''Don't spoil it!" Marietta dabbed furtively at her tearful eyes. "I think it quite—quite the nicest thing that was ever said to me."
''You do?"
''I do. Thank you, my—friend. You are, of course, perfectly right. If you will be so kind as to let me sit in front of your saddle you can carry me home, and along the way I will tell you, in strictest confidence, what is worrying me. You can be very wise and knowing, and say I am being a silly widgeon and making mountains out of mole-hills."
He chuckled and said he thought he was a reasonably brave man, but would never dare tell any lady that she was a silly widgeon. Because of the stallion's uncertain temper, he swung into the saddle first and held the horse steady while Marietta used the tree-trunk as a mounting block. In no time he had settled her before him. He reined Orpheus to a walk and kept one arm about Marietta's slender waist, joying in the feel of her clasped so close against him, breathing the sweet fragrance of her, listening as she told him of her beloved but headstrong brother, and her fears for his sake.
By the time they approached the dower house quite a lot of the blackberries had vanished and so had the few lingering doubts Marietta had entertained. Diccon had a way of making her feel that he was not only deeply interested in what she had to say, but that he respected her opinions. It was a courtesy she seldom received from gentlemen. Papa and his friends tended to exchange indulgent smiles when she dared air her views on events, and invariably she would be told not to trouble her "pretty little head" with such deep subjects. Even Blake, who showed such partiality towards her, didn't seem to have much interest in her remarks, and on one or two occasions had changed the subject so abruptly that she'd been convinced he hadn't heard a word she said.
When she finished her account, Diccon said gravely that in his view Eric Warrington was to be commended for striving to help his family. "However," he added, "he does seem to be venturing into deep water at a rather young age. I think your concern is justified and far from widgeon-ish."
She turned and looked at him searchingly. "What must I do? If I try to advise him he'll just say I'm being a nag and spoiling his triumphs. Should I speak to Papa about it?"
Having formed a very good idea of her father's mental accuity, he advised against such a step. "You don't want your brother to think you're going behind his back. On the other hand, I agree that a sensitive young fellow might balk at accepting advice from his sister. I wonder if he would come down and meet me? I might be able to find out a little more about the scheme and drop a friendly hint if it sounds at all smoky."
She was delighted by this suggestion. Eric, she said, was exceedingly fond of Arthur, and when he knew how kind Diccon had been to the boy he would certainly want to go down to Lanterns and meet him.
They parted at the lodge gates. Dazzled by her smile, Diccon watched Marietta pick her way cautiously up to the house. She paused on the terrace to wave to him. He returned the wave, then reined Orpheus around to the south once more.
He rode down the hill slowly, reliving their moments together, dreaming foolish dreams. But he must not indulge such thoughts. With an effort he forced himself to stop mooning like a lovesick boy and use his mind to some purpose. He pondered what she'd said and tried not to be influenced either by his love for her, or by cynicism. If Eric Warrington was a financial genius everything might be perfectly legal and above-board, and what a blessing that would be to his family. On the other hand, there was no denying that for a young fellow to have come by such a large amount and so quickly, sounded somewhat havey-cavey.
Plagued by unease, he relaxed his grip on the reins and allowed Orpheus to spring into a thundering gallop.
Chapter X
MacDougall ran to take the bridle when Diccon rode into the courtyard at Lanterns. There was a frantic look in the Scot's eyes, an expression so foreign to the usually phlegmatic individual that Diccon stared at him in astonishment and, dismounting, asked, "What is it?"
''I'd nae bargained for this, y'ken," gabbled MacDougall, his accent so thick as to be barely understandable. "A muckle bonnie brrrawl has the MacDougall fecht wi' a musket or a dag i' his clout, but bogles and goblins and witches, bonnie though they may be, isna whaur I'll bide, mon! I'll nae…" The words faded as he led Orpheus away, shaking his head.
''I suppose you know what you said, Mac." Shaking his own head, Diccon muttered, "Be damned if I do!"
