The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy (10 page)

“By which you mean she has decided to skip across to France with as many of her valuables as she can convey,” said Elspeth dryly.

“A justifiable course of action that the authorities, being a lot of fumble-wits, would deem to be theft.” Valerian glanced at his clerical friend, who appeared to have been struck dumb by this summation, and asked, “Right, Fitz?”

“Oh,” gulped the clergyman.

“You see?” interposed Elspeth, alarmed by the stunned expression on Mr. Boudreaux's face. “Your friend is a godly man, and he knows that the lady is in the wrong of it.”

“Stuff!” exclaimed Valerian rudely. “Fitz has gone off into one of his wide-awake snoozes is all.” He reached over and shook Boudreaux's shoulder. “Wake up! You know Geraldine has right on her side!”

“Who?” mumbled the clergyman.

“Merciful mackerels!
Geraldine
—you pious great lamebrain! My
lady friend!
”

“Ah!” Boudreaux blinked owlishly. “Geraldine. Just so!” He drew a deep breath, smiled brightly at Elspeth, and remarked, “That's the barber!”

Valerian turned his head and murmured in a confiding manner, “A jolly good fellow, but wits to let at times. Fell out of a tree when he was six.” And in a more normal tone, “So you understand now, do you, ma'am?”

Elspeth forced her attention from the clergyman's vacuous grin and said tartly, “What I understand, sir, is that this lady, Mrs. Geraldine…?”

“Nugent,” supplied Turner. “Mrs. Geraldine Nugent.”

“Newell!”
said Valerian sharply. “She dare not use her own name for this journey so we decided to name her Newell! You've not forgot already, I trust? For Lord's sake keep your wits about you, Herbert!”

Herbert flushed scarlet and stammered an apology.

Valerian glared at him and growled, “You'd a question I believe, ma'am?”

“I hope you'll correct me if I've the wrong impression,” said Elspeth coldly. “I gather the lady, whatever her name may be, is using a Bath chair so as to smuggle her jewels and valuables out of the country, which is unlawful. And that I am to become a fellow conspirator by pretending to be her nurse. Though for the life of me I cannot see how that is to help my poor brother, nor what a black cat has to do with the scheme! And since we are rapidly running out of time, I wish you will make it clear to me.”

Valerian appeared to grind his teeth. “Had you been listening when Fitz spelled it all out—”

“I was in a state of shock. Understandably.”

“The cat is the clue to the thing, don't you see? Geraldine has this revolting black kitten—”

“What is revolting about a kitten? Are you one of those nasty men who dislike cats?”

“But of course! Ascribe every villainy to me if 'twill set your mind at ease. The Deplorable Dandy loathes cats! Which has nothing to say to the fact that my Geraldine loves the little yowlers. When we enter France she will be cuddling Pixie (its name is Pixie) in her lap—”

“In the Bath chair.”

“In the Bath chair.”

“While sitting on all her worldly and illicit gains.”

He snarled softly. “Do you want me to hasten or are you going to enter a caveat to everything I say?”

Elspeth sighed and was silent.

The Reverend Mr. Boudreaux said soothingly, “The thing is that when we arrive in France, you will be guiding the chair, Miss Clayton, with the—lady and the—er, little black kitty, do you see? And when we have conveyed Georgiana—”

“Geraldine!”
corrected Valerian, with a long-suffering look at Elspeth.

“Righto!” resumed the clergyman, uttering an embarrassed laugh. “Once the lady is safe—”

“We will proceed to untangle your brother from whatever foolish scrape he has fallen into,” interjected Valerian impatiently, “and whisk him to the coast. You, Madam Nurse, will guide the
same
chair, complete with
lady
and
black kitten.
Therefore, should we be recognized by the authorities, no one will suspect we have switched ‘ladies' for the return journey.”

Her eyes very wide, Elspeth said an awed, “You mean to disguise Vance as—as a
lady?
You're mad! My brother is tall and—and muscular, and—”

“If he's been in the hands of the French military for very long, he might not be so muscular as you remember,” said Valerian bluntly. “But pray tell if you've a better scheme, ma'am.”

Elspeth whitened and closed her eyes.

Turning to the quiet clergyman, Valerian asked, “What's the fellow done, Fitz? I take it your uncle is aware?”

