The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy

by Patricia Veryan

The tray contained a pot of tea, a covered milk jug, a sugar bowl, two mugs and some biscuits. Elspeth enjoyed the small supper but Beck was looking a little pale, and, after taking only half a mug of tea she retreated to her bunk and turned her face to the wall. Curling up under the blankets, Elspeth composed herself to rest, although she had little hope of sleeping through such a tumultuous uproar. Towards dawn, however, the violence of the storm abated somewhat and she was surprised to awaken to daylight and the realization that she had slept for several hours. Beck was at the door accepting a ewer of hot water. The chill breath of the wind swept into the cabin, rattling the garments on their hangers and carrying the clean and invigorating smell of the sea.

  In response to Elspeth’s call the cabin boy who’d brought the hot water stepped inside. She had fastened her dressing gown, but he averted his eyes as he shyly relayed the information that they’d come within sight of land at first light but the seas were running too high for the “Cap’n” to dare put in to the estuary.

  Elspeth said anxiously, “But the wind has dropped, surely?”

  “Aye, ma’am. Not enough, though, and the Sea Lassie be heavy loaded and too low in the water to risk it. P’raps by noon, ma’am.” He threw a quick glance at her. He judged her an uncommon beautiful lady and, noting her troubled expression, said bracingly, “There’ll be a breakfast served in what the Cap’n calls the Coffee Cabin at half-past eight o’clock, though not many passengers be in any state to want it. You’re a good sailor, Miss Cotton, and Miss Beck, too. Take heart! You’ll be in France s’afternoon, never worrit.”

  Elspeth was worried indeed, but she thanked him and told him to wait while Beck found her reticule. Handing him a shilling, she smiled at his round-eyed delight and asked if Mrs. Nu—Newell had passed a restful night.

  The boy grinned broadly and said that from what he’d heard it had been anything but restful. “Turble fuss there was, miss. My mate said as he’d a thunk there were a right war goin’ on in there. Shoutin’ an’ yellin’ and sounded like the lady were throwin’ things. Cap’n were minded to go and bang on the door hisself but he were too busy an’ then they quieted down.” He shook his head and closed the door behind him, saying an amused, “The Quality, eh, miss?”

  “Good gracious!” Exchanging a startled glance with Beck, Elspeth declared, “I must go down there at once! Poor Mrs. Newell! She must still be worried lest she be arrested!”

  Beck poured water into the washbowl and said she doubted the lady had anything to fear now that she was safely out of England. “She can’t be took in charge in France, can she?”

  “Not by French law officers—or their military. But I believe British authorities can arrest British subjects even in another country if there is sufficient cause, and I fancy Mrs. Newell’s relations are powerful.”

  Elspeth washed and dressed hurriedly and dragged a comb through her tumbled curls. Beck, however, was so upset by this scrambling procedure that Elspeth submitted to being sat down before the mirror while her hair was “dressed as become a lady of Quality.”

  When she stepped outside, her warm cloak was whipped by the wind that still blew strongly. The dark waves were crowned with foam and the decks of the Sea Lassie tilted as she slipped into a trough. Elspeth clutched her hood with one hand and held tightly to the rail with the other. Low-hanging grey clouds scudded across the sky and the misted air reduced visibility, so that although she strained her eyes, she could see no trace of the French coastline. For the moment, at least, the rain had ceased nor was the air as bitterly cold as it had been last evening. A few passengers were huddled on the deck looking miserably ill, and several crewmen were busied with the sails and coils of rope.

  Reaching Valerian’s cabin door, Elspeth knocked without result. Suddenly she could see again the mischievous grin she’d glimpsed on the Reverend Mr. Boudreaux’s face shortly before they’d sailed. At that moment Valerian had been taunting Beck with the warning that they were unlikely to enjoy a smooth crossing. She’d been annoyed by his insensitivity and had commented tartly that they were fortunate to have “such an experienced sailor as Mr. Valerian” to guide them. Mrs. Newell’s lips had twitched and the clergyman had definitely looked amused. Very likely the truth was that the Deplorable Dandy was a poor sailor and now lay prostrate in his bunk quite unable to care for his invalid aunt. Irked, she pounded at the door in a sustained and determined assault until it was wrenched open.

