The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy (24 page)

“I could, but I won't,” she replied in English.

Surprised by both the words and the cultured voice, he said with a smile, “An English gypsy, I see. But a gypsy nonetheless.” He took out his purse. “Were I to cross your palm with silver…”

“Do try not to be so ridiculous, Valerian,” she snapped, and, surprising him even more, added, “I'd not expected you to be with Marcel. You will have an explanation, I feel sure, but at all events, you're late!” Her small dark eyes went past him to where the coachman was guiding the horses across the road to pull up where the berlin had stood.

Speechless, Valerian hurried to open the door of the coach and assist Elspeth down the step.

She looked at him enquiringly. “Another delay?”

“It appears,” he answered, “that we are expected.”

“Here?” Elspeth's puzzled gaze turned to the caravan. “But I thought—”

“So did I. Come and meet a remarkable gypsy. You'd best wait here, Beck, and take care of Pixie.”

Walking beside him, Elspeth said, “I'm sorry if there is trouble here, but Gervaise—” She flushed at the slip, but the laughter in his eyes reassured her. “Mr. Valerian,” she corrected. “I do apologize.”

“So I should hope,” he teased.

“It is that I cannot fathom why we stop here. The time is going by so fast and—”

“As time tends to do,” said the gypsy woman briskly. “Wherefore I suggest that you stop wasting it and step inside!”

Valerian watched appreciatively as Elspeth's lower lip sagged in a way he thought particularly delicious.

Staring in wide-eyed disbelief at this plump little gypsy clad in a head-scarf and shawl, a brilliant red blouse and a voluminous and very creased skirt of blue velvet, Elspeth could all but see the costly evening gown and jewels worn by this same lady at a dinner party in a luxurious London mansion. Astounded, she gasped, “Heavens above! It
is
you! Lady
Elmira Bottesdale?
What on—earth?”

The dowager gave Valerian a conspiratorial grin and bustled into the caravan.

Pausing only to exchange an incredulous glance with him, Elspeth followed. She seemed to enter another world. Bright curtains hung at windows in the front and rear of the caravan; there were numerous cluttered shelves, and an assortment of pots and pans hung from wall hooks. An oil lamp suspended from the ceiling cast a warm glow on the few items of furniture: a narrow bed piled with cushions and blankets, three small chairs, a chest of drawers also small, and a little table that held a round glass ball, some cards and numerous papers.

Waving her guests to chairs, Lady Bottesdale sat down at the table. “I can't invite the others in,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “No room. But you'll not be staying long.”

Valerian returned her smile but said, “I'll own 'tis beyond me, ma'am, to know why we stay at all. Or how you come to be involved. Though I could hazard a guess, bizarre as it may be.”

She nodded. “Hazard away. I've always judged you to be more intelligent than you appear. You may get some of it right.”

“Three facts come to mind,” he said. “One—you've the reputation of being a strong-willed lady, not averse to acting on your convictions boldly, however unpopular such convictions may be. Two—you are a close friend of Lord Geoffrey Boudreaux, in fact, 'tis said you once were betrothed to him, and you are known to have strong loyalties. Three—the lady who just left here was masked to her very lovely eyes—famous eyes, and belonging I believe to a charming creature who also holds strong convictions, and is sometimes named
La maitresse en titre.
”

“Madame de Pompadour?” exclaimed Elspeth, her eyes wider than ever.

“From all of which,” said the dowager, nodding again, “you conclude—what, exactly, Valerian?”

“If I put it together with the fact that you know the name of our coachman and that you were clearly expecting him—if not me—I can only suppose you are here to help Miss Clayton rescue her brother. And jolly brave of you to do so!”

The dowager clapped her white little hands. “Very good! And you have surprised me, young man. It was long ago, and very few people know of my broken engagement to Geoffrey Boudreaux. I expect you had that from your father, and you've kept silent else the whole
ton
would be reminded of one of my more foolish faux pas—for which I thank you. Yes, you've guessed rightly. I am here to render what assistance I may to Miss Clayton's unfortunate brother.”

Elspeth said, “Oh, how very good in you, ma'am.”

