The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy

by Patricia Veryan

  For a while there was silence in the coach. As it rumbled along through the early evening, Freda watched Valerian and wondered if her mistress would detect the obvious flaws in his explanation.

  Elspeth turned her head and caught Valerian looking swiftly away. She caught his arm and pleaded earnestly, “Gervaise—you’re not deceiving me? If Vance is really in very bad case you would tell me?”

  He patted the small hand on his arm and said with a smile of rare sweetness, “I would—or at least, I think I would. But he is not. I’ll own he’s thin and has had a nasty time of it. I was uneasy at your seeing him while he looked bearded and unkempt—which Herbert will remedy, I trust. But I suspect your brother has many healthy years ahead of him.”

  “Faith, but I am not so missish as you paint me,” she argued. “I’ve managed to survive seeing Vance often when he was ill or had taken some hurt! And what you say makes little sense. I suppose you sent Joel Skye with them to be her coachman, but Madame’s caravan is small and cumbersome, and her horse far from swift. Surely they will be easily recognised and those evil men will soon overtake them?”

  “Not so, m’dear. The caravan will be left at an isolated cottage in the woods, where Lady Elmira’s coachman, a fine team and her own horses wait. Lieutenant Skye will then ride ahead to join us, but my cousin will stay with Lady Elmira. If the rogues who kidnapped your brother should come up with them, they’ll encounter a luxurious coach carrying two elderly ladies of quality, a courier, and a little black cat. They’ll never have the wits to connect them with a fortune-telling gypsy and their injured prisoner.”

  “Ah,” said Elspeth, clapping her hands. “How splendid! And Lady Elmira and Vance will come to us at Le cheval de Trois?”

  “Just so. I wish I could say we’ll overnight there, but I think we must put as much distance as possible between us and that murderous crew from the unpleasant chateau. The men we fought on the rear staircase will likely soon be in pursuit and I don’t know for how long Madame’s drugged wine retains its potency. I know you must be very tired, but—”

  “No such thing! I can only rejoice we’re safe away! Freda and I will be able to rest well enough in the coach, I promise you.”

  “Bravo! Now, I intend to ride on the box for the rest of the way and give you ladies a chance to exchange those—er, colourful—garments for your own.” He added with a grin: “But you may be advised to keep the curtains closed in case Herbert’s mysterious blue coach comes up with us!”

  Elspeth promised to do so, and he called to Marcel to pull up, then climbed from the coach.

  It was not easy for Elspeth and Freda to change their garments in the swaying vehicle, but at last it was done and their gypsy garb tied into a bundle.

  Settling back against the squabs, Elspeth gave a sigh of relief. “Thank heaven! I feel almost respectable again! Freda, we’ve triumphed! Sir Simon is on his way to rejoin his wife in Italy, and my dear brother will soon be safely back in England! Is it not marvellous?”

  “Mr. Valerian is a marvellous gentleman,” said Freda. “Are you still vexed because he didn’t let you see Mr. Vance?”

  Elspeth said slowly, “I suppose he had his reasons, though they seemed to me rather muddled.”

  With a mischievous twinkle Freda murmured, “Not so much muddled as self-serving, if I may venture a guess, miss.”

  Indignant, Elspeth demanded, “What on earth can you mean? He risked his life so as to—”

  “Pray don’t take umbrage, Miss Elspeth! I only meant—well, I think Mr. Valerian wanted to make sure you was safe in—in his own care.”

  Indignation fled. Glad of the deepening shadows that hid cheeks she was sure were very pink, Elspeth said a considerably deflated “Oh.”

  A short way from Le cheval de Trois Valerian ordered Marcel to stop the coach and pull up behind a clump of trees at the side of the road. He swung down from the box and proceeded on foot, keeping to the trees and shrubs and pausing now and then to watch and listen for any signs of an ambush. Not until he had reached the inn and found everything quiet did he wave to Marcel, whereupon the coachman guided his team back onto the road and continued to the inn.

  Once inside it seemed to Elspeth as if they had scarcely left. The inn was as shabby, the proprietor as mournful as ever. Yet during their short absence so much had changed. Their ordeal was over. Vance was rescued, and in only a few minutes she would see him! Meanwhile, Valerian had arranged for rooms and ordered an ample meal to be served in half an hour, these orders causing the gloom on the host’s face to lighten somewhat.

