Dangerous Diana (Brambridge Novel 3) (22 page)

It was hard for Hades to envisage the massive Bill, built like an ox, flittering anywhere. And he didn’t really want to go anywhere near Victoria or Agatha for a while.

“Don’t worry. The ladies aren’t up yet.”

Hades glanced at Henry sharply. “Do you happen to know a Mr. Trump?” he said slowly.

“Royal Society chap? Excitable about animals?”

“Possibly,” Hades said cautiously.

“Yes. He’s in Ottery St. Mary at the moment, but you’ll normally find him down by the river there with a butterfly net this time of year. The locals think that he is mad but he can be lucid when he wants to be.” Henry crossed over to the door to the morning room whilst he was still talking and pushed open the door. Bill stood peering out of the window. In contrast to his normal clothes, he was dressed immaculately in white breeches, riding boots and a coat of dark-blue superfine. He clutched a small bunch of posies in his hand.

“You see what I mean?” Henry whispered.

“Hey what? What’s that?” Bill turned his massive shoulders to crane his head to the door.

“She’ll run rings around him,” Hades said. He had had several slices of Victoria’s insight recently, something which she had put pains to disguise before.

Henry grinned. “I know. All we need to do is sit on the side lines and watch.”

“Watch what?” Bill demanded, striding across the carpeted room.

“Watch my step,” Hades said quickly. “Look, Standish, I need your help. I’ll explain on the way, but I may need some backup. The man I’m going to visit may be dangerous. I need someone as strong as a—” he paused, searching for the word—“horse”—that seemed apt— “to protect me if things go wrong.”

Bill stared and snorted. “The great Earl Harding needs someone to protect him? I thought you were an armchair warrior, capable of creating victories with twenty strokes of your pen?”

Hades didn’t have time for this. “Look, Standish, someone has it in for me, and they’ve already tried to kill me twice. Plus if you don’t come with me I will tell Victoria all about your lady conquests in this surrounding area. Especially about the lady with the peacocks.”

The large man paled. “Fine. I’ll come with you. But just you wait till you have women problems, Harding. I’ll laugh at you then.”

Hades thanked the stars that Bill had not been made privy to Victoria’s confidences. He was sure that his mysterious relationship with Miss Sumner would feature high on the gossip list.

Hades and Bill made little conversation as they waited for the lads in the stable to saddle up their horses. Hades took Cloud whilst Bill mounted his enormous horse that he had ridden from Brambridge House.

The sun peered in front of the clouds for the first time as they rode along the banks of the river following a well-worn path. Reaching a sharp bend in the river, Hades slowed his horse to a trot. Bill followed suit.

“Anglethorpe said that Trump would be around here somewhere,” he said, pointing at the sharp bend. “He’s normally examining the insects.”

Bill jerked his head in assent and dismounted from his horse.

“It’s butterflies actually.” A small voice piped plaintively from behind a large bush. “And you are disturbing them with your great brutes of horses.”

Hades twisted in his saddle. “Err, begging your pardon. And you are?”

“Mr. Leonard Trump. Please remain very still.”

“Mr. Trump, I will have to ask you to step out from behind that bush right now if you please.” Hades drew a small pistol from his pocket. He wasn’t taking any chances after the incident with the snake. Anglethorpe had loaned the gun to him. It was folly, he barely knew how to shoot it.

“No I won’t,” the small voice said peevishly. “I’m… ooh you brute, get off me.”

Whilst Hades had pulled out his gun, Bill had stalked behind the bush and pulled out a small, wiry man who was dressed in a smock and held a large net in his hand.

Hades had to admit to himself that the Viper was very unprepossessing for a great villain. “Bring him over here please, Standish,” he said, pushing his gun into his belt.

“Oooh, I say,” the small man protested as Bill almost lifted him off his feet by his elbows and deposited him in front of Cloud. He clutched his net protectively. “I was just about to catch a very nice example of a Scarlet Pimpernel before your tame dog—” he pointed accusingly at Bill—“crushed it beneath his clodhopping feet.”

“A scarlet pimpernel?” Hades was bewildered.

“I think he means a butterfly,” Bill said.

“Oh so the brute has some brains, has he?”

