Vintage Love (84 page)

He sat staring silently at her for a moment. Then he said, “Very well. I’ve been trying to find out more about this Prince Sanzio. I’ve contacted several people in my circle of friends who have lived in Rome.”

“And what did you find out?”

“That all his life he has been a reckless gambler. So that now he lives in his palace with a horde of creditors daily at his door, having to live out his old age in genteel poverty.”

“Perhaps I can help him. He ought to have something for adopting Irma and bringing her up to be a princess.”

“You can decide that later,” the old lawyer said. “I have tried to find out if he was ever mixed up in any criminal activity and have found nothing against his record.”

“I’m sure he had nothing to do with the attack on me,” Della said.

“Maybe not,” Sir Roger responded. “But he has some friends who are not above suspicion.”

“Oh?”

“There is a Count Barsini, a younger man than the Prince, and of evil reputation. His morals leave a good deal to be desired from all I have learned, and he has considerable wealth. From time to time he has played the role of moneylender at destructive interest rates to hard-up noblemen like the Prince.”

She was at once interested. “Perhaps he is our man.”

“It could be.”

“The police should be told.”

Sir Roger spread his hands. “Told what? That a man living in Italy is of evil character and a moneylender. I doubt if the London police would have any interest.”

“They might if you explained that we had lately heard from Prince Sanzio about my missing sister. And shortly after, this attack was made on me by an Italian in search of stolen loot. Count Barsini could easily have heard about me from the old Prince and decided to use me as a decoy for some crooked game.”

“Entirely possible,” Sir Roger agreed. “But difficult to prove.”

“If I were in Rome I’m sure the puzzle would all fit into place!”

“And you might find yourself in more danger,” the old man worried.

“I think I have served my prupose,” she said.

“I’m not at all sure,” Sir Roger warned her. “All this talk about a jeweled Madonna may be sheer nonsense to throw us off. The real object may be to murder you so that your sister will be the sole heir to the Standish fortune.”

“That would mean my sister or Prince Sanzio was part of such a plot. I cannot believe it of either of them. I’m sorry.”

Sir Roger smiled bleakly. “Very well, then. I shall not argue with you further. As soon as you feel able I shall begin the arrangements for your transportation to Rome. I’ll book for three, to include your aunt and Henry Clarkson.”

“You can begin at once,” she said. “I expect to leave the hospital tomorrow.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, the first step in your journey will be the boat train to Dover, then across the Channel on the ferry, and by train to Paris. After a brief stay in Paris you can board the express from Paris to Rome. You should arrive there within a week or ten days of leaving London. Depending on your stops along the way.”

“I prefer not to stop anywhere,” she told him. “Let me get to Rome as quickly as possible.”

“I’ll make the bookings with that in mind,” he promised her. He rose and added, “I’ll contact the hospital to find out when you’re leaving and be here to see you safely into your carriage.”

That night she slept better, waking only once. And the next morning her doctor informed her that she would be able to leave in the early afternoon. Her wrists were healing and her ankles much better. With the help of a nurse she dressed in the morning. Aunt Isobel had sent her a suitcase of clothing.

Henry Clarkson made another noon call and this time he shyly proffered her a bunch of roses. She was touched by his thoughtfulness.

“You need not have done this,” she said. “I’m going home this afternoon.”

“You can take them with you.”

“No,” she said. “If you don’t mind I’ll have the nurse give them to someone who is really ill.”

He smiled. “They are yours to do with as you wish. And congratulations on winning your battle with Sir Roger.”

“I know,” she said. “It was touch-and-go. But he finally agreed to let me travel.”

Henry said, “He has already started to see what bookings are available on the Paris-Rome Express. It is often sold out weeks in advance.”

“I hope I don’t have to wait too long. I have an odd feeling I should get to Rome as soon as possible. Otherwise something might happen to my sister and I may never meet her.”

“Why do you think that?”

She looked at him ruefully. “No logical reason. Call it intuition.”

