The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy (6 page)

“Get away, damn you!” shouted the Dandy, the handkerchief held to his streaming eye.

“Control your temper,” snapped Skye. “There is a lady present.”

“Control your blasted mongrel,” snarled Valerian, taking an abortive swipe at the exuberant Busy.

“Do not hurt the poor puppy,” cried Elspeth in alarm.

“He's taken a liking to you, is all,” said the cleric soothingly.

“It ain't mutual,” snorted the much-tried Dandy.

“And it ain't true,” said Skye. “He merely wants you to give back his ball.”

“I
haven't got
his bl—his stupid ball,” declared Valerian.

“Yes you have,” argued Elspeth. “It's in your hat.”

Glowering at her, he wrenched off his tricorne. The muddy ball rolled down his forehead and fell from the end of his nose.

Momentarily speechless, he blinked down at Busy, who snatched up his prize and pranced off in triumph.

Skye's ready sense of humour could not be stifled and he gave a shout of laughter.

Viewing the unlovely trail the ball had left down the slim nose of this much-admired Dandy, and his almost pathetic bewilderment, Elspeth could not restrain herself and joined in.

Regaining his voice, Valerian howled, “You'll pay for this, Skye! Curse you, only look at my new tricorne! And my stockings! Thought it amusing to hurl that filthy ball in my eye, did you? Well, devil take it, you'll not be laughing when I've done with you!”

“Oh, for goodness sake stop fussing so,” said Elspeth, losing patience with him. “Lieutenant Skye didn't throw the ball. I did. I'm sorry if your eye smarts, but—”

“Smarts!” he cried indignantly, still mopping his handkerchief at the damaged article. “You'll be sorrier if I am blinded, madam, I promise you!”

“Come now, Gervaise,” put in the clergyman soothingly. “It don't look that bad to me. I'll take you to my rooms and—”

“Oh, no you don't,” exclaimed his ungrateful friend. “I'll not have your duchess maudling over me!” Starting away, still holding his eye, he turned back. “As for you, Skye. You've not heard the last of this!”

Watching the fiery individual and his friend march towards Tyburn Lane, Elspeth said uncertainly, “He would not really call you out over so trifling a thing, would he, Joel? Is he dangerous?”

“I've heard he's a fellow to be reckoned with. Of late his temper's a bit more hasty than usual, but I think his bark's worse than his bite.”

“Like Busy,” said Elspeth with a giggle. “Oh, Joel! Did ever you see a man so astonished as when that ball rolled down his nose?”

“Fairly conflummerated, wasn't he?” Laughing, Skye said, “I doubt Valerian is well acquainted with mud!”

“His clergyman friend is apparently acquainted with a duchess. Or is he wed to the lady? He seemed a likeable enough gentleman.”

“Oh, yes. I'm sorry I had no chance to present him to you. His name is FitzWilliam Boudreaux. He is related to Lord Boudreaux and he's Chaplain to the Duchess of Waterbury. Salt of the earth is old Fitz.”

“Perhaps he'll manage to calm his volcanic friend.” She asked with a smile, “Do you think I should have offered to replace his tricorne?”

“We certainly didn't improve it, did we?”

“Or his nose,” she said, hilarious. “Did you see that glob of mud that hung off the end?”

They were still chuckling over the incident when they returned to South Audley Street. Skye pleaded the call of duty and, refusing an offer of refreshment, allowed Busy to propel him homeward.

From the morning room windows Elspeth watched his erratic progress, smiling fondly as he turned to wave and was jerked away. Such a good man was Joel Skye. It was always a pleasure to be in his company, even if she had been unable to ask his help this time. She allowed the footman to take her cloak before she climbed the stairs to the withdrawing room. The walk in the fresh air and the episode with the muddy Dandy had lightened her spirits. There would surely be a message from Drew today, she thought. Thank heaven she still had his strength to lean on!

Her godmother was not in the big room but came hurrying in as Elspeth prepared to return to her own bedchamber. “There are roses in your cheeks, child,” she said fondly.

“And mud on my shoes,” said Elspeth ruefully. “We took Lady Skye's puppy for a walk in the park, and…” She paused, noting that Madame was wringing her hands, a sure sign of agitation. “Are you displeased, Godmama? The mud will come off, I'm sure.”