He crossed the bridge, entered the house by the front door, and wandered along the corridor his thoughts still on the lovely Marietta. "My friend," she'd said, with such a warm smile. And how sweetly trusting she had looked while telling him of Eric Warrington's grandiose plans. He pushed open the door to the kitchen which was at present the most habitable room in the manor. He'd have to see what—
A soft chuckle, and the door slammed shut behind him.
Whirling about, pistol in hand, he gasped, "Gad, ma'am! Never do that!"
Emma Cordova spread her skirts wide and sank into a low curtsy. "As you command, my lord."
''I am not—" he began, restoring the pistol to his pocket.
''—What you seem," she finished, and curtsied again.
He grunted and pulled out a chair for her. "Is anyone?"
''Something wicked this way comes,' " she quoted. "If I thought 'twas you, Temple and Cloud…" She leaned forward, arms on the table, peering up at him.
''My name is Mallory Diccon Paisley. A mouthful, I agree. So most people simply call me Major Diccon." His unexpectedly endearing smile chased the grimness from his eyes. "And what would you do, ma'am? Inform against me as a free-trader?"
''Oh, no. I would kill you."
She spoke matter-of-factly, but his smile died and he stood staring down at her. "By Jove, I believe you would make a try at it."
''I love my family. And what I see in your eyes tells me—"
''That I am the evil coming this way?"
''Very possibly. In spite of how much you love her."
He stiffened, then turned away to open a cupboard. "May I offer you a glass of ratafia, ma'am?"
''Only if you have nothing livelier. Ah. You are exceeding attractive when you smile, which you know, of course. Yes, the Madeira will do nicely, thank you." She sipped the wine he handed her and watched as he poured himself a glass and pulled a chair closer. "You don't bother to deny it, do you, Major?"
He said blandly, "Deny what is the threat I pose? I've not the benefit of your Mystical Window Through Time, ma'am. Perhaps you will tell me."
''That's not what I meant, as you are well aware. I suppose 'twould be a waste of my time to try to wring a plain answer from you, and as I know the truth at all events I won't make the effort. As to the other"—Mrs. Cordova sighed heavily—"it is very confused just now and difficult to understand. But I must warn you because there is trouble and danger, and a visitor who seems to threaten you, and…"
''And—ma'am?"
In a sudden and disconcerting shift of mood she giggled and said coquettishly, "And this is excellent wine, sir. I will take a teensy bit more, if you please. Thank you. I do hope there has been a great tragedy in your life? Oh, dear. Now I've made you spill the wine!"
Slightly breathless, he said, "You've a way of catching a man offstride, Mrs. Cordova."
''Good. Has there been? I don't mean the war or anything connected with your—er, occupation."
In the act of taking up his glass again his hand stilled for an instant. Then he said expressionlessly, "When I was eighteen."
To his astonishment she choked on her wine, sprang up, and began to pace round and round the table, wringing her hands and wailing. "Oh, no, no, no! Too long ago! Then, it will be here! It will be here!"
He was silent, watching her, wondering if she was quite sane or if she really did possess clairvoyant powers. Fortune-tellers, mediums, mystics were very popular nowadays and although he'd always viewed matters of the occult with scepticism he knew several people of fine intellect whose decisions were influenced by the advice of th
eir astrologers.
Mrs. Cordova halted before him, clasped hands pressed to her mouth, her big dark eyes fixed upon him with such drama as to be ludicrous, yet he felt no inclination to laugh, and asked gravely, "Do you say that this visitor will be responsible for a tragedy?"
She nodded.
''Here at Lanterns? Or at the dower house?"
''There you are," she wailed, throwing her arms wide. "Which? I only know that dark clouds are all about us. The Mystical Window warns of a most dreadful threat. But it makes no sense, do you see? For sometimes it seems to come from far away, and sometimes is here. Here! And how can that be? Unless…"
He said quietly, "Unless I am the threat."
''Oh, I hope not. I really do. Perhaps it is that I'm not reading the warning properly, but I felt I must tell you, just in case. So many tangled threads. And death hovering… so horribly! And everything will be changed!" She moaned distractedly. "Oh dear, oh dear!"