“He is aware because Nicholas Drew was with Clayton at the time of his arrest. It was Drew who asked for my great-uncle's aid in the business.”

“Drew … Hmm … Why didn't he appeal to the Horse Guards?”

“Couldn't in this matter, Ger. Vance Clayton served as courier for La Pompadour. Got himself fairly caught.”

“By?”

Boudreaux shrugged. “No telling who's at the root of it. The woman is ambitious. She has made enemies in high places and there are those who fear she now means to encourage an alliance with Austria.”

Valerian whistled softly. “Which would not please many messieurs in—as you say, Fitz—‘high places.' So our British gentlemen in their own high places ain't likely to step in to save Clayton's hide, I take it?”

“Whitehall don't fancy that kind of sticky wicket at this particular time, dear boy.”

“So my brother, who sought only to provide for Mama and me, is to be abandoned to Madame Guillotine.” Elspeth turned suddenly tear-wet eyes on Valerian. “Vance is wounded and at their mercy, sir. Mr. Drew said they would wait only for him to recover sufficiently to be—to be…” Her voice a thread, she whispered, “… questioned.”

She had, noted Valerian inconsequently, quite lovely eyes. He said thoughtfully, “Is Drew planning to take a hand in this business, Fitz?”

“If he were, he would be handling all this for me,” said Elspeth, dabbing a tiny handkerchief at her eyes. “Two nights since he was attacked by Mohocks and badly injured.”

“You surprise me,” drawled Valerian, frowning. “I should have supposed a fellow like Drew well able to take care of himself. You're—ah, sure it was Mohocks attacked him?”

She stared at him. “How can I be sure who…? Oh! My goodness! You think it was the people who hold Vance prisoner?”

“I've no least idea, save that it seems the greatest coincidence that your brother's closest friend should have been incapacitated just at this particular time. Still, we do no good by theorizing. Fitz—can you tell me where Clayton is being held?”

The clergyman nodded. “Give you a map. A very secluded chateau not far west of Rouen. Likely heavily guarded. Is your—” He glanced at Elspeth and his guileless face reddened. “Is Geraldine prepared to leave?”

‘He was going to say “your bird of Paradise,”' thought Elspeth, but her cynicism was forgotten when Valerian answered briskly, “Packed and ready to sail at a moment's notice.”

Shocked, she exclaimed, “You do not mean—You cannot mean—not
tonight?
”

“But of course not.” One of Valerian's dark brows arched upward as he fixed her with a sardonic stare. “Would a week from Wednesday afford you sufficient time to make up your mind, ma'am? You must pardon me if I had thought you judged your brother's days to be numbered!”

“You are a horrid man,” she said through her teeth. “You know very well I am eager to send help to him, but—”

“But you'd no intent to risk your own skin—is that the case?”

“Oooh! How dare you—I would be—”

The clergyman interpolated gently, “Don't tease the lady, Gervaise. You ask a great deal of a gently bred-up girl. There must be other, more worldly-wise people we could hire to—”

“Aye,” snapped Valerian. “An actress with courage and capable of carrying off the imposture—had we a week or two! We have not! Every minute we waste is as full of danger for Georgiana as for Vance—”

“You mean ‘Geraldine,'” corrected Elspeth sweetly.

“What? Oh—” Valerian gave an impatient gesture. “Small wonder my wits are adrift with all this backing and filling! If dear Bertha Hoylake had not been so badly hurt—thanks to Miss Clayton's inept coachman—we would be already aboard. Bertha knows the situation and the risks and is ready and willing to undertake the voyage. To ask a stranger to run such a gauntlet for someone she doesn't even know—” He broke off, scowling at Elspeth. “But Miss Clayton has as much at stake as have I, so the sacrifice is less.”

Elspeth drew a deep breath. What this callous Dandy said was true enough. Suddenly she was very cold and had the feeling that all the colour had left her face. Striving not to tremble, she said, “You are perfectly correct, Mr. Valerian. Fortunately, my maid packed sufficient of my wardrobe for a stay of several days, so—”

“Then you may leave it,” he interrupted peremptorily. “No nurse would own the elegant gowns you affect, ma'am.” He met the clergyman's eye and said with defiance, “She'll have to wear Bertha's things.”

