The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy (3 page)

“I went to our Embassy in Paris straightaway. I was listened to politely and assured that steps would be taken, but as you know, I'm not a stranger to diplomacy and I refused to be fobbed off. It was a struggle, but eventually I wrung the truth from them. It seems Whitehall is particularly anxious that Versailles not be upset at this particular time.”

She protested indignantly, “How should an injured British gentleman upset almighty Versailles?”

“Because your British gentleman is known to be a soldier of fortune, m'dear, and is in the pay of La Marquise de Pompadour, the King's favourite, who is also a much too busy political plotter. A tangled skein at best, which could lead to the kind of involvement Whitehall would move heaven and earth to avoid. I could see I would get nowhere at the embassy, so I came home and went to the Horse Guards and to some, er—individuals of influence whom I chance to know.”

Watching his stern face, Elspeth said, “Could they offer no hope at all?”

He met her eyes squarely. “I have been warned very plainly to stay clear of the business.”

“But you will not?” Clasping his hand again, she said in desperation, “Nicky! Vance is your best friend. Surely, you will not just stand by and do nothing to help him?”

“Of course not. I will do whatever I may. Firstly, I must hire men and a boat.”

Awed, she said breathlessly, “You mean to try a rescue yourself?”

“Since I cannot achieve it legally, I must strive to accomplish it illegally.”

Her eyes lit up. She exclaimed, “
Dear
Nicky! How splendid! What can I do to help?”

He asked with a smile, “Have you the acquaintance of any gentlemen of power and influence?”

Casting about in her mind for such rare commodities, she said worriedly, “Godmama may, but … Wait! Yes, I do! In fact, I was to ride with him in the park this afternoon!” She peered out of the window. “I had intended to send a note to postpone our ride, but I do think the wind is dying down, so I shall be able to go.” She turned a radiant face. “He will help us, I know it!”

Amused as always by her swift changes of mood, Drew asked, “Does this reliable paragon chance to be known to me?”

“Oh, I am sure he must be. His uncle is a power in the East India Company. I've known Joel since we were in the nursery.”

Drew's smile faded. “You never mean Skye? Lord Hayes's nephew?”

“Yes. Lieutenant Joel Skye. He would do anything I asked! Now why must you look so glum? Do you think Joel is too young to help? He has a quick mind and is as brave as he can stare, and—”

“And has always adored you. I know that, certainly. But Lord Hayes is no longer a power in the East India Company. His health has reduced him to an invalid and forced him to retire.”

Elspeth's brow wrinkled. “I did not know,” she said uneasily. “I am indeed sorry to hear it. Lord Hayes is such a nice gentleman.”

“A nicer gentleman than Joel was granted in his sire,” said Drew with uncharacteristic acerbity.

“Good gracious! Does their feud continue after all these years?”

“Colonel Sir Walter Skye is as crusty as ever. I think he will never forgive his brother-in-law for influencing Joel to choose the Navy rather than the Army as he had wished.”

“Joel had every right to make his choice, and I am proud of him for sticking to his guns.” She added thoughtfully, “I wonder what will become of him now. I mean, whether he will continue to be attached to the East India Company?”

“He'll likely be able to tell you during your ride this afternoon. Jupiter! We've reached Drury Lane already! I'd thought to take you into the Bedford for a cup of chocolate or tea, but perhaps you will want to get ready for your ride.”

Elspeth agreed that she had better go home, and Drew called to the coachman to return by way of Piccadilly and the side streets. Closing the window once more, he stressed the need for caution. “If Skye can be of help, you shall have to warn him that we don't want the Horse Guards getting wind of our plans. If they do, we will surely be shut down or clapped up, to say the least of it!”

*   *   *

At the same moment that Nicholas Drew's coach made the turn onto Piccadilly, Lieutenant Joel Skye stood in his father's study enduring an impassioned assessment of the “opportunities” he had allowed to slip past him. Dark haired, of average height and slim build, Skye fell short of being named handsome, his best features being a pair of brilliant dark eyes and the thin nervous hands that were at present tightly gripped behind him. He bore little resemblance to his sire, and Colonel Sir Walter Skye's large frame appeared even more massive as it towered over him; that very lack of resemblance serving as a constant reminder to the Colonel that his firstborn son had the poor taste to take after his wife's side of the family and the brother-in-law he had always detested.

