is yet to do and I"--she nodded her head emphatically--"I can do something, seeing that I am as much Varenac as he."

"Bravely spoken, Gabrielle. You are an angel. Ciel! and a heroine too. But----"

Even boyish enthusiasm perceived difficulties ahead, as he thought of this young girl here, unattended, save for an old nurse, at the Manor of Varenac with these others.

"Perhaps," he added slowly, "as your brother is not here, it were better did I take you to Kernak. The post-chaise is still at the door."

But this suggestion did not find favour in the sight of little Mistress Gabrielle.

"My place is at Varenac," she observed, with an air of amusing self-importance. "I thank you, cousin, but I must stay here."

"Alone?"

His faintly murmured expostulation met with wide-eyed surprise.

"Certainly not. These gentlemen will be here to ... to protect me.

And I have Nurse Bond."

He dared say no more, though conscious that his mother would regard such an arrangement with horror.

"Perhaps to-morrow my sister Cecile will ride over with me," he said, "to stay with you as companion."

"Yes, yes. Do bring her, Cousin Jehan. I am longing to see her.

There, I shall be looking forward so eagerly now for the morrow. And you are returning to Kernak to-night?"

"Unless I can be of service to you here?"

"I thank you heartily; but there is nothing to be done at present. I am very weary and shall go to bed. To-morrow----"

To-morrow! How each heart echoed the word with strangely mingled antic.i.p.ation.

"To-morrow," replied Count Jehan, gravely bowing over his cousin's outstretched hand, "I will bring Cecile to Varenac."

"I shall welcome her gladly. And Morice will be here to-morrow?"