“Pish!” snorted the dowager. “Society gossip and intrigues bore me. I dote on excitement. Boudreaux knows this, and I've worked with him from time to time when he asked it. I only wish I had better news for you.”

Paling, Elspeth cried, “Dear God! Never say we are too late and my dear Vance is killed?”

“Be at ease, child. Your brother yet lives—though not for long, I fear. Fortunately, we were warned of a possible ambush, which is why we decided to move our rendezvous point.”

Valerian asked, “Since your man Marcel was unaware of this, am I right in assuming that is why the Pompadour was here? To warn you?”

“To warn me. But not of the ambush. I should explain that Reinette—as we used to call her in her youth—had a very lovely mama, poor Madame Poisson, who was judged very bad
ton.
I must own she was rather naughty—but even so I was most fond of her and I've known Reinette since she was a small and very sickly child. She has come a long way, little Mademoiselle Poisson; but even today, although she is the King's favourite and despite her wealth and power, she is looked down upon as a bourgeoise by many of the aristocracy. On the other hand there are plenty of folk who adore her, for she has a very kind heart and is always willing to lend a helping hand where she can. Unfortunately, she is also ambitious and much interested in politics, and she will persist in meddling, which has got her into trouble several times. She was greatly distressed to learn of your brother's plight, Miss Clayton. She trusts him implicitly and is anxious to know what became of a letter he was carrying. She arranged in secret to send some of her servants to attempt his release. One of these was the guard who rode on Marcel's coach, another was waylaid en route to meet you and guide you here. Meanwhile, those who oppose Reinette have let it be known—very subtly, you understand, but with deep malice—that they are close to finding proof of her involvement in a certain international intrigue, and once they have it Louis himself will be told of her scheming. At the very least it would lead to a scandal and the King very much dislikes scandal. At worst, he might be put in such a difficult position that he'd be forced to sever their relationship. He adores her, and she is madly in love with him. You comprehend? To be separated forever would destroy her. So…” She shrugged.

Elspeth said, “And you believe the proof her enemies seek is in the letter my brother carried?”

“I do.”

Valerian said gravely, “So—
en effet
we are on our own.”

“Not completely, but I'm relieved to see you have two strapping young fellows to assist you. Skye I know slightly. The other…?”

“My cousin, ma'am. And a fine fighting man—at need. What do we have in opposition?”

Her ladyship pursed her lips before answering, “A deal more than I'd expected. But you have not told me the whole, I think.”

“True. We were attacked soon after we landed. But that rascality had nothing to do with our attempt to free Clayton. Their aim was to steal his sister—to be sold to some eastern potentate, probably.”

“Hmm. No other criminal incidents?”

“Yes, indeed!” declared Elspeth. “My friend Nicholas Drew had intended to help, but he was badly wounded in London.”

“Word of that reached me only two days since,” muttered her ladyship. “I understood it was the work of Mohocks. I'd been sure he would be the one to come and help your brother. I certainly didn't expect you, Miss Clayton—nor that you'd be in company with this rascal. I think there is a story there. You'd best paint me the complete picture. From the beginning.”

Between them, they related the violence that had marred their journey. Lady Bottesdale looked glum when Elspeth told her of Skye's part in all this, and she muttered “Joshua Swift! That is bad! Your naval friend baits a tiger, Miss Clayton, and it does not do to twist the tail of a tiger!”

She made no further comment until she had the full account, and then said thoughtfully, “I think you are mistaken, Valerian, in supposing those intruders at Le Havre were not connected with this mission of yours. There is too much here for it to be a coincidence. It is all part of a pattern, though there would seem to be oddly conflicting efforts.”

Valerian asked curiously, “How so, ma'am? Do you know of the Le Havre bullies?”

“I know the methods of the rogues who hold Vance Clayton prisoner. The men who give the orders are shrewd and those who carry out their orders are professionals and would never attempt so crude a ploy as you describe. I'm afraid that there are other fingers in this pie, which will complicate matters.”

“In which case,” he said, “we'd best proceed as quickly as may be. What can you tell us of this chateau we must storm, ma'am?”