Brandishing a letter in the air, Sir Walter roared angrily that he hoped “the Lieutenant's” feet had been restored to the ground at last. “I warned you that the Navy would take you nowhere,” he reminded. “Had you listened to your father you might have had a promising career in the Army. But the saints forbid you should pay heed to me! I am only a colonel! You preferred to soak up the nonsense your almighty lordship of an uncle whispered in your ear! A great man at the East India Company! A director, no less! With everyone fawning and grovelling before him, and you toad-eating him so that he got you appointed his aide, and promised you Lord knows what in the—”

“That is not so, Father!” interrupted Joel, his pale face lit by a flush of resentment. “Uncle Clifford valued—”

“Do not
dare
interrupt me, you disrespectful serpent's tooth!” thundered the Colonel. “Do you fancy me to have been blind all these years? He liked you best because you favoured him—God help you!—and were scrawny-built like him! While your brother, who is worth ten of you and chances to resemble his father, was passed over and ignored!”

“I believe Henry has no leaning towards a military career, sir.”

The Colonel was deeply fond of his younger son, who had inherited his sire's large frame and heavy features, and while having scant affection for Sir Walter, catered to his every whim. “Henry is only two and twenty,” growled the Colonel defensively, “and has plenty of time to decide on a career. Whereas you are—what? Eight and twenty?”

Joel said coolly, “I am twenty-six, sir.”

“Humph! Then belike there's still time for you to mend your ways! Aye, you may stare, but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.” The Colonel's lip curled contemptuously as he glanced down at the letter he still held. “This vital communique is from your beloved uncle, advising me that poor health has forced him into retirement, but that he will—‘bend every effort' is the expression he uses—to see that you are given an appointment worthy of your abilities.” Cutting off his son's attempt to comment, he barked, “In other words, Lieutenant, sir, your so admired uncle has been cut down in his prime and you—an inept planner at best—are to be thrown to the wolves! Oh, never argue about it! You've lost your guide and protector and are on your own. And if my judgment of you is correct you will go precisely nowhere! If—
if,
I say, you remain in the Navy!”

Astonished, Joel stared at him. “You want me to—to resign my commission, sir?”

“Never wanted you to take it on in the first place! I have some influence in Whitehall and have you the sense to enter a career worthy of a
man
I may be able to pull a string here and there. You damned well don't deserve I should, but sooner than see you sink into naval obscurity…” The Colonel tossed his brother-in-law's letter onto the desk and waited, glowering, for his son's appreciation of this magnificent opportunity.

A moment later, his roar of wrath rattled the windows.

*   *   *

“I am only delighted that you agreed to come!” Joel Skye's dark eyes turned to the lady who rode beside him through this chilly afternoon. The cold air had put roses into Elspeth's cheeks, and the claret-coloured habit and wide-brimmed hat with its curling feather became her admirably, so that he thought her lovelier than ever.

They were approaching Hyde Park Corner. The sun had ventured out timidly, a pale sun offering little warmth save to the heart.

“To say truth, Joel,” Elspeth admitted with a smile, “I almost sent our page with a note asking to postpone our ride, but then the wind died down, and—well, there is something I would like to discuss with you, if I may.”

“Of course. But if it is too cold for you, I can call up my mother's coach. She is perfectly willing for me to use it, you know.”

“I am sure she would offer, she is such a sweet person. How does she go on? I fancy she must be distressed by her brother's illness.”

“It is indeed a great worry. They've always been very attached, as you know. The doctors had warned him that if he would just live at a slower pace—” Skye hesitated, then went on, “The problem is that he has little respect for their advice. He is so highly strung and energetic, or he was.”