  “What in Hades—” snarled Valerian, then paused. “Oh. It’s you. Well, ma’am? If you must pound on my door at this ungodly hour you should not expect perfection!”

  “Per-perfection?” gasped Elspeth. “My goodness, sir! Whatever happened to you? Let me in at once!”

  “No! I mean—you can’t come in. Just at present.”

  “But your poor face is bruised and your mouth cut and you look positively—”

  “A moment, if you will please to stand clear.”

  The door was slammed in her face. Elspeth had to jump back to avoid being struck on the nose. Outraged by such rudeness, she raised her fist to knock again, but the door swung open so suddenly that she barely missed adding another bruise to his face. She caught a brief glimpse of Mrs. Newell bending over a bunk, then Valerian had whipped himself outside and pulled the door shut. His cloak swirled about him. He proffered his arm and, ignoring her indignant protests, said blandly, “If you will refrain from striking me, I shall escort you to what is referred to as the Coffee Cabin, ma’am, since I suspect ’tis where you were bound.”

  “Well it is not,” she argued. “And I had no intention to strike you. I simply wanted to—”

  “Don’t dawdle about.” Starting off purposefully, he tugged at her arm. “I cannot—” The words ended in a strangled squawk. He paled and halted abruptly.

  “Cannot—what?” she asked, scanning him anxiously.

  “Breathe,” he gasped, grabbing at his throat. “Gad! I—I never thought … that little … bastard had…”

  Elspeth said icily, “Your language is insupportable, sir. And your cloak is caught in the door, merely.”

  “Oh.” Flushed with chagrin, he stepped back and reached for the door.

  Elspeth darted forward. “Allow me,” she said, and snatched for the latch.

  Fingers of steel fastened on her wrist. “Not unless you’re so smitten with my cousin that you yearn to see him in his undergarments,” he leered, and blocked her view as he opened the door just sufficiently to free his cloak, then slammed it again.

  “If ever I heard such a whisker!” she exclaimed. “It looked to me as if your poor aunt was tending to Herbert, and what’s more—”

  “What naughty terms you do use, Nurse Cotton! Your brother’s influence, I’ve no doubt.”

  Anxiety came into her face at this mention of Vance, seeing which Valerian added quickly, “And if you paid more attention to what should concern you and less to what don’t, you’d be aware that the wind is chill, this wretched ship is leaping about like a demented gazelle again and you stand here arguing nonsense though you’re likely as hungry as am I. Kindly exercise your feet, madam, and give your tongue a rest.”

  His hand was resistless. Borne along willy-nilly, she said pantingly, “You seek to turn my thoughts with your filthy language and your—your vulgar insinuations! But I am more than seven, Mr. Valerian! The sailors heard sounds of violence coming from your cabin last night, and you have clearly been indulging in fisticuffs or some such male savagery. If poor Herbert is hurt—”

  “Well, he ain’t, ma’am.” He wrenched open the door to the Coffee Cabin and murmured ominously as he bowed her inside, “He provoked me once too often is all!”

  The Coffee Cabin was rather dim and not very large, but there were two long tables and several benches. At one end of the room a counter held a rack containing mugs, tankards and plates, which were protected from falling by means of a guardrail. The only occupant was a morose-looking man who sat holding a steaming mug and surveying them glumly. H
e said “G’day” in a failing voice.

  Valerian replied, “Good day to you, sir,” and led Elspeth to the end of the other table. “Sit down and try to control your spleen,” he said softly, smiling at her in a besotted, if lopsided way.

  “I will not sit down,” she said angrily, “until you tell me what you have done to poor Herbert!”

  The morose-looking man turned his head and peered at them.

  “I murdered him, of course,” hissed Valerian, narrowing his eyes in a sinister fashion. “And long overdue.”

  It was nonsense, of course. But Herbert had certainly been stretched out on a bunk, and aware of the Dandy’s ungovernable rages, Elspeth stared at him.

  He said reproachfully, “Now only see what you’ve done! Creating an uproar in front of all these people!”

  “There is only one—”

  “That’s not true, because here comes a trusty tar to discover our wishes.” He bent lower and warned, “If you do not want to be thrown bodily onto this bench, madam, lower—your—derriere!”

  “Oh!” gasped Elspeth. “You—are insuppor—” But meeting his eyes, she sat down rather hurriedly.

