The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy (12 page)

Elspeth tore her gaze from the sinister stranger and said, “Your aunt will require a change of garments even so, Mr. Newell, as will her abigail and I.”

“Your pardon, sir,” put in an authoritative voice, “do I address Mr. Newell?”

Valerian turned and, putting up his quizzing glass, scanned the dark gentleman with cool disinterest. “You may know me, sir,” he drawled. “But I think I have not your acquaintance. Your pardon, but we are in a hurry to—”

“To board the
Sea Lassie?
So I understand. I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Newell, but—” A card was offered and his cloak was flung back on one shoulder to reveal a neat blue uniform coat with gold buttons and white facings, worn over white breeches. “Lieutenant Horace Raines, at your service,” he announced, adding solemnly, “Duty is duty, sir.”

Valerian glanced at the card. “So I am told,” he said with barely concealed contempt. “A preventive officer, are you? Perhaps you will condescend to advise me as to how we have incurred your displeasure. However, before you deposit your foot inextricably into your mouth, allow me to point out that the only cargo I transport is my ailing aunt, her abigail and nurse. I cannot think these less than murderous females pose a threat to you. If you mean to inspect our belongings, I suppose I cannot refuse. I trust I am a reasonable man,” his voice hardened, “but should the packet sail without us I shall most certainly lodge a complaint with my friend Admiral Lord Branscombe at the Navy Board. To which end I shall keep your card, Lieutenant Raines.”

He had dropped a powerful name and the Riding Officer was clearly shaken, but Elspeth's heart pounded wildly. If this nasty official should call what she was sure was a bluff and insist upon inspecting their luggage, there would be no great harm done. But if he should be so thorough as to investigate Mrs. Newell's chair, he was bound to discover the valuables so illegally concealed there, in which case they would all be tossed into prison and her chance to help Vance would be lost!

Freda began to whimper. She never had been searched by no male gent, she sobbed, and if that was what this male gent was intending, she would “fall down in a fit” did he lay so much as a hand on her.

The Lieutenant looked even more alarmed and declared he had no intention of searching anyone. “I see you're thinking along the lines of contraband, sir,” he explained, “But it's not some
thing
we seek, but some
one!
”

Valerian swung his quizzing glass and looked amused. “And you think I am your valued ‘someone,' is that the case?”

Lieutenant Raines scanned him narrowly and shook his head. “I had thought at first there was a resemblance to the description I was given,” he answered. “But while a gentleman may make himself appear older, sir, I never yet found one what could go back t'other way, as 'twere.”

“Then why on earth must you detain me? Unless—” Valerian grinned. “I have it! You suspect Nurse Cotton of being your—what is he? Thief? Murderer?” His grin broadened. “'Twould be a fine disguise indeed, but I can assure you she is—er, all woman! You have”—he winked conspiratorially—“my word on it!”

The implication was clear and Elspeth's cheeks flamed. “Ooh!” she gasped. “Of all the—”

The Preventive Officer intervened hurriedly, “We seek a gentleman believed to be attempting to escape to France. A traitorous Jacobite sympathizer.”

“Do you, by Gad?” exclaimed Valerian, sobering. “In that case you've my full cooperation, Lieutenant. Can't abide the breed myself!”

“I'm glad to hear it, sir. As you doubtless are aware, anyone found to be shielding such a person is condemned to share his fate. And a traitor's death, Mr. Newell, is a very terrible fate.”

Once again, Elspeth's anger was wiped away by a surge of fear. Her grip on the handles of the Bath chair tightened and the chair jerked slightly. “Mrs. Newell” uttered a muffled exclamation and Valerian bent to her at once.

“It's quite all right, love,” he said, patting her shoulder soothingly. “My aunt is tired, Lieutenant. If there's nothing else…?”

“Nothing, save to ask if you've laid eyes on such a person, Mr. Newell? He's fifty-ish, dark colouring, though likely wearing a wig; not above average height and may appear frail, as he was badly wounded some time back while aiding fugitives. An unusually fine pair of grey eyes, so the description says. Goes like a gentleman, which he is, being a baronet, and will likely be in disguise, but he's said to be, or to have been at one time, a handsome fellow.”

“Hmm,” muttered Valerian thoughtfully. “And have you a name for this comely traitor, Lieutenant?”