Henry said, “You know that Sir Roger has developed a theory about what happened. He thinks it is a scheme to kill you and leave your sister as heir.”

She nodded. “He broached that to me. I don’t believe it.”

“Prince Sanzio is in bad financial shape. And he is known to deal with some evil men.”

“I still don’t believe it,” she said.

“It would be better if your belief is justified,” he said. “But I’m worried that Sir Roger may be on the right track.”

“We soon should know,” she said. “Once we’re in Rome.”

“Do you want me to come and see you home this afternoon?”

“No,” she said. “Aunt Isobel will likely come in the carriage to get me. And Sir Roger has promised to be here to see me safely into the carriage.”

Henry laughed. “Then I mustn’t interfere with him. Let him be the gallant!”

“Especially as we want him in good humor,” she said with a smile.

“May I call on you tonight?” he ventured.

“Yes,” she said. “I meant what I said. We are back where we were before the quarrel. Unless you want it different.”

“You know I don’t,” he said quickly.

“Then I’ll see you after dinner.”

Henry kissed her good-bye and left in high, good humor. She felt much better and was impatient to leave the hospital. As she waited for the carriage she had a message from her Aunt Isobel telling her she was suffering from an infected tooth and would not make the journey to the hospital. But the old woman stressed that the carriage would be there for her at two o’clock.

Sir Roger arrived shortly before two and chatted with Della as she prepared to leave. He told her, “I think you can start your journey on Monday if that is all right with you.”

Wearing a smart two-piece green woolen dress and a pert green hat, she was feeling much more assured. She smiled and said, “Monday would be excellent. I’ll start preparing as soon as I get home.”

“Do not push yourself,” he advised. “You still look pale. And you have a long journey ahead.”

They were still chatting when her nurse came in with a smile and said, “Your carriage is at the side entrance waiting for you, Miss Standish.”

She thanked the nurse and Sir Roger carried her suitcase for her and escorted her out to the waiting vehicle. The coachman was seated above at the back of the closed two-seater, so Sir Roger opened the door for her and saw her inside. Then he placed the suitcase in beside her.

His craggy face thrust in the doorway, he told her, “I shall call at the house tomorrow.”

“Thank you for your kindness. I know how busy you are.”

The old man looked pleased. “Never too busy to look out for the daughter of old friends.”

He closed the door and the coachman set the carriage in motion. She sat back and closed her eyes and listened to the clopping of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones and the creaking of the carriage wheels. She was on her way home; at last the nightmare was at an end.

After a little she opened her eyes and saw that they had moved into a different street. She gazed out at the wheeled traffic and the many pedestrians on the sidewalks and by the crossings. And all at once she frowned, for she recognized this as a strange part of London!

She could not be mistaken! She was certain of it! For a moment she debated that the driver might be taking a shortcut. His name was Miles and he was getting very old for his post. That was why she’d not expected him to help her in the cab when Sir Roger was there to assist. She could not believe that such an experienced driver had lost his way. And now the carriage was moving at a good pace.

Thoroughly upset, she turned and opened the small window which allowed her to communicate with the driver. “Miles,” she called out, “why are we taking this route? I do not know it!”

There was no reply at all. And now panic began to take hold of her. She twisted her body so she might look out the small square and get a glimpse at the driver. It was then that a wave of trembling seized her. For the man at the reins was not Miles but the thin, swarthy-faced man who had abducted her. He was wearing a coachman’s coat and hat but there was no mistaking him!

At the same time she made this shocking discovery the carriage picked up speed. She screamed in terror and tried to balance herself on the seat as the carriage careened wildly in its swift passage of the busy street. Once again she was a captive.

The carriage rolled on at a mad speed. She saw the faces of startled bystanders on the street and heard angry cries. The vehicle veered sharply to the right, narrowly to miss collision with a heavy wagon drawn by two horses. The driver of the wagon was on his feet cursing as she lost sight of him. A moment later the carriage shot over to the left as a horse-drawn two-decker bus went by!

