The Devil And Drusilla. Paula Marshall
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Devenish lied smoothly, ‘been informed of your husband’s death. I regret that I was never kept up to the mark with local news. As you know, this is my first visit to Tresham in ten years. I trust that it was not a lingering illness.’
He saw her face change and added hastily, ‘Pray ignore my question if it distresses you.’
‘Not at all. It is two years since my poor Jeremy was found dead at some distance from his home. As to how and why he came to his end I suppose I shall never now know. You may imagine that at the time I was greatly distressed, but I have come to terms with it, if slowly.’
‘A mystery, then.’
‘Oh, indeed. The Lord Lieutenant came to see me, to assure me that everything in his power would be done to find the wretch—or wretches—who killed him. Alas, he wrote to me recently telling me that he regretted his failure to track them down.’
Drusilla was calm. Until very recently she would have found difficulty in speaking of Jeremy’s dreadful end. She noted that Devenish’s response to her was as coldly practical as his question about Giles’s damaged leg had been.
‘I commiserate with you, madam. You must miss him greatly.’
‘Yes, we were childhood friends, and our life was happy, but pining for him will not bring him back.’ The gaze she gave him was a frank one—which, like his, did not match her thoughts. She could never forget that last six months, never.
Devenish nodded his agreement. ‘Yes, you are right there. Common-sense is always better than sentimentality. In the end, one has to come to terms with the discomforts of living.’
Drusilla nodded in her turn, and conversation died for a moment while Miss Faulkner, who had taken charge of the tea board, offered everyone more tea and muffins.
‘Do you intend to settle in Surrey?’ Drusilla asked him when tea had been poured and muffins refused, more to turn discussion away from Jeremy’s death, she told herself, than to discover m’lord’s intentions. In thinking this she lied to herself a little. Lord Devenish intrigued her. He was so unlike Jeremy, or, indeed, most of the men she knew.
It was not only his looks which fascinated her, but his barbed remarks, so carelessly tossed at his hearers. Even so, little about him appeared to justify his fearsome reputation.
She must have been staring mannerlessly at him, for he was smiling quizzically at her over the rim of his teacup.
Drusilla realised with a start that he had just replied to her question—and she had not heard him!
What was worse, he knew that she had not. She flushed.
He saw the flush and said gently, ‘I collect that you did not quite grasp what I said. My intentions—like my recent answer—are vague. They depend on whether country living bores me—I have experienced so little of it, you understand, that I have no means of knowing whether it will please me or not. I am an urban creature, the town has always been my home, and I have yet to discover the delights of rural living so far as its scenery and its social life are concerned.’
He was talking to put her at ease again, something which surprised the cynical creature Devenish knew himself to be. She was a most unremarkable young woman, so why was he troubling himself with her? Normally he would have carelessly offered her a put down to punish her for her inattention—instead, of all things, he was trying to be kind by restoring her amour-propre!
To reward him for his consideration Drusilla offered eagerly, ‘If you wish to see the countryside at its best, there are some picturesque views from the hills near Tresham Hall. And Miss Faulkner and I can offer you a splendid social occasion on Saturday.
‘We are opening the grounds of Lyford House so that the incumbent of Tresham Magna church, Mr Williams, can organise his annual fête to raise money for the poor children of the parish. Your presence would add lustre to the occasion.’
Devenish rose and bowed. ‘How could I refuse such a charming offer! Of course, I will attend. And you will, I am sure, inform Mr Williams that I shall be pleased to forward him a large donation. His cause is a worthy one.’
He was ironically sure that all his London associates—he told himself that he had no friends—would have been astonished to learn of his generosity since he usually mocked those who salved their consciences by giving large sums to charity. What they could not know was that she had named the one cause to which he always secretly gave: the relief of poor children.
Unaware of this, Drusilla murmured her thanks. He bowed again, saying ‘Forgive me, ladies, if I leave you now. My agent will be in a rare taking if I do not return home soon. I told him that I would be gone for a short time—and now I have spent the whole afternoon away.
‘He will be sending out search parties to find me for he is convinced that, though I may survive in dangerous London town, I shall be quite lost in the innocent countryside!’
The smile which he gave them at the end quite overset the pair of them. It transformed his face, turning it from a cold and stony beauty, like that of a statue, into something attractively human.
Seeing it, Drusilla experienced a totally new sensation. Her whole body thrilled so strongly that she became completely aware of every part of it. For the second time that afternoon she scarcely knew where she was.
Miss Faulkner’s heart missed a beat. What a delightful man! She knew of his nickname and his reputation, but her immediate response was, Oh, what a Banbury tale! Such a charmer as he is could not possibly be the man of whom I have heard.
And so she told Drusilla when he had left them. ‘You do know, my dear, that his nickname is Devilish, and that he is sometimes called Satan. He is supposed to be as hard as nails, and to have the tongue of a viper. As usual, I have to believe that, yet again, rumour lies.’
‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ remarked Drusilla as coolly as she could in an effort to reprove herself for her strong reaction to him.
She paused a moment before resuming. ‘We know little of Lord Devenish other than that he is a charming and considerate person to entertain to tea and muffins. We can scarcely judge of him correctly on such a slight acquaintance.’
‘Oh, you are always so commonsensical, my love. For once allow your feelings rather than your reason to command you.’
Drusilla could not retort that to give way to her feelings might be most unwise where Lord Devenish was concerned—it would be too dangerous—so she wisely said nothing.
‘Forgive me, Rob, if I dashed away as soon as I arrived, but driving in a closed carriage, even for a short distance, always gives me the megrims. I needed to be out—and I was happy to be so. Particularly since I happened across a most charming local family, all bread-and-butter innocence—Mrs Drusilla Faulkner and her young brother, Giles. It was the lad’s misfortune to fall from his horse. Assisting them made me late for my meeting with you’
‘Now, you are not to sneer at them, Hal. They are all that you criticise them for being, and to know them would do your black heart good!’
‘If my black heart were susceptible to tea, muffins and a spinster lady, as well as the brother and sister, then you might be right,’ drawled Devenish, pulling a chair round and sitting astride its seat. ‘Now, pray inform me what has been all a-bubble here that you send for me so peremptorily.’
He made nothing of being called Hal. It had been his childhood name and the only person in the world allowed to use it was square, solid and dependable Robert Stammers who was examining him so quizzically.
‘Before I begin to do so I would wish you to allow one of your labourers, Caleb Hooby, to speak to you on a matter related to the misgivings which had me ordering you to do your duty here at last.’
‘Reproaches, reproaches, Rob, they are all I ever hear from you, but, yes, send him in. I suppose that he has a story to tell?’
‘That he has, and I would prefer him to tell it to you.’