Boudreaux stammered, “But—but they're not at all
similar.
I mean, Miss Clayton's—er, figure is—”

“Less well endowed?” jeered Valerian, his gaze flickering over Elspeth in a way she thought deliberately insulting.

“I mean—she is—is taller, for one thing,” persisted the clergyman, his colour deepening as he avoided Elspeth's eyes.

Valerian chuckled. “Yes, well, you'd best not list the other things, Fitz. The lady is ready to box your ears!”

Judging another pair of ears far more deserving of being boxed, Elspeth contained her mortification and said coolly, “I am sure I shall manage, gentlemen. Though what I am to tell my servants is beyond me.”

“It ain't beyond Fitz,” declared Valerian, and ignoring his friend's panicked expression, he added, “Now you'd best meet Mrs. Geraldine, ma'am. And after that, Fitz, we'll have a look at your map and try to come at a way to get Vance Clayton out of his pickle barrel.”

*   *   *

“A visitor to see you, Geraldine, my love!” With that softly uttered call, Valerian opened the door and ushered Elspeth into a small bedroom dimly lit by two candles and the flickering flames of the fire.

The only occupant was a lady seated in an invalid chair, her back to the door as she gazed pensively at the hearth.

Elspeth's nerves tightened, but she had prepared herself to meet Valerian's mistress, who would certainly be a beauty, and (whatever else) must be well bred (however abandoned).

The Bath chair turned, and Elspeth all but reeled with shock.

The lady was far from young; indeed, the first impression gained was that she must be several years older than the Dandy's mama. She was not unhandsome, but the features were strong rather than delicate and showed haggard despite a liberal application of paint. The eyes, deep-set and a fine grey, reflected weariness but were her best feature, for the nose and chin, although well cut, were too pronounced to be judged dainty. She was clad in a travelling gown of blue wool buttoned high to the throat. Her figure was thin, but even seated it was evident that she was a tall lady. A shawl was about her shoulders, and as if to emphasize the fact that she was no longer young, a lace-trimmed cap was tied over a modest but charmingly curled wig.

Speechless with astonishment, Elspeth blinked at the Dandy.

His narrowed gaze was intent on her. He said, “Make your curtsy, ma'am, to Mrs. Geraldine Newell.” Mirth blazed suddenly in his eyes. He added: “My aunt.”

“Oh,” said Elspeth feebly, as she dropped a curtsy and yearned to scratch him.

“Miss Clayton meant to say how do you do, Aunt Gerry,” he explained. “But she is quite off-stride. You see, ma'am, her nature is suspicious and she fancied you to be my—er,
chere amie.
”

Elspeth's cheeks flamed, but before she could speak, Mrs. Newell uttered a throaty chuckle and said in a soft, deep voice, “A fancy I am very sure you encouraged, rascal!” A thin, long-fingered hand was extended. “He is wicked but I hope you will not take his mischief too much to heart. How do you do, my dear?”

Holding the frail fingers briefly, Elspeth managed a disjointed response. Valerian grinned and drew up a chair for her, then sat on the bed beside a sleek black kitten. The little animal rolled over, stretched and yawned enormously, then took possession of his lap.

Mrs. Newell said, “Gervaise tells me your brother is in some difficulty and that you have between you contrived a plan to smuggle me out of England and on your way home to smuggle Mr. Clayton out of France. Your courage is admirable, but you are a well-born young lady. Have you really faced the fact that both your safety and your reputation will be terribly at risk?”

“Heaven aid me!” Valerian looked up from scratching behind the kitten's ears and exclaimed irritably, “I'd not have asked it of Miss Clayton, had not her gapeseed of a coachman forced us off the road and ruined poor Bertha's ankle! It has taken me forever to persuade her! For mercy's sake do not undo what—”

Mrs. Newell's hand raised only slightly, but to Elspeth's surprise Valerian was at once silenced, although he watched his aunt tight-lipped and frowning.

“It will not do, Gervaise,” the lady said with quiet gravity. “I do not know what Canterbury tales you've told her, and I quite comprehend why my name was changed, but Miss Clayton must not attempt this venture without a full understanding of the facts.”

“Your nephew has explained your circumstances, ma'am,” said Elspeth. “And I am willing to risk danger to help my dear brother. It is true that I didn't know you were his aunt, nor that you have been ill, but—”