“I am displeased because I have news that must grieve you, dear child.” Madame took Elspeth's hand and led her to a sofa. “Sit here beside me for a moment.”

A dread premonition was chilling Elspeth. She said falteringly, “Is it—my brother? Have you had word of him?”

“No, no. Thank goodness this is not to do with Vance. 'Tis his good friend, dearest. Mr. Drew.”

Elspeth gave a gasp of fright.

Madame took her hand and held it. “He was set upon late last evening. His man brought a note round whilst you was out. I'm afraid he is quite badly hurt, poor fellow. These dreadful Mohocks, I suppose. Here is the note—'tis addressed to you, my love.”

Pale and trembling, Elspeth read the words inscribed in a neat hand that bore no resemblance to Nicky's untidy scrawl.

Ellie—

Baxter is writing this for me and will have told you of my misfortune. Pray do not worry about me. I'll recover, never fear, but the doctor insists I must keep to my bed for a week or two. Some maggot-witted idiots mistook me for a rich man, evidently.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I must disappoint you and won't be able to take you for the boat ride, as I'd promised. When you hear from the Boatman perhaps you should give Skye the opportunity of taking my place, after all. With the very deepest regret, I am,

Yours, as ever,

Nicholas

3

“I was indeed impressed by Mr. Drew,” declared Madame Colbert, eyeing herself critically in her dressing table mirror. “And that ringlet is too far forward, Hansen. Yes, I know you like it, but I do not. It looks like a sickly sausage hanging over my ear in that abandoned way! Pray retract it.”

Hansen, Madame's large, angular and opinionated abigail, pursed her lips and with a long-suffering glance at Elspeth attacked the offending ringlet.

“And certainly we can drive to King Street to visit the poor fellow,” Madame continued. “But not today, my love. His man told me the doctor said—No! Not
that
far back, Hansen! It is
with
me, not following along behind! Don't be so tiresome! The doctor said he was to have no visitors for the balance of the week, and 'twould be extreme thoughtless to weary him with company so soon after the attack. Is there anything more vexing, when one is ill, than to have a constant stream of visitors when all one longs to do is rest? Never look so tragic, dear child! Mr. Drew is tall and strong and will survive, I am assured. After all, he survived that dreadful sabre cut on his cheek, did he not? Which would have put a period to me, I am very sure. Now run along and write him a nice comforting note, and we'll send it round to his rooms directly. Very well, Hansen, that will do nicely.”

Elspeth did not “run along.” Her steps were slow and her heart heavy as lead as she went down to the escritoire in the morning room. How dreadful that poor dear Nicholas should have fallen victim to murderous thieves! There must have been several of the rogues, for Vance, who was a fine swordsman, had been envious of his friend's skill with the sword and had once remarked laughingly that he pitied any hopeful Mohock who was so unwise as to select Nick for a victim. “Better the fool should throw himself in the Thames, and have done with it,” he'd said.

Sitting at the little desk, Elspeth took up a pen. Typical of Geroux, the point was neatly trimmed, with ink ready in the Standish. Nicholas had written guardedly, but there could be no doubt of his meaning. Striving to be as cautious, she expressed her shock and sympathy and promised to come and see him as soon as his doctor permitted. As for the “boat trip,” she had not heard from the “Boatman” as yet, but would advise him of her decision when the time came. Meanwhile, he would be in her prayers, and he was to concentrate only upon getting better.

She used the wax jack to seal her note and went into the front hall just as Geroux emerged from the corridor that led to the tradesmen's entrance carrying a bandbox which had, he said, just arrived for her.

“Are you sure?” she asked, taking the box and inspecting it curiously. “I have ordered nothing from Modeste Muguet.”

He pointed out that the label bore her name and direction and said with a twinkle, “Might it perhaps be a gift from one of Mademoiselle's admirers?”

With belated perception and a nervous jump of the heart, Elspeth thought it might more possibly be the message she had so longed to receive. With a smile she requested that her note be delivered at once to Mr. Drew's flat in King Street, and she carried the gaily decorated bandbox upstairs.