  The room a shy maid led the ladies to was so devoid of any semblance of decoration as to be positively stark, but Freda’s suspicious investigation concluded with the verdict that it was quite clean, although she would not trust the sheets to be free from damp. Since they were not to sleep in the bed, Elspeth was satisfied. It was a delight to wash in the hot water that was carried to them, and when Freda had brushed out and arranged her hair in the ringlets she was magically able to coax into a charming style, Elspeth praised her skill and declared that although her gown was creased, she felt sure her brother would not view her with dismay. Pleased, Freda urged her to rest, but Elspeth was too excited by the prospect of Vance’s imminent arrival, and she left the maid busily restoring her own appearance and made her way down the narrow stairs.

  There was quite a flurry of activity in the lower hallway; two more coaches had arrived and the occupants, three clerical gentlemen and their servants, were arguing with the flustered host as to accommodations for the night. They made no attempt to step aside so that Elspeth could pass and she was hesitating when a crisp voice snapped, “Your pardon, gentlemen,” and Valerian came to offer his arm. Amid profuse apologies the clergymen drew back. With no more than a curt nod by way of thanks, Valerian led her to the small parlour and seated her beside the fire. Instead of sitting beside her, he took the chair across the hearth and frowned at her.

  Too happy to be anything but amused, she asked, “Now what crime have I committed to warrant so forbidding a scowl?”

  He said bluntly, “Could not your maid have pressed your gown?”

  She blinked, taken aback. “Had there been time. But I was under the impression you wanted to go on as soon as my brother arrives. Oh—I see! Do you think t’was because of my creased gown that the clergymen would not allow me to pass?”

  “Indirectly. Because you wear that hideous and rumpled nurse’s dress they took you for a servant, whereas any fool with eyes in his head can see you are a lady. I yearned to knock their stupid noses together!”

  Shocked but perversely pleased, she exclaimed, “Valerian! Pray keep your voice down. They are priests!”

  “They are clods! One might think a man of God would respect a woman were she a scullery maid or a duchess! Pah! Enough of them! Now tell me truly, Elspeth, your lovely eyes are bright as stars, but you’ve suffered a frightening ordeal. Are you as fully restored as you seem? Or are you very tired?”

  Suddenly and unaccustomedly shy, she said, “Thank you. I’ll own ’twas an experience I’d not want to go through ever again, but—oh, Valerian! I am so eager to meet my brother! I expect I shall find myself tired later, but at the moment I can only feel joy and gratitude. In especial, gratitude to you for—”

  He stood and interrupted loudly, “I think I hear their coach. Come, ma’am.”

  Surprised, Elspeth looked around and saw that the new arrivals were entering the parlour, all smiles.

  The most impressive among them, a tall man, distinguished in his black garb, and wearing a fashionable wig that spoke of an affluent congregation, bowed and said, “I ask your pardon, monsieur. We do not mean to intrude. Pray be seated, and we will withdraw.”

  Offering his own brief bow, Valerian replied, “You do not intrude, Father. We are meeting friends. The parlour is yours.” He held out his hand to Elspeth and she rose and accompanied him.

  In the hallway again, she asked eagerly, “Did you really
hear a coach?”

  He nodded and said low-voiced, “Into the dining room with you. If it is Clayton, hopefully he’ll have become Mrs. Newell, don’t forget, so you’ll have to contain your sisterly exuberance.”

  A moment later familiar voices could be heard. The front door was held open by Joel Skye while Herbert manipulated the Bath chair and the “invalid” up the step.

  Peeping into the hall, Elspeth could see no sign of the clerical group, and she was emboldened to leave the dining room. Drawing closer, she could scarcely believe that the elderly occupant of the chair was indeed her beloved brother. Truly, Herbert had worked miracles in transforming him into Mrs. Newell. Her eyes dimmed with tears as she saw that he looked so thin and ill that he made an even more believable invalid than had Sir Simon. Her every instinct was to run to him. She started forward involuntarily, only to be restrained by Valerian’s iron hand and his whispered “Easy—lest you wreck everything!”