  “Mornin,’ sir and ma’am.” A huskily built seaman with very bushy eyebrows and whiskers touched his forelock respectfully as he approached. His welcoming grin revealed the loss of three front teeth, then disappeared as he exclaimed with a slight lisp, “Crumbs! Come a cropper, did ye, milor’? Seas was roughish last night. Ye ain’t the only one with bruises t’show fer it, milor’. Cap’n can’t rightly be blamed, though there’s them as is blaming him.”

  “Your Sea Lassie took me off-balance and tossed me ’gainst the wash-stand,” said Valerian, bestowing a friendly grin on the sailor. “But unless your Captain goes by the name of Neptune, I won’t hold him accountable.”

  “Thankee, I’m sure, sir.” The sailor beamed, obviously relieved. “And never worrit ’bout his name what is not Neptoon or naught foreign-like, but plain and simple English. Ramsbottom, ’e do be. Cap’n Rinalldo Ramsbottom.”

  “Poor fellow,” murmured Valerian, preserving his countenance with an effort.

  “Ar,” said the sailor, fixing him with a hard stare. “I’ll own as ‘Rinalldo’ be a bit unordin’ry, but he’s a man as knows his trade, which a cap’n needs in these waters if he’s to manage without the help of a river pilot, and in behoof o’ Cap’n Ramsbottom I says again—thankee.”

  “And nicely said,” remarked Valerian, avoiding Elspeth’s eyes. “Now what can you offer us this morning?”

  “A fine spread, sir, weather considered. We’ve fresh-cooked porridge, or a kipper, or eggs boiled or fried, cold roast beef, and crusty French bread and butter. Ale or coffee to wash it down. What’s it t’be, milor’?”

  Valerian ordered soft-boiled eggs, roast beef slices and the French bread and butter, with ale for himself and coffee “for the lady.”

  Turning to Elspeth as the big man went off, Valerian said an amused, “Note that rolling gait, Nurse Cotton. ’Tis the mark of all true sons of the sea. Help! Why that terrifying glare?”

  “Now that you’ve finished making mock of the poor soul I—”

  “Who made mock?” He argued defensively, “Did I not tell him ’twas nicely said?”

  “Yes. And sniggered at him up your sleeve.”

  “I never snigger. I may have stretched a point, but not far if you stop to think that he was probably born in some malodorous alley but has fought his way into a respectable employment and an impressive vocabulary. D’ye realize, Miss Cotton, how few of our gallant sailor-men would know what ‘behoof’ means, much less—”

  “Oh, how you jabber, sir, and to no purpose for I will not be turned aside! I am waiting to hear what you’ve done to poor Herbert! And pray do not squander that wistful smile on me! I’ve noted how you use it to get what you want from gullible folk!”

  “No, is it still endearing?” He touched his mouth tentatively. “I feared it might be less effective with a cut lip.”

  His grey eyes twinkled at her in a way that was very effective indeed, but Elspeth clung to common sense and hissed, “Either answer me at once, Mr. Valerian, or I will ask that honest sailor-man to escort me to your cabin and see for myself whether poor Herbert has been manhandled!”

  “What it is, you want for gratitude, Nurse Cotton. I’ve noted it before.” He sighed. “And after I’ve generously ordered a sustaining meal for you!”

  “Without having had the simple courtesy to first ask what I would like,” she snapped, momentarily forgetting “poor Herbert.”

  “Gad, what a turnip-brain!” He clutched his brow. “Our valiant Cap’n Rinalldo will order me keel-hauled for such stupidity! I should have guessed that like all ladies with an eye to keeping their lovely shapeliness, you would prefer no more than tea and a crust of bread!” He pushed back his bench. “Hey! Christopher Columbus!”

  “What are you doing?” demanded Elspeth in alarm.

  “Why, changing our order, of course. Bad enough that you and I should be seen eating breakfast together, ma’am, let alone that I must undermine your dietary reso—”

  “Have done!” she cried, so imperiously that the morose passenger who was half asleep started up and almost dropped his mug. Flushing hotly and lowering her voice, Elspeth pointed out, “The sailor is coming back. I shall ask him to escort—”

  “Poor Herbert is merely a victim of mal-de-mer,” said Valerian quickly, then asked the Honest Sailorman to see that trays be conveyed to Mrs. Newell and his cousin and to his aunt’s maid, who was sharing Nurse Cotton’s cabin.

