Free The Unknown Ajax by Georgette Heyer Page A

broke in on this. Having by this time had time to assimilate the fact that Hugo’s clothes were freely bespattered with mud, he demanded to know the reason. Hugo released Richmond’s hand, and turned his head towards his grandfather. “Well, you’ve had some rain down here, sir. I should not have come in till I’d got rid of my dirt, but I wasn’t given any choice in the matter,” he explained.
    “Chaise overturn?” enquired Claud, not without sympathy. Hugo laughed. “No, it wasn’t as bad as that. I didn’t come by chaise.” “Then how did you come?” asked Matthew. “From the look of you one would say that you had ridden from town!”
    “Ay, so I did,” nodded Hugo.
    “Ridden?” gasped Claud. “Ridden all the way from London?” “Why not?” said Hugo.
    “But—Dash it, you can’t do things like that!” Claud said, in a shocked tone. “I mean to say—no, really, coz! Your luggage!”
    “Oh, that!” replied Hugo. “John Joseph had all I need, loaded on my spare horse—my groom, I mean—my private groom!”
    “How very original!” drawled Vincent. “I rarely travel by chaise myself, but I confess it had never before occurred to me to turn any of my cattle into pack-horses.” “Nay, why should it?” returned the Major good-humouredly. “Maybe you’ve never been obliged to travel rough. I don’t think I’ve gone in a chaise above two or three times in my life.”
    Lord Darracott stirred restlessly in his chair, gripping its arms momentarily. “No doubt! You are not obliged to travel rough, as you term it, now! My orders were that a chaise was to be hired for you, and I expect my orders to be obeyed!”
    “Ay, I’m that road myself,” agreed Hugo cheerfully. “Your man of business was mighty set on arranging the journey for me. He said it was what you’d told him to do, so there’s no sense in blaming him. And not much sense in blaming me either,” he added, on a reflective note. He smiled down at his seething progenitor. “I’m much obliged to you, sir, but there’s no need for you to worry your head over me: I’ve looked after myself for a good few years now.” “Worry my head—? Richmond! Ring the bell! You, sir! Did you bring your valet, or haven’t you one?”
    “Well, no,” confessed the Major apologetically. “I used to have a batman, of course, but, what with one thing and another, I haven’t had time to think about hiring a personal servant since I came home.”
    “No valet?” repeated Claud, gazing at him incredulously. “But how do you manage? I mean to say, packing—your boots—your neckcloths—!”
    “Hold your tongue!” said his father, in an undervoice.
    “If you had been listening,” interpolated Vincent severely, “you would have heard our cousin say that he has been in the habit of looking after himself. Except when he had a batman, that is.”
    “Ay, but I’m a poor hand at packing,” said Hugo, shaking his head over this shortcoming. “How much longer is dinner to be kept waiting?” demanded Lord Darracott. “Ring that damned bell again, Richmond! What the devil does Chollacombe mean by—Oh, you’re there, are you? Have Major Darracott taken up to his room, and tell someone to wait on him! We shall dine in twenty minutes from now!”
    Claud was moved to protest, his sympathy roused by the plight of anyone who was expected to dress for dinner in twenty minutes. “Make it an hour, sir! Well, half an hour, though I must say it’s coming it a bit strong to ask the poor fellow to scramble into his clothes in that short time!”
    “No, no, twenty minutes will be long enough for me!” said Hugo hastily, a wary eye on his lordship. “If I’m not down then, don’t wait for me!”
    Chollacombe, ushering him out of the saloon, and softly closing the door behind him, said: “I will take you up myself, sir. I understand you haven’t brought your valet with you, so his lordship’s man has unpacked your valise!”
    “Much obliged to