Elspeth watched him and thought that he and his uncle were much alike. They both were clever, ambitious men who drove themselves mercilessly and never knew when to rest. ‘If he doesn't wed a lady who will take very good care of him, he'll work himself to a shade, as his poor uncle has done,' she thought regretfully. The faint look of strain in his eyes had not escaped her, and because she was deeply fond of him, she said carefully, “I know Lord Hayes had great plans for you. Will you be able to stay on as an aide to his successor in the East India Company?”

Briefly, Skye seemed not to hear the question, a rare frown lingering. Then he answered rather too hurriedly that he expected to be reassigned shortly, and before she could comment, he said, “Now never mind about me, Miss Clayton, ma'am. What is this matter you wish to discuss?”

He hid his feelings well, but having known him since childhood, Elspeth suspected that something was really disturbing him. He had skirted her enquiry about his mother, whom he loved dearly, and it was quite probable that his father had frightened that frail lady again. Deciding to probe a little before she broached the subject of her own troubles, she asked that they adjourn to a nearby bench where they could talk more comfortably.

Skye lifted her from the saddle and tethered the horses to a shrub, then came to sit beside her. “Very well,” he said smilingly. “Now tell me what is worrying you, Ellie?”

“Oh, it is Vance, of course,” she answered. “Our relations are the source of most of our anxieties, are they not?” A sidelong glance showed her that his eyes had become blank. She thought, ‘Aha!' and said, “Your mama, for instance?” He looked at her quickly, and she shook her head and added a reproachful “Did you think I would not guess? Is your papa angry with her again?”

He patted her hand. “You know us too well, m'dear. But no. Actually I am the source of my sire's displeasure.”

“Because of Lord Hayes's early retirement, I suppose. Will that jeopardise your chances? I cannot see why it should. You were born to be an admiral.”

He laughed. “Bless you for that vote of confidence. I only wish Sir Walter shared it. He does not, of course, and in fact … He wants me to resign my commission.”

“Resign your commission? Good gracious! And become an army officer, no doubt?” He nodded and she said in dismay, “But—Joel, surely that's not what you wish?”

“You may believe I do not, and so I told him.” He gave a rueful grimace.

“Oh, my! He was put out?”

“Vastly. And loudly. He warned me that unless I distinguish myself with my next assignment he will disinherit me. Not that I would be excessively grieved, you know, but it frightened poor Mama.”

“She heard?”

“The whole street heard, I'd guess. I tried to calm her, but she begged me not to do anything to further antagonize him.” He shrugged. “I've no need to tell you how his rages terrify her. So you can apprehend that I must tread carefully! And only see how you have diverted me! Now, madam, no more backing and filling, tell me what it is that bothers you.”

Elspeth was silent for a moment. She well knew Sir Walter Skye and his ungovernable temper. It never ceased to amaze her that, failing to value Joel's energy and hardworking determination, the Colonel had always favoured his younger son, who was weak and lazy with neither the wit nor the will to succeed in any field of endeavour. Henry was clever with words, however. He was always ready with some piece of flattery to beguile his father and took care never to upset him. It was amazing, really, that a gentleman with Colonel Skye's experience in handling his junior officers would not see through Henry's toad-eating insincerities and realize the young rascal was a complete care-for-nobody.

As for her hope to enlist Joel's aid, unhappily that was now out of the question. It was very possible that being, as he was, the most loyal of friends, he would defy his father's ultimatum and risk an attempt to help Vance. His help could be of enormous value. But it could also lead to his disgrace and the ruination of his career, for it would be typical of Sir Walter to make good his threat and consider himself well justified. Lady Winifred, on the other hand, would be heartbroken, which would grieve Joel deeply. It was no use; she simply could not ask him to take such a chance.

Therefore, she said slowly, “The thing is that I worry about Vance. He has been sending most of his pay home, which is very good of him. But his way of life is too chancy, and—”

She broke off as a loud dispute broke out nearby. A very angry gentleman on the far side of a tall clump of rhododendron bushes was saying in exasperated accents, “No, I tell you! How many times must I say it?”