She was sobbing with terror and trying desperately to save herself from being hurled about. First she was at one side of the dark interior of the carriage and then the other. Ahead she heard a whistle being blown shrilly and as they came to the spot she saw a policeman waving for them to stop!

In that split second she made a desperate decision. Groping for the door handle, she pulled it open and made a leap to clear herself from the careening vehicle. She had the sensation of floating in the air for a moment and then she fell sprawling on the cobblestones.

The policeman came rushing up to her. “Are you hurt, miss?” he wanted to know.

Her hands were skinned and so were her knees. Her skirt had a tear in it and her hat was gone. With the policeman’s help she struggled to her feet still in a daze.

“The carriage!” she mumbled.

“It’s out of sight!” the policeman exclaimed in anger. “What’s wrong with that driver? Did he go mad?”

“Tried to abduct me,” she said, aware that a crowd had surrounded them.

“So that was his game,” the policeman said. “I knew something was wrong when he didn’t stop for me!”

She leaned against him. “I feel ill. Can you get me another carriage to take me home?”

“That I will, miss,” he said. And waving his hand, he told the circle of onlookers, “Get moving, will you! The show is over! Make way for me and this young lady!”

The crowd obeyed him, at the same time mumbling about the wonder of it all. He led Della a few steps away and blew his whistle, this time to hail a passing carriage.

He saw Della into the carriage and found out her address to give the driver. Then he told her, “This fellow will see you home safely.”

“Thank you,” she said. “What about my own carriage?”

The policeman looked grim. “It’s either smashed up somewhere or been stopped and the driver arrested. I’ll make a report on it!”

Della thanked the policeman again and this time was driven properly back home. She knew this second attempt on her life was bound to arouse Sir Roger’s ire and she hoped it wouldn’t make him change his mind about her proposed trip to Europe. She saw no reason why it should. This second incident had merely proven that the swarthy-faced criminal was still in London and had not given up in his efforts to abduct her.

When she reached Doane Square she found Aunt Isobel already in a state. The old woman lamented, “We are all marked for death! I know it!”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, standing in the reception hall with the old woman.

“Why? I’ll tell you why! Poor old Miles came stumbling back here half an hour ago with his head all battered. Two thugs stopped him and asked for information and before he knew it they’d dragged him from the carriage and taken him into an alley. They stole his hat and coat and left him for dead!”

“So that is how he got the coach!” Della said.

Aunt Isobel looked at her querulously. “What are you talking about?” And then it hit her. “How did you get back with the carriage stolen?” she exclaimed.

“I came in a public cab and do give me the money to pay for it, the driver is waiting,” she told her aunt.

But Aunt Isobel was now regarding her with horror. “Your skirt is torn and your hands are cut! And you have a cut on your cheek and your hair is awry! What happened to your hat?”

“It’s somewhere in the street, I suppose! Do give me some change!”

“In the street,” Aunt Isobel repeated blankly. “I declare the whole city is lost in madness.” And she went to get her change purse.

It took Della a while to explain everything to the older woman. Then Aunt Isobel insisted on calling Sir Roger and asking him to come to Doane Square at once. Meanwhile Della washed and changed into clean clothes and miraculously felt no serious aches or pains from her incredible experience.

Old Miles was not so fortunate. Della was so worried about him that she at once sent for a doctor. And before the doctor arrived Sir Roger was at the front door.

Sir Roger stamped in and glared at Della. “So it has started over again!”

She tried to appear calm. “Just a continuance!”

“Continuance be blazes!” the old lawyer said angrily as he marched ahead of her into the living room.

She followed him, saying, “I begged Aunt Isobel not to bother you!”

He turned to face her in a rage. “Would you have kept this from me?”

“I meant to tell you in time!”

“All London talking about the wild runaway carriage and the girl who leapt from it, and you would say nothing to me?”

“You’re making it worse than it was!” she protested.

“You think so?” he said with sarcasm. “Miles half dead. Your carriage smashed and abandoned!”

“They found it then?”

“Yes. In the street following the one where you jumped out. The villain crashed it into a lamp post and then fled!”