He stood and took her hands and led her to the chair again. "Now, now. Do not be so troubled. I thank you for coming down here to warn me. But—your visitor may already have arrived, ma'am, in which case you worry? for nothing."
She looked at him dubiously, and he poured a little more wine in her glass and told her about his uninvited late-night caller.
''He must have been a big fellow to toss you about," she said, looking somewhat cheered.
''His height is not exceptional, but he's almost as broad as he is tall and of incredible strength."
''You saw that much—at night? Or is it that you have met him before?"
''I've met him before, and certainly he has no love for me. But in this instance I think he was simply looking for The Sigh of Saladin. And that may be the danger you were warned of, ma'am: that unscrupulous men are hunting for the supposed treasure."
''Hmm. This very strong man who attacked you. Is he English?"
''He is Chinese. And his master is a Swiss. There, you see? They are from far away, yet they are here."
She gave a sigh of relief. "Praise heaven, then that would explain it!"
''It would indeed, and it is nothing that would bring trouble upon your brother's household, so you may be at ease."
''Ye-es." She sprang up in her abrupt fashion and trotted to the door. "And I must be off."
Diccon offered to drive her up the hill, but she declined, saying that she liked to walk. He accompanied her across the drawbridge, and when they reached the north end of the manor she stopped and reached up to pat his cheek. "Such a kind smile," she said. "Poor boy. What a terrible grief to have lost your lady so young. The young feel things so very intensely."
Once again his breath was snatched away. He gasped, "You—you heard about it?"
''No. But it was a simple puzzle to solve, after all. I did know that you had been devoted to your papa, but he died when you were eleven, I believe, and you said your tragedy occurred when you were eighteen. At that time you had already left home. Your mother was still living, so the only other cause of such grief would be a lady." Her brow wrinkled. "It might, I suppose, have been a beloved sister, or aunt. But—it wasn't, so now you will think me very clever, no? And you will pay heed to my warnings. Be very careful, 'plain and simple, Major Diccon.' You are neither plain nor simple, and I know you have lived with danger for most of your days. I fear you, my dear. But I like you. And I would purely loathe to discover that we have arrived at the wrong solution to what my Mystical Window is trying to tell me."
A beaming smile, a little pat on the arm, and she was gone, but Diccon still stood there watching as she walked with quick, bouncy steps up the slope and across the meadow.
MacDougall emerged from the barn and wandered over to join him. "Whisht! She's well away. It's demented she is, puir lady."
Diccon said thoughtfully, "Or very wise, Mac. Either way, I think you and I must do what we can to make Lanterns more secure. I've a feeling that we've not seen the last of unexpected visitors."
''Oh, a famous fellow, I agree. I always liked George." Sitting beside Eric Warrington in the withdrawing room, Blake Coville was quite aware of the admiration in the younger man's eyes, and although he longed to terminate this conversation he added graciously, "In fact, I helped him get out of England two years ago."
''Did you, by Jove! How famous! I never even saw Brummell. Did you know him, Papa?"
''Not well," said Sir Lionel. "One encountered him at various functions, of course. But I have never been an admirer of the Carlton House set, and Brummell seemed to me a very cold fish. Etta liked him, though, didn't you, my love?"
''He was very kind to me," said Marietta, "when he might easily have snubbed me. And that is how we judge people really, don't you think? Less by what men say of them than by how they treat us personally."
Coville had come here this afternoon hoping for a private chat with Marietta. Unfortunately, young Warrington had driven in only moments after he arrived. Now he was properly trapped and would likely be subjected to a half-hour of dull small talk before he could decently escape, without ever having spent a moment alone with her. All it wanted was for the lunatic aunt to appear! He conjured up a rather tight smile and said, "I hope that gentle tolerance will not be extended to my step-brother. I have been trying to hint your sister away from him, Warrington, but Miss Marietta is of a trusting nature, and he has a smooth tongue and I fear has managed to deceive her."
