Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [315]
Lymond’s voice, close to him, said, ‘Why are you here?’ and Archie, sun-dazzled, looked round for him.
He had been resting, his shirt open to the waist, on the high-backed campaign bed, and was just swinging his feet to the ground when Archie saw him. Between the points of the lawn, Lymond’s throat and body were burnished with sweat; his hair was bronzed with it, and his brow and cheekbones showed, bright as oil in the twilight. Archie said, ‘There’s nothing wrong with Mistress Philippa. I’ve brought you a letter.’
There was a little pause. Lymond said, ‘Why? Why do you bring it?’
So Archie said quietly, ‘I am holding it out to you.’
‘Then you can probably guess,’ Francis Crawford said, ‘why I am not taking it. Put it into my hands. Sit down. Tell me why it should be you who carries the letter. And, if you know, what is in it.’
Archie put the letter in his open hand, but did not sit down. ‘We heard of the headaches from Mistress Marthe,’ he said. ‘But not about this. Is it happening all the …?’
‘It is not continuous. So Marthe called at Sevigny? Why?’
Archie said, ‘You could buff the bristles off a sow’s erse wi’ my gullet. Have you no drink in the place?’
‘Not within reach,’ Lymond said. He raised his voice. ‘Amiel! A flask of wine and a cup for Mr Abernethy.’
‘That is, two cups,’ amended Archie.
Lymond placed his elbows on his knees and rested his brow on the heels of his hands. Footsteps passed and repassed on the dry grass accompanied by subdued voices and eventually, the clink of pewter. Archie, standing at the tent door, intercepted a curious Amiel with a laden tray and bringing it in, poured two cups of wine and placed them both by the bed. Lymond said, ‘It is worse having to wait, Archie, than being told at once. What has happened?’
And Archie said, ‘Mistress Philippa has gone home to England.’
The hands protecting Lymond’s face hardened. Archie, with all his senses concentrated on the other man, saw that he was breathing with strict punctuality: short, hard breaths due as much, probably, to the pressures of pain as anything more. Then Lymond said, ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. It’ll be in the letter,’ Archie said.
‘But I can’t read the letter,’ said Francis Crawford.
In a little while he said, ‘You were right to bring the wine,’ and when Archie touched his hands with the cup, took it in both palms and raised it to his lips.
His hands were streaming with sweat. Archie said, ‘Can you not get some air into the place? It would give a pain in the heid to a penny-loaf. Or d’you mean to tell me no one knows about this yet?’
The cup was empty. ‘Not yet,’ said Lymond. ‘It hasn’t happened in public. But I take someone with me … Amiel … someone … whenever I do go out. What did Marthe say to Philippa? Do you know that?’
‘No … They spoke in the gardens. For only half an hour, Mr Applegarth said. Mistress Marthe was staying in the old House de Doubtance in Blois. It seems she means to reopen it for business. Mr Applegarth said she spoke of bringing her stock there from Lyon and Paris.’
‘If she knew of the headaches … Of course,’ Lymond said. ‘Jerott called on Marthe when he was in Paris.’
Archie did not know what that implied, but the silence that followed spoke loud enough. The little man said, ‘You’ll be able to read it in a couple of hours. Or even one, surely.’
‘I know … I think I know what will be in it,’ Lymond said. ‘How … was she going home? Did Mr Applegarth say?’
‘By way of Paris. She was to ask Lord Allendale to take her,’ Archie said. And added harshly, while Lymond was still looking at him with open, unseeing eyes, ‘I didn’t think it altogether suitable. I took the liberty on my way here of asking Mr Blacklock to intercept her and go with them. That was two days ago.’
‘So that they will have left the country by now? I see. You came very slowly, Archie. I suppose she asked you to.… I’m glad you sent Adam.’ He stopped, and said, ‘You must be hot and tired. God knows it isn’t your problem, or shouldn’t be. Go and call on Alec and Jerott. If I lie flat, I shall be functional presently.