Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [178]
The door opened and in flapped three writhing cloth lengths of loud patterned fabric, loosely furled round a fair, graceful gentleman whose look of simple cogitation gave way, at the sight of Lord James, to a smile of open delight even simpler.
‘My dear lord,’ said the Crawford boy heartily. ‘How can I thank you for your charity yesterday? You have brought me to the best draper in Dieppe.’ He lifted his arms, from which cataracts of crude tissues tumbled, and pinched a fold of heliotrope satin between finger and thumb. ‘They have seen nothing like it in Russia. Lord James, you must allow me to express my thanks with a bolt of it. Or …’ He looked doubtfully at the royal robes of black velvet and the black bonnet which barely concealed the royal auburn hair.
‘… or perhaps it is not quite your lordship’s tint. They used to say silk degrades a man and reveals an effeminate trait. But’—unwrapping himself with a slither ‘—I don’t think you’ll find any pretty playfellow of mine who couldn’t show you a calendar … no, by God, an hour glass—to disprove it. You know Martine? Of course: she was the means of our meeting here. You were too kind, my lord; and if you prefer a new pair of stockings, I shall see that they are sent to you. I can tell you, I was never so glad to get out of public view. And this is …?’
‘The Laird of Dun,’ said Lord James, drawling the words. John Erskine of Dun, who knew him well, was aware by his reticence that he was taken aback, and was beginning to become angry. Erskine said to the yellow-haired, smiling young man who had possessed himself of his hand and was shaking it, ‘We met once when you were a boy, at Midculter.’ He paused. ‘You are not like your brother.’
‘No,’ Crawford said. He gave his hand another shake and then loosed it with apparent reluctance. ‘Richard will never be whipped at a cart-arse for bawdry. I don’t know whether you notice, but he wears nothing but mockado and fustian. The graveyard at Culter is full of pauperized mercers.’
‘Then all the more credit to you,’ said Erskine, seating himself, ‘for entertaining such strong family feelings. We heard of your ride. I trust you are now quite rested after it.’
The young man’s mouth opened. ‘The ride!’ He sat down. ‘My dear sir, the ride was nothing but the cathartic. It was the banquet at the Hôtel de Ville that did for me. Abernethy will tell you. I suppose I spewed four gallons of claret in Paris before I took to the road, but it proved there was another hogshead to get rid of yet. Ah!’ The blue eyes turned from Lord James’s expressionless, freckled face to his own. ‘I have disappointed you. But if I hadn’t been drunk, I should have seen that there was really no cause for hurry. Richard’s brats are heir to the title, not I, and they were all safe as it happened, at Midculter. Thank God,’ he added piously.
‘Do you?’ said Lord James Stewart sharply.
In his turn, the Earl of Culter’s younger brother looked startled. ‘It’s a manner of speaking,’ he said. ‘That is, I don’t mind one way or the other. After Easter, I’m going back to Russia. That’s where the money is, and the power. And, of course, the ladies.’
‘I thought,’ James Stewart said, ‘that the French crown would offer you an irresistible sum for your talents. Was there not a rumour that the Tsar had found another Voevoda for his army?’
The young man smiled, and leaning forward, he picked up a length of taffeta and draping it elegantly over his knee, leaned back and admired it. ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘shopkeepers listen to rumours. What if Ivan has chosen another favourite? He only exists to be superseded.’
He released the fabric and leaned back, still smiling. ‘I know what you are afraid of! You imagine I shall set out for Leith with three regiments, all ready to take de Rublay’s place as Vice-Chancellor of Scotland. I shan’t deny that there have been strong hints about it. I did consider it. Do you think I should make a gallant figure, armed like Pallas … Marte, arte et frugibus