The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy (23 page)

“No!” exclaimed Elspeth. “'Tis more than kind, sir. But I gave my word of honour to help Mr. Valerian! And he has a plan—”

“The promise he obtained was not an honourable one,” said Conrad icily. “And your best hope—perhaps your
only
hope—of preserving your good name is that we convey you back to London before any of the
ton
hear of this disgraceful episode.”

“Certainly, to take my niece into Paris would be disastrous,” put in Sir Brian. “There are many English there, as usual. She would be sure to be recognized.”

“Not where we are going,” said Valerian.

“Which is—where, exactly?” demanded Conrad.

Valerian stood. “We do not have the exact location. Friends are arranging matters for us. Miss Clayton spoke truly, however. Time is of the essence. If you can leave now, gentlemen, we'd best get mounted.” The Beeches exchanged troubled glances. He went on blandly, “You
did
say you were willing to help?”

“Of course we will help,” said Sir Brian. “But we also have a task we're sworn to complete. A desperate task, though not one that would endanger my niece. The moment that is done, we'll be at your disposal.”

Valerian bowed. “You are all conciliation, sir,” he drawled mockingly. “Alas, but we have already waited over-long. Miss Clayton, if you're ready to proceed…”

Pale with fury, Conrad shouted, “She is
not
ready to go she knows not where, on a hare-brained scheme that has little chance of succeeding! Elspeth, I know how dearly you love Vance, but you
must
see the folly of going with these—these thrill-seekers! Come. We'll see you safe home to your godmama and then, I swear it, we'll rush back to help Valerian!”

“Which will be much too late.” Reaching her hands to her uncle and cousin, she said resolutely, “I am more grateful than I can say for your concern. But I am a grown woman, and I'll not change my mind.”

Sir Brian groaned and swept her into a hug. Conrad took up her hand and kissed it gently. “God aid you, my poor foolish little cousin.”

Snatching up his hat and cloak, Sir Brian stamped to the door, then turned back to scowl at the three young men who watched him expressionlessly. “And may God forgive you all,” he cried. “If anything happens to my niece I shall hold you personally to blame!” His gaze shifted. “You in particular, Valerian! I know you're behind this dastardly plot!” He swung his cloak about his shoulders and adjusted the great cuffs of his coat fastidiously, saying a condemning “I hope you're proud of yourself, sir! Rather, you should hang your head in shame!”

Valerian offered another deep and flourishing bow.

Elspeth hurried to the door to say her good-byes.

Valerian started to follow but checked as Herbert tugged at his sleeve, murmuring, “A word, coz.”

Watching Skye follow Elspeth, Valerian said irritably, “What now?”

Herbert half-whispered, “I saw it again, Ger!”

“Saw—what? Oh, your phantom coach? Are, you sure?”

“Quite sure. It ain't a phantom coach. 'Tis a blue coach. And I'm curst sure it follows!”

“This is a well-travelled road. Likely someone chances to be taking the same route is all. Did Skye see it?”

“He says not, but
I
did!”

“Yes. Well, next time you spot the dastardly villains, be sure to tell me and we'll call them to account and split their gizzards!” Valerian stamped outside.

Watching him resentfully, Herbert called, “You may laugh, but—”

“Thank you,” responded Valerian.

12

They delayed long enough to take a light luncheon at
Le cheval de Trois.
The food was surprisingly good but Valerian shocked the host, a dowdy little man with a mournful face, by ordering coffee and ale rather than wine. When Skye said he would enjoy a glass of wine, Valerian murmured that he'd as soon the Lieutenant didn't fall asleep after lunch, and taking the hint, Skye settled for ale. Pixie was pleased by the offer of finely cut-up chicken giblets and a bowl of fresh water.

By the time their hasty meal was over the rain had drifted away, although the skies were gloomy and overcast. Valerian went out to inspect the team and confer with Coachman Marcel. He had delegated Herbert to see to it that the kitten's “commode” was replenished with fresh earth, while Skye, watchful and alert, escorted Elspeth and Pixie on a stroll through the gardens and for a short distance along the lane and back. The little animal paced along in a more or less orderly fashion on her lead, until she paused to declare war on a torn piece of newspaper that fluttered in a shrub and, having won that battle, regarded with exaggerated suspicion an old broken boot abandoned in a ditch.

