Page 63 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Barnaby’s cheerful voice snapped Louis out of his melancholy reverie, and he looked up to see the man himself guiding Lord Vane through the door. His lordship swayed gently, looking rather the worse for wear.

“Villen,” he said, regarding Louis blearily. “Dreadful imposition. Throw me out if you want. Oh, er, and good evening.”

Louis glanced up at the timepiece on the mantelpiece. “Good morning.”

“Figured you’d still be awake. Don’t you ever sleep?” Barnaby asked, eyeing the stack of letters on the table in front of him. Silently, Louis gathered them up and tied the ribbon back in place. “From a sweetheart?” Barnaby asked with interest.

Louis shot him a glance that made him quail, and Barnaby shook his head.

“No, no. Quite. None of my business.” He moved closer to Louis and lowered his voice. “You don’t mind if Maxwell here stays for a few days, do you? He seems a bit out of sorts. I know some fellows get blue devilled when in their cups, but he was maundering on about something or other and I didn’t like to leave him alone. Not after… well, you know.” Barnaby eyed Lord Vane with concern. The man had collapsed in the nearest chair, his long limbs arranged in an indolent sprawl, his heavy-lidded gaze fixed bleakly on the empty fireplace.

“You are too tender-hearted, Barnaby. That’s your trouble, but no, I don’t mind. There’s room enough.”

“Knew you’d say so,” Barnaby said, beaming at him. “Told him so, too, but he didn’t like to impose. Didn’t have anywhere else though and the Fighting Cocks was full, and I wouldn’t let a dog stay at The George. Frightful place. Took me an age to persuade him to come, though.”

A soft snore emanated from their sleeping guest.

“He seems to have come to terms with it,” Louis said dryly.

Barnaby stared at the sleeping earl with concern. “Fellow seems done in to me. I’d say he’s been burning the candle at both ends, as he was always a devil for drinking and gambling, but I ain’t seen him about at parties and the like hardly at all, and neither has anyone else from what I can gather. He just seemed a bit worn about the edges, if you get my drift.”

Louis nodded, knowing exactly what Barnaby meant, for he felt the same himself, brittle and worn too thin, so that the tiniest spark would reduce him to ash in a matter of moments.

“So, how do you like your new house?” Barnaby asked, helping himself to a drink. “It’s mighty grand, yet cosy, too, comfortable. Must have cost you a pretty penny to set it to rights. Last I heard, it was empty and had been for years.”

“I like it very well,” Louis replied as Barnaby came and sat at the table with him.

He was more than pleased with the house, though he had not bought it for him alone. If he were honest, he’d likely have bought it sight unseen once he’d discovered the house’s name was Heart’s Folly, but he’d never admit that to another living soul. Lord, but he was becoming dismally sentimental.

Evie did not know that he owned this place in Sussex yet, which would place her close to her parents, but not so close they could pop in unannounced at a moment's notice. It was a charming property, full of history, and in remarkably good repair, considering the previous owners had abandoned it, as Barnaby had said. Evie would love it, that much he was certain of. It would appeal to her romantic nature and love of history, and it was exceedingly pretty, quintessentially English.

For a moment, the image of her here diverted him, capturing his imagination, and it took him considerable effort to pay attention to Barnaby, who was speaking to him.

“When shall we go to Stratford then? There’s the Trevick party, and Mrs Holland’s garden party too. And we could spend a few days in Doncaster and have a flutter on the gee-gees.”

“A what on the what?” Louis asked, frowning.

Barnaby laughed at his confusion. “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I forget you’re French. A flutter on the gee-gees—a bet on the horses.”

“Mon Dieu, sometimes your grasp of the English language makes my head hurt,” Louis grumbled.

“Trevick,” muttered a thick voice, and they looked over to see Lord Vane had woken up and was staring at them blearily. “I’m going to Trevick. Got a little place down there. Stay with me if you like.”

“Oh, capital,” Barnaby said with a grin. “Well, ain't that serendipity? Is that the word I want?” he mused, looking thoughtful.

Vane began snoring again.

“I believe it is,” Louis replied, picking up his letters with care. “And I believe we shall remove to Stratford as soon as our house guest has recovered enough to make the journey without vomiting in the carriage. Good night, Barnaby, and please do not awaken me at some ungodly hour of the morning like you did today.”

“It was half past ten,” Barnaby protested with a laugh. “But I suppose you don’t sleep until the sun’s up, so I shall leave you be until midday. Word of honour.”

“You are a prince among men, mon ami,” Louis assured him, and took himself off to write his reply to Evie in private.

Miss Knight,

I shall be at the Trevick party and will look forward to seeing you there. For the next few days, Mr Godwin — whom you esteem so highly – and I are staying with Lord Vane at Chessett House. Mr Godwin also expresses a wish to lose some money at Doncaster. I shall oblige him, naturally.

Mr Godwin is generally flustered when in Lady Millicent’s orbit, but you have the right of it. If she has the least bit of sense, she will ignore her prettier courtiers and the wealthy ones too. For Mr Godwin has that rarest of commodities, a kind and giving nature. Too many people mistake his kindness for foolishness, but I have seen enough of life to know the difference and value it for the rarity it is.