Freda was gathering garments for the laundress but was at once agog to see what the bandbox contained. She was clearly disappointed when Elspeth told her to please take her cloak downstairs and attempt to remove the mud stains. “Aren't you going to open it, miss?” she asked.

“Yes.” Elspeth answered quietly, but with a lift of her brows and a steady look that sent the abigail in a flustered scamper for the door.

Left alone, Elspeth removed the lid with hands that trembled. Inside was a charming mother-of-pearl hair-band, and underneath a note written in a fine copperplate.

Dear Miss Clayton,

I trust I have followed our mutual friend's instructions in selecting this small gift for you. I expect you will be in touch with him. Would you be so good as to tell him I have contacted the owner of a vehicle such as he desires. He can investigate this at The High Tide, Fleetwell Village, near Worthing. He must not delay, as the owner of the vehicle will wait no longer than the 7th inst. Tell our friend that my clerical nephew's name will identify him.

I shall look forward to meeting you very soon, Miss Clayton.

Very truly yrs.

G.

Stunned, Elspeth whispered, “The seventh! Today is the fourth! Who is ‘G'? And what is his clerical nephew's name? Heaven aid me! Whatever am I to do?”

*   *   *

“Alas, mine is a very ordinary brain.” Adjusting the emerald pin that gleamed in his cravat, Sir Brian Beech looked from his hostess to the sofa, where his son chatted with Elspeth. “I think I am not too dense, however,” he went on, “to be aware that my pretty niece is nervous and upset. I wish I could make her see that, whatever the difficulty, Conrad and I are only too willing to help in any way we can.”

“It is more than good of you to be so concerned.” Madame Colbert re-filled his teacup and handed it to him. “But I promise you, if dear Elspeth were troubled I would be the first to know. She is happy living here with me and is already creating quite a stir among gentlemen of the
ton.
Only last evening Lord Bottesdale remarked on her beauty and opined that she will become a toast in no time at all. I quite agree, do not you, sir?”

“Oh, indeed, indeed.” Sir Brian dropped four lumps of sugar into his cup and stirred, his little finger extended daintily. “But just as we arrived, Elspeth was sending off your footman with a letter. I distinctly heard her tell him it was a matter of great urgency, and I could not fail to remark that she looked pale and anxious.”

“Ah, well, that will be in the matter of poor Mr. Nicholas Drew. Perhaps you are acquainted?”

“I do not recall the name. A relative of yours, ma'am?”

“No. A lifelong friend of the Claytons. His family estate marches with—or marched with—theirs. In Buckinghamshire, you know. So lovely a spot it was. The Claytons', I mean.” She proceeded to shock her guest with the news of the injury suffered by Mr. Drew and concluded by saying that she knew Elspeth had intended to send a note to her friend. “I'd thought she had already done so,” she said vaguely. “I shall have to ask her about it.”

By the time her guests were taking their leave, however, Madame had forgotten the note and it was Sir Brian who drew Elspeth aside in the entry hall and commiserated with her about Mr. Drew's injuries. “I have no acquaintance with the gentleman,” he said kindly. “But I've sensed that something was cutting up your peace.” Elspeth thanked him and wondered what he would think if he guessed just how worried she was, and why.

The footman experienced some difficulty in arranging Sir Brian's cloak about his shoulders, the gentleman demanding a precise set to the garment, which took some time to achieve. By the time he was satisfied the footman was flushed with mortification. On the threshold, Sir Brian turned back and again took his niece's hand. “Do not forget, dear child,” he murmured throbbingly, “that I am your mama's brother. I know we have been far away from you in the past, and that Vance is not here to come to your aid. But you are no longer without a male relation to turn to in any quandary. If you are troubled about something—
anything,
Conrad and I are here to support you however we may. I beg you, do not deny us the right to do so.”

Flustered, Elspeth thanked him again and promised that she would call upon him should the need arise.

He pressed her hand and gazed into her eyes so soulfully that she felt oddly embarrassed and was glad when he had gone with his mincing steps to join Conrad.

They did not set out extra covers for guests this evening; a very light supper was served and Madame Colbert chattered gaily about the play they were to attend and the delights her godchild was to experience. Elspeth responded appropriately, while her mind struggled to find an answer to her problems.