  The sailor nodded and went away again.

  Elspeth eyed Valerian with suspicion. “I do not see how a simple fall would have bruised your face on one side and cut your lip on the other. I think it more likely that you lost your temper with poor Herbert and did away with him, just as you claimed to have done.”

  “’Twas a foolish whim to have said such a thing,” he admitted. “But you look charmingly when your eyes get so round and I couldn’t resist temptation. Besides, I really was ah, taken off-balance, just as I said. There, now, I have done as you asked and here comes our breakfast. I apologize for my presumption in having ordered such a gargantuan meal for you. Do not feel obliged to eat it all, for I quite understand that you are wise to guard against putting on more flesh and—Now what have I said? Mercy, but you’re hot at hand, Nurse Cotton! Pray be so good as to control your emotions. I believe you have already quite overset our fellow diner.”

  Elspeth ignored him and smiled upon the Honest Sailorman, who managed to serve them without spilling too much of Valerian’s ale. Conversation lagged during the meal. Elspeth was hungrier than she had realised; perhaps the sea air had whetted her appetite, but whatever the cause she found the food delicious and her resolve to eat sparingly was forgotten. Noting belatedly the emptiness of her plate, she threw a guilty glance at the Dandy. He was leaning back against the bench, holding his tankard in one hand and watching her with his sly grin. She felt her face get hot and lowered her eyes.

  He asked innocently, “Did you enjoy your breakfast, Nurse Cotton?”

  It would be foolish to deny that she had enjoyed it. Flustered, she said, “Yes, I thank you, though—What happened to your hand?”

  He shifted the tankard to his left hand at once but she had seen the skinned knuckles, and, triumphant, she said, “You were in a turn-up!”

  His brows lifted ironically.

  “As my brother would say,” she added hurriedly. “And—”

  “And now”—he rose and pulled back her bench—“now you shall come and visit Poor Herbert and see that there is not a mark on him.”

  The waves looked even darker and more mountainous as they made their way back to the cabin, their progress slowed by the wind and the gyrations of the vessel. Holding Elspeth’s arm securely, Valerian shouted something in her ear.

  She asked, “No—what?”

  “No seagulls. They go inland during a storm,
you know.”

  “I wish we could do the same. I worry so about Vance. Every hour that passes…”

  He tightened his hold on her arm and said comfortingly, “I looked over the papers Fitz gave me. His uncle has managed to arrange help for us. And so soon as we have my aunt safely disposed I shall keep my part of our bargain, unless…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, and peering up at him, Elspeth thought he looked unusually stern. She felt a pang of apprehension but found herself reluctant to ask what disturbed him.

  He pounded on the cabin door before entering. “So as not to catch my aunt en deshabille,” he said.

  Herbert let them in. Mrs. Newell, fully dressed, was sitting in the lower bunk, reading a newspaper. Elspeth’s concern for Herbert appeared to have been well founded, though in not quite the way she’d supposed. As Valerian had claimed, the young man showed no sign of a violent encounter, but his face had a greenish tinge, and after a mumbled attempt at civility, he retired to another bunk, apologizing faintly as he lay down.

  Valerian said with his twisted grin, “There, you see what ails him, m’dear.”

  “What did you call me?” she demanded suspiciously.

  “Gervaise—really,” scolded Mrs. Newell.

  “A slip of the tongue merely,” he declared, and as a faint moan was heard he warned, “Unless you’re ready to hold the basin, Nurse Cotton, I would earnestly recommend that you leave us. At once.”

  Elspeth hesitated. “Ma’am, I am here to care for you. Is there nothing I may do to make you more comfortable?”

  “I am comfortable, dear child,” said Mrs. Newell. “Comparatively. And my nephew is quite right, you know. If I were you—”

  Herbert moaned loudly.

  Valerian took Elspeth’s elbow. “Abandon your noble heroics, Miss Cotton,” he advised, urging her towards the door.

  Even as she ceased to resist there came another sound as of someone knocking, only it seemed to her that the sound did not emanate from the outer door. She paused, glancing curiously at the single wardrobe cupboard against the wall. “What on earth…?” she muttered.