“I'm so glad she's getting a little exercise,” said Elspeth. “She has to spend so much time cooped up, poor mite.”

Skye patted the hand that rested in his arm. “Perhaps she has sense enough to appreciate that she is fed and cared for. Do you suppose Valerian will return her to his father when this business is done?”

“He promised Sir Simon he would do so, though I think that will have to be after we're safely on a packet bound for England.” Looking up into his ardent dark eyes, she said anxiously, “We will be in time, won't we, Joel? Valerian will find Vance in time?”

“He certainly seems determined to keep his promise to you. I'll own that surprises me.”

“Why? Do you judge him to be lacking in honour?”

“Say rather that I've always thought him a frippery sort of fellow, more interested in the whims of fashion and society than in a serious undertaking of this nature.”

She said with a smile, “He played a part these past three years, and played it well. Did you know him before that?”

“No. I was too busily occupied with my duties to cultivate new friends among the
haut ton.
” He paused, then, watching her, said slowly, “You like him, don't you, Ellie?”

“Yes. I never dreamt I would, for I thoroughly despised him when first we met, if you recall.”

He said, as Sir Simon had observed earlier, “But you've changed your mind.” He pressed her hand. “Be careful, my dear. He has the reputation of being a dangerous man—in more ways than one. Don't let him throw dust in your lovely eyes.”

“Good gracious, Joel!” With a little ripple of laughter, she said, “I cannot suppose he has the least intention of doing so. In fact, I think he finds me annoying rather than intriguing. Oh, look! What a fine team! Who'd ever have guessed we'd be able to hire such horses in this funny little place! Do you suppose Lord Boudreaux owns them?”

The Lieutenant stifled a sigh. He had tried, at least. “Probably. And if they move as well as they look, we should make good time. The question is—to where?”

The team was poled up and the horses stamping impatiently when they returned to the inn.

Swinging into the saddle, Skye asked, “Is our destination this side of Rouen, Valerian? Or are we to go through the city?”

“As I understand it our destination is a chateau between La Bouille and Rouen. More than that I know only that it has a fine view.” Valerian stooped to lift Pixie and hand her to Beck, who was already in the coach. “On a hill, no doubt,” he added.

“There are probably dozens of such chateaux,” said Skye indignantly. “How the deuce are we to know which one? Does our coachman know?”

Marcel looked down from his lofty perch and said in halting English, “These will you learn at the hour…” He hesitated, then finished triumphantly, “at the hour of establishments!”

Herbert grunted, “Which tells us nothing.”

“Except perhaps,” said Valerian, “to ask no questions.” He handed Elspeth up the carriage step. “Meanwhile, gentlemen, we draw near and, whatever our plan, we should have our weapons primed and ready. I trust you've seen to that important detail.”

They assured him the detail had been attended to. He warned them to stay alert, then waved to the coachman and climbed inside.

“Before you start,” he said as Elspeth opened her mouth to speak, “I don't know what the fellow meant, but I'm sure he has worked for his lordship before and is perfectly reliable.”

“I was merely going to ask how much longer this will take,” she said. “No, I don't mean to pinch at you. I know you are doing all you can, and I am more than grateful, but I'm so afraid we won't get there in time.”

“I know.” He took her hand and she did not protest as he held it strongly. “'Tis natural that you'd be worried. Take heart, ma'am. You've been splendid through all our trials and setbacks. Most ladies would have had the vapours at the first sign of the attack we suffered today, but you go on, courageous as ever. I wonder—Ow!” He had been stroking her fingers gently and the kitten had pounced without warning. “Vicious brute,” he grumbled, rubbing his hand.

Undaunted, Pixie stood on her back feet and waved both front arms at him, then tumbled as the carriage lurched.

Elspeth laughed and retrieved the little animal. “I think 'twould have been kinder to let Sir Simon take her with him than to drag her about like this.”