“The brute that you are speaking of, is the owner of Brambridge Manor and estate,” Bill said icily, his large muscled forearms flexing with his agitation.

Trump’s mouth fell open in a rounded O.

“Tell me what you know of the Viper?” Hades interjected quickly, trying to catch Trump off guard. He jerked Cloud’s reins to make her paw her feet for good effect.

But the small man was not fazed. He pushed a finger into his ear and swirled it around. “Viper?
Viperidae
, genus include
Cerastes
and
Atheris
, known habitat most of the world. Not many around here though, I’m afraid. They’re called adders. One of my colleagues would know more about it. I’m more of a jack of all trades.”

Hades groaned. Either this man was very good, or he really wasn’t involved. “Standish, tell me what the state of his ears are please?”

Bill looked at Hades as if he had lost his wits. “His ears?”

“Yes, his ears.”

Casting a look to the sky, Hades bent over and peered at Trump’s ears. “Look normal to me, Harding. Have you got some theory as to whether or not a villain has large ears or not?”

“No. Are Trump’s ears hairy?”

Bill looked again as Trump turned his head this way and that between the two men. After a few seconds Bill looked back at Hades. “No, why?” he said with a frown.

“The highwayman who attempted to rob me had very hairy ears. He then left me with a gift that killed my horse. I think he was the Viper.”

Bill nodded in understanding.

“I don’t know what all this talk is about snakes, but I really do feel like you are interrupting my afternoon, landowner or no landowner.” Trump nodded apologetically at Bill.

Hades dismounted from his horse and let it roam free so that he could concentrate on Trump. He knew Cloud would not wander very far. “Mr. Trump, if you do not know about the entity called the Viper, then why did you bet Edward Fiske that Earl Harding would not vanquish the Viper?”

“Bet? I never bet,” Trump cried.

“At Whites,” Hades said flatly. “You are very sure that you didn’t have a conversation with Edward Fiske and then enter a bet in the book there?”

“I hardly ever go to Whites! I hate the place. All they talk about is gambling and horseflesh. I far rather spend my time at the Royal Society. At least there they understand about the natural world beyond what can actually be bet upon.” Trump sat down suddenly on a tussock. “Why are you asking me these questions?

“I believe someone may have been impersonating you, Mr. Trump.” Hades looked round for Cloud, and finding her only a few yards away, retrieved the basket with the dead snake in it from the saddle. In politer tones he asked, “I was wondering if you might help me identify the following, sir?” He sat back down next to the dejected man, and opened the lid to the basket.

“Put the lid back on,” Trump cried, going rigid and staring at the basket with fear. “What do you think you are doing, put the lid back on!” he screamed.

“It’s alright, it’s dead,” Hades replied. He put the lid back on anyway.

“How in the hell do you expect someone to react when you show them an asp viper?” Trump was still shouting. “How in the hell did you get hold of that?”

“Someone left it for me as a present,” Hades said dryly. Bill looked at him sharply.

“It might be the kind of present my colleague, Professor Lisle, would have liked to have received,” Trump said, pushing himself as far away from the basket as he could, “although in truth he would probably have preferred a
Hierophis Viridiflavus.”

“Hierophis Viridiflavus?”

“
Mm, yes, a green whip snake. It’s found in the same region of the Pyrenees as the asp viper.”

“
Hierophis Viridiflavus…”

“Yes quite, that’s the name for the green whip snake. I’ve already explained that before…”

“No, Mr. Trump, I’m repeating it because I have heard mention of it before.” Hades shook his head. It would come to him. “Tell me, could the asp viper kill a man?”

“Oh yes, especially if the man didn’t get help in time.”

“And a horse?”

“Less likely.” Trump faltered as he saw Hades’ face. “If my colleague, Professor Lisle, were here he would know. I think he mentioned once that if the snake was killed whilst making the bite then it could release more toxins than usual. That might kill a horse.”

“Hmm.” Acorn had been found on top of the asp viper. The hoof marks in the wall indicated that the horse had been kicking out at something in the straw before it died. That must have agitated the snake so much that it had bitten the horse, and in the horse’s agony it had fallen on the snake, causing it in turn to die, releasing more venom into the horse’s blood stream.