The Riding Officer hesitated. “Not one as we can bandy about, sir. Charges not having been laid as yet, for want of substantial evidence.” He glanced around and, lowering his voice, said, “He's got powerful friends, d'ye see? But the initials is S. V.”

“And were they A. B. C. would be as much of a conundrum.” Valerian shook his head regretfully. “Alas, I cannot help you, Mr. Raines. I'll own myself puzzled, however, that you came seeking me. A case of mistaken identity, was it? Or malicious mischief, perhaps?”

The Lieutenant said with a slow smile, “The latter, more likely. Do you know of anyone eager to do you a mischief, sir?”

“Jove, but I do!” Valerian laughed. “What fellow doesn't?”

“Very true. But might you be more specific?”

“I might. But I won't. I'll own I can call to mind a few husbands who've some cause to harbour grudges. But none I'd accuse of informing 'gainst me in a matter of treason. Not the way of a gentleman, do you think? And it was—I presume—an informant, eh, Mr. Raines?”

“Now, I did not say that, sir.”

“Ah, and you're a downy bird, all right, so I'll give up trying to outwit you. By your leave, Lieutenant, I'll see my ladies to the packet, yonder.”

“By all means, Mr. Newell.” The Riding Officer looked down at the invalid. “Though I shall be obliged to relieve you of one member of your party.”

Valerian's smile did not falter in the slightest, but Elspeth saw his left hand drop unobtrusively to the hilt of his sword and her heart stood still. “Your pardon?” he murmured.

Lieutenant Raines stooped to stroke the black kitten that purred on Mrs. Newell's lap. “We cannot have you making off with the High Tide's kitchen cat. Mrs. Langley is inordinately fond of Whiskers.” He prepared to lift the cat. “Come, you lazy little rascal.”

Mrs. Newell squealed, “No you don't!” Her reticule swung at the startled Riding Officer's hand. “Leave Pixie be, you nasty man!”

“And here we have a true case of mistaken identity,” chuckled Valerian. “'Tis my aunt's pet, I promise you. By name of Pixie, not Whiskers. Pray do not ask me to remove her from my aunt. 'Twould take a better man than I to ‘relieve' her of the creature.”

“Egad, but I believe you!” Raines rubbed his hand ruefully. “My apologies for the mistake, ma'am. But whatever do you carry in your reticule?”

“None of your business, young man,” shrilled the invalid.

Again, Elspeth's heart was thundering.

Amused, Valerian said, “After dealing Mr. Raines such a punishing whack, m'dear, I think you might at least be honest with the poor fellow. My aunt's reticule is crammed with contraband, of course, sir. Diamonds, pearls, rubies—quite the family fortune, in point of fact.”

Elspeth's knees were like blancmange. She thought dazedly, ‘Why must this idiot take such dreadful risks?' Another moment and she would fall at the officer's feet in a dead faint, and Valerian would have no one but himself to blame!

Through an instant of tense stillness, mocking eyes of grey met irked dark ones. Then Mrs. Newell said tartly, “You left out my emeralds, boy. So long as you're talking stuff and nonsense, throw in the whole lot!”

The Lieutenant smiled stiffly. “Never fear, ma'am. I'll not dance to his tune and require you to show me your ‘family fortune.'” He touched his hat and with a slight bow added, “A pleasant voyage to you.”

After such a nerve-racking beginning Elspeth could not envision “a pleasant voyage,” but she had seldom been more relieved than when Valerian and his cousin had lifted Mrs. Newell into the big coach and she and Freda were seated opposite the invalid.

Freda leant forward to adjust a rug about the older lady's knees and Elspeth said kindly, “You must be excessive weary, ma'am. We'll be aboard in no time and you can—”

“Herbert and I will ride on the box,” snapped Valerian, preparing to swing the door shut. “Be so good as to leave my aunt in peace so that she can sleep.”

“I was only—” began Elspeth, indignant.

“Chattering at her,” he interposed. “Close your eyes, Geraldine, and pray the
Sea Lassie
has waited for us!”

“That's another thing,” said Elspeth hastily. “Why do we sail on a regular packet? If they are so suspicious of everyone, surely we'd have been better advised to make the crossing with—with a—”

“A free trader, perhaps?” he snapped. “Aye. Don't think we hadn't considered that route. But the authorities are doubtless watching known smugglers closely. Besides which, the Le Havre Estuary is treacherous, and I'd a lot sooner be guided through by an experienced steersman or sailing master than by a rag-tag amateur. Now,” he glared at her, “if you've exhausted your endless caveats, ma'am, with your most gracious permission we'll be on our way!”