  Herbert wheeled the chair across the hall and Vance’s eyes lit up as he saw his sister. With a half-gasped “Ellie!” he held out his arms and in another second Elspeth was in his embrace and whispering, “My dearest! Thank God! Oh, thank God!” She heard his husky “And bless you … best of sisters!”

  Valerian said coolly, “What a touching reunion! You will be glad to have your nurse restored to you, ma’am,” and his hand clamped hard on Elspeth’s shoulder.

  She bowed her head, wiped surreptitiously at her eyes and managed to say, “We’ve a room reserved where you can rest, Mrs. Newell, and a tray will be carried up to you.”

  “I thank you, child,” said Vance in a voice pitched higher than his normal tones. “However, I rested in the coach and would as soon take my supper down here so that we can resume our journey without further delay.”

  Herbert and Skye, who had gone outside again, came back in, Herbert carrying Pixie’s “commode” and Skye holding the kitten, which he placed on Vance’s lap. To Elspeth’s relief, having turned around the required number of times, Pixie curled up and settled down quite contentedly. Skye and Herbert found an inconspicuous corner for the box of earth, then hurried upstairs to, as they said, remove their dirt before supper.

  Elspeth took the handles of the Bath chair and turned it towards the dining room, but she stopped when the elderly priest intercepted her.

  “Aha. So here we have an invalid, I see,” he murmured. And smiling down at “Mrs. Newell,” he asked benevolently, “Is there any way I can be of service, ma’am?”

  Valerian said pithily, “The lady is scarcely in need of the last rites.”

  Elspeth gave a gasp, and her brother said, “Really, nephew! I thank you for the offer, sir. But as you see, I am well cared for.” And as an afterthought, “Your blessing, perhaps?”

  “But of course, dear lady.” A hand rested on the lace-trimmed cap; the other hand was raised heavenward, and a sonorous voice invoked a lengthy and involved blessing.

  Glancing obliquely at Valerian, Elspeth saw his expression at its most cynical as he eyed the clerical hand on “Mrs. Newell’s” cap. He drawled, “Thank you, monsieur. With your permission my aunt will take her supper.” He muttered sotto voce, “Hopefully, before midnight!”

  As Elspeth informed him when they were all gathered about a table in the dining room, he would do well to say a prayer of repentance tonight. “To speak so to a priest is insupportable!”

  He said enigmatically, “I’m sure you are correct, ma’am. How do you go on, Clayton? Can you endure a long drive tonight?”

  Vance said softly, “I could endure it if I had to crawl all the way!”

  “Let us hope we won’t come to that.” Valerian lowered his voice. “But the sooner we leave here the better I shall like it.”

  Watching him, Skye said, “You’re not impressed by our fellow diners, I see. Why? They look harmless enough.”

  Elspeth glanced up and saw that the clergymen were seated at a nearby table. She said lightly, “He has a guilty conscience, Joel. He was rude to the elder priest.”

  Herbert grinned. “Don’t say an innocent cleric was so reckless as to flirt with you, ma’am?”

  She was irritated to feel herself blushing again, but before she could respond, Valerian asked softly, “Why did you not ride ahead and join us as we planned, Skye?”

  “I did,” answered the Lieutenant. “At least, I started out to do so. But the half-light is deceiving and I took the wrong road. There’s no moon up. Not to excuse my faulty sense of direction, and I don’t mean to be a gloom merchant, but I doubt you’ll be able to travel far tonight.”

  “Oh dear!” At once anxious, Elspeth reached out to take her brother’s ready hand.

  “Don’t fly into the boughs,” said Valerian coolly.

  Herbert put in, “I asked Marcel about it, and he assured me he could drive to Le Havre blindfold.”

  “Don’t doubt it in the least,” said Valerian. “So we’ll let him be the judge of whether we can proceed. Besides, if ’tis too dark for us, it is likely also too dark for pursuit.”

  “Will Lady Elmira come in?” asked Elspeth. “In the confusion of the moment I didn’t thank her properly, and we owe her so much.”

  “I thanked her,” said Vance. “And she told me that you and Freda were exceeding courageous and saved the day with your ‘performance.’ Be warned, sister mine, I shall require to know more about that episode!”

