The Unknown Ajax by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online Page A

to entertain his guests: an exercise which consisted of lending a sympathetic ear to Matthew’s complaints, rhetorical questions, and dire forebodings. Not a very arduous task, it might have been thought; but Mrs. Darracott (like her son) was impressionable, and long before Matthew had talked himself into a more cheerful frame of mind the depression which hung over him had communicated itself to her, quite sinking her spirits, and exhausting her vitality. Every effort to introduce another topic of conversation than the blighting of Matthew’s prospects failed: he returned mechanical answers only, and at the first opportunity returned to the grievance that possessed his mind.
    Anthea too was glad to know that Vincent had arrived. She had not been subjected to so severe a strain as her mother, but she had been obliged, after Lady Aurelia had rested for an hour on her bed to recover from the rigours of her journey, to escort that rather formidable lady on a stately and prolonged tour of the gardens. In her youth, Lady Aurelia had been an enthusiastic gardener; since her marriage she had had no other home than a tall, narrow house in Mayfair, but she had forgotten none of the botanical lore so zealously acquired, and was perfectly ready to place it at the disposal of the various friends and relations whom it was her custom to visit (often for weeks at a time) during the summer months. She never uttered an adverse criticism, but her hostesses had been known to uproot whole borders only because she had said, with flat civility, “Very pretty;” and her way of ignoring the presence of a weed could cover the hardiest with shame. Anthea, no horticulturist, had much to endure, but she was spared the trials her mother was forced to undergo. Beyond stating, in a voice totally devoid either of sympathy or interest, that her husband was sadly put out by the appearance on the scene of the rightful heir, Lady Aurelia made no reference whatsoever to the event which filled the minds of the Darracotts. She did not say it, but no one blessed with a modicum of intelligence could have doubted that to an Earl’s daughter the succession to a mere barony was a matter of indifference.
    Her peregrinations had brought her within sight of the avenue which led from the crumbling stone entrance-gates to the north front of the house, when Vincent’s natty curricle swept into view. The arrival of her eldest-born seemed to be a matter of equal indifference to her, but she raised no objection to Anthea’s suggestion that they should go to meet him. Before they had reached the avenue, Richmond had bounded out of the house, and was standing beside the curricle, smiling a little shyly up at his magnificent cousin. “What a hand you are! I have been watching for you this hour and more!”
    The Corinthian in the curricle looked down at him, his brows lifting in exaggerated surprise. “But, my dear boy, you surely cannot have supposed that even I could accomplish more than sixty-two miles in less than five hours? Our beloved Regent, I would remind you, took four-and-a-half hours on his memorable dash to Brighton, and that road, you know, was vastly superior to this, even in those archaic times. Or did you think that my eagerness to reach the home of my ancestors—not, I apprehend, to be one day my own—would set me on the road before I had swallowed my breakfast?”
    Richmond laughed. “No! Oh, lord, what a curst thing it is!—you to be cut out by this miserable fellow from Yorkshire! But what’s this new quirk, Vincent? You were always used to drive that bang-up team of grays in your curricle! Is it now the high kick of fashion to drive—unicorn, do you call it?”
    “Yes,—or Sudden Death,” replied Vincent, transferring the reins into the hands of his groom. “And no, little cousin, you may not drive them. We have had enough sudden deaths in the family.”
    From no one but Vincent would Richmond have tolerated such a form of address, but a