The Devil And Drusilla. Paula Marshall

was aware that she was being deceitful. She might be but a simple country girl but she knew quite well that there was something particular in m’lord’s manner when he spoke to her which told her a different tale.

      

      He was, in fact, thinking of her that very afternoon. Leander Harrington had ridden over to present him with his invitation in person.

      ‘If you accept it, Devenish, I intend to use this occasion to honour your arrival in Surrey and introduce you to as many notables as possible. Your late grandfather passed the majority of his life here and we should be charmed if you would do the same.’

      ‘Would you, indeed?’ replied Devenish drily. ‘I’m not yet sure that I would be charmed to spend mine likewise. But I will accept your invitation in the same spirit in which it is offered.’

      ‘And Mr Stammers? You will allow him to accept an invitation, too?’

      ‘Oh, that is a matter for Mr Stammers to decide, not for me. May I say that I’m a little surprised that your Republican beliefs would allow you to approach me first.’

      ‘But, then, Devenish, I was not yet aware that your attitude towards those who serve you was so very different from that of the late Earl. Every man in his place, knowing his place, was his motto.’

      Oh, yes, that sounded like his late grandfather. Devenish smiled his most subtle smile.

      ‘A useful motto for those whose place is secure, you will allow.’

      ‘Oh, indeed, but in the new age of reason which will shortly dawn, all men will be judged by what they are and not by the bedroom they were born in.’

      Devenish’s smile grew more subtle still. ‘That age not having arrived yet, sir, we must continue to endure our present fortunate condition. And that being so, I shall enjoy your hospitality at Marsham Abbey, as will I expect, my good friend Rob Stammers. Until then, I bid you adieu.’

      It was Leander Harrington’s congé and he knew it. He gave his sweet smile and left. One of the delights of the new age of reason, he thought, would be a guillotine set up in Trafalgar Square where the liberated masses would cheer as each aristocratic head rolled in the dust—most particularly when m’lord Devenish’s landed there.

      

      Nothing of this showed, however, when Devenish arrived at Marsham Abbey in the middle of a fine early August afternoon. Both men smiled at one another as though they had been bosom companions since boyhood. There was already a goodly sprinkling of guests on the lawn before the Abbey, that noble relic of the days of Catholic glory.

      A long-gone Harrington had built his house using the Abbey’s north wall as his southern one, and retaining, Rob had told Devenish, the staircase down to the huge crypt. Over the centuries Marsham’s abbots had been laid to rest there, and there was still a chapel at one end of it, with a ruined altar.

      This afternoon, though, no one was eager to visit dim underground rooms, least of all Devenish, who wished to mix with his neighbours as much, and as soon, as possible. His host led him on to the lawns where trestle tables had been erected and set out with food and drink and where burly footmen stood around ready to help those too helpless to help themselves.

      Many of those already present were known to him and greeted him with the deference suitable to the honour of a peer. Devenish was just growing weary of being bowed and scraped to when he saw Drusilla Faulkner standing alone before a bed of roses, a glass of lemonade in her hand.

      She looked divinely cool in white muslin and a wide-brimmed straw hat worn in such a fashion that it did not hide her charming face. The old trot, as Devenish unkindly thought of Miss Faulkner, was for once not with her.

      With a muttered ‘Excuse me,’ he rescued himself from a tedious discussion about the respective excellencies of different breeds of sheep and walked over to her, picking up a glass of lemonade for himself on the way.

      ‘Alone for once,’ he offered, ‘no Gorgon of a duenna dancing attendance on you, no high-spirited younger brother ready to insist on your full attention. I am in luck.’

      Surprised, for she had not seen him coming, Drusilla still had the presence of mind to riposte, ‘Now, is not that exactly what I should expect of you? That you would always wish the undivided attention of those whom you are with!’

      ‘Is not that what we all wish?’ he parried.

      ‘Oh, indeed. But few of us are lucky enough to get it.’

      ‘And you least of all,’ he told her. ‘For whenever we have previously met you have been surrounded by demanding others. Not so, now. And, if I see them coming, I shall whip you away down the nearest alley, claiming that I wish to admire the scenery with you, when all I wish to admire is you.’

      This was plain speaking with a vengeance which surprised even the man who was uttering it. He had not intended to be so plain, so soon, but the sight of her had wrenched it from him.