  With a mischievous twinkle Elspeth said, “I think you have never properly appreciated my skill as a musician, dear.”

  “We certainly appreciated whichever of you was pounding away at that tambourine,” said Herbert. “The uproar quite covered any sounds we made!”

  “It was well done,” acknowledged Skye, with an admiring smile at Elspeth. “And Madame Granada is a courageous lady!”

  Valerian nodded. “Very courageous. And too wise to join us, Miss Elspeth. Were she seen in our company, Monsieur le Comte’s rogues might well put two and two together, and it could jeopardise her ability to be of help to Lord Boudreaux in future.”

  The maids hurried in with fragrant and laden trays, and conversation languished while the weary diners enjoyed a plain but satisfying supper. When the meal ended Skye sought out the host to pay their shot, Valerian went in search of Marcel and Freda, who had eaten together in a small parlour reserved for the servants of guests, and Herbert carried Pixie’s commode outside to gather fresh earth.

  Walking out to the stables with Marcel, Valerian took note of the dark skies and the coachman admitted that unless the moon could break through the clouds their journey would be difficult.

  Valerian persisted, “But if the moon were to come out, even dimly, you could follow the river, no?”

  “Our beautiful Seine, it wanders through this area like a coiling snake, monsieur,” answered Marcel dubiously. “And were we to follow all the twists and turns of it, we would be like to reach the port in time for break—” He checked to a whispered “Hush!” and Valerian’s hand clamping onto his arm.

  Two of the clergymen were strolling towards them. They murmured polite wishes for a good evening, Marcel removed his hat and bowed, and Valerian nodded in silence as they went to confer with two grooms who were tending their carriage horses.

  Looking after them Marcel murmured, “They are but priests, monsieur.”

  “You know them?”

  “No. Never before have I seen them.”

  “Are you sure? Might they be some of the ruffians from the chateau?”

  The coachman’s eyes goggled. “But—no, monsieur! They are priests!”

  “Yes, yes. But suppose those ruffians were to put on clerical garb, might they not also appear to be men of God?”

  Marcel shook his head decisively. “Me, I watched the chateau with milady for several days. My eyes they are of an excellence, and I would know any of those rogues in a trice, I promise you! Monsieur is quite mistaken.”

  “I hope so,” muttered Valerian. “Let’s have our team poled up, Marcel
. We’ll get as far as we can.”

  He no sooner finished the remark than Herbert came running to them, out of breath and clearly agitated. “The blue coach!” he panted. “I s-saw it again, Gervaise!”

  “Show me,” said Valerian.

  “It’s gone now. Drove past at—at the gallop while I was refilling Pixie’s box!”

  Valerian left Marcel to ready the carriage and strode across the yard beside his cousin.

  Now that it was fully dark it was possible to see only a short distance, and there was no sign of coach lamps along the tree-lined road.

  Herbert said in frustration, “I knew how it would be! You don’t believe me!”

  “You’re quite sure it was the same coach?”

  “Yes! Beyond all doubting!”

  Valerian said thoughtfully, “If they’re innocent travellers they follow a strange route!”

  “Yes! You see? I told you they’ve been following us!”

  “So you did … And if they are following us they may be after Vance Clayton. Though ’tis an odd sort of father would take his small son on such a quest.”

  “Perhaps to lull any suspicions.”

  “Perhaps. And if they’re the ones pursuing us, then I may be wrong about … Tell me more of this Sir Henry—Jupiter! What’s the fellow’s name again?”

  “Sir Harold Walters. You met him at the smith’s forge, don’t you remember?”

  Valerian gritted his teeth. “Thank you! I’m aware of that much, but I paid him little heed. My impression was that he was more than a little up in the world, but of a mild disposition. Scarcely the type to engage in political intrigue, though one can be deceived, of course.”

  “That coach was being driven at reckless speed on night roads.”

  “True. And if they realise they’ve overshot us, they may come back! We’ll collect Skye and the girls and be on our way!”

  Side by side they returned to the inn. The dining room was deserted. A shiver of warning crept down Valerian’s spine. He called to a maid who was clearing the tables and she ran to answer his question. A gentleman had called, she said, and the nurse had taken him to see the elderly invalid lady and her little cat.