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

cousin, nearly ten years his senior, who, in addition to being carelessly kind to him, was a buck of the first cut, might bestow whatever opprobrious epithet upon him which happened to occur to him. He protested, but with a grin; and before Vincent could roast him into defending hotly his ability to drive any number of horses, Lady Aurelia and Anthea had come up to the group.
    “Well, Vincent!” said Lady Aurelia.
    He had climbed down from the curricle, and he now swept off his-beaver, bowed, and with incomparable grace kissed first her hand, and then her cheek. “My dear Mama! Ah, and my dear cousin Anthea as well! A double pleasure!”
    “And so unexpected!” she retorted, shaking hands with him.
    His eyes glinted at her. “I never expect to find each time I come, here that you are in greater beauty than the last time I saw you. It is really quite remarkable.”
    She was not in the least disconcerted by this, but only laughed, and said: “Yes, and I so stricken in years! Remarkable indeed! Where is your brother? Did you chance to see him on the road?”
    “Now, that puts me in mind of something that causes me to feel the gravest concern!” he exclaimed. “I did see him—in fact, I passed him, driving, as I can’t conceive, unless it might be that at the fatal moment my attention was diverted by the new lining he has had made for his chaise (maiden’s blush I believe that particular shade of pink is called), but I very much fear that I may have ditched him.”
    Richmond burst into a crow of joy. “Lord, what a famous lark! I wish I might have seen it! Hunting the squirrel!”
    “No, no, how can you say such a thing?” protested Vincent, in a pained voice. “How often have I told you that such tricks as that are not at all the thing? I wonder if I can be losing my precision of eye?”
    “A stupid and ill-natured prank,” pronounced Lady Aurelia, with measured severity. “If I find that Claud has sustained any injury I shall be excessively displeased.” “Then I do most sincerely trust he has escaped injury, Mama. Unfortunately, a sharp bend in the road almost immediately hid the scene from my view, so I can give you no very certain information on that head. But never mind! Crimplesham is following me, with my luggage, you know, and I am sure we may depend upon him to render my brother all the assistance in his power. What is the time? Should I, do you think, present myself to my grandfather at once, or—No, I perceive that it lacks only ten minutes to five. I have brought my evening-dress with me, but it will take me quite an hour to dress without Crimplesham’s aid. You do still dine at six, I daresay? Such a depressing habit I find it! And my anxiety about Claud to make it worse! Poor fellow! But he shouldn’t have urged his postboys to hold the road when I wished to give him the go-by: really, I think he almost deserves to sustain some injury for being so foolish!”
    When Mrs. Darracott learned of this episode, which she very soon did, from Richmond, who could not keep such a good story to himself, she was much shocked. It all went to show, she told Anthea, that everything she had ever felt about Vincent had been correct: he showed an unsteadiness of character which she would be very sorry to see in any son of hers; his temper was jealous; he was idle and expensive; and, unless she much mistook the matter (which was not at all likely), he had such libertine propensities as must cause his poor father to suffer the gravest anxiety. Or, she amended, the penance she had undergone that afternoon still fresh in her memory, they would have done so if Matthew had the smallest regard for anything but his own troubles. As for the stoic calm with which Lady Aurelia had received the news of what might well prove to have been a serious accident, that, said Mrs. Darracott, was something that quite passed her understanding. Had any son of hers been overturned into a ditch she would have had the horses put to