“Kinder to her, but riskier for your brother.”

“We could certainly have found another black kitten, heaven knows there are plenty of the poor little things abandoned and starving.”

“True. But you are forgetting the admiration she attracted en route. That dashing lieutenant when we were leaving England—what was his name? Raines, I think—was most taken with her. As was the British Coast Guard officer at Le Havre—to say nothing of that irritating young French official I had to set down. Now
he
particularly noticed the white spot on Pixie's tail, remember?”

“Yes, indeed. But we could quite safely have left her at the pension with Madame Bossuet, or even at the Trojan Horse, and collected her on our way back.”

“And would have been lucky to find her still there! At either hostelry they'd likely have let her wander off and she might have tried to find my father again! No, m'dear. Too risky by half!”

The conversation languished. Elspeth watched villages and pastures and farms appear and disappear, her mind's eye conjuring up her beloved brother's laughing, handsome face. Valerian's thoughts alternated between his parents and their joyous reunion, and the girl sitting beside him. Watching her, he prayed he'd not have to disappoint her.

Freda murmured drowsily, “Some poor soul is in difficulty, sir.”

Looking out of the window, Valerian said, “The coachman is slowing. Be curst if it's not a troupe of rascally gypsies! Why would the numbskull stop? This could be another ambush!” He swung the door open as the coach slowed, snapped, “Stay inside!” and jumped down the step.

The short winter afternoon was already fading, but the clouds had drifted away and the skies were clear. Off to the side of the road stood a gaily coloured gypsy caravan, ahead of which a fine berlin was drawn up, an outrider waiting beside it.

Joel Skye walked his mount to join Valerian, who demanded, “Why a'plague are we stopping?”

Skye said, “Our coachman seemed to think the berlin was in difficulties. It's a magnificent coach. Your cousin has gone over to see if they need assistance. It would appear that a lady of rank is consulting the gypsy—a fortune-teller, likely.”

“One might suppose a lady of rank would travel with more than one outrider,” said Valerian, irritated. “Confound my cousin! I wish to hell he wouldn't continually get himself into these—Well, never mind that. Stay with the coach if you please. I'll see what's to do.”

He stalked across the muddy road and came up with his cousin, who had dismounted and stood holding his reins and watching the gypsy coach.

Herbert saw his frown and said quickly, “No cause to glower at me. The lady tripped in the mud, so I came across to help.”

“And was most gallant,” said a musical voice.

A lady emerged from the caravan. A little above average height and exquisitely robed, she wore an ermine-trimmed hood, one hand resided in a deep ermine muff, in the other she held up a mask which concealed most of what Valerian guessed to be a very pretty face; certainly the eyes were unusually brilliant. He experienced a brief sense of familiarity, but before he could speak she turned to Herbert.

“I am indebted to you, monsieur,” she said earnestly.

“No—I er, I mean—not at all,” he stammered.

“But—yes. I could have been injured, and see—the mud is all gone. The old gypsy woman was able to brush it out of my cloak.”

Watching her intently, Valerian said, “Your pardon, madame, but I think we have—”

The outrider had ridden closer and interrupted harshly, “You will stand away from my lady!”

She made a graceful restraining gesture and said, “There is no cause for alarm, Frederic. This gentleman is with Monsieur Turner. But at all events, I must go. Good day to you, messeurs.”

A warm smile for Herbert, a friendly nod to Valerian and she was gone, walking quickly to the berlin, where a liveried footman held the door open and handed her up the steps.

A moment later the beautifully matched white team had drawn the vehicle away.

Valerian looked after the departing coach thoughtfully. “No crest on the panel,” he muttered. “I wonder who she is. A beauty, and I've the feeling we've met somewhere. Did she give you her name?”

“No, and I didn't dare to ask.” With a wistful sigh Herbert said, “Have you ever seen such eyes? Such a soft green.”

“Were they? I'd thought they looked blue, rather.” Glancing to the caravan Valerian saw that a small, plump and elderly gypsy woman stood in the open door watching them. “Give you good day, ma'am,” he said, raising his tricorne politely. “The lady who just left—could you tell me her name?”