Indignant, Marietta protested, "I think you are saying I am gullible, which is not the case! I broached the subject with Major Diccon and he gave me his word of honour that he has not harmed his mama!"
Coville said with an edge to his voice, "Easy said, ma'am, when he has no honour!" Eric looked shocked, and Coville added, "My apologies for speaking plainly. I've good reason for anger, Mr. Warrington, as your father could tell you."
''Just so," said Sir Lionel. "And now is as good a time as any. Perhaps Mr. Coville will excuse us for a few minutes while you lend me a helping hand downstairs. I've a small problem with my new invention."
Coville stood at once and said he would be on his way, but Sir Lionel insisted he remain and take tea with them. "Fanny will brew up a pot for us," he said jovially. "In the meantime, I feel sure Marietta would enjoy to take a stroll around the gardens now that the weather is so pleasant. Ain't that right, m'dear?"
Once again embarrassed by her father's sledgehammer tactics, Marietta had no choice but to agree. Fanny tried not altogether successfully to hide her amusement and went into the kitchen to prepare the tea tray, while Sir Lionel took his son down to the basement.
On the stairs Eric said uneasily, "Perhaps I should go and fetch Aunty Dova. Surely it's not proper for Etta to be alone with Coville?"
''What, in our own garden? Never be so prim, boy. Coville cannot very well pay court to your sister whilst we all sit and gawk at him, now can he? And I promise you he's a damn sight finer catch for her than is that penniless and reluctant peer down the hill."
''Jove! There's no chance of that, is there, sir? Fanny says he is a bad man and that he very probably murdered his mama and hid her body in the old barn." Reassured by his father's hoot of laughter, he went on, "Yes, well, I must say it sounds like so much fustian to me, because if it were true Bow Street would have him safely locked up in Newgate."
''So Marietta holds. Sir Gavin claims he hasn't called in the law because he don't want scandal, but…" Sir Lionel shrugged. "Who knows? Temple and Cloud struck me as a reasonable enough man at first, but he's up to his ears in smuggling at the very least."
''You never mean it! A peer—free-trading?"
''A peer who won't use his title, which of itself is a sure sign he must be short of a sheet."
''Yes, indeed! Does he appear deranged?"
''No, no. Quite a fine-looking chap, in a manly way. One of those strong and silent types. Your aunt says there's an air of the panther about him." Sir Lionel chuckled. "Emma and her fancies!"
''Is it truth that he was at Waterloo, sir?"
Obliging, Eric said thoughtfully, "I know Fanny is afraid of him, but Etta and Aunty Dova seem to like him. I wonder why."
''Because they're women, of course. Show them an upstanding gentleman of character, and they'll toss their pretty shoulders and forget him. But let them suspect a man is dangerous and with a touch of mystery about him, and they flock about him like so many moths round a flame. Aye, you may smile, m'boy, but I've seen it before and I don't want to find Etta fluttering around that particular flame! No future in it. Now, you'd best run upstairs, and make sure Fan don't volunteer to keep her sister company and drive poor Coville demented!"
''Oh, I think the guv'nor was grateful enough," said Eric, riding beside Marietta early next morning. "But he didn't like my having given the funds into your capable hands."
Marietta sighed ruefully. "Poor dear Papa. I only hope he may not begin to resent my interference."
''Interference be dashed! Now don't let him break your shins—I mean, borrow from the reserves, Etta! You ain't betrothed to Coville yet. Er—are you?"
She laughed. "Foolish boy. As if I'd not have told you. Certainly Papa would have made the announcement if Mr. Coville had asked for my hand."
''From the way he behaved yesterday afternoon, I thought he was about to do so. He seemed exceeding anxious to be alone with you. When I peeped outside he was talking to you most animatedly. Wanted to find out about our background, I'll warrant?"
Marietta watched the clouds that were massing to the northeast, and said slowly, "When first we met he said he intended to ask me lots of questions about myself. But most of the time he only talks about himself or wants to know whether I have been down to Lanterns." And she thought, 'Just as Diccon said he would.'
Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns Page 16