“It lies half a league from here. You may have caught a glimpse of it atop its hill. It is a large and formidable place, and well guarded. The ancestral home of the Comtes d'Ebroin.

“The deuce!” exclaimed Valerian.

Elspeth asked anxiously, “You know the gentleman?”

“I know of him. He has—” he paused. “He has a reputation for being ambitious.”

“An understatement,” said her ladyship dryly. “The man is power-mad and hates La Pompadour with a passion. My original plan was to create a diversion which would give you a chance to get to Mr. Clayton. A fire is often effective, but without the men I'd counted on…”

Elspeth said, “We will need a different diversion, perhaps?”

Lady Bottesdale smiled slowly. “I think we may have one, my dear. Depending on the extent of your pride.”

“Oh, my,” said Elspeth hollowly.

Twenty minutes later Freda Beck adjusted the scarf tied about her mistress's head, then tightened her own brightly coloured sash. “Who'd ever have thought we'd dare do anything so wicked, miss,” she said. “Big skirts what shows our
ankles!
And sandals and
no stockings
at all! Dreadful!”

Despite the words, her eyes were sparkling and Elspeth was not deceived. Freda looked very pretty in the bright gypsy clothes Lady Elmira had provided, and she knew it. Surveying her image in the mirror that hung on the caravan wall, she shook her head, setting her golden earrings to swinging. She said with a giggle, “Whatever would Abraham Coachman say if he could see me now, I wonder?”

“I don't think he'd recognise either of us,” said Elspeth. “When we are safely home, Freda, we must never breathe a word of this! I only pray Lady Bottesdale's plan works.”

“A prayer I second,” said her ladyship, hurrying into the caravan. “How pretty you both look in your shocking disguises! Well, Lieutenant Skye, Valerian and his cousin are off to take up positions where they can watch the chateau and be ready to attack so soon as we've succeeded with our ‘diversion.'”

“Have they taken Pixie with them, ma'am?” asked Elspeth.

“No. The kitten is asleep in your coach, still. Now tell me, you play the spinet, I'm very sure, Miss Clayton. Any other musical talents?”

“I can manage the harp, a little. But poorly, I fear.”

“In that case take this tambourine. You can shake it to accompany me, and you may have to sing.”

“Oh dear,” said Elspeth ruefully. “I can carry a tune, but my voice is far from exceptional.”

“It probably won't matter a button. You have other attributes that are sure to please a group of bored males. What about you, Beck?”

“I can play the mandola, milady.”

“Good! I've a lute, which is similar. And whatever you do—don't call me ‘milady.' Once we leave here I become Madame Granada! One ‘milady' and we're undone!”

She searched through the shelves without success and at last found the instruments in a large trunk half-concealed by the bedding. “Excelsior!” she exclaimed, brandishing the tambourine merrily. She opened the door and shouted, “All right, Marcel? Ah, I see you've got Fandango poled up, poor old fellow. You get along to the gentlemen and good luck, my friend!” She climbed through the small front door to the seat and took up the reins. “Giddap, Fandango! Hoist your hooves, lad!”

The caravan rocked and started to jolt along the lane. Lady Elmira called, “Try not to be anxious, Miss Clayton. We'll have your brother in your arms quick as winking. We must make another change, however. Elspeth won't do—don't sound right for the part. You shall be ‘Tina.' Beck can remain as Freda, and I'm Madame Granada, don't forget.”

Steadying herself as she peered through the open door, Elspeth asked, “But what is our plan, La—Madame? What are we to do?”

“We're to do our best to draw as many of the guards outside as we can. The rest we leave to your friends—plus I've a fellow on watch who knows exactly where your brother is held and will join them the instant he spots Marcel. Once we have your brother clear, you'll make a dash for the coast and I shall disappear into the countryside, as I know very well how to do.” Watching Elspeth's troubled face, she slapped the reins on the horse's broad back and said kindly, “I fancy you think it not much of a plan, but sometimes, you know, 'tis the plans most loosely drawn that prove the most effective.”

Elspeth thought, ‘God grant this is one of them!'

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