The door slammed and the coach lurched as the two men mounted to the box.

Elspeth said through her teeth, “Gervaise Valerian is beyond all doubting the rudest individual I have ever met! I'm sorry, ma'am, but your nephew—” She broke off.

Mrs. Newell's eyes were closed; she had evidently followed Valerian's advice and was already asleep.

It was as well, thought Elspeth, seething, else she might have said something decidedly impolite about the Deplorable Dandy.

The coach left the inn yard and rumbled its way into the deeper darkness of the lane. It was cold, and now and then a gusting wind caused the vehicle to sway. Freda began to moan that a storm was blowing up, which would mean a rough crossing. Elspeth tried to calm her fears but inwardly she suspected the abigail was correct; if this wind held, the seas would not be calm.

By the time they reached the dock, lights were bobbing on the several vessels riding at anchor, and to judge by the welter of shouts and the scrambling activity on the
Sea Lassie,
the vessel was being prepared for imminent departure.

Valerian wrenched the carriage door open and Elspeth and Freda were handed out before he and Herbert lifted his sleepy aunt to the Bath chair.

Several port flags were whipping about, cracking like gunshots, and powerful wind gusts set close-reefed sails to flapping and halyards and chains to rattle and clang. Elspeth eyed the gangplank apprehensively. It looked very narrow; below it the sea was black and surging, and the packet was plunging about like a fractious horse. She said to Valerian, “You cannot wheel the chair across, surely?”

“Never intended to. Do you fancy me incapable of maintaining my balance whilst I carry the dear soul over such an unstable surface? You may be right. However…” He glanced up as a crane sent a large bale swinging through the air. “That should do the trick, eh, Aunty?”

Mrs. Newell uttered a muffled protest.

“Very amusing,” said Elspeth huffily. “What next will you propose, I wonder?”

“Several things occur to me…,” he murmured, scanning her provocatively.

Her eyes searched his face and he raised his brows and blinked at her, the picture of innocence. “Ah, but I collect you refer to my aunt's transfer to the packet? Nothing could be simpler. Herbert will go aboard and wait at the rail and I'll heave her over to him.”

Elspeth's lower lip sagged. “H-heave … her?”

“Just so.”

“From … here?”

“Well, I told you I'm not capable of—”

Recovering her aplomb, she interrupted severely, “I wish you will not talk nonsense, Mr. Valerian!”

He chuckled, then turned away as a sailor crossed the deck to the gangplank and bellowed at them, “We'm casting off direct-like, sir. Cap'n says be pleased to come aboard.”

Valerian bent over his aunt and detached Pixie from her lap. Thrusting the little cat at Elspeth, he said, “Don't drop this, if you—” He straightened and jerked around as a horse galloped across the cobbles towards them. The rider was tall, and as he sprang from the saddle Elspeth's heart did its now familiar leap into her throat.

Valerian called irately, “Fitz! You shouldn't be seen here, you idiot. If that Riding Officer is still lurking about—”

“He ain't.” The clergyman dragged a sheaf of papers from the pocket of his riding coat. “Forgot to give you the documents I promised.”

“You gave 'em to me, you block.”

“Those are for your—er, aunt. These are what we've been able to learn of Miss Elspeth's brother. You'll have to commit them to memory in case you're questioned on the other side.”

An urgent shout from the packet spurred Valerian to action. He shoved the papers at Herbert, saying a terse, “Thanks, Fitz. Now go!”

“I'll help you carry her. You can't—”

“Devil I can't! Go!”

Boudreaux tightened his lips, glanced at Elspeth, then met Valerian's eyes in a steady stare.

Valerian slid one arm under his aunt's knees. She said in rather an odd voice, “I'm no lightweight, you know, Gervaise. Are you sure you—”

He swung her into his arms and called a breathless, “Take the ladies first, Herbert, and do try not to drop the Bath chair over the side!”

Obediently, Herbert, carrying the Bath chair, led the way. Elspeth and Freda followed, gingerly clutching the rope that formed a crude handrail alongside.