“It’s a shame,” Trump said awkwardly, breaking into Hades’ thoughts. “Bernard, Professor Lisle was here just a few days ago visiting unexpectedly. We were discussing a meeting we had at the Royal Society on—”

“Ibex,” Hades finished. “That’s where I heard the words
Hierophis Viridiflavus
, they were in the notes of the meeting on Ibex.”

“Oh yes, they would have been. Bernard is fixated on snakes. I think it is a little bit unhealthy myself. I was glad when he didn’t stay for more than a night. He said his accommodation had fallen through. He only turned up with a horse. I can’t think where his man servant Jeffries got to, or to that matter his queer fish of an assistant Pedro!”

“Tell me, Mr. Trump,” Hades enunciated clearly, “does your Professor Lisle have rather hairy ears?”

Trump swiveled a finger in his ear again and nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. I always notice them because I have a bit of a problem myself with wax in the ear. I’m always admiring—”

“And does he have any other identifying features?”

“What do you mean? He looks like a normal gentleman—medium height, medium build, brown hair, sometimes he has a moustache although I have noticed that sometimes he does not…”

Hades had come after the
wrong man
. It had been Professor Lisle complaining about him in White’s, Lisle who had impersonated his colleague Trump, and Lisle that had attempted to murder him with a snake of all things. To top it all off, he was an expert in snakes himself. The nickname the Viper had been given to him for a good reason. It was a shame that Trump could not give him a better description. The man he had just outlined sounded like every other man on the street.

“Last question, Mr. Trump.”

Trump sighed audibly, slumping.

“Can you die from ingesting snake venom?”

“No, now please go away. I really do feel like I need some fresh air.”

CHAPTER 24

Melissa fluttered through the Mayfair house like a trapped moth. She had investigated every room, even discovering a secret wardrobe. But the rest of the collection of books was nowhere to be found. And now that she was no longer escaping anything for a few days, the boredom was intolerable.

She had thrown caution to the wind and walked Arturo in the park, hung some pretty curtains in the front room in a fit of pique, all on the Hades’ account of course and finally, after one sugar-heavy dinner too many, visited Carlos and Charles in their kitchen.

They were very surprised to see her.

“Miss Sumner,” they chorused. “Sit down!”

Charles held out a kitchen chair, whilst Carlos hefted a large kettle onto the stove. Pushing her spectacles onto her nose firmly, Melissa grabbed her skirts and pushed herself onto the proffered chair.

“Would you like some tea?” Charles asked uncertainly. “We have some biscuits too…”

Melissa groaned. Her teeth hurt from the amount of biscuits she had eaten. “Just tea please, Charles.”

In an uncomfortable silence Charles hovered whilst Carlos leant against the stove, and Melissa sat at the table waiting for the kettle to boil. Soon the water began to shake the kettle violently, and with a visible easing of his muscles, Carlos lifted the kettle from the stove and poured hot water over some tea leaves he had already placed in a teapot.

Charles shyly placed a plate of biscuits on the table. Catching Melissa’s eye, he shrugged slightly. “Just in case,” he said, turning back to the sideboard.

Melissa sipped at her tea. Charles and Carlos were large men, and now that their kitchen hand was gone, unfortunately killed by the cake, the only people in the kitchen. But strangely she didn’t feel afraid.

“Tell me, gentlemen,” Melissa began, stopping as Charles smiled at the title. “Tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

Carlos and Charles exchanged looks.

“I come from France where I was trained in the Dumosse school of cooking,” Charles said, blinking furiously.

“And I was trained here in London at the Albemarle Club first, and then in service to Lady Arbuthnot,” Carlos added, his back to Melissa as he chopped some vegetables with more force than necessary on a large board.

There was only one way to approach the problem really, and that was directly. “Did biscuits feature highly in your training?”

Charles winced and stopped blinking, staring very hard at Melissa, his eyes almost popping with the effort to stop himself closing them. “Lady Arbuthnot was quite ill towards the end and certainly enjoyed a biscuit or two.”

Carlos chopped his knife down so hard that it became wedged in the wood.

“Lady Arbuthnot?” Melissa frowned, “But—”

“You idiot, Charles!” Carlos exclaimed, turning round. “I was the one who was meant to be working for Lady Arbuthnot. We agreed. You worked at the Dumosse School, remember?”